Back From the Dead by Rolf Nelson

office gear, including a large pair of scissors. They look at each other and Helton is about to speak when a flushing sound comes from the side cubicle. Harbin grabs the scissors from the desk with his left hand, wielding them like a knife. They spring to either side of the door as it opens.
    Inside the dirty bathroom is Dopestick, looking down and slightly sideways at his left hand, scratching himself with the right. He notices Helton out of the corner of his left eye and reaches for a com unit on his belt. He freezes when Harbin holds the scissors to his neck, then drops when Harbin whacks him carefully with the rock. “Well, well, well.” Harbin says, as he crouches and takes the com unit from the slaver’s belt.
    “Looks like his Karma wheel is spinning faster than most, eh?”
    Harbin eyes the com, examining its settings. He nods in satisfaction and bends to check the unconscious slaver’s pulse for a moment. “Thick skull. Get a drink, I’ll watch him,” he says, going through the slaver's pockets and dropping their contents on the floor.
    Helton goes into the bathroom, turns on the faucet, rinses his hands, then cups them to drink deeply and splash water on his face. He rises with a sigh of relief. When he turns around, he sees a small pile of assorted pocket contents and Harbin dragging the limp form out of sight of the door with one hand, scissors in the other. He helps Harbin drag the slaver to the back of the building.
    Once there, Harbin motions at the front: “Watch the door and cameras.” Helton walks toward the desk, and Harbin grabs a spool of cord from a shelf. A few minutes later, he rejoins Helton, pausing at the door of the cubicle. “Anything?” he asks.
    “Nope. All quiet.”
    Harbin nods, enters the bathroom cubicle, and closes the door.
    They are looking at the security-camera screens when they hear a groan from the back of the building, where Dopestick is tied to a heavy-duty shelving unit. They both walk back. The slaver’s feet are bound, his hands bound behind his back, and the noose around his neck is tied to the shelf, so if he moves or tips over he will choke. There is blood on the floor behind one knee. Helton looks sharply at Harbin.
    “Hamstrings. Didn’t want him getting any ideas.”
    Helton nods grimly. He squats and looks at the prisoner, whose eyes are still closed. Harbin says, “I’ll keep an eye out,” then returns to the security screen. Slowly and groggily Dopestick comes around, looking blearily at Helton. A flash of recognition passes over his face.
    “You!?”
    “Yup. Looks like the shoe is on the other foot, hmm?”
    “How’d you get here so fast? Where’s everyone else?”
    “Life is full of little mysteries, ain’t it?”
    “Sod off, snoddie!”
    “You aren’t too bright, are you?” Helton points to the hamstrung leg.
    “Look in the mirror, asshole. You can’t go anywhere from here!”
    “Just have to see about that.”
    “We’ll hunt you down like a dog!”
    Helton just eyes him for a minute, turning the scissors about in his hand. Dopestick stares back.
    “So. What’s the routine around here?”
    “Screw you! You can’t even fly out of here unless you have clearance and pass onboard security. You’re stuck here!”
    “Well,” says Helton, not sounding very concerned, “that might be a problem. Or it might not.” The captive’s derisive laugh chokes and gargles to a stop on the cord around his neck. Helton continues, “You didn’t think we could get here for two or three days, and we showed up in a day and a half.” He pushes the man up a little straighter so the noose is not so tight around his neck.
    Dopestick glares at him. “So? So you took all the water and ran here, sweating it out. Big deal. I don’t give a shit about sheep like you. Not a runny, pus-filled shit about any of you. You’re all scum, and you’ll die in the mines like the rest!”
    “Maybe, maybe not. But if I can get here much faster than you thought