I awoke. Once again I awoke. Time passed. I had no idea how much. My mouth was parched from dehydration and my stomach screamed for food. Discipline? I had none . . . not here anyway. Despite my incessant complaints about my lot in life, I’d rarely missed a meal. I thought this must be how withdrawal felt. This was also something horribly new.

I opened my eyes. I realized I was still in my cell. I hadn't moved an inch. With this realization the walls seemed to close in on me . . . shrinking with a claustrophobic terror. In reality, the walls remained stationary. Though, the shudder crawling through my body was real enough. It seemed a certain soreness and a burning slept right alongside me. They were slowly waking, as I did. They were pissed and weren’t too shy to tell me exactly how much. I hadn't moved a muscle in god knows how long. It felt like rigormortis set in, but I wasn't dead. Not yet. The growing agony reminded me what happened the last time I was foolish enough to grace the waking world. There's no way I could survive another shock like that.

Someone must have been watching me very closely. Within seconds I heard a voice. It hadn’t changed an ounce and I’d already grown to hate it. It rang across the walls just like last time. Their words proved they knew I was awake.

"Hey, breed. Glad to see ya' 'aint so frisky no more." He paused as if reveling in his victory. As if switching on the electricity were a feat worthy of sainthood. "Ya' know, right? Why yer still breathin'?"

I couldn't answer anything beyond a groan. "No, huh. Lucky you, no more secrets. It's the board. You've made me fuckin' rich! Hell, don't even try to deny it. I know yer a breed, but 'give a little, take a little'."

Board? What the hell? Board! My sign! Fucker took my sign?! A fierce hatred rose in me, but what could I do . . . yell at him and get fried again. Reluctantly, I let it rest. Hell, I'd be damn lucky to yell anything. Everything hurt. Even thinking hurt. At least I was alive, but was it worth it?

"Think I stole it, breed? Wanna' try an' get it back . . . I'd love ta' see ya' try." Like a fucking idiot he waited to see. How stupid did he think I was?! It didn't take him long to realize clones learn from their mistakes, no less than humans. To his disappointment he continued. "No, huh? Too bad. Woulda' been fun." When was this guy going to shut up?! I had one hell of a headache and, damn, the pain in my side must’ve given birth to a whole fucking litter, as they scrambled up and down my aching body like it was some sort of pre-holocaust resort.

"But don't sweat it. I didn't steal nuthin'. Got it from one 'a yur' breed friends. You know the one who turned ya' in fer' scrap metal. That Grant guy. Fuckin' traitor. But don't worry. He's toast now. Shot him outta' the airlock just yesterday. No suit. Anyway, before he bought it, he used the board ta' save his own skin. We were waitin' fer him, but he up an' killed two a' my friends. I almost fried him anyway, without the board. Anyway, breed said he got it from you. So you getta' live a little longer . . . if yer' smart ya' won't go givin' me no reason ta' change my mind, like last time."

Grant! Dead! This bastard killed Grant! He called him a traitor too! Fucking liar! Bastard should kill me now! If he lets me live long enough to regain my strength I'll rip his fucking tongue out and feed it to him! Then maybe I'll shoot him out the airlock and see how long he can breathe!

"Anyway, breed. Din din time. We weren't plannin' on havin' company so we're a little short on grub. You'll have ta' settle fer' breed meat. Hope ya' like it."

With that I saw a small hatch in the ceiling open up and a chunk of something was dropped down. It barely missed hitting me. Breed meat, what the! I craned my neck for a better look, even though it hurt like hell. The object bounced out of my reach and I was in no condition to go and get it. It looked like . . . like a leg! A human leg!!

Suddenly, he turned back as if he'd just remembered something. "Now don't ya' go 'round telln' everyone I never gave ya' nuthin'. Haaaa! Haaa! Haa! Ha!"

The laughter faded like an echo. I tried to vomit right then and there, but nothing came out. There was nothing in my stomach. I hadn't eaten in days, but I sure as hell wasn't going to eat one of my friends! Who . . . who was it. Who else did the bastards kill! If it was my sign that kept me alive, had they slaughter everyone else!! No one else had a sign! Kill me! Damn it, kill me!! I don't want to live if I'm all that's left!

Tears streamed down the sides of my pain-ridden face and I turned my head back. I couldn't look anymore. I should've stayed at 87C! This was far worse than the Saurids! I would’ve gladly offered myself to them. I just wanted to die. To forget . . . forget! My mind wipe! My arms were stiff and pain shot through them as I checked my right pocket. Nothing! Nothing at all! The bastards stole it! I'm surprised they didn't take my clothes!

Then I remembered I'd stashed the DNA emitter in a better place -- the secret pocket on the inside of my left arm. I endured the pain long enough to check for it. To my amazement it was still there, but then that was the idea. Who would check such a place? My joy was short lived as a muscle spasm tore through my right arm, forcing me to return it to my side. Honestly, the DNA emitter was little cause for joy. I was certain to rot away in here. What good would it do me then? Then a new thought entered my mind.

Sleep! Had to sleep! It was my only recourse. The only way to forget . . . to ease the pain. Soon my wish was granted, but not of my own volition.

}||”:::[O]

=[|||]+-[o]x+v[>

x+v[>=[|||]==|":::[o]!+[--]|!['''] (You will come. We are seeing to it.)

More . . . live.

