by John Bowers
Erika turned, stunned, to face the skinny bald man striding toward her. He was an inch shorter than she was and looked rumpled, the collar of his white shirt unbuttoned, his tie hanging crookedly. A few strands of red hair crisscrossed his scalp, but otherwise he was bald as an egg. A cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth and smoke trailed behind him.
“Brace yourself!” Viktor whispered.
“Yew!” the bald man said again, stopping in front of her. He looked her up and down, scanning her with more than professional interest. “Yew’re hired!” he said. “Come into my office!”
Without waiting for a response, he turned and stalked away like a parent preparing to beat a child. Erika glanced at Viktor, questions in her eyes.
“Our news director,” he murmured. “You’d best not keep him waiting.”
With pounding pulse, Erika set off quickly and followed the skinny man into his office. He held the door for her and slammed it when she was inside. He quickly drew the blinds and pushed her toward his desk.
“Across the desk!” he ordered. “Bend over!”
Erika balked, but he was already pulling up her skirt.
“What the hell is this!” he demanded, meeting her eyes accusingly. His fingers gripped the seam of her underpants and released them with a snap.
Erika tugged the hem of her skirt out of his fingers and smoothed it over her thighs. Her eyes filled with rage as she told him.
“That is my underwear! You don’t touch them, you pervert!”
The little man’s eyes sprang wide with astonishment.
“Yew cain’t talk to me like that, yew Vegan slut!”
Erika slapped him so hard the cigarette went flying. He staggered back, mouth open and eyes wide, one hand going to his cheek where she’d nailed him. She took a step forward and punched his bony chest with a long-nailed finger.
“I’ll talk to you any way I goddess-scorn please!” she shouted. “I am not some cheap whore you can push around! And I don’t work for you!”
He stared at her in frank disbelief for ten full seconds, his Adam’s apple bobbing uncertainly.
“It’s a violation of edict to wear panties in public,” he said, his voice croaking with stress. “I can have yew arrested.”
“No you can’t. I have a full SE exemption, so you’ll treat me with respect, or I’ll have you whipped! And if you ever lay your hands on me again I’ll have you shot!” She glared down at him, breathing heavily. “Do we understand each other?”
He swallowed again, almost gulped. “Let me see your ID.”
Erika took a step back and fished it out of her purse. He stared at it a long time, clearly disappointed. Finally, unable to find a loophole, he handed it back.
“Goddamn!” he breathed. “I shore would have liked to lay yew down!”
“Well get over it. Phone your right hand and see if it’s busy tonight.”
He glared at her and walked around behind his desk. Grumpily, he pulled out the chair and dropped into it. He stared at her sullenly.
“Do you want to start over?” she suggested.
“Yeah. I guess.”
Erika settled into another chair facing him and crossed her legs enticingly. She ran a finger inside the vee of her neckline, as if the room were suddenly too warm. His throat bobbed again and his eyes settled on her tits.
“I assume you’re Edgar Steinbach?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m Erika Sebring.”
“I know.”
“You were expecting me.”
“Mm-hm.”
“You have a position for a holo correspondent?”
“No. But I was goin’ to make one.” His expression suggested he had changed his mind. Erika studied him a moment, then abruptly stood up.
“I’m sorry I wasted your time. I’ll go talk to the people at VHN.”
She turned for the door, but he sprang out of his chair, banging his thigh on the underside of his desk.
“Shit! That hurts!” He limped around the corner and stopped, his mouth open. “Don’t run off just yet,” he said. “We might work somethin’ out.”
She stopped and looked back.
“I’m listening.”
He stood rubbing his thigh, pointed to the chair. “Siddown.”
“No. I have things to do. Start talking.”
Steinbach ground his teeth together. “Roving reporter. Fifty thousand a year.”
Erika shook her head emphatically. “Evening anchor. Seventy-five thousand.”
“Look,” he said reasonably, “I already have an anchor. She’s a good girl. Yew don’t wanna steal her job do you?”
“How old is she?”
“Um, I dunno. Twenty-five. The viewers love her. Big tits.”
“I have big tits, and I was voted People’s Reporter of the Year four times. They love me too.”
“Goddammit, I can’t just—”
“Your ratings are in the tank.”
He groped for a response. “She’s a nice girl.”
Erika sighed. “Okay, roving reporter. One hundred thousand a year.”
He blinked in disbelief. “Who the hell do yew think yew are? Goddess Sophie?”
“Goddess Sophia!” she corrected. “And while I’m at it, I want five years’ back pay.”
“What! Are yew out of yewr fucking mind!”
“No. I spent the last five years as a slave to your civilization, and I want to be compensated.”
“Yew did that on yewr own time!”
“I was on assignment for Royal Holo News when I was captured! That makes it job-related. I would never have been on the Southern Plain otherwise.”
Steinbach turned his back and hobbled around in a circle, muttering curses.
“Jesus, God, and Sophie! I swear yew are out of yewr goddamn mind!” He wheeled to face her. “I can never sell that to the top floor! I don’t care how good yew are!”
“Yes you can. Do you want your ratings back, or not? They’ve been sliding ever since you took over, and I was told by a very reliable source that your job is on the line if you don’t turn it around!”
He slammed a fist on his desk.
“God dammit! If I agree to this, I’d better at least get a blowjob out of the deal!”
“Fine.”
He brightened. “Really?”
“Get all the blowjobs you want. Maybe that news anchor can help you out.”
“Goddammit—”
“Okay. See ya.”
She breezed out the door.
She was halfway to the lobby when he burst out of the office behind her.
“Okay! Goddammit, okay! Anything yew want! Just git back in here!”
Erika turned and gazed at him. He stood there, half bent over, still rubbing his thigh. He tried to smile, but it was a pitiful imitation. She slowly walked toward him, and he turned back into his office.
