Although the small pavilion was kept in shadows, illuminated by the weak green light of the security system, the noises could be heard perfectly, and every inmate was glued to the bars of his cell, giving his two cents on the situation.

Peeking his ear into the corridor, Simon tried to hear better what they were saying. He would have imagined a face for each prisoner if his imagination had not been so weak.

“Hey, Fred!” one prisoner said to another. “What you hear is the cavalry coming for me! As soon as I’m free, I’ll go to your cell and show you what I have in store for you!”

“I’m waiting, you bastard!” answered a second voice; this Fred dude probably. “Your mother and sister have already come over!”

There was a general laugh. Someone finished laughing and suffered a coughing fit.

Until a loud growl ended the laughter. The pavilion got silent, and for a moment, all that sounded in the shadow was the fuss of explosions. That growl had come from the cell next to his; the bear had awakened.

More whooping cough.

“Hey, Miguelito,” said one with a hoarse voice. “Are you okay, pal? Those imperialist dogs have given you that cough. I know!” More coughing from the Miguelito pal. “They experimented on you again, right?”

Oh, for crying out loud! Let that poor bastard spit his lungs out in peace!

“Same thing again, you idiot?!” another inmate barked.

“You’ll be the idiot if you think we’re here temporarily!” replied the one with the hoarse voice. “We’ll never be transferred to a prison because we are here to be lab rats!”

Simon nodded; he too had heard something similar before.

“You’re delusional, you idiot!” The verbal dispute between inmates continued. “Spinola already gave me a transfer date.”

“Well, he lied to you, you stupid! Or do you think the imperialists are testing their new gadgets on their own people? My cousin got locked up here last year and was used to test some transporter bracelets; the poor guy ended up in tomato paste! And here, Miguelito... C’mon, Miguelito! Tell this stupid guy that—!”

“Martinez, why don’t you shut the hell up?” Miguelito answered with difficulty, between a cough and the other.

“Yes, Martinez, I have something in store for your mouth here.”

More laughs. More coughing. Another growl from the bear in the next cell. More ruckus.

Anxious, Simon scratched his stubble and smoothed his mustache. His eyes darted here and there as he racked his mind to get an idea. What could he do to take advantage of the chaos and escape?

There was a screeching sound that everyone recognized. The door connecting the pavilion to the rest of the building had just opened.

The inmates got silent. Even Miguelito stopped coughing.

And then, steps. Someone was entering.

It wasn’t the scratchy noise Spinola’s boots made as he walked on the concrete floor; nor was it the metallic sound caused by the Grenadier boots. This one produced a sharp echo. It was the noise of high heels.

Simon flattened his face against the steel bars, trying to see who had opened the door.

“Hello, you precious gal,” he heard the prisoner who had something in store for anyone who spoke to him say. That dude had just said gal; so those heels were from a woman’s shoes. What woman wore high heels there?

“Precious, do you want to see what I have in store for you?” the dude said, but his voice turned into a whimper, first with surprise and then pain, until then he went completely silent.

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“Hey!” someone got startled. “What have you done to my friend?!”

Whatever had happened there terrified Simon to the core. He couldn’t see crap! The other prisoners had fallen into deathly silence, even this Miguelito fellow, who was no longer coughing.

The clatter of heels increased. The stranger was approaching. Simon caught his breath.

In front of his cell, a stylized image took human form with the stealth of a feline. It was a woman with a tight miniskirt, her head completely shaved and… No, she didn’t have eyebrows either. Her skin was almost bluish, and the color of her eyes was violet. She was an Eddanian; no one but those people had eyes like that. Weird. They rarely showed their legs; they were more likely to wear robes, but well, there were those earrings in her ears, so typical of them. The Eddanians were fascinated by their jewels.

“You,” she pointed out at him.

Damn, she was talking to him! Simon felt ice in his blood.

“You will come with me,” the woman told him, and the electrical system of the cell started up by itself. There was a series of clicks, clacks, clacks, and the bars got pushed aside to release him.

