Jean stepped into the decontamination area without a stitch of clothing as instructed by the guards. Beneath his feet, the floor of the shower radiated cold and caused a wave of discomfort to crawl up his spine. When the door sealed, he noticed dark recesses along the walls that would soon ensure he brought no sickness into the prison. He wanted to react; he wanted to hammer at the door with all his strength until they either let him out or let him die.
It would be perfectly ironic. These creatures had taken humans across the untold vastness of space so they could become slaves. If they killed him, the inconceivable amount of money and resources they’d spent to get him here would be wasted. They would have nothing to show for the investment, and he would be free of whatever hell they would soon put him through.
Jean’s hand tightened into a fist and the metallic fingers of his right hand dug into the flesh of his palm. The guards tried to take the prosthetic, but one look at the looming figure told them it would be in their best interest to forget the digits were artificial.
He’d lost the fingers years ago after being thrown in prison for an act of eco-terrorism. It was justified, but the judge had ruled that he wasn’t allowed to take the law into his own hands. Jean’s lawyer tried to make the case that since local law enforcement was turning a blind eye to illegal dumping activity by several chemical companies, it was not surprising that a concerned citizen chose to stand up for his home.
Jean destroyed four factories with a string of bombs, putting a stop to the dumping. His fingers paid for the act, but sometimes sacrifices needed to be made for the greater good.
Liquid splashed against his face and dripped down his body in rivulets, washing away the taint of the outside world. It wasn’t hot, but the slightly acidic fluid didn’t need heat to wash away any contaminants. It ripped off the top layer of his skin and washed it down the drain.
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
But he knew he couldn’t show pain. The other prisoners could see him through the glass partition, and showing any form of weakness in this place would have dire consequences. Instead of reacting, he stoically took the beating until the acidic solution stopped and water took its place.
A few minutes later, he stepped out of the shower and into the warehouse beyond. Inside, he located a bin with clothing his size and donned his new uniform. If they insisted on humans wearing white to signify how weak they were, he would embrace it and allow them to hold that misconception.
“Merde.” Picking up the shoes they provided, he spat in frustration. They’d provided him with extremely thin-soled shoes that were more like slippers than anything else. He was certain he wouldn't last more than a month in the mines without a major injury while wearing them.
“Keep it moving, 87,” an armored Scaladorian guard spat, pointing his baton at the prisoner. “More of you miserable bastards will be here soon, and you need to be headed to your cell by then.”
“We need better shoes. These are hardly more than paper and will fall apart after a few days at best. This is unacceptable, even for people you see as expendable.”
“Move along.” The guard stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder, shoving him toward the door. “Follow the signs and report to your cell. If you want better shoes, you’ll need to earn them.”
Jean gritted his teeth and walked toward the door. Before leaving the room, he glanced back and saw Monique also undergoing the decontamination process he had just been through. If they made her take off the processors for the implanted devices that granted her hearing, she wouldn’t be able to hear the threats or warnings cast her way.
Without the devices, she lived in a world of silence.
The guards only spared his fingers because they were surgically attached to his hand. Monique's hearing aids were easily removable. Jean couldn’t tell if she had their protective case, but without it, life would be even harder in this place.
These guards, these Scaladorians, were going to abuse every ounce of power they had. Someone would need to step up and put them in their place. It wouldn’t be easy, but if Jean could unify the prisoners into the beginnings of a crew, he stood a chance of taking over and providing a better life for all humans trapped in this miserable system.
