"Freedom"

[Quorg]

Lost in his thoughts, Kelton had failed to realize that the guard had asked him what he thought about the half-rations for the day.

Silence, of course, was not the correct answer. The guard smacked him on the back of the head with his baton.

Kelton was sure to sprawl out on the ground and exhibit the usual signs of pain- grimacing, holding his hand cupped tightly over the fresh wound on his head, shutting his eyes so tightly that he could feel the tears welling up behind his eyelids.

"Get on up, boy! Get on up, and dance!" The guard delivered a kick to Kelton's gut.

The wind knocked out of him, Kelton rose to his feet and leaned against the side of the conveyor belt to regain balance. The guard, satisfied that he had caused the prisoner sufficient misery for the moment, continued on.

"Only ten more years of this," Kelton thought.
"Man, this is the best thing that's ever happened to me! To think that I don't even have to pay for this!"
Kelton thought back to his days working as an actuary on Planet Manhattan- the long hours of lifeless number-crunching, simply to make enough cash to blow it all on dominatrixes in one of the seedier districts.
He had heard rumors of the brutality aboard LPI prison stations, but the pain inflicted by guards upon prisoners was marvelous beyond even his imagination. When he was picked up by LPI for drunk in public, he immediately pleaded guilty in spite of his ability to hire a lawyer who would have gotten him off scot-free.

Pain was his game, and he had come to the galactic championships.
He would have smiled if it weren't for the guards watching him.

---

ATTENTION SMUGGLERS
The Midnight Express: A Slaver <strike>who doesn't completely realize what he's doing.</strike> (video)

Quorg, you're officially a moron.

...mongs like Quorg being like a malignant little cancer...

Way to be useless, Quorg.