Recap: Sagan was walking home from work, and as he nearly reached his apartment he was approached by two Gnosians who grabbed and abducted him.
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Sagan woke up. Vision blurred, hearing inaudible voices in mid-conversation. The lighting was stark, the first thing he focused on was the stains on the ground; blood. There were many shades of it. Some darker than others, which painted the ground he was laying on. Pushing himself up, he could feel the cold floor, and slightly warmer patches where the blood was; rough to the touch. Small flakes crunched away in his hands, and during the process, he scratched at the patch, which lodged a small nugget of it under the nail of his index finger.
On his knees, he instantly picked away at his nails, attempting to clean them of the irritating gunk. While doing so, he looked around at his surroundings. It was open. Sagan was in a small square, with enough room to walk around, and on either side were more, each with a person inside. In front of him was a dividing line, a pathway, which separated him from the other squares stretching the length of the long hallway.
"Look who's awake." A Trisken said, in a bored tone. Sagan looked at the alien but made no effort to reply. Is he a part of it? He thought while standing upright.
Stepping forward, Sagan looked around for the Gnosians. They were the last thing he could remember, two of them grabbing him as he got close to home. "Don't step outside your cell." The Trisken warned. But, he ignored him and continued walking.
Collision. His head impacted with an invisible wall, which shimmered blue and white, as he made contact. While rubbing his face, he ignored the laughter of a few others in his vicinity, occupying cells of their own. One was a Mulu, who seemed to take great joy from Sagan's misadventure. Another was a Doshan, who didn't take much solace in the action but grinned nonetheless. "I tried to warn you, human." The trisken said as the laughter quelled.
Sagan continued to look at the other prisoners, to his right was the Trisken, left was an empty cell, but further was the Mulu, in front was the Doshan, to the right of him, a Rotchi, huddled on the ground, to the left an Arok, who seemed to be meditating, beside him the cell was empty, but beside that was a Zun Kullen, beside the Trisken was a Beskin, whose snarling was constant. There seemed to be an Alid further along.
"Where are we?" Sagan asked, to everyone, and to anyone who would listen. "Your guess is as good as mine. Last thing I remember was being taken by Gnosians. For what, I haven't a clue." The Trisken replied, before pacing around his cell.
"Slavers. I've heard of syndicates, who abduct and sell people to the less civilised worlds out there." The Doshan said while biting their nails.
"Slavers." The Mulu scoffed. "You think they'd go to this effort for slaves? They've been picking people up one by one, they seem to be working their way through a list. I've been here for about three weeks now."
"Maybe they're searching for valuable slaves." The Trisken retorted, with a shrug.
"Valuable slaves? Look, I worked in the trade for a while. Quantity is quality. You don't spend weeks picking up one at a time, you just pick a semi-unprotected settlement on the edge of nowhere, rush in and take as many as you can and fly to the other side of the galaxy to sell them. There's no science to it, you go, take, and leave." The Mulu said, while one of its eyes wandered; looking around almost randomly.
"You were a slaver? Scumbag." The Doshan replied, clearly offended by the Mulu's sorted past.
The Mulu shrugged and didn't seem too phased by the jab. "Jobs a job. Money's money. Not proud of it, but it was an option to me and I took it."
"My sister was taken by slaver scum." The Doshan said through gritted teeth. "Better hope we don't get out of here." They continued.
"What? You want to stay locked up forever?" The Mulu replied before they started to chuckle to themselves, looking as though they were amused by the Doshan's anger.
In a flash of blind rage, the Doshan lost it and started kicking and punching at the cell wall, it shimmered blue and white erratically with each impact. All Sagan could do was stare at the swirl of colours.
"Save your energy tree dweller." The Trisken said after the Doshan seemed to settle down. "We're all in the same boat here and if we have any hope of figuring out this mess we'll have to work with each other." The Trisken paused to turn to the Mulu. "Even if some of us are degenerates."
The Mulu waved a hand at the Trisken, brushing off the insults and glares. "Yeah, yeah. As if I care what you call me, I'm not apologising for my past."
"Nobody is expecting you to. Now, let's try and work this out. Have any of you done anything you shouldn't have? Any reason at all you would be targeted?" The Trisken asked, taking careful note to look around at everyone, making eye contact. He stopped for a long moment and stared into Sagan's eyes.
