It was not a courtesy, though. It was purely functional in purpose, allowing him to get the lay of the land where he would be spending the next years of his life. The sooner he knew where things were, the sooner he would be able to perform his duties at an acceptable speed.
The loads he carried were more bulky than anything else, and he carried them with relative ease, weaving his way through the streets and walkways as he followed the directions he had been given. People were out in numbers, affording him the opportunity to get a better feel for the residents of the city in daily life.
A wide variety of races were represented, as he had first noted. Clearly, it was a transit hub world upon which some cities had expanded to become more permanent settlements. He’d seen it countless times, and while he wasn’t entirely sure he’d been to this particular city, he had to wonder if he had visited another part of this planet in the past as was his hunch.
That answer came that evening when he had washed off the sweat of the day and sat for his evening meal.
“May I join you?” he asked a trio of particularly rough-looking prisoners.
They sized him up. Smaller than they were, but he had pluck.
“Why here? There’s tables over there,” the largest said.
“This city is new to me,” Bodok replied. “I am just starting to get a feel for this place. My gut tells me you three know the ins and outs. Am I right?”
“After this many years? You could say that,” the man replied.
“So, may I join you?”
The fellow was all muscle and sinew, not an ounce of spare fat on his sculpted body. Years of hard labor combined with the Mondarians’ strict nutritional regimen designed to feed the machine of their prisoners’ physiques without any wasted calories had made him so.
He shrugged, his mountainous shoulders rising like a pair of boulders on either side of his head. “Suit yerself.”
“Thank you,” Bodok said with a polite nod. “My name is Bodok. I’m new here.”
“Obviously,” the man replied. “You can call me Azros. Them two’re Hammit and Deishel.”
The other two men nodded but did not slow their eating.
“I am glad to meet you all,” the newcomer said as he took a seat. “I am sure there is much I can learn from people as knowledgeable as you.”
“Uh huh,” Azros said, turning his attention back to his food.
“What should I know about this place? Any advice to make the time pass more smoothly would be greatly appreciated.”
The one called Hammit stopped chewing and looked over at his two friends. “Talks a lot, this one.”
“He does,” Deishel agreed, then set back to the more important work of eating his meal.
Azros, however, respected the new guy for coming over and sitting with them. Most were intimidated because of their size—along with their reputation for not tolerating fools—and avoided them, leaving the three to their own company most of the time.
This was different. A little change that in the boring, endless routine of their imprisonment that was refreshing in its own way. For that alone he decided he kind of liked this man.
“There’s not much to tell, really,” he began. “But you should know to never be late with your load. They got you on produce duty to start, right?”
“They do.”
“Good. It’s an easy job. But eatin’ time is about the only pleasure we have around here, so even if the overseer gives you a little leeway on delivery time, the rest o’ us won’t. You make us wait for our meals, you’re gonna be in a world of shit.”
“Understood. And your advice is greatly appreciated. I will make sure not to dally where food is involved.”
“Smart fella,” Azros said, shoving a heaping portion into his mouth.
Bodok took a bite of his food. For a one-pot style meal, it was surprisingly not bad, though he would have greatly preferred having the constituent parts cooked separately and served on different trays. But food was food, and it was already abundantly clear he would be needing it.
“I asked to be given harder work, so I do not think I will be supplying the kitchens for much longer anyway.”
“Why would you do that?” the enormous man asked, his words slurring as he chewed.