Though he trembled with fear, like a little rat in front of a snake, Simon knew what was good for him. He left his cell and stood in front of the strange woman who had just done what no one had ever done for him, offering him his freedom.

A slight tingle on his left wrist, and the Cerberus shackle opened by itself and fell to the ground, causing a jingle that to him was the most beautiful of all sounds.

Why me? he wondered to himself.

“Because of those who are here, you and the big man are the only ones who will be of use to me,” she answered aloud.

Big man, she’d said? Was she referring to—?

Clacks, clacks, clacks. Another cell opened; the one next to his. A huge figure came out from there. Ducking his head so as not to hit the threshold lintel, a gigantic man stepped out into the corridor.

Holy crap! Simon assumed the guy was a big dude from the sounds he made, but having him by his side was a completely different experience. More than a bear, he resembled a gorilla, a hairless gorilla. A huge, bald guy with a broad back and arms so thick that one of them was worth three or four of Simon’s, so big that the guy had ripped off the sleeves of his yellow jumpsuit, perhaps to feel them freer. The surprising thing was that he hadn’t done the same with the rest of the suit yet; because the fabric looked so taut that it gave the impression of being about to burst into a thousand pieces.

Simon held his breath and raised his head to see his face. The fluorescence of the security system was not enough to appreciate every detail of the man’s massive face, although it was enough to meet those small eyes to realize that he was a wild dude. Of course, that was if the scars that decorated the skin that the prisoner suit didn’t cover—arms, neck, and head—hadn’t warned him beforehand.

Two or three of the inmates applauded the surprising act of liberation and asked for the same fate. The woman shot them a look, and the shouting disappeared from the corridor. How had she managed to cover the mouths of those guys who couldn’t even keep quiet after hearing a lot of explosions? With power, with that.

“Kitten’s tired of always serving someone,” said the big man. “Kitten will no longer serve anyone else.”

Kitten? Really?

Cracking his fingers, Kitten approached the woman with the most insane—and stupid—smile Simon could have ever seen. Cautious, he backed away, who knows how this could end.

The woman not only stood there but responded with the most devilish—and mocking—smile Simon could have ever seen. She showed the palm of her hand and closed it as if she were squeezing something invisible. Kitten stopped instantly, grunted, and clutched the left side of his massive chest, so hard it seemed as if he would rip his pectoral muscle with his own hand at any moment.

The woman continued squeezing that intangible something. No. That something intangible was the very heart of the big guy; she was just squeezing it from a distance.

Kitten gave a strangled groan. Beneath the shadows, Simon could see the glint of beads of sweat beading the giant’s head.

He knew the stories that were told about the people from the Edda Peninsula. His father said that these people used black magic to get what they wanted. ‘They take spoiled, whiny little kids like you, Pesha, and sacrifice them to their gods,’ he used to say.

But the power of those Eddanian folks was a myth, fables made up by lying old ladies to scare children!

The woman loosened her hand and released the invisible thing she was holding; the big man stopped clutching his chest so tightly, relaxed his hand, and gasping, tried to catch his breath. Then, with his head down, he stood beside the woman as if he were her guardian pet.

No, Pesha, he told himself. It’s not a smart move to play the clever boy with this gal.

“Come on,” the woman said and returned the way she had come.

Simon and Kitten followed closely behind her, while the rest of the prisoners watched them pass, silently and hopelessly.

Walking toward his freedom, Simon glanced at them. He saw Martinez’s shadowed expression behind bars. Or was he Fred? Then he saw Fred. Or was that Martinez? He also saw others, among them that old man Miguelito, the one who coughed, cornered in the depths of his cell like a child in penance, and the prisoner in the cell next to the door, lying on the floor, in the shadows and still, maybe dead.

Poor bastards. They had no choice but to resign themselves to continuing to be lab rats for the imperialists. Sure, if they survived whatever was happening out there.

Oh, well, that’s the way life is!