Not to the extent, however, that she failed to see the expensive silvery filaments protruding from a smaller pimple of recently discarded trash. Kneeling, she began tearing at the refuse, heaving ruined equipment and bags of garbage aside to reveal…

Bishop.

Or, more accurately, what was left of him. The android components were scattered amid the rest of the junk and she

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had to dig and sort for another hour before she was certain she’d salvaged absolutely everything that might be of use.

She made a preliminary attempt to correctly position the parts. Not only was the result unencouraging, it was downright pitiful. Most of the face and lower jaw was missing, crushed beyond recognition in the EEV or lost somewhere within the mass of trash outside. Portions of the neck, left shoulder, and back had somehow survived intact. In addition there were sensitive related components which had spilled or been torn free from the exterior shell.

Grim-faced and alone, she began carefully packing them into the sack she’d brought with her.

That’s when the arm coiled around her neck and the hands grabbed hard at her shoulders. Another hand appeared, clutching feverishly between her legs, fondling roughly. A man materialized in front of her. He was grinning, but there was no humor in his expression.

With a cry she broke free of the arms restraining her. The startled prisoner just gaped as her fist landed in his face and her foot between his thighs. As he crumpled, prisoner Junior appeared and wrapped his thick arms around her, lifting her off the ground to the encouraging sniggers of his companions, throwing her spread-eagled across a corroded pipe. The other men closed in, their body odor obliterating the smell of salt, their eyes glittering.

?Knock it off.?

Gregor turned, his gaze narrowing as he isolated a silhouette, close. Dillon.

Gregor forced a grin. ?Jump in the saddle, man. You wanna go first??

Dillon’s voice was low, ominous. ?I said knock it off.?

With his weight resting on the gasping Ripley, Junior 99

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snarled back over his shoulder. ?Hey, what’s it to you, man??

?It’s wrong.?

?Fuck you.?

Dillon moved then, deceptively fast. The two men in back went down hard. Junior whirled and brought a huge fist around like a scythe, only to have his opponent weave, gut-punch him, and snatch up a metal bar. Junior staggered and tried to dodge, but the bar connected with the side of his skull. The second blow was harder, and he dropped like stone.

The other cowered and Dillon whacked them again, just to keep them thinking. Then he turned to Ripley, his expression solemn.

?You okay??

She straightened, still breathing hard. ?Yeah. Nothing hurt but my feelings.?

?Take off,?he said to her. He indicated his fellow prisoners. ?I’ve got to reeducate some of the brothers. We’re gonna discuss some matters of the spirit.?