“You said when we have a chance you will tell me what happened, what you remember,” Zan interrupts my rest. “Because I sure as hell don’t remember shit. And that sucks.”

I sigh. I did promise it. I’m still too wired, and closing my eyes does not help. I wish I could shut it all out, almost aching to go back out and find my pack, go with them, run through the deep snow, and get bloodied some more someplace. Anything…

“You said…” he starts again.

“Fine,” I agree reluctantly.

The fire is warm, I’m suddenly cold and move closer to the log-licking flames.

“I’ll tell what I know. Might be way less than you hope to hear. But anyway, it started like two days ago.

“They gathered about two hundred of the longest-time serving inmates, all people that would die in jail, placed collars around our necks, the ones that would explode and blow your head off if people in a security room so much as thought you were going to try something funny. And then they hustled us like cattle in front of this corporate geeks.”

“I don’t fucken’ remember shit! What company was it?”

“DSTrans Company.”

"Who are they?"

“They are like one of the biggest transportation companies around, serving like hundreds of planets. Real scumbags. But powerful. Started wars just to extend their reach, just to grow richer and bigger."

"Don't like them already. But, what the fuck do they want with us?”

“Well, let me tell what I know and then you can turn your little brain on and come up with... whatever you did not come up first time around”

“Was I there?”

“Stop fucken’ interrupting me. You always kept yourself pretty concealed. I never paid you that much attention. You were not a threat. So, anyway, they brought us to this huge conference room.

With plenty of seats to sit down. But, the first two front rows were swiftly occupied by the low-ranking gang members, then their high ups and leaders of them all. They were all there, Centrist, Rimmers, Greeners, Dankies. A row behind where bosses set got filled by their top bodyguards, I guess to protect their backs. Independents were given the respect to get lost to the back, together with the murdering psychopaths who nobody wanted in their gang in the first place.”

“Like who?”

“Like Remont who set two chairs away from me. Not for too long. I did not want for him to defecate into his hand and throw his shit in my face as he did to the last guy who decided to stare at his face. Yeah, Remont did not like to be looked at. Not unless he was raping you. At least that's what hundred plus victims across ten planets had testified to under the oath. “

“Was he among the group that landed with us?”

“No. No, he was not. Maybe if we ever get together again, I'll take a good look at him. And when I see him put his hand down his pants, I'll bang his skull against the wall and split it open like a melon. Maybe that will make me feel better."

"Yeah, but he probably won't remember..."

"Yeah, right about that. But anyway, even before anyone came to speak, I decided to stand up and move further back.

"I kept my back leaned against the wall, did not care to flash my blind spot to any of them. None of them liked me and the feeling was mutual. I can't blame them either. What's there to like about me? Still, I might be a murdering son of a bitch. But I was no child killer like Lamzan who tried to walk to me to say something before I twitched my head to tell him to get lost. Good that he listened, or their speech would have been delayed on account of a suddenly needed clean-up job.

"And yeah, there against the wall, I remember, I saw you, not meeting nobody’s eyes. Nobody looking at you, and you, trying to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible.

"Funny, they only had humans. No other races.”

“Okay, go on, and then what happened?”

"About a dozen people came to the podium to face us. Rich clothes, polished faces, The warden was there, and a pair of senior security guards. The rest, the company's personnel for sure. They were smooth as if they were selling travel insurance to a rich old lady. One of them caught my eye right away. Not the young, well-tanned fella that was speaking as if he was giving a sermon. No, the one behind him.

"He had long dark hair, braided, fancy dark suit, dark glasses to hide whatever his eyes could not, long pointy ears, and funny eyebrows. Now that I think about it, he looked quite like an Elf, like you could see in fantasy flicks. Fucken rich people. Fucken’ asshole!"

“Why?”

“There are over two hundred different races, right?”

“I don’t know. If you say so. But sounds right when you say it.”

“Well, none of them are Elves. They are mythical race. No real trace of them exist, not at least that my ignorant ass knows off.”

“Sounds about right. Now that you say it.”

“Now, there were always these rumors that there was an Elvish race living a long time ago, but only rumors. Like they were supposed to be a race long gone, the kind that could control aging without the need of our medical rejuvenation tech, were exterminated… whatever… it’s too much for me to go into it now.”

“So, why does that upset you?”

“Because, this asshole had enough money to undergo not just a rejuve treatment, but did all these face modifications to look like this fantasy race. You understand?”

“I don’t see a problem. So what? If he has money, why not look like any way he likes?”

“I know. I guess I’m just salty for being dirt poor and my family…” No, I don’t want to think about that.

“Anyway, this Elvish-looking man, you could not tell for sure how old he was. Maybe forty or four hundred, you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, now that you say it, I think I know what you mean. Funny. I think I’ve seen Elitist before.”

“Not only have you seen it. It seems you remember what they are called. So, anyway, this Elvish Elitist has this walking stick that he taps silently on the floor, and I was thinking how that stick was not a walking aid at all, but a weapon that could be used to vaporize anyone who dared to get funny. So, I was thinking, why would he need such a weapon?”

“If that was a weapon at all?”

