The walls had been painted a dull dun color and other than the video eyes near the ceiling, contained nothing but the narrow, padded bench that served as a bed and a sink/toilet combination in one corner. The one piece coverall he wore was made of tough paper. And there was the collar. Dane leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, the air heavy, thick as soup in his lungs. He had counted meals for awhile, then stopped, had no idea how long he had been here. Or where here was, for that matter. They had used some kind of drug on him. All that remained of the time between the murder of Aliya, Koi’s cousin, and his presence here were a few hazy images of hands and movement. He wasn’t on Earth. The gravity here was about that of an upper residential level on NYUp, where the cheapest apartments were located. So he was still in orbit, but the sense of spin was greater than that of NYUp. Smaller platform he thought. One of the Council’s military bases? Probably. The reasons for not taking him straight down to the World Council were probably not good ones, he thought.
