There’s a quiet second while the chain-gang decides if it’s going to duck out of the way or stretch to get a better view. I decide on option one, and so does the con behind Lear. We’re waiting for NorCol’s boots to come crashing down on us, to haul Lear up by his collar and bloody his lip, maybe break a rib or two.

But Durer puts an end to that before it starts. He shrieks with laughter, filling the air with spit.

“He’s insane,” mutters someone down the line. At first, I look for the con who said it, but the voice has an edge of filters to it, and a husky NorCol accent. I find the source wearing a company coat, standing near the marine from earlier, both looking just as uncomfortable as the rest of us.

Durer finds himself again, but it’s a minute before the snickering stops. He takes a sleeve to the dribble on his chin. “Excellent, excellent.” He comes about, blinking like he’s forgotten where he is. “What was I saying?”

The administrator leans in, but we don’t hear them speak.

“Oh yes. Of course.” He shakes himself out, favours us all with an ugly smile. “I am required to inform you that if you proceed from this point, you will forfeit your usual rights and protections under the Articles of Colonisation. Your legal status as a citizen will be suspended indefinitely, subject to the conditions of transfer, et cetera, et cetera.” He waves the last of it away. “Raise your hand if you don’t get it.”

We watch, but no one moves.

Durer pulls himself up on the rail, feet dangling. “This is it! Your last chance!” Another sickly giggle. “Who wants out?”

The echoes take a moment to die, but the chain gang keeps its peace.

Durer drops back to the floor, apparently satisfied. The administrator is saying something, but he’s already lost interest. He nods, and yawns into an oil-soaked glove. “Yes, yes. Whatever.”

A few words more, and he’s watching us again.

“That about does it.” He puts an open hand out above our heads, holds it there like a greasy benediction. “As presiding colonial officer on this ship, I hereby suspend your citizenship until such time as your sentences are complete, or you die during the term of service. As of right now, you are all property of the Nor Collective.” He licks his lips. “Good luck.”

Two

TWO

THE CHAIN-GANG TENSES, watching the soldiers on either side. It’s us and them, and the Colonial Authority has just relieved us of our rights.