by Joe Vasicek
Then, as quickly as it began, the distortion passed and the universe returned to normal. He found himself sitting in the pilot’s chair of the Catriona, staring at the myriad instrument panels. He lifted his hands and turned them around in front of him—they were his hands, unchanged. He felt a little disoriented and nauseous, but other than that he seemed fine.
He glanced out the window at the stars. They surrounded his view like a mist, or a thick, milky cloud. He gasped in wonder—he’d never seen a starfield so brilliant and intense in his life. Was this what Ben and Stella saw, every time they left the heliosphere of Karduna? It was incredible.
After staring in awe at the scene for some time, he checked the status bar for the jump drive. One percent and recharging, with an estimated forty five minutes before it would be ready for another jump. Long enough to triangulate his position and set the new target coordinates.
He brought up the starmap and immediately got to work, pausing now and again to glance at Karduna, only a little brighter now than the other stars. One thing was for certain; he couldn’t go home. He was a thief, even if the Catriona was part of his rightful inheritance. Ben and Stella were now all he had left.
* * * * *
“You’ve been awful quiet these past few days, darling,” said Tamu from the pile of pillows on which she lay. “Is anything the matter? You have to open up sometime—you’ll go crazy if you don’t.”
Yes, Stella wanted to scream. Everything’s the matter. Instead, she lay in silence on her bed and stared at the underside of the top bunk.
Tamu laughed, surprising her. “Are you scared of me, dear? Goodness! I don’t bite—really, I don’t.”
“It’s not that,” said Stella.
“Oh? Then what is it?”
“It’s…” Stella’s voice trailed off. Tamu was so unlike herself—so sensual and voluptuous, even around other women. How could she possibly understand what Stella was going through?
“I think I know, honey,” Tamu said, siting up on the couch. “The first few weeks are hard for everyone; it’s not easy to let go and start a new life. But trust me, dear—if you keep to yourself, you’re only going to make it worse. Come out and meet the other women. It’ll do you good.”
Stella shuddered at the thought. From what she could see, all the other women were perfectly content to be playthings for the most brutal, barbaric warmongers in the known universe. Stella never wanted to be like them, even if she spent the rest of her life in this place.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said.
“Nonsense! Come, let me introduce you to—”
“No. I mean, thank you, but no.”
Tamu sighed. “All right, dear, but I’m only trying to help. If you don’t start making friends, how do you expect to adjust?”
“That’s not it,” Stella said. “That’s not it at all.”
“Then what’s bothering you, dear?”
“It’s—you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh? Try me.”
Stella felt weak and dizzy. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath.
“It’s, it’s just—I’m not ready to be Qasar’s—” She rolled over onto her face and buried her head in her hands.
“There there, honey,” said Tamu from the couch. “Don’t cry. Most of us left someone special behind. What’s his name?”
“No,” Stella said quickly. “It’s not that.”
“Oh really? Sholpan, dear, I’m your roommate—you can tell me anything.”
Stella hesitated. Lars didn’t have much to do with her fear of sleeping with Qasar, but it wouldn’t be good if Tamu thought she was hiding something.
“Well, there was this one guy,” she started.
“Oooh!” Tamu’s eyes lit up, and she leaned forward with her head cradled in her hands. “Tell me all about him. Was he cute?”
“Yes,” said Stella, blushing instantly.
“What was his name? How did you two know each other?”
“His name was Lars. We kind of grew up together, I guess.”
Tamu smiled. “Aww, that’s sweet! So when did you both realize you had a thing for each other?”
“Er, I don’t know,” said Stella. She didn’t like where this conversation was going.
“What was that, dear? Speak up; don’t be shy.”
“We weren’t—that is, we were never really together.”
“No? Did you ever hold hands? Kiss? Sleep together?”
“No, no!” said Stella, shaking her head as her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.
“You never did anything with him? Why not?”
Shut up! Just shut up!
“You’re blushing, dear.”
“No, I’m not,” Stella said, quickly burying her face in the pillow.
“Yes you are, honey. Did I say something?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why not?” asked Tamu. “What’s so difficult to talk about?”
Stella said nothing.
Tamu laughed. “Don’t tell me you’ve never slept with a boy before. You’re young, dear, but not that young.”
Please stop, Stella thought to herself. Colorful shapes spread across her vision as she squeezed her eyelids shut. She could hear her father lecturing her on the importance of living a chaste life. A democratic society is only as strong as the virtues of its citizens, he had told her countless times. The power to have children and raise a family is a precious gift, and must not be treated lightly. No matter the decisions of your peers, you must keep yourself pure.
“No, I haven’t,” she said. “I’m a virgin.”
“A virgin?” said Tamu. “No!”
“Yes, I am,” Stella whispered.
The pillows rustled as Tamu sat up. “Oh my goodness—that changes everything.”
“Why?” Stella asked, looking up at her roommate.
“Never mind that, dear; just listen to me. I can help you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Qasar’s demanding, but he’s not hard to please. Trust me, honey; I’m his favorite. All you need to keep in mind is that he’s a conqueror, and conquerors like to go on the hunt. Hold back a little at first, but give him just enough to lead him along. They like it when you play hard to get—it gives them a sense of conquest when they reach their climax.”
