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decided he should continue his task of rebuilding his memories.
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    They came at midnight. He had been in Diyark for almost thirty days, despondent, waiting for news of his scheduled execution. Four guards quietly and quickly entered his cell before he woke. One held a weapon against his head while a second guard placed a loaded dispenser against his neck and triggered an injection. Steg did not have an opportunity to protest and within seconds the dose had taken effect. He sat, wide-eyed, immobile, on the edge of his bed.
    “Come along, de Coeur,” said one of the guards, in a low voice. Steg stood and waited for the guard to direct him.
    Another guard chuckled. “You see why they call it ‘Come Along’?” he commented. “It amazes me, every time.”
    “Cravit, shut up. We need to get him out of here while the video and mikes are off,” the senior guard said. “Come on, let’s go.”
    Surrounded and directed by guards, Steg moved out of the small cell and along the walkway. The group passed through checkpoints without challenge as they descended to the ground floor and exited the building. Their destination was the landing pad where a shuttle was waiting for its final passenger before take-off. Lights around the pad illuminated the anonymous space vehicle; it was a mottled green color, without insignia or markings. Steg was urged inside, joining nineteen other prisoners similarly drugged, with their escorts. Some guards already were exiting the shuttle. He sat down as instructed and a guard strapped him in.
    “Sixty seconds,” a voice announced over an address system. The remaining guards rushed to the exit, leaving the prisoners unattended in the shuttle cabin.
    “Ten seconds,” progressed the voice. “Locks sealed. Take off in …5…4…3…2…1.” The shuttle departed with a tremendous burst of speed, heedless of the comfort of its passengers; fortunately, they all were drugged and unconscious of their adventure. The craft, nose up, lifted at almost full acceleration. The pilot was in a hurry.
    A small force of mercenaries, dressed in bland military-style clothing, was waiting for the shuttle when it docked and locked into an access bay on its home starship. They directed a team of laborers, humanoid, to unload the drugged prisoners and clean the shuttle cabin. The bodies were dumped onto a magsled and driven away by one of the laborers under escort of two mercenaries. Another group of workers was waiting at its destination to move the unconscious prisoners to their temporary holding cell. When the shuttle was emptied, it was prepped for its next load.
    *****

Chapter 6
    Steg awoke to the sounds of moans and groans from a number of recovering prisoners. His head spun, his senses reeled. They—about twenty, he estimated—were in a large room, the floor and walls of which appeared to be unpainted fullerene-steel, providing a utilitarian decor. The room was cold, and gravity seemed to be set at two-thirds normal. He felt a mild vibration from where his head rested on the deck. They were on a starship, he realized. He had no idea of how or why; his last conscious memory was of a guard holding a stunner to his head.
    He nudged the nearest man. “Do you know what’s happening?”
    “Oooh—frek, no. My head feels like someone beat it with a rock.” The speaker tried to sit up; it took him three attempts and almost half a minute to succeed. Others now had recovered and were also trying to assess their circumstances.
    Steg at last gained his feet, half-staggering as he did so. He reviewed the room of stirring bodies and spoke up, his voice cutting through the struggles and moans. “I think we’re on a starship. We’re underway. Gravity’s about 70 percent. Anyone know more?”
    A ragged chorus of negatives and curses answered his question. Steg looked at the men on the floor; most had recovered consciousness. He was still unsteady and braced himself against a wall.
    “Anyone think otherwise?” No