That seems like a reasonable question.
It causes a lull in the conversation when none of them can answer it. For the first time since finding myself in this miserable cell, I'm actually excited about what the fiends have come in to talk about.
I mean, that it's a planet they use for blood sport is disturbing, but something killing them is extremely satisfying. I can tell Kira is just as interested by the strength of her gaze.
I love the idea of something scaring them, since I certainly never will. I'm small and completely untrained in any sort of self-defense. I went into medicine because I enjoy helping, not harming.
Had I known the slimes existed I might have reconsidered a few life choices.
"It has never happened," Left continues after a long pause. "They are all taken from primitive planets and don't speak each other's languages."
"Manticorids are technologically advanced," points out Right. "We get most of our tech by stealing from the dry headed, limp dick pacifists. Not to mention I doubt any blocks placed on them will work very long. If at all."
That piques my interest.
I hope that means there are even more species in the universe who might be advanced enough to crush these bastards like the leeches they are. I work hard to keep the look of disgust off my face and must manage it or we would be choking on gas right now.
Middle makes a dismissive sound. "I'm sure they would take away its technology, and without it they are just like any felidae. Just a giant version of a tasty snack."
I feel sick when I realize he's talking about cats. I love cats. I think of my sweet, demanding brown tabby. I'm sure someone has found him in my apartment by now, but I miss him with a sharp jolt in my heart.
I have to blink rapidly to keep tears from falling.
"Except with venom," scoffs Right, the gurgling puff of wind causing slime to fleck away from him and land on the floor. "A pacifist wouldn't have killed those traders."
A huge venomous cat sounds like just the enemy they deserve. I look over to Kira. The small smirk on her lips and the narrowing of her eyes makes me think she agrees with me.
I'm fairly sure the look Middle shoots Right is one of annoyance, though it's hard to tell since their faces look like melting wax over whale blubber and the only clue is how much their eyes bulge.
"But how do we really know what happens down there? The same interference that makes location technology useless, and of course the hunt more exciting, makes recording impossible."
Middle says this like they find the last highly disappointing.
"How do we even know they actually hunt the prey at all? There is never any actual evidence and for all we know they can get trophies by poisoning prey."
"Hunters die every year," points out Left. "I'm sure you've seen the feeds of the ones that have been recovered. Ripped to shreds, torn apart, pieces missing. And those are just the few they ever find."
I don't like how excited he sounds, but just imagining these three meeting such a well-earned fate makes me want to smile. To think me, a nurse, would be driven to the point of wanting to grin over some monster tearing someone's limbs off . . .
But if any species has earned it, the slimes have.
Middle turns back to us. "The pink one is poor entertainment. Ratings are going down. Bring out the red one."
"The purple one is on the schedule next," says Right.
Middle lets out a whine. "I'll take a third of your next shift if you bring out the red one."
"Half."
Middle deflates, but agrees. "Go back to your chamber, pink slut."
She lifts a middle finger at him. "Fuck you."
Right Slime presses down on the control to punish us.
She refuses two more times as I hack and cry right along next to her. I'm proud of her, despite the pain. They are demanding her obedience again as I wipe the tears from my eyes.
Kira looks over at me. I can see the question on her face.