Stella’s whole body tensed, and the blood drained from her cheeks. She couldn’t believe she was hearing this.
“I’m not telling you to fight him off, mind you. Let him have his way—just don’t give in to him at first. Make him take what he—.”
“Stop!” Stella shouted, covering her ears. “Just—stop!”
Tamu frowned. “Well sorry to rub you the wrong way, sweets, but if you want to live you’d better start thinking about it. You’ve only got one first impression, and if Qasar isn’t pleased, life won’t be easy for you.”
As if on cue, the beads in the doorway made a clattering noise as someone entered the room. Stella turned in time to see Engus walk straight up to her.
“Mistress Sholpan,” he said, “you have summons. Two hours. Go to bathing room. Narju make you ready.”
Stella’s face paled. A wave of sudden anxiety passed came over her. Before she could respond, Engus bowed and left the room.
“Well, well, well,” said Tamu. “Looks like you’re going to be busy tonight, dear.”
Stella wanted to scream. She wanted nothing more than to open her eyes and find out it was all a bad dream. Her life had become a surreal nightmare, one from which she couldn’t wake up.
“I can’t,” she said, her voice hoarse with fear. “I—I can’t do it.”
“Sure you can, honey,” said Tamu, patting her on the shoulder. “It’ll be over before you know it. You’ll be fine.”
You don’t understand, Stella wanted to say. To you, it may be nothing, but to me—I’d rather die.
The scariest part was that if she refused, she just might.
&nbs
p; * * * * *
Ben trudged into the dimly lit Hameji office, staring at the floor as he entered. The ever-present hum of the station’s obsolete ventilation system faded into an eerie silence as the door hissed shut behind him. His body ached, and his knees were stiff from countless days of hard labor at the dilapidated, centuries-old mining station.
“Good morning, prisoner one one oh nine three,” came a voice from the other side of the room, speaking in perfect New Gaian. “Please, step up to my desk.”
Still staring at the floor, Ben shuffled up to the station officer’s desk. It was made of the finest polished basalt, smooth as glass and black as the starless deep beyond the galaxy. Ben suppressed an irrational urge to run his hand over its fine-grained surface. Such an exquisite piece work of craftsmanship was completely out of place in the rust-shot hellhole of a space station.
“Beautiful, is it not?” came the voice—a voice as smooth and perfect as the basalt desk. “I spared no expense in shipping it here. When entertaining guests, one must be generous with one’s hospitality, no?”
Ben finally glanced up at the Hameji officer. As he did, his breath caught in his throat.
The Hameji officer was tall and slender, yet possessed an undeniably strong physique that complemented the self-assured way in which he carried himself. His face was unbelievably handsome, with high cheekbones, broad forehead, and a sharp, clean-shaven chin. But the thing that caught Ben’s attention—caught it, and held it like a vice—was the officer’s pure-white hair and shimmering red eyes.
The albino officer met Ben’s gaze and smiled. Except for the eyes, he could have passed as a god among men. With the two red orbs for eyes, however, he seemed utterly inhuman—like a demon. Ben shivered.
“I see my unusual appearance has caught you by surprise,” said the man. “I assure you, I am not the monster you may think me to be. Please, have a seat.”
Ben remained standing. The officer reached for a stack of papers and pulled out a file, evidently with Ben’s information in it. The lack of any computerized surface in the room suddenly struck Ben like a nuclear flash. Why wasn’t there any standard form of technology in this place? Though he hadn’t been within sight of a computer terminal since his capture, he found this realization strangely disconcerting.
“You’ve been with us for quite some time, one one oh nine three,” said the man. He glanced up at Ben and nodded in admiration. “Fully fifteen prisoners from your group have taken their own lives, in one fashion or another, since your arrival— yet you remain.”
What the officer said was true. Each day, it seemed, another prisoner hanged himself in the communal bathroom facility, or flung himself into the molten steel of the blast furnace, or opened his suit while mining the asteroid by hand. The deaths were always gruesome, yet Ben was long past any shock. The only image that played across his mind was of the woman in the airlock, her body stiff and bloated, drifting out into the endless void.
The albino shuffled his papers. “I suppose it would be normal for a man in your position to wonder why we still keep such an obsolete, broken-down mining station as this in operation,” he said, “and why we waste so much human labor in doing something that a robot could do with much greater efficiency.”
Ben said nothing. The man looked up from his papers and folded his hands on top of the desk.
“But I know the truth,” he said, his voice as smooth as silk. “You’re beyond wondering about such things. You already know that the answer won’t change anything. And as for your innate sense of curiosity, you no longer possess it. It’s been beaten out of you just like the precious, comforting truths that made your sheltered little life possible. I know. I can see it written clearly on your face.”
Ben’s arms tensed. He met the albino’s gaze without flinching.
“You’re a broken man, one one oh nine three. You no longer have a reason to live. Which begs the question, Why haven’t you taken your own life already?”
