Condemned (Death Planet Book 1) by Edward M. Grant Page B

like his brother.
    “I'll do my best.”
    “What do you need?”
    “To see the sun again.”
    He could hardly remember the last time he'd been outside the dungeon. He'd started out counting days after the King threw him in there, but, when the cell was perpetually dark, the only way he had to count days was his daily meal delivery. And, after a while, he became convinced that they were delivering more than one some days, just to make him think he'd been in there for longer.
    At that point, he gave up.
    The King laughed. “I mean, what do you need to get the job done? You can come out of this hole to supervise the men when they start construction. And you can join me on board, when we conquer the world.”
    That would be nice. To see the sights, meet new people in other cities, in other lands. Then crush them beneath their thick, metal treads.
    “Can Simon come?”
    The King huffed. “Build me my machines, and you can bring that damn creature. Fail...”
    He didn't need to say any more.

CHAPTER 15
    “A ny funny business,” the armoured man said, “and your little boyfriend gets it.” He pulled Daniel to his feet, then pressed harder with the blade, until blood flowed from a shallow cut.
    Guy raised his hands to shoulder level. “Nothing funny. I just want a lift. We’ve been walking all night, I’d trade a few shinies to take the weight off my feet.”
    “Come to the shore. If I see any friends in the bushes there, this one dies first. Then you.”
    Daniel’s heart pounded as the blood slowly dripped down his neck. Could he escape somehow? He could try hitting the guy, but the metal breastplate pressing against his back didn't offer much hope of achieving anything other than pissing him off. What if Guy planned to steal the boat? Could this be the job he wanted Daniel for? Just to entice them to land, so he could get on board? Would he even care that Daniel died?
    “Please, comrade,” he said. “I didn’t do nothing.”
    “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
    Drones flew down from the sky and buzzed around them, like vermin who'd scented blood. Think about nice things. Like Newtonmas in the barracks. Watching Erica play hockey. Not his comrades sitting at home watching this asshole cut his throat, and gargling to death as his blood spurted out into the water. How could anyone want to watch something like that?
    “Come on, Moses,” Guy yelled. “Don't be an asshole.”
    “Last time I met you, you were hanging out with those Meat Packer shitheads, and that disgusting, smelly dog creature that ran them.”
    “I split over a year ago. Sparky took a dislike to me after I helped Red take over the gang.”
    “You and your little plots...”
    “Little plots kept me alive this long. I’m not about to change a winning formula.”
    “You tried to sell me as a farm slave.”
    “And, from the look of the boat, you must have been doing well since I let you go instead.”
    “Since I paid you to let me go. You didn't do it out of the kindness of your heart.”
    “I still let you go, didn't I?”
    Moses nodded toward the slave-master, who whipped the rowers until they turned to the shore. They raised their oars as the boat approached, and the man with the longbow jumped over the side, onto the shore. He grabbed the rope at the bow of the boat, and manoeuvred it until they were stable at the shore, only wobbling slightly in the waves. Then he nocked an arrow, raised his longbow, and scanned the bushes.
    Guy strode toward them. He held a leather pouch in his hand, and shook it. Metal clanked on metal inside.
    “Thanks.”
    Moses nodded toward a seat near the stern. “Get aboard fast, before I change my mind.”
    Guy stepped over the side of the boat, barely glancing at the rowers as he did so. The crossbowmen covered him with their bows, staying out of his reach.
    “And you can leave the rifle with my men.”
    Guy slid it from his shoulder, and held it out to them. “Careful. It’s loaded.”
    The