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“You never get used to it,” Dasc said quietly. “You just hope someone will get here soon before they pull your card . . . Thought you were the first of a cavalry, but I guess not.”

“I’m Dr. Connor Brien. I came down here to gather some intel on them,” indicating the Brute dinner party with his head, “but this . . . this is . . .” Brien couldn’t even complete the thought.

The two shook hands. “I’m . . . Francis.”

“So this is transcendence?” Brien used his eyes and bushy brows to compliment his sarcasm, making sure his tone called out the man’s lie. The smell of the man, of the whole human pen, was not easy getting used to. He jerked his head back slightly to keep a good distance.

“Hmmm, my being betrays my guise. It was, for quite some time . . . So you came in here alone?”

“I was supposed to be here for just a short time, assess the situation. Communications with the port AI were destroyed almost immediately upon the siege. No one knew if there were any survivors.” He turned to watch what appeared to be a ceremonial prayer before the meal, Big Boy sitting majestically above the pack.

A woman prisoner crept over. Long, straight, gray hair flowed down her shoulders, her body so thin her raggedy clothes swam on her. She would’ve been pretty under better circumstances. She looked hours away from dying.

“Are you here to save us?” The look in her eyes was enough to break Brien’s heart. She was holding on to any hope she could find.

Brien couldn’t answer. “Has anyone tried to escape?”

“Almost every day . . . someone makes a run for it.” This came from another prisoner, a brown-skinned man with the remains of an athletic build. “But look at those monsters; they cover more ground in one step than we do in three.”

Brien suddenly became extremely self-conscious of his girth. He was the only one of the remaining prisoners who had any meat on his bones. He knew his time was short. “Do they eat anything else, besides . . . well, us?”

“They did eat the little frog-looking aliens they brought with them, and they have brought back game from the forest, but . . .” Dasc gestured a thumb over to the feast. “They seem to like us the best.”

Brien watched in silence as the Brutes gnawed meat off human bone. He’d studied cannibals before, but he always knew they had some sort of doctrine behind their reasons for eating flesh. Not that it made it any better, but he understood it. These animals killed for the sake of killing. Even killing and eating those who shared their faith and alliance. Brien wondered if this was representative of the whole Brute mind-set or just this single pack. Regardless, these beasts were natural human predators, even beyond the war.

He moved his eyes from Brute to Brute beforing returning his gaze to Big Boy. The beast gestured and growled wildly from his makeshift throne. Unlike the battle footage he’d watched and the Brutes he’d encountered personally on High Charity, Big Boy didn’t wear the highly decorative armor of most Chieftains. He was barely outfitted in armor at all: a few protective shards in key places, but nothing like he’d seen on the other leaders. Big Boy now sat listening to one of his captains as he growled out a tale, riotously laughing time and again, but at the same time suspiciously eyeing another crowd that had formed near a campfire. Brien followed his worrisome gaze.

Six was hovering over a fire, holding court for eight of the other Brutes. They too tore at the human flesh, but remained transfixed on whatever story Six was telling. His shaven face stuck out in opposition to Big Boy’s gruff visage, as if Six took pride in grooming himself on a daily basis. Surely a sign of aesthetic difference, and judging from their encounter earlier and the way they eyed one another, definitely a sign of conflict. He guessed Six was either from a smaller clan vying for power or simply found himself outnumbered among this more barbaric group, but he seemed to be gaining the attention of more and more of them, especially