Free Syn-En: Registration by Linda Andrews

to slits. The man and woman debated his fate, not even three meters from where he stood.
    Job scratched his chin through his beard. “What makes you think he’ll agree to join us?”
    “He carried Beth to us. He didn’t have to. And Ruth said he took a lash for her and Silas.” Miriam set her hand on Job’s shoulder. “He must be looking for a clan to join. No one survives this Hell alone.”
    Nodding, Job shuffled closer. “Wake him.”
    Miriam clapped her hands.
    Ruth, the little girl from the shuttle, scurried over carrying a bucket of water.
    Bei closed his eyes and braced for the drenching. Water splashed over his body, saturating his clothes and filling his ears. He sputtered and shook his head. His hearing cleared immediately. The rope tightened around his throat, nearly cutting off his oxygen supply. He opened the pores in his synthetic skin and kept his levels up. Good thing his hardware was fully enclosed.
    The bucket dropped with a clang, and Ruth ducked behind Miriam’s legs.
    Bei made a show of gasping for air. If they wanted something from him, they needed to make an effort. He was tired of being used.
    Job pulled a knife from the sheath tied to his legs. “Try not to move. I wouldn’t want to accidentally slit your throat.”
    Bei stilled. The cold press of steel touched his cheek. For a moment, the ropes tightened then they fell away. He shifted his wrists. Cords bit into his flesh. Obviously, this wasn’t the clan’s first hog-tying. “What do you want?”
    Job stepped back. “The Mings were all wiped out in the cave-in. You are without a clan, without protection.”
    Bei pushed with his hands and rolled to a sitting position. “So?”
    Bending slightly, Job tucked the blade back into its sheath. His brown eyes never shifted away from Bei. “So, solitary people don’t last long down here.”
    Bei wasn’t alone. He had two men in the upper levels of the mine. But to get to them, he’d have to play it smart. Which meant, he needed to go along with the role he’d been programmed for. This might be his opportunity to gather more intel to refine his plan. Bei’s gaze drifted over the leader’s shoulder.
    The clan gathered behind Job. Most no longer brandished weapons.
    Job shifted in Bei’s line of sight. “If you swear allegiance to the Deutche clan, we will share our food, medicine and water. Help you meet your quota when you are sick.”
    Abraham sidled toward the door.
    Preparing, no doubt, to tell his handler. Bei allowed his doubts to show. Giving in too easily would be suspicious. “What’s in it for you?”
    “The Mings are good diggers.” Job hooked his thumb through his waistband. “Everyone knows that.”
    Behind him, a few people nodded.
    “Your rations become our rations and help us feed Beth, the girl you saved.”
    They could have his rations. He needed energy to keep his power cells charged.
    Job’s eyes brightened. “If we work together, maybe we can survive another day or week.”
    Week. It was a hell of a thing to count time in such small increments. Once he registered humanity, this slavery would end. But he needed to escape to do that. And, for the moment, he needed them. “And if I refuse?”
    Job shrugged. “You’re free to join the rogues.”
    Ruth inhaled sharply and clutched Miriam’s legs tighter.
    Rogues must be the solitary diggers. And feared. Bei was tired of being feared. He was the good guy, and soon they would all know it. In the meantime… “I shall join the Deutche clan.”
    “You so swear allegiance?”
    Bei nodded. “I so swear allegiance.”
    Shoulders relaxed. A few folks even smiled. Men and women disappeared into their shanties. Children sat on the ground around the electric cookers and accepted bowls of brown broth from the limping man tending the simmering pots.
    Retrieving his knife, Job strode forward. He leaned over Bei and sawed at the ropes. “I’m sorry to hear about your clan. If the Scraptors keep working us this hard,