"I haven't done anything, I don't deal in underworld stuff. I work as a data analyst for the SBH Systems Corporation. It's nothing fancy, just a desk job staring at holo-projections all day." Sagan said, not sure about anything that would make him stand out as a target.
"I worked the door of a club on Scoosha, just routine stop and checks, and the occasional toss of a rowdy patron." The Mulu replied. "Come to think about it, I never told Mr. Asratik that I wasn't going to be in. Probably lost the job now." They continued after a slight pause, before breaking out into a fit of nervous laughter.
"Never been in trouble in my entire life. I was never far from Dosha, just tended to plants and animals in my local town and occasionally made a trip away." The Doshan said.
"Well, me. I did a bit of mercenary work when I was a sprout, got a bit older, opened a shop on Jex, bought some land, sold the shop, and since then have just tended my grounds. Did some work for Project Preservation, but that was about as exciting as it got." The Trisken replied.
"I work as a consultant, mainly numbers and expenditures. I'm not even that well known for my work." The Arok said, slowly opening his eyes while he spoke.
"Engineer, I work with ships." The Beskin called out.
The Rotchi chittered as they stood up, and looked around. They shook and watched quietly as some of the others stared at them. "I, I, work with weapons and modifications as a hobby. I, was planning on selling some of my designs but haven't yet."
Sagan stared at the Rotchi, who sat back down on the ground once they finished speaking. Then he looked back to the Trisken, who just shook their head. "I'm out of ideas, we all seem pretty different and nobody seems to be involved in any underworld shenanigans."
Everyone in the room is different, way too different to be a coincidence. One of each race, and each with a different skillset or profession. He thought to himself while staring at each person. "They could be looking for slaves, that could be it. I mean look, each person is of a different race and skill set. Would that warrant all the hassle of rounding up people from different worlds?" Sagan asked, looking over at the Mulu.
"I don't know, I'm not a professional slave trader, I only did it for a while until I made enough to get myself out of some trouble I landed in." The Mulu carefully contemplated the other prisoners while speaking.
"What kind of skills are considered valuable to slavers?" Sagan asked.
"Whatever skill the buyer is lacking, I guess. Most people use them for manual labour, you know, jobs they could do without causing trouble." He pointed at the Rotchi. "I'm sure they wouldn't want to put one in charge of an armory."
"So, can we rule it out?" The Trisken asked.
"I guess so, besides, we're all males, females are automatically worth more than males, as they can produce more over time." The Mulu responded.
"I'll kill you!" The Doshan started to shout and kick at the energy barrier once more.
The Mulu just threw their hands up while that flurry of attacks was going on, and they started to chuckle. "Look, I'm sorry about your sister, but that's the truth."
Everything quieted down, and Sagan looked around at the cells once more. It seemed familiar to him, but he couldn't place it. Then, a flash of the advertisement came back to him. "Sole Survivor."
"What?" The Trisken asked, and the others started to look at him.
"This ship, I think." He mumbled, trying to conjure up a mental image of the ship that would transport contestants to the world at the start of a season. It was exactly the same as the ship used in the older seasons. He looked at the ground of his cell, noticing for the first time the magnetic hinges. "It is!" He shouted.
"What? What is it?"
"It's the same ship used in the early seasons of Sole Survivor. The floors can open, dropping each contestant off on whichever world that season is set on." Sagan said in an over-excited tone of voice.
"Yeah, so? What? Do you think this is a season of that stupid reality show?" The Mulu asked, to which Sagan nodded.
"It could be!" He replied. "I mean, I know we didn't sign up for it, but maybe to boost their ratings they decided to do something a bit different for this season!" He looked around and each of the prisoners seemed to have a glimmer of hope about their situation.
The doors at the end of the hall opened, with a loud churn. Voices could be heard, mixed with heavy breathing and more than the odd hiss; Gnosians.
Four of them walked the length of the hallway, slowly dragging another one who was on the ground, semi-conscious. Kicking and punching at the ones dragging him. Every time the one on the ground lashed out, a flurry of hits from the ones dragging him would occur.
Soon, the group of Gnosians had the semi-conscious one in a cell, and as they left the room, the sound of the Gnosian wheezing from his cell grew louder. The idea of this being a game, or reality show was a fleeting thought.
"Half dead or not, my money is on the Gnosian winning this season." The Trisken replied solemnly as he turned to stair at Sagan, who was feeling the same way.