That being the case, the metal bulkheads along either side of the passageway were shiny up to the level of the average Ra Na’s head but dark and grimy above that. And, because normal maintenance programs had been suspended in order to put the maximum number of slaves to work on citadel-related projects, many little things had started to slide. Lights had burned out, a layer of trash littered the deck, and Ra ‘Na graffiti had started to appear on the once-immaculate walls. Some of it was openly rebellious—a sure sign of how thinly the Saurons were stretched.A line of approximately thirty rather bored Ra ‘Na technicals shuffled forward as a pair of equally bored Kan waved scanners over their wrist chips, verified that they had the necessary authorizations, and allowed the slaves to the enter the shuttle’s lock.Med tech Shu, her pulse pounding in her ears, tried to look as blasé as those around her, but discovered that was difficult to do. Especially since the chip implanted in her wrist rightfully belonged to a recently deceased com tech named Mas.
