The Promotion

[Guest]

Niverton Base, Pennsylvania

Claustrophobia.

Breath.

Just breath.

Akira Emi panicked as the slavers corralled the slaves into the transport ship. With stun sticks they smacked those that deviated from the group or, when they felt like it. Once onboard, the slaves were forced into crude cages. The cages could barely fit the numbers jammed into them; each slave had little breathing room.

Akira pleaded with the slaves around her to move away, but few listened, those that did, couldn’t move. Her eyes darted from to several different faces, her eyes connected with a guard, who grinned menacingly.
He moved towards her, stun stick in hand. He jabbed her in the ribs, she cried in pain but the laughter from the guards filled the air. Akira fell to the floor crying. Large hands gripped her, she cried out and recoiled.

“Hey, hey don’t worry. I won’t hurt you” Akira looked up, the face she saw was brutish almost Neanderthal in appearance.

“I’m Brad.”

Despite his hard appearance, Brad’s voice was soft, timid maybe.

“I... I... Ak... I’m Akira”

Brad smiled reassuringly at her. Brad was big, a stereotypical muscle head in appearance. He used his bulk to clear a space. None of the slaves were going to argue with his attempts.

The ship shuddered as it lifted off, most of the slaves could barely stay standing.

“Where are..... We going?”
Akira’s voice quivered.

“I don’t know. I heard that the Outcasts use slaves. Maybe we’re going to their home.”

“You..... Mean to work?”

“Yes, to ‘work’.”