}||”:::[O]

Henry Davis cherished a brief moment from the recent past, before his life fell to ruin and shame. He was the former commander of the ghost ship Nemesis. She was still there, floating in the dead of space, but on her side like a goldfish bellied up and ready to flush. The dead filled her gullet. There were survivors, but they’d all been ferried out. Her once brave crew existed only as prisoners of war to an enemy happily plagued with a thirst for violence.

Henry stared blankly out of his cell in an effort to jury rig his mind into a similar state, but bloodshed hijacked his every thought. Thought? What a foreign term. He never had time before. The workload of a commander was all encompassing and after a couple years, instinct usually took over. He couldn't remember the last time he let his mind wander, but now time was all he had left.

He blamed himself for Nemesis's defeat and mostly for Brigand's destruction. He accused himself, even though he wasn't entirely sure what happened. It proved an ill-fated attempt to put the pieces together. He’d never been fond of Sherlock Holmes. Still he tried, going over it time and again. He needed to know what went wrong and how he could’ve prevented it. He could’ve saved all those innocent lives, if only he had a time machine. If he . . . there were too many ifs. That simple two letter word tortured him. If . . . if only he could make it all stop.

The pirates separated the P.O.W.s into their own one man cells. The laser grid pre­vented any hope of escape. That was normal, but he didn't expect two sets of them. It was equally surprising to discover his cell was sound proof. He could only assume the others were as well. The pirates didn't want any discussion between prisoners. No idle talk; no pleas for mercy; and no formulation of escape plans. Their captors couldn't prevent this last item, but any plan of any sort, was easier to create if one could throw their ideas into a blender with others, hoping something rational resulted.

Other means of communication were also deterred. Morse code was removed as a possibility by harboring each prisoner in every other cell. There was more than enough room. There weren't many survivors from the Coalition's side. This still left sight, which allowed hand signals, but this had been taken into account as well. There was no cell opposite his. Just a chromide wall, which was part of a long empty hallway.

However, Henry noticed a band of red light on the wall opposite him. He didn't know what it was for, but he understood the importance of its placement. Meaning he had no access to the light. The light represented electronics, which suggested tools. This was a possible means of escape . . . if you knew how. Not an ounce of technology, much less tools, existed inside his cell. His bed, if that's what it could be called, didn't even slide out of the wall. It was just a solid block of chromide welded to the floor. It had no legs. There was nowhere to hide. Escape couldn't even be considered.

These pirates must’ve strategized their way to the top of the food chain. The others Nemesis and Brigand ‘apprehended’ couldn’t compare. They’d created a sense of ease during Operation Ambush; inventing a false ideal, perhaps purposely. Pirates were thought to possess two qualities: brute strength and pure stupidity. This presented them as barbaric cavemen with more advanced weaponry. This mistaken ideal spread even further during the operation, as if infectious. Now Davis realized the truth. He was the stupid one; him and the Coalition, both. They rashly underestimated their adversaries by categorizing all pirates into one broad group. These pirates were cautious, brilliant and deadly. Henry doubted they were the only ones.

}||”:::[O]

With little else to focus on, a flash caught Davis's eyes. The red band of light just outside his cell began to pulsate. He didn't know what it meant. This cruiser, Relentless, and his old one, Nemesis, were of similar design. In fact if he were freed from his cell he could probably work his way to every part of the ship, with his eyes closed. He wasn't so sure of that anymore. This cruiser was so . . . different. The pirates remodeled it to their own tastes. The Nemesis had no red light, no block of chromide bed, no dual laser grids and no sound proofed cells. Davis could only assume the rest of the ship was similarly altered. Hope remained for him to find the corridors and room locations unchanged . . . if he ever escaped. He could hide, release the other prisoners and if his luck returned, take over the cruiser. Yet, these pirates went to great lengths to prevent all such things.

Soon the light stopped blinking, serving as a precursor to the holographic image that materialized before him. The device formed an entire body to spec, and it appeared inside his cell. The pirate's technology was as advanced as their war tactics. The image never once shimmered. It remained so solid that if one hadn't been witness to the forming, they couldn't discern it from the real thing. The real thing and the image looked one and the same. It was dressed like a lord; a lord of the slums, that is. Technology aside, the image scored no points in attire. The rags shone through strips of leather hide and chromide plating, or was it steel? It covered his shoulders, but had no glare. Steel was a heavy substance and denoted the muscles hidden beneath his garb. The plating ended abruptly where the rags began. The man's tattered clothing covered his chest and abdomen. The steel lay directly beneath, granting him a deceptive aura of vulnerability.

Dull leather hide adorned his arms and legs. It was old and worn. Torn strips of the material hung loosely about him, evidence of many knife fights and attempted assassinations. Yet the man still stood, still breathed. His boots were also of leather design, but with steel toes and heels. The man's hands were bare and rugged, as surely was his face. Though, Davis couldn't tell. The greater part of the man's head was covered in the same rags that enveloped his body. Though, the eyes shone through like that of a tiger before the pounce. The man's prowess knew no bounds. He was obviously the pirate's captain.

It made a bizarre sort of sense. Though, war torn and bloodied, Davis himself was dressed like an admiral, but was defeated. What good is it to dress well and die? As the image turned to face Davis, a chill went through the former commander's bones. He'd seen many pirates in the past couple of months, but this one seemed more primal; more animal than human. Though, the words the image spoke were far from grunts and growls. The half-man, half-beast took on a certain sophistication, if one only closed their eyes and listened.

"Welcome aboard, Commander. It's good you survived. We are in need of your assistance. Are you ready to return to Nemesis?"