Crapo crawled along the tunnel, her head shining in the phosphorescent glow of the ceiling’s fungal growths. Whisker antennas flipped back and forth from the two rows of cranial implants sprouting on each side of the crown of her skull.
The slick jadeite stone walls reminded her of the metal tunnels back home on Medos 4. Sneaking into the hydroponic’s bays to steal enough algae to survive during the corporate famines, life was different now. She was sneaking into the undersand prison to free a friend’s friend. Death wouldn’t come from starvation now. It would be a laser blast or anti-personnel mine.
She had blades to shave her scalp and showers of real water. At least, the Star Traders would give her a clean death.