The Lobby

A blood-soaked jailbreak aboard one of humanity’s last rotting arks.

ship: Melquisedec

year: 2060

crew: 100,000

security: 600,000

surface area: 620,000 square kilometers

cargo: 150,300 humans. 807,000 cyborgs. 1,000,000 tons of ore

animals in zoologic quadrant: undisclosed

destination: kepler 23-c

Navigating through the expansive nothingness: Melquisedec propelled itself.

A traveling gargantuan behemoth powered on hybrid technology. One of humanity’s last attempts at survival: a defying godlike ark landmass in deep space.

Corrupted. Bastardized. Rotting.

Lustrous pendants pinned to the eternal night sky burning like the civilizations spurred in their nets once did and are doing and will continue to do so: observed in deafening silence.

Inside: spinal corridors went straight and across with serpentine cablery vertebrae marking segments connecting thoracic hangars to lumbar processing rings not disconnected from the ship’s lungs—unlike everything else in Melquisedec except for other areas secret to even the keepers of such.

Three prisoners: one half-assed plan. ‘Doused’ by DIIV played in the Thief’s ears.

Did you get the rod from Maintenance? asked Thief. Grey slacks covered in tar, night sweats and hard blotches of escape.

Under the mattress, one whispered back.

Grab this.

A soaked, torn piece of cloth changed hands.

Other cells occupied by a single shitter and a double bed with another single mattress hinged to the east wall: the shitter is covered by a stainless steel panel two feet from it and it’s directly across the barred gates.

Tie it to the bars, said Thief looking between the spaced iron.

His fingers rubbed the damp fabric as he moved to the bars.

You! Check the mirror, commanded the Thief.

Clear, muttered the Paranoid man.

Crawling noises came from inside the air ducts high above it all. Scuttered from east to west.

Thief grabbed the rod.

Are you stupid? The marked ones! Gimme that!—grabbing the cloth back. He wrapped it around the bars, twisting it into a tourniquet, wedging the steel rod between the coils: cranked the pipe; tension built, bars groaned, his jaw—tightened up: he pulled harder.

Was I supposed to know that’s what you wanted me to do?—said the man that now felt Stupid.

Nothing. Nothing moved. Not an inch.

Shit.

Stupid stepped forward. Snatched the rod.

Move over.

They locked eyes. Thief didn’t let go.

What is it you’re looking for in here?—asked Stupid.

Thief tightened his grip. Heat emanating from their bodies amplified the hot breath on Thief’s skin with every word uttered.

Paranoid watched from the mirror. His breath—shaky. A perfect line of sweat beads forming on his forehead.

There’s—something in the reflection.

His stomach dropped. Thief noticed his face go pale.

What the fuck is wrong with you now?—Thief hissed.

Paranoid stepped away from the bars tucking himself into the inside corner pulling on the back of his pants clenching the mirror piece in between his ass cheeks.

A guard is coming—hissed Paranoid back.

Solid steps echo in the large void where the holding cell is.

Will you let the fuck go now? Or are we still seeing whose dick’s longer?—Stupid whispers.

Steps.

Grew.

Closer.

Thief yanked Stupid’s hand off the steel and tied it in the loop of the cloth—pulled him in. Pinned him.

Mouth on mouth clamped.

Tongue pushing in. Slow.

In. Out. Worming.

Pull my cock out. Come on!—closing in again, this time biting his lips—I’m trying to see who’s bigger: his volume fading into a moan.

The guard gulped, and stepped in their visual range.

What in hell…—he got closer to the holding cell. Hey! Stop that right now, you fags! Now in front of the cell he could see everything—but the rod—in this depraved display.

Both Thief and Stupid: mouth-locked. Paranoid, in the corner: tugging his meat inside the saggy pants: clenching his cheeks so hard he thought he’d cracked it like a newborn’s skull.

Pigs.

Thief stopped. Stupid still pinned to the bars.

You’re disgusting. I don’t know what is it you all think you’re doing here, but, I’ll tell you something… I thought I told you to fucking stop!—shouted the guard, pointing his taser straight at Paranoid who stopped yanking his junk.

Reaching Kepler 23-C—announced through the speakers.

Landing ETA: 45 minutes

‘When the Sun Hits’ by Slowdive started to play.

Thief—eyes locked on Guard. Too far gone to stop.

Guard called backup. Three officers walked in. The cell opened. Guard stepped in, not noticing the rod between the bars and Stupid’s arm.

Paranoid gulped like a frog croak. Then the mirror fell.

What was that?—asked Guard, attention fixed on Paranoid with shattered glass behind his soles.

The silence was such, Slowdive could be heard from Thief’s headphones.

Hey! He asked you a question—barked from outside one of the officers.

Oh, yeah?—said Thief still not breaking eye contact with Guard, who was distracted with Paranoid in the corner. Instead of acting tough you should come in and stop your friend from bleeding out.

Huh?—wondered the officer out loud.

Thief let go of Stupid’s wrist, snapping the rod from the tourniquet and lunging towards Guard, shoulder tackling him, he grabbed his wrist, extended his left arm outwards and exposing his side: he plunged the steel rod through Guard’s armpit, twisting it, pulled it out, and: a bursting spray of blood hissed forth; Guard slouched; Thief grabbed the taser off his hand. Guard tried to speak. Useless.

First one officer ran in. Stupid kicked his knee inward from the side. Breaking it. The other officers tried to barge in, but—stumbled with—each other—shoulders smashed together— at the entrance.

In a rapid motion: Stupid grabbed the kneeled officer’s head and twisted it like a bottle cap. It wet rag strained out loud with a quick twirl. Didn’t fizz.

Paranoid grabbed a shard of mirror from the floor.

Stupid pulled in one of the stumbled guards grabbing him by an ear and hooking under his armpit, struggling the guard tried and almost pried away himself from the strong grip that tore his ear slowly; Thief kneed the man’s stomach and elbowed his temple causing the man to stumble disoriented and fall exposing himself; Thief put the cable taser gun inside the officers ear and pulled the trigger: taser hooks burrowed inside his soft ear drum.

A pop. Squirts of blood spat out the nose and ears.

Convulsion. The man foamed like a volcano: jerking on the ground.

Eyes rolled back, body seized as the electric current ripped through his skull.

The fourth and last officer was about to start running, when—Paranoid jumped on him—repeatedly plucking his face, shard in hand; meeting hard bone—Paranoid’s eyes went blank.

Plea… urgh… se… sss…urgh—he gargled with a mouthful.

Paranoid, not blinking—stopped for a moment—stared at him, and kept going: wet thud after wet thud: blood pooled under Paranoid.

Slowdive and the gurgling guard whose lungs filled with blood and water wheezed—the only sounds in that section of the colossus.

Miles of metal corridors away:

Ribs suspended and encroached a hive shaped multi-leveled cyborg-human-comb housing hundreds of thousands: breeders, relics, slaves; segregated from the crews quarters who also were separated from Judicial.

They call it The Lobby.

It’s the in-between-worlds mode of transportation for goods like: prisoners, weapons, food, slaves, among other resources.

Inventory.

Waiting to be sorted.