“Oh, it was a weapon, but we… will get to that later. So, this guy told us about a special program that would be available to us. Very skimpy on the details of what we would have to do. Very descriptive of the awards we were to be given in case we did what we were told.

“You know, a sales pitch, went like, ‘First of all, let me tell you, you should feel very lucky to be offered a chance we are ready to offer you, and before we are finished, you will probably think it’s not real, but it is.' Yeah. A truly superbly polished insurance salesman. And I'm an old granny. Now when I think about it, it smelled fishy even before they opened their sleazy mouths, the way they lined up themselves up there in front of us, in their expensive suits that cost more than a year of salary for any guards around here. Even three females were there among them. They looked so damn pretty they almost seemed unreal, and none of us dared to utter a single word for a long while just so we do not scare them away and make the magic disappear. One of them was this beauty Asian Major Ten origin, looking like you but with green eyes and chestnut hair.

"At the start, nobody was buying into their promises. I could see it clearly in the smirks and snorts coming from many of my fellow inmates. They were all veterans cons like myself, calloused by how the system treated us. Not that we deserved it any better.

"But then a guy said something like, 'This will wash your sins away”' A few were smart enough to smile condescendingly.

'You’ll be able to be citizens away', a sleek college-educated kid added with an enthusiasm of a Sunday sermon. 'We’ll give it to you for free.' More frowning faces joined in.

'You do it right, you will not have to return to jail. It’s a winning ticket.' Some even laughed at that. 'Who do we have to kill?' others offered.

'And once you're citizens, you know what that means?'

"The guy waited for that to sink in. Nobody was smirking anymore. We all knew what it means to be a citizen. But he said it anyway. The carrot was there, swinging in the air. 'You will be able to apply for rejuvenation treatments, get a good-paying job so that you will be able to buy years, decades to your lifespan. You'll be able to put your lives back on track, get it back. Who knows, maybe some of you may end up living forever. But your life will be yours once again!'

"A funny thing is when you promise something like that to people that previously lived with no hope. Their disbelieving smiles freeze, their eyes start to glitter with a madman’s shine, and no matter how much their brain cells tell them not to believe it, there is always that fuckin' little question that starts to gnaw on the inside of each one of us. The question, but what if it is true? Followed instantly by another, what if I can live forever? I have to admit, the same current of thoughts passed through me as well, and I did not like, did not like that at all. I guess my taste buds have changed.

"No... Not crazy promises, not crazy man's eye-shines that illuminated from any convict I looked at could scare me. I knew they would believe in the end whatever they wanted to. It’s in our nature to see things how we want to see them.

"No. What should have been scary was... the way it was all done, the whole thing, the way the Company had acted, trying hard to cover the desperation they must have felt to come here and offer us so much. Oh, yeah, they must be extremely desperate. And scared. I've seen it. I've seen it in the occasion nervous looks those girls shared among each other, and the hope they felt when they thought the response from us convicts was a positive one. That should have scared me, should have scared me enough to think I do not want anything to do with it.

“That is if I gave a shit. But I did not. So, what the hell? Whatever they said, I trust not. Nobody is getting to be a citizen here. Not ever. Too many rich people who want to live forever and will never risk sharing the same space with the likes of Remont. No chance in hell for that to happen. I knew back then, whatever they expected us to do will probably kill us all. All the dumb ones who choose to sign up. That was the only thing that I knew for sure. And I could not wait to put my name down.

“Now that I think about it, whatever they did, the Company knew their shit. How many psycho-profiling optimizations did they have to run just to get it right? Because people started to get interested. Ready to sign their lives away. Well, whatever crap was left of their lives.”

Warning: Hydration below 50 percent

Cool, auto warning, activated. Now that I think, my throat is hurting and my mouth is completely dry. I take a moment to drink some water. It runs down my throat, nice and cool, shutting down the fires burning there, and I realize how hungry I suddenly am. I continue just not to think about it. "But like I said before, I was ready to sign. What the fuck? Changing one hell you know for one you have no concept off? That I'm sure is never smart.

"But fuck it. I was going to play their game. They wanted killers. I was to give them one. I was ready to sign up and see if they are right and could kill me so easily. Do they even know what it means to stay alive in the confined space where the price on your head has been as high as mine? Shit, I heart Marton Marquiez offered two million for my head. Hell, if someone offered me that kind of money for killing me, I would have taken it. They should have asked. I know plenty of people who needed that money more than I needed my life, including three little girls whose father fucked up one time too many. Hell, they should have asked for my life. Straight up. At least I would respect them for that. Don't sugar cone a suicide mission to an old war veteran that has been on too many war-infested planets and has seen too much crap. Just give it to me straight. But then, I already said they were assholes.”

“And they did not tell you what you needed to do back then?”

“Of course not. They blind you with the promises, then whatever shit they tell you that has to be done, they say it in the end, and by then, the shit does not smell so bad. But, you could guess. On the number of promises they made, the shit must have stunk to Holly Hell and back.”

"Still does. Those wolverries are by far worse than anything I thought could possibly stink."

I chuckle. "I guess you have not been to as many shitholes as I had been," I tell him. "Or don't remember."

Zan nods his head. “And what happened then? You signed up?”

“No. Then, just as their sales speech ended, the power went out, the whole place turned black, and all the hell broke loose.”