- EOM -

Quote:

---

“i surrender.”

---

Quote:

---

"Jayne is a girl's name. You had a face to match it."

---

"Observe Analyze & Respond"
Motto of the A.P.E.s
Alliance Protean Engineers

Quote:

---

FLASHBACK

Damon brings the pick down into the hard dirt of the tunnel wall. His knotted muscles have a few moments to relax as his blistered fingers adjust their position on the handle. He yanks the blade free, letting the dirt and rocks fall into the pile growing steadily at his feet. It wouldn’t be long before he would need to shovel it out of the way to make room for the next pile. But his mind is far from his work.

He no longer feels the fluid rhythm of the pick in his hands, the shackles on his wrists, or the screaming pain from his muscles and wounds. Nor does he hear the shouts of the foremen, the threats from the guards, or the sounds of their whips and clubs keeping the slaves moving as fast as their battered bodies can take them. His mind rages a war with his stomach, trying to ignore its starved demands and focus on his escape plan. This will be his last day working in this section of the mine, which means it’s his last chance to take advantage of his knowledge of the area.

Lifts are guarded, only other way up is the vents, nearest vent is in the dining area. Food… maybe I can sneak some from the- no, won’t be time for that, now think. Dinning area’s also guarded, I’ll have to hide somewhere during mealtime… Shit, I’m hungry, maybe I can hide after mealtime- no, no time for that either. Forget food, you can live without it for another night-

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the bell echoing through the tunnel, signaling the start of their second and last 20 minute break out of the 18 hours of work to eat. He drops his pick and quickly looks around as he makes his way down the tunnel at a brisk pace.

Where to hide? Forget hiding and get some food. No, you have to do this tonight. I’ll have plenty of other opportunities. And you’ll be just as hungry then, besides, you’re in good condition to take on some guards. You mean kill some guards. The more the better. I’ll be so screwed when Crofton finds out.

The thought of Crofton brings Damon to a sudden halt as fear grips his insides. He quickly steps into the shadows before he can be spotted and slams his fists against the tunnel wall. “Shit!” He begins pacing frantically, fiddling with the foot of chain linking the cuffs on his wrists and trying to make up his mind.

There’s no escaping him. If you succeed in getting out of here, you’ll be free. And if I fail he’ll… He shakes his head. Forget it, I’m too hungry to think, I’ll get some food and worry about escape later.

By the time he gets to the front of the line, the runny slop they call food is cold and he only has five minutes to enjoy it in. But he could care less what the stuff tastes like; his mouth is watering at the thought of having anything in it. He grabs his bowl and cup of water and hurries to the nearest empty spot on the ground among the multitude of slaves. Grateful to be off of his feet for any amount of time, he drops to dirt, setting his cup down next to him and raises the bowl to his mouth greedily. He manages half a swallow before his arms are grabbed from behind and his bowl is snatched from his hand. Pushing himself to his feet, he elbows someone behind him and wrenches his arms free. More hands reach for him, one solidifying into a fist just before plowing into his face. Ducking to the side to avoid more blows, he sees someone reach for his cup of water and dives to save it. Too late. He lands face down in the dirt and receives a kick in the ribs. Rough hands pull him up to his knees, holding his arms, and a metal pipe yanked tight against his throat pins him against a body behind him, bringing the scuffle to an end.

A large, middle-aged man kneels down in front of him, holding his bowl of food, smirking in the dim light of the cavern.

“Kane, you meh, tah mah d-” The pipe is abruptly pulled tighter against his throat, cutting off his air.

Kane looks up at the man behind Damon. “Loosen up, Master Trinh would have our heads on a pike if we off his favorite Domestic.”

The pipe is loosened just enough to let him breath and talk. He pulls against the hands gripping his arms and glares at Kane.

“I’m not a Domestic, now give me back my food or I swear you won’t wake up in the morning.”

Kane keeps his cold gaze fixed on Damon as he holds the bowl between them. “Not a Domestic? So you’re telling me you come back from Buckingham Place with clean clothes, a clean shave” he pulls out a dull, rusty knife from his boot and presses the point into one of Damon’s recently healed wounds on his chest, “and a clean health bill and he doesn’t feed you while your up there?”

“Guards catch you with a weapon, you’ll be lashed and without food for a week.”

Kane smiles. “No, they catch you with a weapon and you’ll be lashed and without food for a week. I’d get only a few lashes and a shame on you speech.” He presses the knife deeper, drawing a small stream of blood. “Now answer the question.”

Damon looks down at the food and then returns his glare to Kane. “No, he doesn’t, now give it back.”

“You know what I think?” He raises the knife and holds it in front of Damon’s face. “I think that if you needed the food, Master Trinh would give it to you. But you’re stubborn and refuse to eat his food. You think you’re better than the rest of us. Killing guards, escaping the barracks at night. Fighting a one manned rebellion like a gorram war hero.” He stands up and rams a knee into Damon’s middle.

“Well I got news for you, boy, you ain’t any better than we are so if you are so hell bent on feedin that belly of yours, I’d suggest you climb off your high horse and earn it like the rest of us. Maybe then you wouldn’t have to live in those chains either.” He stands up, draining a third of the bowl in a few swallows and then hands the rest to one of his friends.

Damon glares at him. “You mean grovel like a shriveled gou hou, like the rest of you.”

Kane turns and drives his boot into Damon’s stomach. Damon braces for the blow but it still knocks the wind from his lungs, leaving him struggling for air against the pipe. Kane raises a fist but stops when the bell sounds. He slips his knife back into his boot and nods to his men. “Lets go.”

Damon falls to the ground as they release him with a shove, still gasping for air. The pipe drops next to him, along with his empty cup and bowl. Slaves move around him, leaving at least four feet of space between themselves and the young man with a violent reputation. But he doesn’t care; he doesn’t need their help or want their sympathy. He carefully sits up, brushing of the clumps dirt clinging to his blood and sweat. Missed his opportunity to attempt escaping, has no plan and now another twelve hours without food. He snatches up his bowl and hurls it toward the kitchen angrily.

“Hey! What you think you’re doing over there?”

Damon looks up to see a guard coming his way, reaching for his whip. “Tzao gao…”

“Damon, you have five seconds to get your ass moving.”

He glares defiantly at the guard and snatches up the pipe.

END FLASHBACK

---

- EOM -

Quote:

---

"Sorry. Thought I was chokin'."

---

Quote:

---

Jayne
"You done eating? We don't got lotsa time, so come on down and I'll show ya what I got laid out already."

---