On a strange, seemingly lifeless planet, we found an obsidian cliff that plunged into darkness. Two of us abseil down the face into the gloom. Perhaps two hundred feet down I find a hole, and scramble through, tumbling into a Dickensian room of old wood, lit by candles. A scrawny little man sees me and says, 'Ah! A new arrival, I'll give him a headache, that normally keeps them calm.' He flicks a switch on a desk and I get a debilitating headache. I stumble around until I find a jar on a shelf, I open it up, hoping for a head salve, but it's strange, sticky, and flecked with red. 'I wouldn't use that on your head, if I were you.' Says a man in a guard's uniform who is standing over me. 'Oh?' I ask. He smiles. 'Yes, that's the arse salve the prisoners use after, well, you know.' My heart sinks and I wake up.