Kane gasped, cocking an ear toward the ceiling. He pushed to his knees and scurried on all fours to the front of the cage so he could be the first to fill his lungs if Fleece decided to feed them today. The other men did the same, a couple of them trying to shoulder him aside. But Kane was younger and stronger than the rest, and he used his fists to remind them of it.
Defending his position, he knelt with his torso pressed to the chain link and craned his neck to peer at Fleece’s boots coming down the stairway. He would know those boots anywhere. He even saw them in his dreams. Knee-high, distressed black leather, unpolished with a deep scrape along the back of the left calf. He kept his eyes fixed on their scuffed tips until they stopped in front of the cage and turned to face him.
“Gentlemen.” Fleece greeted them as he always did, his voice dulled by the gas mask covering his entire face. “I have good news.”
Kane didn’t care. He wanted Fleece to shut up and flip the switch. But he peeked through his lashes and pretended to show interest.
“We’re almost there,” he continued. “Tomorrow you’ll be on Adel Vice, your new home.” He paused, spreading his arms wide. “Who’s excited?”
Every man in that room wanted the same thing, and they all knew the best way to get it. They gave a chorus of cheers and whoops.
“Excellent,” Fleece said, clapping his palms. “But before we arrive, it’s important that you understand how Adel Vice works. It’s a playground planet—an exclusive resort—and your job is to make our guests feel special. Some of you will do that in the kitchens or distilleries. Others will work in the casinos or lead tour excursions. But no matter what your role is, every one of you must abide by a single rule: you will say yes to anything a guest asks of you. The answer is always yes. Never no. Do you understand?”
Kane nodded vigorously. Flip the switch. Please flip the switch.
“Let’s see how well you were listening.” Fleece tapped an ear. “If a guest asks for a cocktail delivered to the pool, what do you say?”
“Yes,” the men chanted in unison.
“If a guest asks you to rub lotion on their shoulders, what do you say?”
“Yes.”
“If a guest asks you for a dance, what do you say?”
“Yes.”
“If a guest invites you to spend the night, what do you say?”
“Yes.”
“That’s right,” Fleece murmured, though he still didn’t seem satisfied. He clasped both hands behind his back and paced the area in front of the cage. When he stopped, it was right in front of Kane. Their eyes locked and held. Fleece sharpened his gaze as if to test Kane apart from the others. “If a guest asks you to fight one of the men beside you, and tells you not to stop fighting until that man is dead, what do you say?”
Kane didn’t hesitate. “Yes!”
A thousand times, yes. Just flip the goddamned switch!
Fleece smiled. This time he was pleased. Kane could tell by the length of his strides as he made his way to the air tanks mounted on the wall. There was a collective exhale from all around, the sound of fifty men silently praying for release.
And then Fleece did it. He flipped the switch.
Kane was so elated he could cry. He squeezed his nose through an open square in the chain link and inhaled one eager gasp after another until he smelled that familiar aroma, the one that promised everything would be all right. And it was. The rush came like a thousand rays of sunlight trying to escape from his body. A blanket of pleasure wrapped around him, starting at his toes and electrifying every inch of him until he imagined his hair stood on end. With his lips parted, he threw back his head and rode the sensation for wave after intoxicating wave. Then slowly, it began to recede like the tide, farther and farther away until nothing remained.
When it was over, he found himself on the floor once again.
Counting the hours until next time.
Adel Vice was a paradise in the making.
Most of the planet was still in basic terraformed mode, a blank slate of soil and sea. But the developed areas bloomed with lush, tropical greenery and crystal beaches made from the silkiest imported sands in the galaxy. A sprawling resort hugged the waterfront, stretching in a thin curve along the surf that ensured every room offered a stunning view. Behind the suites, construction was wrapping up for various restaurants, nightclubs, casinos, and a few buildings designated as VICE DENS. The clatter of nail guns filled the air, joined by the scents of plaster and wet paint as workers rushed to finish in time for next week’s top secret grand opening. Supposedly, the first group of guests had been extended private invitations based on the absurdity of their wealth and their reputations for debauchery.
Whatever.