To The Common Area, Where Most of the Prisoners Are

From the bathrooms, you're led to the area where most of the prisoners are being held. It's dark, lit by nothing but Noth's large but dim moon shining through a huge, high window. This used to be the hoverball court; it's a large open space with a hard alloy floor, marked with lines representing various aspects of the game, including where the players start, where the ball starts, how far afield the goalie is allowed to be, and where a free shot would be made from. Both the lines and the drawing of the school's mascot, the Nothian snow-snake, are obscured by soft, dark colored pads, each 7 ft long and 3 ft wide. Slaves lie on many of these pads. The goals themselves are gone. The machinery in the floor that makes the hoverball capable of hovering is off, a fact which can be discerned from the lack of its characteristic whirr.

An eight foot wall surrounds the court. Above the wall, a transparent-metal shield extends another ten feet, keeping the front rows safe from rogue hoverballs which might have otherwise smacked into them. Around three-dozen guards are positioned around the room, both down in the court and up in the stands. The stands themselves go another twenty feet in the air or so around the arena, ascending at about a forty-five degree angle.

"Now, listen carefully," the nothian speaker says, "because no one else here can repeat my instructions to you. Stay in this area. Do not attempt to get up into the stands, or leave this room." He gestures to an empty pad. "I suggest you get some sleep. It's late, and you're going to need your energy when we put you to work tomorrow."

"Put me to work{if Trust >=0}, sir{endif}?"

"Yes. Now, to be clear, the part about going to sleep wasn't actually a suggestion."

{If Trust >=0}"Yes, sir," you say. {endif}You obey. There are more than two-hundred pads in the court. They're packed densely together, and most of them are already occupied. Several near the back aren't, though, and you make your way to one of them and lie down.

You're exhausted, but that doesn't mean you have an easy time falling asleep. You don't know how long you're going to be here, or what else is going to be done to you while you are, but your mind isn't on that. It's on what's next. On what sort of fate awaits you when you're sold. Will you be worked to the bone, or condemned to a life of monotonously piloting autos, or will it be worse than that?

Your mind keeps drifting toward the idea of escape. Toward the only alternative, however unlikely, to what you've now been condemned to. You have an instinct to cut it off, to give in to despair, but you can't. Escape is too alluring to dismiss. {if Escape Attempts=1}Your first attempt was not especially intelligent. It was a foolish act of impulse, but not one that proves escape is impossible.{endif} You don't have to just run off in full view of the guards like an idiot. You could try to figure out a plan. Something more complex. Something that might work.

Your family is also on your mind. You were alone when the invasion started. On your way to work. The communications satellites and towers were the first things the empire took down, so you weren't able to contact any of them. They probably knew as much as you did. What did they do? Where could they be? Your mom and sister had left for work early morning, while you were still having breakfast. In theory, both would have arrived at their jobs by the time the invasion began. Your dad was at home, and your brother...

Your brother would have been here, in this very building. You jolt up and look around the room. If Nick is here, you don't see him, or any of his friends or teachers, but it's too dark to see half the people in the room. Maybe this place was evacuated. Maybe everyone was still here when it was captured, but they moved everyone to an established facility before converting it. Or maybe he's in this very room, thinking about you just like you're thinking about him.

"Nick," you say, "Are you here?"

The only response is from the nearest guard. "Yasmir." they say. "Tus mogosch." They don't activate the collar, though. Maybe it's because they think you deserve one warning, or maybe it's because you screaming would just make more noise.

How much does it matter if Nick is here or not? Mostly, it determines whether you might get to see him one last time. No, actually, it means another thing too. It means someone who looks a lot like you, and is only a year and a half younger, also got examined by that fucking guard.

You lie back down, and you pray. You direct your prayer to Teplumov, the Gentle Servant, god of compassionate love, patron of the weak, the powerless, the downtrodden and misfortunate. In the past, he's not been your favorite, but right now, he's basically the god of you. "Gentle helper," you think silently to yourself, "please, protect me and and my family. Protect all the people of Noth, of course, but please, in particular, to protect me and my family, especially my brother. I know it's not your job to turn the course of history, free everyone, save everything, but please, give him good fortune. Protect him from the worst the Empire has for him, at least until he's no longer a child."

Praying does make you feel a bit better. You're inclined to think that feeling is Teplumov reaching out to you, giving you the comfort you asked for. Riley would have said that feeling was just your brain making tingly chemicals in response to a ritual. Normally you wouldn't even consider that. Right now, it's more that you don't care. It's the greatest comfort you've had so far, and it allows you to get to sleep.