Twenty minutes earlier, the primes were wearing shades that made them appear to be dirty unwashed slum rats. They made their way to the edge of the simulated gravity ring and started climbing toward the ventilation doors. No one even noticed them. On the way in they passed a large group moving toward one of the exits. No matter though, you could never kill all the scum at once. Some one had to serve and work the fields. When they reached the large doors, they uploaded their memories into the nano-computer and carded a set of large hydraulic prying spears into being and jammed them into the seam. Once the seal was broken air started moving quickly into space. One of the primes was pushed into the small hole, blocking it. The prying arms continued moving until the hole got just big enough for him to scrape through. His flesh peeled away as it caught on the jagged edges. He screamed until there was no more air to carry his voice. The other two primes followed him quickly. Then the denizens of the slums started to shoot through. By the dozens, then the hundreds. Then by the thousands: The sorry losers of the station’s hierarchy, victimized one final time, freezing and bleeding, surrounded by clouds of dirt and scrap. The primes all woke up back in their barracks and went out for drinks.