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just take your iridium-collection thingy and whack him right in the nuts.
    —
    You whack him. Not in the nuts. In the shin. Which is probably worse, because it sounds like it shatters on impact.
    —
    People lose their minds. They have no idea what to do with you.
    They are taking you down to the base. Holy crap. You are in an actual jeep, actually riding toward the actual base. You cannot believe it. You look around, try to take it all in. You have no idea what has happened. One day you’re an iridium-mining grunt, working for four and a quarter chits per year, on, like, a billion-year contract or something, and the next thing you know, you’re zooming toward moon base six with electromagnetic restraints on and two plasma rifles trained at your head. You are smiling like an idiot.
    —
    The smiling probably pissed them off, them being the dudes on the other ends of those plasma rifles, because you wake up in an antigravity holding cage floating ten feet off the ground. You’re floating around, bumping into the walls and ceiling of the cage. Your head is throbbing, probably because they clocked you in the skull with the butt of an RZT-195, but it was worth it. You’re still smiling, although a little less obviously.
    Hey, you say.
    What?
    One of the dudes turns to the other. They both look perplexed.
    Did he just?
    Yeah.
    Huh.
    Hey, you say again.
    Stop talking. You aren’t supposed to be talking.
    Huh. Okay. Well, I am.
    —
    Again with the smashing of the skull. This time, your brain feels like it’s broken. That last hit did something. Between the plasma storm and having your brain bashed, you don’t feel quite yourself anymore.
    You know better than to smile again. You’re not in the cage anymore. Now you’re being walked down a long corridor. This corridor is ridiculous, how long it is. Is it repeating? It seems like it’s repeating. There are doors as far as the eye can see. Doors, doors, doors. You know better. You could easily kick a dude from behind, maybe sucker-punch the other one with both cuffed fists and then smash through one of these doors. They all probably lead
somewhere
. Technically. There are rooms on the other sides of those doors. Maybe a break room, two people sitting at a table, staring at each other. In silence. For eternity. Just blinking. Maybe one goes to the microwave to refill a coffee mug every few hours. You’ve been in those rooms. You know what it’s like. You don’t want to be in those rooms anymore. Ever. Again. These fools think you’re a flight risk, so their fingers are on triggers. Little do they know, they’re leading you right to exactly where you want to be. You have no idea where that is, only that it’s at the other end of this corridor. A corridor is good. Interesting stuff happens in corridors. You’ve always wanted to be here. Right here. Somewhere. Wherever this is. Inside. On the map. Not out there in the infinite fields of iridium. They think they’re guarding you, but really, they’re escorting you. Right to your destiny.
    —
    This is him?
    She says it so dismissively, you want to melt into a puddle on the table. You may be in love. You are definitely in lust. This is Oona Bantu, which is a ridiculous name for a very serious person. Bio-suit helmet off, long red hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Stripes on her sleeve make her seem like someone important. This is good.
    What’s your name?
    Name?
    Yeah. You have a name, don’t you?
    Uh, one of the dudes tries to break in.
    Shut up, Sergeant. I was talking to him, she says, indicating you with a pointed, sexy finger. Everything is so sexy about her.
    I don’t, I don’t.
    You don’t what? You don’t know your own name?
    I don’t have a name. Ma’am.
    That’s, uh, what I was trying to tell you, Commander.
    Shut the hell up, Corporal.
    Yes, ma’am.
    Also, you should have told me.
    Yes, ma’am.
    Super Sexy Commander Lady turns her attention back to you.
    So. An NPC, huh?
    —
    After all these