“Why have you brought us here?” Ben asked, his voice hoarse from the dust. “Why do you treat us like cheap, mindless machines?”
The officer smiled. “A fair question. Before I answer, one one oh nine three, let me ask you a question. Why shouldn’t we treat you as anything more than expendable labor?”
Because we’re people, dammit, Ben wanted to say. Because we’re human beings, just like you. Instead, he stared at the man in malevolent silence.
“You planetborn are obsessed with the notion of rights,” the man continued. “Civil rights, human rights, natural rights—even life itself as a right. You trust in these ridiculously arrogant lies because you believe, in your sheltered little world, that every man can control his own destiny. Every man is the captain of his own soul. Every man deserves his own place in this rich, boundless universe.
“And yet, while you trumpet these lies to yourself, the universe remains oblivious to you. Would you pontificate of these precious rights to the stars and galaxies? Do you think that the endless void cares one whit about such things as it sucks you out the airlock?”
Ben bit his lip. His arms were shaking.
“Have you ever considered the fragile and all too finite constraints on human life in deep space?” the albino said, his voice rising. “Have you ever thought that the tremendous cost of air and water and food that keeps you alive might have been spent on a better man? Which is the true crime: to consign an entire starship to death in a misguided attempt to save the weak and the useless members of the clan, or to let them die that the strong may live? No, one one oh nine three, life is not a right—it is a privilege. Strength is the only right in this universe—strength born of power, and precision, and perfect, uncompromising efficiency.”
“Then why do you use this old trash heap as a mining station?” Ben spat at him.
The albino threw back his head and roared with laughter. Ben jumped in surprise and nearly fell to the floor, his legs had become so weak.
“Do you think we use this facility because we need to?” the albino asked, still laughing. “As if our engineers and shipbuilders couldn’t do any better than this! No, my friend—in the depths of Tenguri, the rain is made of diamonds.”
Ben didn’t understand the meaning of the proverb, nor what the man had found so funny. He felt suddenly out of place, like an alien in a foreign world. A nervous smile crept to his lips, but he could not laugh.
The albino officer stopped laughing as abruptly as he had started. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a gun.
Ben’s eyes widened as the man laid it on the table between them. It was a large handgun; the chamber was the size of Ben’s fist, while the barrel was almost half as long as his forearm. The grip had been worn smooth with use, but the body was clean and appeared to be in perfect condition.
“Take it,” said the albino. “It’s for you.”
Ben stood as if rooted to the spot. For several seconds, he couldn’t move a muscle in his body. His mind reeled with confusion and terror and rage and exhaustion.
A shudder passed through his body, and he watched as he stepped forward and picked up the weapon. The firmness of its weight, the coldness of the grip—the very sight of the weapon in his hands gave him a strange sensation, one that he could not place. He closed his eyes for a moment and grasped at that distant yet familiar feeling. It felt so delicious, like something he had not tasted in a long, long time.
Power.
He opened his eyes and checked the gun’s chamber. “Yes,” said the officer from across the desk. “It’s loaded.”
It was—with a single bullet.
Ben snapped the chamber shut and looked up at the albino, who stared back at him with his demonic red eyes. Time slowed to a crawl, and in an instant, awareness flooded into Ben’s mind, a perfect awareness of everything around him. The buzzing of the ventilator shafts, the chipping paint in the right corner near the ceiling, the individual beats of his heart—in that one unending moment, he was aware of it all. His hands trembl
ed, and a cold sweat formed on the back of his neck.
I could kill this man, Ben realized. Or I could kill myself.
In one smooth, exhilarating motion, he leveled the weapon at the albino’s head and squeezed the trigger.
For Stella, you bastard.
The crack of the gun filled Ben’s ears with a loud noise, followed by a muted sizzle. The air above the desk shimmered, and the stench of spent gunpowder mingled with a metallic, ozone smell.
He blinked. The albino officer stood exactly where he had a moment ago, completely unaffected by the shot. No blood, no wound, no crying out in pain or falling to the ground. It was as if Ben had missed—or as if the bullet had never hit him.
Ben screamed with the last of his strength. A horrible spasm passed through his body, and he fell to his knees, his whole body trembling uncontrollably. He pounded his fists into the cold, hard floor and screamed until he choked on his own breath. Sobbing, he collapsed in a heap.
Powerless—he was utterly, completely, totally powerless.
After a long silence, a gentle hand patted him on the shoulder. It was the albino. Ben stared up into his blood red eyes.
“There are two kinds of men in this universe,” the man said, “the strong and the weak. Fear is for the weak; power is for the strong. You have passed through the crucible of pain and fear, of death and fire. You stand at the brink of your own weakness, cleansed and expunged of all corruption, a masterwork waiting to be born.”
The albino officer helped Ben to his feet and placed the gun back into his hand, closing his fingers over it as if over something precious.
“Take this weapon,” the officer said. “Feel it in your hands. You are not unlike it: empty, unresponsive, powerless—yet so incredibly full of potential.”
He released Ben’s hands and stepped back. Ben stared at the gun in his hands, until everything but the man’s voice faded from his mind.
