Space Janitor (157) put his paw on the table, and Denabol nodded to one of his guard dogs. The guard dog held Space Janitor’s paw in place.
“I want to use the radio,” Space Janitor said.
“Don’t worry, we’re going to call your mom now,” Denabol said. He turned to Shep, “See what I mean, false memories, thinking they’re real. I know I come from nothing. What about you, Shep?”
“I know I come from nothing too, but what does it matter what they think. It doesn’t make a difference what they think. You don’t need to torture the poor thing to show me they’re loyal,” Shep said.
“Yes, but I can. You can, wouldn’t that make you feel good?” Denabol asked, holding the hammer up high.
Space Janitor’s eyes darted between the hammer, Denabol and the guard dog.
There was a chance he could try and struggle his way out of it, but it would do him no good. Space Janitor wished Denabol would strike him. It felt like it would no longer be that easy.
Shep and Denabol were locked in some kind of ethical argument. Even with feigning idiocy Space Janitor struggled to keep up.
Shep’s comments distracted Denabol.
“What is the point of having a pack, a family an army if you can’t order them to die for you?” Denabol shot at Shep.
“I just don’t want to have the lives of those dogs on my paws,” Shep said.
“You are a wet-nosed mongrel,” Denabol said. It appeared that Denabol’s focus had shifted entirely away from Space Janitor. It was now on Shep.
The guard dog loosened his grip on Space Janitor.
Space Janitor decided that it might not be smart, but he slowly moved his paw away.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
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