Pairs of eyes from the other prisoners followed me with a mix of curiosity as I walked down towards the darker end of the prison quarter.
Some nursing their wounds from the earlier scuffle, while a few got up from their bunk beds when they saw me. They expected trouble from me.
Others seem more pre-occupied chatting to each other, while pretending they hadn't seen me as they lowered their voices at the sight of me. I only noticed the three Durgian women missing.
The two Hamazans stayed in their cells nearby mine, gossiping about the fight when I went past. They averted their gaze from me while I continued on.
The few cells towards the end appeared empty, with their occupants milling about outside three cells before Zhiva's, as though queuing up for something.
Ten shirtless Perunians, standing in a single file, stopped jostling and fooling around with each other in my presence. They stood still.
Their pairs of eyes, in various shades of blue, tracked me with a mix of curiosity and hostility, like how trained soldiers sized up their opponents.
All of them spotted tattoos on their chests, depicting the unmistakable symbols of their species' war god, Perun. Two had more intricate tattoos, which showed the tall lanky figure of Perun with his arms raised in victory.
I'd seen plenty of those folkloric pictures of Perun in Perunian bars in the Narakan sectors. Every species had legends. Perunians are no different.
Yet, this lot wore hardened, battle weary expressions, compared to their softer law-abiding kin on the inhabited planets.
They represented a side of the Perunians, the ones whom I respected as worthy combatants in space fights.
Perunians may suck in hand to hand combat, but in their warships, they turned into menacing nightmares that chased their prey without relent.
I could see their wounds, which varied from visible gashes, swellings, or even early bruise marks on their faces and torso, gained from the earlier scuffle. They could be waiting for their turn to be treated by Garan and another was treating them in those two cells.
The Perunians leaned against the bars of the two cells when I went past. Odd sounds of grunts and moans emanated behind their backs, through the partial view of one cell.
My cochlear implant amplified those sounds of gasps and some slopping sounds as goosebumps rose on my skin once I realised what the activity was.
"AHHHHHhhhh," a woman moaned. That must be a Durgian.
From the corner of my eyes, between those bodies, a cursory blanket covered the rhythmic movements of two bodies moving in the bottom bunk bed in the cell and the next cell was no better, more like animals getting on.
Those Perunian perverts are queuing for their turn in the two makeshift cells of a damn brothel.
I quickened my pace, only to stop at the red lines of warning running across my vision.
[Alert: Anti tracer scrambler units in place. Signal jamming frequency active. Unable to detect Trey's signals] my optical implant reported.
To avoid any misunderstanding, I kept my eyes straight until I reached Zhiva's cell at the end, with his cell grates covered by a blanket, with its corners tied around the metal grills.
At least the cell next to his was empty.
He occupied the biggest cell meant for four prisoners.
[Alert: Anti tracer scrambler units in place. Signal jamming frequency active. Unable to detect Trey's signals] kept popping up.
Zhiva and his gang installed hidden devices to render the surveillance cameras useless.
Good move. Well played, especially with an in-house brothel. What's next? A casino?
I swept the blanket curtain away to spot what I least wanted to see.
Garan sat with his eyes closed against the wall on the bottom bunk with a Durgian woman, the named price.
I recalled her face as the same one next to Zhiva when he mediated the fight between Thrain and I.
Topless with her ample bust hanging in full view, she ran the tip of her tongue slowly down Garan's exposed chest, with her hand working between his groins, making him grunt in pleasure.
My stomach twisted up at the payment Garan asked for in my cell. I could have been in her place.
Both Garan and the Durgian woman paid me no attention, although I noticed the large tattoos typical of Perunian paintings depicting their warlike lore covered his chest.
Zhiva sat on the top bunk bed, opposite theirs with his legs dangling, and re-plaiting his hair. He looked at me and jumped off his bed, narrowly missing the female Durgian's leg, which he kicked away.
"Owwwwwwwch," she shrieked as her body jerked away in pain, only for Garan to yank her back and push her head down between his groins without a care.
"Bitch suck," Garan ordered her gruffly, ignoring her discomfort.
With little choice, teary eyed Durgian sniffled and started unzipping his pants.
"Zhiva, go elsewhere."
Garan need not say it twice.
I wanted to leave.
Zhiva shaded my eyes with his hand from the scene, and spoke into my ear, "let's go."
I quickly did a 180-degree turn and stepped out with Zhiva, who pointed to the adjacent empty cell. The empty cell still had the scent of freshly cleaned sheets from the made beds, but unsettling with the disgusting noises coming from the next cell.
Zhiva sat on the bottom bunk bed and patted the seat next to him. He didn't seem to care about those noises. I sat on the ground opposite him with my back against the wall.
He smirked. "Fine, suit yourself."
"You wanted to speak about that shard in Eden?" I cut down to avoid any potential distraction from the purpose of my coming to discuss the shard.
Unsure if he is serious about the shard. From the look of things, we won't be leaving the Ultramax soon to even bother about a shard from a Kamuy ship.
I needed to be sure he wasn't thinking of something else, after knowing what the Durgian women did for protection.
Screw Trey if they try to threaten me with him.
It's everyone for themselves. I look after me and me alone.
If Zhiva is serious about the shard, then I wonder about the possibility of him working for the other side, planted inside to keep me pliable so that the Great Swirl Council can worm information from me?
The questionable ways they got equipment or contraband supplies are enough to raise my suspicions.
If they wanted information from me, they spent an elaborate waste of time.
"Straight to business, eh?" He leaned back onto the wall, bending his leg up to stare ahead, sweeping his long fringe aside.
"What else?" I asked.