A short and uneventful ride later, the central level lift was about to arrive at their destination. Everyone could see the position of the lift on the large digital map, displayed above the wide doors.

As the lift neared level seventy eight, a mass of the poorer, more shabbily dressed citizens began to move forward and crowd at the threshold.

When the doors opened, Moloch, Krasus walked onto the platform, following the crowd. This level was ablaze with swirling lights, laughing and music. Moloch could see from the hud readout inside his helmet that the oxygen levels had been increased by the air circulators which helped to contribute to the heady atmosphere of the place.

Moloch looked and saw the familiar formation of a Centuri of Legionnaires, complete with a standard of the first Legion. Moloch and Krasus made their way over to their soldiers, who snapped to attention at their approach. The Standard bearer, named Potter, inclined his head in greeting, while he held their insignia upright and straight with both hands.

“Hail, Centurions!” He called out to them.

The Legionnaires saluted, bringing their right arm over their left breast and rapping their knuckles on their chest armor.

“Hail Potter!” Krasus replied. “I hope you men weren’t waiting too long for us.”

“Not too long.” Potter smiled. “We have brought armor and equipment for you both, per the legates instruction. I’m sure you’ll find that it is in order.”

Two legionnaires hustled over toting a crate between them that held the replacement gear.

“Well done Potter.” Moloch said, as he cracked the lid of the crate. He and Krasus began swapping out the damaged pieces for the new replacements.

Attendants, wearing metal armbands of Drydellian employment, stood festooned in skimpy colorful garments as they waved the new arrivals from the lift into the long queue. The attendants capably separated the citizens into two lines based on the outcome of their identification chit scans. The occupants of one line seemed to be comprised of well dressed citizen-tourists with purses heavy with ducats to spend.

The other queue was full of gaunt citizens who stank of desperation and misfortune. Without any direction from the employees, the shabbily dressed citizens instinctively knew which queue to line up into, casting sad longing glances at their fellows who had the ducats to visit Drydellia as tourists. The wealthy tourists were greeted warmly by the attendants, and permitted to peruse a list of faces from an large intelor pad held by a blonde female with two long braids that fell over both shoulders. Once they made their selections they were offered a brimming glass of elixir and seated on a long wide hover gondola.

From a building adjacent to the lift more attendants emerged, dressed in evening attire and they followed the directions of an administrator, who wore a black robe adorned with gold and purple fringe. The shabby citizens in the other line held out their identification chits which were implanted in the palms of the hands. The blonde attendant dutifully scanned them, directing them to smaller queues based on the outcome. The scans would reveal most of the important information about them; their level of debt, what if any property they owned, the balance of liquid ducats in their accounts, a rating level from their latest medical examination and their criminal record if they had one.

Based on the outcome of their scans, they would be shuffled off through different doors set into the front of a large warehouse. But before they disappeared, the citizens could be seen gene-signing on a large intelor pad, and sucking on their bloody thumbs as they were led away.

“What in the void is going on over there?” Moloch asked Krasus.

“What? For such a cultural level connoisseur, how do you not know how Draedallia works?

“What do you mean? It just seems like a low class festival level.”

“You are correct in that assessment, but you see that line of tattered citizens? Well, they are signing up to be “employees” of this level. In Drydellia the only citizens are those who can claim direct ancestry to someone who is already a citizen and according to their constitution no one else will be granted citizenship. Since the territory dispute where the Drydellian migrants killed off all the original residents of the level, they voted to amend the constitution so that anyone who is not a direct descendant of their bloodline can only live here as an employee.”

Krasus indicated a ragged citizen who was stepping through a body scanner, and emptying the contents of his coat pockets into a tub, for the employee who operated the scanning system to inspect.

The employee removed several worn photos, and a child’s doll from the tub and casually threw them into a trash receptacle. The citizen objected, and tried to reach for them. The security officer said a few harsh words, slapping away the citizen’s hand and pointed him through the line. The citizen put his hands into his coat pockets and hung his head, as he walked to another station, where he was handed an intelor pad to look over. Another employee quickly read a series of statements, pausing to ask occasionally if he consented to the rules.

The citizen's eyes never left the trash receptacle where his forbidden items where thrown, as he verbally agreed to each of the stipulations that were read to him.

“I know life is good for many of the citizens in the pillar, but for the least of us, it needs to be better.” Moloch said. "Citizens really can’t live off their subsistence deposits in other levels, and most of the time the best outcome they could experience was the meagrest of existences, living off nothing but nutrient paste and in some tiny habitation hive.”

“Now you understand the appeal of Drydellia!" Krasus said. “When they are sitting in their cramped room, and see the ads about how much fun life is in Drydellia, all these poor pillar mites get on the level lift, come here and sign over their monthly subsistence deposits to the Drydellians. In exchange they get a new start - employment; which is a four hour work day, three days a week, free housing and a free meal. The rest of the time they have off as leisure to pursue intoxication, gambling and pleasures of the flesh. You just make sure you do what you’re told and you follow the rules.”

“Doesn't seem like that bad of a deal, exchanging some personal freedoms for such benefits.” Moloch said.

“It is a fool's bargain. For when you sacrifice your personal freedoms in exchange for someone else’s agenda, you inevitably lose your dignity.”

‘What do you mean?”

“Well, have a look at her. Could there be a more obvious example?” Krasus said, nodding towards a young brunette attendant on the gondola who had her chin in the grip of a old wiry tourist who wore a brightly colored shirt and had thin grey hair slicked back in crusty streaks against his scalp. He pulled her head towards him. Her lips formed a smile but her mascara lined eyes held a terrified light.

