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‘Go on,’ he grimaced, clenching his teeth and scowling. ‘Do it now before they come.’ Hands snapped into balls of white flesh as the plunger slowly slid down the tube, hissing like a snake. His face spasmed in the dull red light, his pain a strobe effect and only the strident screams a constant reminder of what was happening. The noise bounced from the naked walls, crashing back and forth in the small area, swirling in a song of agony.

The old door, barred in time honoured fashion with a piece of wood and a chair leant on it’s two back legs, burst inward, the shower of wood closely followed by three humming orbs. They glided in, deceptive in their silence. Their surfaces were oily black, reflecting the low light and casting shadows back through the doorway.

Of the two people in the room, only the thin, scarred woman was in a position realise what was about to happen. When she did, she ran. She ran three steps, stumbled, and fell face first through the smashed doorway, the screams of the man escaping down the corridor into the rest of the Hab. Panic gripped her, and she trashed at the floor, scratching long bloody lines in the grime in a mad, senseless effort to escape. One of the orbs floated back through the door to hover above her head. She screamed defiance at it, pushing with thin shoulders to stand upright. She got as far as kneeling beneath the dark skin of the black ball.

There was no sound to accompany the reaction, no slam of metal on bone, no crack of a gunshot. There was silence, and then she collapsed in writhing, twitching, spasming pain. Her mouth was foaming, eyes rolled back under the lank, filthy hair. Her fingers were locked in a primal claw, the solid crook of her elbow holding them like the wings of a dead bird.

Suddenly there was a change in the room. It was unclear at first what had happened, until one of the deadly creations spun close to the large metal chair in the corner of the room. The man seated upon it was not screaming any more. He was sitting in peace with a smile on his face. In a parody of a shrug, the orb twisted twice and then the trio processed out of the room.

If he looked hard enough, he told himself, he would see the sunlight. Sunlight. He didn’t even know what he was talking about. It was something out of a dream, an ancient whisper. Sunlight, he thought, was as different from where he was as he could get. But even that had no body to it, it was an idea with no reason, no basis as though a fish was wondering how to fly. So he sat, staring at the wall and dredging his mind for a glimpse of something he had never seen.

‘You give me this, and I’ll let you live. It’s that simple.’ The rodent face twitched, eyes darting around the street to find a way to escape. Swallowing hard, he held up a finger.

‘It’s not that easy, you see. If I give you these, then I’ll be short. If I’m short when the time comes, I’d rather be dead. There are people in this place that need these more than you do. They need them like they need air. If you take these, I’ll be forced to make it clear who has deprived them of what they need.’

‘Is that so?’ snarled the other person. Pallid flesh, common to everyone living in the Hab, was laced with a spider-work of veins. ‘But you can’t talk if you’re dead, can you?’

The tall figure walked alway, swinging the stolen satchel around. No one would mind about the body. No one minded about anything. That was the beauty of this place.

‘What? No. Don’t say anything. What can you possibly say? Nothing. There’s nothing left, is there. I don’t suppose you can find anything, can you? Pointless asking you to do anything, isn’t it? Of course it is. Damn it! Oh, just leave me alone. Go on, get out.’

Sitting in darkness, alone with nothing was how she had spent most days. It wasn’t so bad, the sucking, cloying cold of a trapped mind. She told herself it could be worse, but she really didn’t believe it. How could there be anything worse in the world? If there were, she wouldn’t see the same soulless empty eyes in everyone she met. So she sat, enduring through no fake nobility.

The grey room played host to grey lines of grey people. Shuffling along, looking down at their feet. Defeated eyes hooded in worlds of private torture. And that is how it would have continued forever, if someone had not started talking. It was a low whisper coming from any one of four people.

‘Do you want some of the stuff? I’ve got some I’ll let you have.’

‘What for? What do you want?’

‘Only a favour. When we get to the end, cause a diversion. That’s all.’

‘A favour? Not a favour, Payment. So give me the stuff. I’ll do as you ask. You won’t get three steps, but I’ll do it anyway.’ The voice had a sound that the place had not heard for a very long time. It had the sound of someone who didn’t have to accept what they saw, someone who knew they could change it. A few eyes within earshot were raised a fraction, and there was even the hint of a smile on a couple of faces. Suddenly, and for no reason that they could pin down, the world seemed less grey.

‘You know the duct between 6.A and 6.B? In there.’

As they approached the end, with its plate glass partition, the tingle in the air, that forbidden elixir of hope, danced a fairy jig through the dull minds.

‘Excuse me! Hello? Can I have another cell please? I don’t like mine. I’d prefer one with a window perhaps. And a skylight. Excuse me!’ shouted the man, wandering randomly around in front of the glass. He was careful not to say anything too inflammatory. He wasn’t going to risk more than he had to.

A door slid open in the wall, and two orbs floated out. The door was half shut as the other man made his move, a diving slither took him under the door. The orbs spun madly, one incapacitating the gallivanting man and the other skimming back through the door. The assembled crowd heard footsteps running. It was a sound that hammered on something deep in their hearts. They heard a thud, far away, followed closely by screams which ripped back to the cold places of hopeless subjugation.

It was two long and maddening weeks before he could get to the duct between 6.A and 6.B. It wasn’t easy, waiting until the way was clear enough to give him time to get in an find what he had been dreaming about for every one of those fourteen days. If there had been nothing in the duct he wouldn’t have minded. To dream about anything was as new as seeing sunlight, and he had found a new place in his soul. He told himself that he knew there would be nothing. He had seen the man who had offered him the stuff around. A tall man, severe and oddly tattooed with a pattern of snaking lines on his face who h guessed was untrustworthy. He smirked at how foolish that sounded. How could anyone be worthy of trust in a place where there was nothing to trust to anyone? It was an anachronism from the same place where the sun shined.

He savoured the surprised as he found the small satchel where the man had said it would be. Then the practicality of what he had undertaken loomed in his mind. He would have to find a place and a person to lend him a hand. Glancing in the bag, he saw he had a bargaining chip. There was more in the satchel than he could use. He had only his own misguided opinions of people who guide him to someone who might help him. He thought he knew just the right person.

The light washed over her stained face, but her eyes didn’t move. A silhouette in the doorway muttered something.

‘She’s been like this for days. Look, you’ve got three minutes before you’ve got to get out of here. No one knows where we are, and it’s got to stay that way, right?’

‘Right. Will she move?’

‘You tell why you’re here, and she’ll move.’

She watched the man approach. He’d go sooner or later.

‘Um, I’ve got some stuff. I understand you can help me.’

She twitched, pain stabbing along unused veins. Blinking slowly she raised her protesting head.

‘How much?’ she whispered through a dry mouth.

‘As much as you want. An you help or not?’

‘Yes,’ she pulled herself upright, the eyes coming alive. ‘Yes, I can help you. It won’t matter if you don’t return. You won’t return. Do you have it on you now?’

‘Yes.’

‘Come.’

After sitting for day in the dark filth, she looked like a scarecrow, a wild banshee. She skipped before him, light on ankles that looked like they would snap. The room she led him to was small and dark. She barred the door with a plank of wood, and leant a chair against it. Then she motioned him to a huge metallic chair in the corner of the room. He sat down, not at all nervous because he knew he’d see the sky.