"Ugh. Hurts. Where am I?"

  Rex shook his head, trying to sit up. Time had lost meaning. His body felt like water—bending at the waist seemed impossible.

  The Crimson Storm pirate clan? First desert crossing and I'm already wrecked. Some luck.

  Before he could think further, his face contorted. His body curled into a shrimp-shape, racked by violent coughing. Blood dripped from his mouth.

  Wait. Breathing. Lots of it.

  He checked himself. The dagger was still there. Relief. He pulled a flexible glow-stick from his sleeve and tossed it out.

  "You... you okay?"

  A timid voice behind him. The glow-stick landed, revealing the scene: people. Many people. All young.

  Rex shook his head, coughed hard, spat bloody phlegm. Felt slightly better.

  He managed to sit up, bracing himself. A small boy had retrieved the glow-stick, shaking it hard. Finally, light in the darkness.

  "I... we don't know what happened," the voice continued. "Ships fell from the sky. Attacked without warning. They only took kids. Adults who fought back... they... they all died."

  At the word died, sobbing erupted around them. Rex's cave-trained eyes adjusted. The speaker was a blonde girl, fourteen or fifteen, pale-skinned.

  "Hey. Is this a pirate ship?" Rex whispered.

  "No. Three hours ago we arrived here. Some kind of massive oasis. The bad people took many children, herded us into buildings in groups. No one knows what to do."

  "Thanks. Guess you carried me in. Those pirates hit hard—electrocuted me twice."

  The blonde girl nodded. "They made us carry you. I'm Mana from Lemon Oasis. What's your name?"

  "Shipwreck Village. Rex."

  Short and final. He wanted no conversation. No broken bones, but his organs throbbed with dull pain. He needed to address this.

  Ignoring the stares, he staggered to a dark corner. Some kind of old storage room. Mold assaulted his nose. He'd smelled worse. He slumped against the wall, pulled a green leaf from his collar lining, and slipped it into his mouth.

  Second time taking one. Full effect took five hours. Medical leaves weren't miracle cures—boosted resistance and immunity, stopped internal bleeding. For fractures or penetration wounds, all the leaves in the world wouldn't help.

  Rex tested his waist. Not as bad as he'd feared. He settled into the darkness, thinking.

  Pirates steal cargo, fine. But why collect so many kids? They wouldn't bother without profit. Something's wrong here.

  He touched the wall. Stone construction. Hard floor. Zero escape chance. With pirate tech, surveillance was likely. He sighed, closed his eyes, and sank into sleep.

  Ten hours later, the door screeched open.

  Lights blazed on. A voice at the entrance: "Food. Water. One meal per day. Want to eat? Fight for it."

  Some children froze. Others lunged. Hundreds in the warehouse, ages six to sixteen. Enough food for thirty. Scrambling was inevitable.

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  The door slammed shut. Rex didn't move. Not because he couldn't win—because he didn't need to.

  Why unnecessary? His clothes held concentrated rations. Five honey-spore mushrooms in his left sleeve. Half a liter water pouch in his right. Even in the desert, with these supplies and his survival instincts, he could last ten days.

  Such caution was meant for sand-bandits. Desert commerce bred predators. He'd expected them, not star-pirates. Sand-bandits operated only on Turhuan, manageable in small numbers. Star-pirates ranged across sectors—similar nature, different magnitude of threat.

  Fortunately, pirates dismissed children, skipped searching them. That was his opening. Shipwreck Village's Light-Brain had provided complete education. Rex wasn't stupid. He recognized where this competition led—blood, and psychological scars. Young minds were fragile. Corrupted by cruelty, they became monsters.

  A strange thought surfaced. He murmured: "Breeding the next pirate generation? That's why they're engineering this selection? Forcing the strong to survive? Yes. Very possible."

  Shouting erupted ahead: "Hit him! The food belongs to Purewater Oasis!"

  "Purewater steps back! Lemon Oasis doesn't bow! Brothers, with me!"

  The children came from different origins. During the chaos, Rex ate something.

  His five years had been brutal. Sometimes cold, sometimes calculating—everything was camouflage to keep living. He didn't bully others. He didn't allow bullying either.

  Who knows how long this lasts. Prepare for prolonged starvation. Water's tight, but honey-spore mushrooms can relieve thirst. One step at a time. Shipwreck Village looks small compared to these oases. Look at these kids—tall, strong. I'm only average.

  Oasis children formed gangs quickly. Turhuan worshipped strength. Without good physique, adulthood meant struggle. Under deliberate cultivation, these "little ones" fought well.

  A green-eyed boy delivered continuous elbow strikes, dropping a dozen opponents. A shoulder-throw sent another flying. He strode forward, grabbed bread with his mouth, reached for more.

  Nearby, a red-haired boy punched with wind-like force, snatched a water pouch from the crowd, drank like a wolf.

  "Tsk. Maybe the pirates' strategy works. Monsters do emerge."

  Rex observed from shadows, thinking.

  Time flowed indifferent to human suffering. The warehouse held cruelty and misfortune—impossible to remain untouched. Rex's face paled. When food ran scarce, when hope died, what happened? The pirates were bastards. Imagining it chilled him.

  Yes. Man eat man. Like primitives attacking and consuming each other. Hasn't happened yet, but easy to picture.

  Confusion filled him. Humanity built civilization spanning three galaxies. Why this savagery? Why target Turhuan, this impoverished rock? Bastards.

  Crying, cursing, chaos—mixed together. Forty-five minutes before the battle subsided.

  Many children bruised and swollen. Younger ones hungry. But with the necessity of competition established, next time would prove bloodier. How many would survive? Thirty? Twenty? Rex didn't know. Only that life here meant nothing, that pirate rules governed everything, that hope was a joke.

  He pressed deeper into shadow, closed his eyes, resumed his great work of sleeping. The electrocution wounds had mostly healed. Gene-tuning had given him a durable frame. Two shocks would have killed an ordinary body.

  Five hours later, disturbance erupted. Lemon Oasis and Purewater Oasis reached agreement, sealing the door tightly, blocking others from approaching.

  Rex nodded slightly. Smart strategy. Two oases united against the rest—each member secured minimum food and water, enough for basic survival.

  Then he saw her. Mana, the blonde girl, trembling within the Lemon Oasis group. Hard to see clearly in darkness; under light, she was beautiful. She clutched the green-eyed boy's hand like a young wife.

  The green-eyed boy was the food-fighter who'd dominated earlier. Lemon Oasis followed him. Purewater Oasis's leader was the red-haired water-snatcher. By galactic calendar, true adulthood came at twenty-three—schooling requirements. On Turhuan, sixteen-year-olds could form families with parental approval. Earlier matings were common.

  "Unfair! Why guard the door? Arrogant! Move aside!"

  "Yeah! Live together or die together! What's so great about Lemon Oasis? Fight!"

  A dozen boys agitated for chaos, failed. Most watched coldly. Two united oases beat scattered individuals. With capable leaders, victory seemed impossible.

  No one felt good. Death hung overhead. Conversation was rare. The silence lasted until the door opened again.

  "Eating quietly? Other places are drowning in blood. Schedule's accelerated. Game speeds up. One hundred survivors. Only when we have one hundred do you advance. Forty-eight hours without results, you all die."

  The warehouse exploded. Even the united oases fractured—combined, they far exceeded one hundred. Opposition became inevitable.

  The cold door closed again. Food lay on the floor. No one looked. Only stared at each other. To live meant climbing over corpses. Tension saturated the air.

  Silence. Deep silence. Everyone held breath together.

  Then someone screamed. The chaos began.