The driver of the hover gondola pulled up on the controls and the magnetic locks released the craft and it floated up above the street to join the line of other hover gondolas as they drifted slowly towards the center city of the level.

“See on Drydellia, you don’t get a choice on how you’re employed. The Drydellians decide that, and there is no room for objection. I suppose four hours on that gondola would be enough to ruin the rest of your day.”

“Okay, so what if you want to resign? What if you figure out that Drydellian life doesn't suit you?” Moloch asked.

“Resign? How many beings did you see get on the level lift when we got off?”

“Well none now that you mention it. Are you saying no one leaves?”

“The many recreations on Drydellia are not free, and you get a certain amount of employee credit to spend. If you aren’t in debt you can terminate your employee clause and take the level lift out of here. But if you owe them a single ducat, you aren’t going anywhere. If you come here as a tourist, you shouldn’t lose or spend more than you can pay while you’re here. If you can't pay off your tab when you want to leave you’ll have to end up taking a job with the Drydellians to work it off. If you aren't careful you'll find yourself stuck here forever, because the pay is just a little to low and the prices of everything just a little to high.” Krasus said.

“Well that’s outrageous, isn’t that slavery?”

“No, Moloch it's just business as usual with an employer and their employees.”

Moloch crossed his arm. “I believe in the future we shall be judged as a society by how we treat the least of us. While we risk our lives to defend her, sometimes I am ashamed of how our Republic conducts itself. ”

Krasus put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t take it personally, we don’t make the rules, and not even the Emperor has a say in things anymore. We can thank our feckless politicians and the merchants who control them for the state of things.”

“So is there no way out of here, unless you are able to earn enough ducats to pay off your debt?” Moloch asked.

“Well, if you’re lucky enough to have a rich family or friends they can always pay the buyout clause of your contract and the Drydellians can let you go at any time. You can always try to make it to the level lift and escape, but be warned there is a cryo-clause in your employment agreement, where you are frozen for the duration of your contract, which is always the exact amount of a legal lifetime that the republic pays on its subsistence deposits. When your deposits run out, they thaw you out, put you on the level lift and send you on your way.

“Monsters.” Moloch muttered. They cryo you, and don’t even put you in stasis? You’ll go blind, and deaf from cryo for too long, you might end up with serious brain damage that only a mender from the temple could cure.”

“What temple mender has time for a piller mite with a gambling addiction? Cryo is cheaper than stasis. They are only freezing you as a workaround to collect your subsistence checks. You can’t really cause them any trouble when you’re on ice. ” Krasus said.

“It's a cold, cold, world out there.” Moloch said.

“Superb turn of phrase brother.” Krasus said, chuckling darkly.

"By the way, how do you know so much about Drydellian life?" Moloch asked.

"An old school chum of mine one found himself in these leeches grasp. I received a teary message from him begging me to help him out. He came from a noble family which had fallen on hard times, but the silly lad had not yet come to grips with it and had not learned to control his spending."

"So did you leave him here to learn a hard lesson the hard way?"

"Oh Moloch, I couldn't leave a member of the noble class, slaving away, and degrading the rest of us by serving the Drydellians like some pillar mite. It would make us all look bad. Besides, it was an insignificant sum to me."

"Did he at least pay you back?"

"His family found a way to make it up to me." Krasus said with a sly smile.

"Right." Moloch said, not wanting to follow that line of inquiry any more.

“Besides, based on how much the Republic pays in subsistence to the Drydellians it is a joke that the rest of the pillar subsidizes their way of life, while none of us approve of it. But because of level sovereignty we can’t interfere with their “culture.” If we ever found proof of them cryoing citizens fraudulently, then the Emperor could interfere and send us back to bust up their operation and not even their level sovereignty and bribed senators could protect them. But they have been meticulous about never letting anything slip out and we’ve never found any proof yet." Krasus said.

Before Moloch could respond, the blonde attendant flanked by several males approached them. As they drew closer Moloch could see that she wore the official metal armband of Drydellian employment.

“Welcome to the Party that never ends!” She said with a beaming smile. “We never see members of the legion all the way down here! Are you soldier boys celebrating a victory? We noticed you didn’t get in line with the others, so why don’t you step this way and get your palms scanned? That will give us a better idea of how best to serve you!” The attendant said with a practiced bubbly manner, masterfully concealing her tired and sad eyes behind the peppiness of her voice. She idly twirled one of her long braids in her off hand as she held the scanner out with the other.

When no one volunteered to be scanned, she rolled her eyes.

“Here’s me thinking that you Legionnaires were supposed to be tough. What are you scared of, me?” She said sarcastically, giving them a measured pouty look.

“Fine, you stay there, I’ll come to you.”

She interpreted their silence as consent and stepped forward and tried to take Moloch's hand and scan his palm.

Moloch stepped back and pulled his hand away from the attendant's grasp.

“We are here on official legion business. We are not interested in any of your offerings. Please step along and inform your supervisor that we have arrived.” He said.

The attendant smiled and held up her wrist intelor, turning away from the Centurions to speak quietly into the device. There was a grating response in vocablish, as the bionic mind forwarded the notice up the chain of command.

“I let my bosses know, and they should be sending someone down in a few minutes.” She said

with an air of relief as she and the other attendants turned around and went back inside the lift house. Moloch could see they had a large countdown clock over the doors, displaying the next time the central lift would return so that they would be ready and waiting to receive more guests when the lift doors opened once again.