Page 34 of The Prisoner's Gambit
“Drizzix, what are you doing in my sector?”
“Nothing to concern yourself with, Marghal.”
The one called Marghal chuckled. “A dozen men for two prisoners? That seems worthy of note.”
“Just prisoners. You know the drill,” Drizzix replied.
By the look Marghal gave him, he did not seem to be taking that at face value. “If that’s the case, why bypass my holding station? You know it is just a few streets away.”
Capturing criminals was how guards drew the attention of their superiors and rose in rank. In addition to that, they could receive hefty bonuses for impressive collars. As a result, even among friends things could get a bit competitive. And these two had come up together since their early days, each snatching up arrests from the other far more than once.
Drizzix stiffened slightly. He didn’t seem to want to pull rank on his friend, but duty called and he would perform his no matter whose feelings were hurt.
“This pair are not to be taken to any local stations. We have been tasked with escorting them to central processing.”
“Central?” Marghal asked, looking at the prisoners with a curious expression. “What in Cravalix’s name did they do to warrant that? They certainly don’t appear to be any sort of serious threat.”
Drizzix made sure no one was observing them then stepped close to Maureen and lifted the corner of her shirt, exposing a patch of bare skin for just a second before covering her up again.
Marghal paled in genuine shock. “How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. But the Skrizzit has already been summoned. They should be there by the time we arrive.”
Marghal shook his head, contemplating what he’d seen. A fully-grown adult with no pigment. No runes.
“How can she even function?” he asked.
“Honestly, I have no idea. But you understand why we’re taking them to Central now.”
“Of course,” he replied. He turned his attention to the blue-skinned prisoner. “What about that one?”
“He was with her.”
“No runes?”
“That one has them, but it seems many of them are damaged. He’s a strong fella even without them, but hasn’t been a problem.” He glanced at his muscular prisoner. “At least, not yet.”
Marghal processed the situation, genuinely surprised. And after so many years working his way up the ranks, that was saying something.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it then. Good luck with them.”
“Thanks. I’ll be seeing you around.”
Marghal nodded then turned and resumed his patrol, likely wondering exactly how much this would boost his friend’s standing.
“Back to it!” Drizzix shouted to his men, heading once more toward their final destination.
The Central Processing Unit.
Maureen was amazed as they moved from the dirtier part of town to the rarified air of the rich elites. The architecture was absolutely stunning, the alien craftsmanship as impressive as it was robust.
There was no dirt in this part of town. No trash, no street urchins, and undoubtedly no crime. This close to the hub of Mondarian power, no one would be foolish enough to dream of it.
Set among the taller buildings was a low structure only a few stories high. It had stout walls, but the windows were smaller on much of it. Far too small for a prisoner to escape from, no doubt.
Maureen and Bodok found themselves herded toward the imposing double doors of the structure. As they stepped through them, Maureen stared in awe at the ornate scenes carved directly into the thick metal panels. And inside? It was even more decorative.
She looked around at the large oval reception area. A series of oblong desks lined the far walls, a high-arched doorway beside each of them. Far above, the ceiling radiated from an embedded light source, casting a warm, even brightness across the entire space.