“Way to go, Erika!” someone cheered in a hushed voice.
She glanced to her right and saw Viktor, grinning at her. She winked at him.
Kystenstad, Vega 3
South of the equator, four thousand miles from Reina, Hans Norgaard stood on a narrow street in Kystenstad, a seaside town on the extreme eastern end of Vega’s only continent. It was cool and breezy, a beautiful summer day, and the ocean air was invigorating.
Now a lieutenant in the Vegan Elite Guards, Hans was dressed in civilian clothing; the VE dress uniform was almost identical to that of the SE—even most Confederate soldiers couldn’t tell the difference. The piping on the VE blouse was slightly different, and the shoulder patch featured two lightning bolts instead of one. The ebony was simply too intimidating to Vegans for him to wear his uniform on a mission.
He looked up and down the street, breathing the aroma of sautéed shrimp emitting from a nearby seafood joint. Kystenstad was a resort town, a vacation spot, and families strolled up and down the sidewalks, vehicles choked the narrow avenue. He waited for a break, then quickly crossed the street and
turned right.
The woman at his side clung to his elbow like a lover, her thick red hair lifted by the breeze. She was thirty-nine years old but passed for twenty-nine; even so, it was obvious she was older. Not that it mattered—the sight of young men with much older women was no longer a novelty in the New Vega.
“Yew sure that’s the right address?” she asked as they walked unhurriedly behind the crowd.
“Yeah. I checked it twice.”
“I hope so. Be glad to catch this bitch. We been trailin’ her for a week.”
Hans grimaced. He didn’t really like the woman at his side, but had little choice in the matter. She was a sergeant in the SE and served as his training “officer”. Her name was Norma Teasdale.
“Won’t be long now,” he told her.
Norma wrapped her left arm around him and gave him a squeeze. “Soon as we git her behind bars I’m a-gonna fuck yew haff to death.”
He turned his face and kissed the top of her head, not because he wanted to but because she expected it. One benefit of the training, if one could call it a benefit, was more sex than he’d ever wanted. Not that he didn’t enjoy it—he’d been a virgin until a month ago—but she was as horny as any Confederate soldier he’d ever met. He briefly wondered if there was something about the radiation of binaries that spiked a person’s hormones. Almost every Sirian he knew was obsessed with sex.
They reached the gift shop and turned inside, navigating the narrow aisles between row upon row of delicate, blown-glass souvenirs. Half a dozen people were already in the shop, browsing. A woman and young girl were at the counter, paying for their purchases. Hans pretended to shop, covertly glancing at the cashier, mentally matching her face to the flat photo in his pocket. He caught Norma’s eye and nodded. Norma smiled and reached into her purse, withdrawing her hand slowly with something enclosed in her fingers.
Hans waited until the two customers received their sales receipt and started for the door. He raised a hand and caught the cashier’s attention.
“Excuse me, can you help me out here? How much is this? It has no price tag.”
The woman came around the counter and started toward him. Norma had moved to the next aisle, and blocked the woman’s retreat once she passed. When she had almost reached him, Hans turned to face her squarely. He felt bad about this, but it was part of his job. The woman was about fifty, medium height, and lovely. Her dark brown hair had started to grey, and she had arranged the grey into silver streaks that were quite attractive. Her skin was a dark olive; her face, though weathered, still beautiful. She was, after all, a Vegan woman.
She saw him turn to face her and stopped, her eyes registering sudden cognition. She locked gazes with him and her lips parted in fear.
“Maria Ruggerello?”
For just a heartbeat she stood frozen, then took a step back, shaking her head vigorously.
“No. No-no-no-no! You’ve got the wrong person. My name is Santiago!” She turned to run, but Norma blocked her path, a pistol in her hand. Maria Ruggerello let loose a cry and turned again, to face Hans. Norma pulled her arms behind her and snapped E-cuffs on her wrists.
“I have a warrant for your arrest,” Hans said stoically. “You are charged with evasion of enslavement and unlawful flight to avoid enslavement. You were notified to present yourself to the Sirian Elite Guards on November 14 of last year, for shipment to Sirius. Failure to appear for enslavement carries a penalty of five years’ barracks duty for the Confederate Army, after which you will be sent to Sirius and sold as a slave.”
He sighed unhappily, unable to avoid thinking of the family she had left behind.
“It’s over, Maria.”
Maria Ruggerello’s face contorted with pain and she let out a wail. Her scream echoed inside the shop, startling the remaining customers, and she struggled as Norma pushed her toward the door. The E-cuffs buzzed as her resistance triggered their mechanism, and she gasped in agony as electricity surged up her arms. She stumbled to her knees, but Hans caught her arm and pulled her up again.
“Don’t fight it,” he advised her. “It just hurts that much worse.”
Half an hour later, as they emerged from the local SE substation where they had left the prisoner, Hans stared at the sky.
“I hate this job,” he said.
“But yew’re so good at it!” Norma told him. She took his hand and turned him down the street toward their au’tel. “Anyway, there’s things about any job yew don’t like, but yew still haff to do ‘em.”
He nodded, following along. “I still hate it.”
“Somebody has to do it, darlin’. Might’s well be yew. Remember, yew took an oath to serve the New Vega, and this is part of that oath.”
He nodded miserably. He knew there had to be bitter with the sweet, and he had taken an oath, because he believed in the future of the New Vega. But he still hadn’t figured out how ripping a woman away from her family and enslaving her for life benefited anybody.
Chapter 12
Tuesday, 18 February, 0200 (PCC) – Reina, Vega 3
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Erik Norgaard lay on his back in Valyn’s bed, his arm around her shoulders as she snuggled against his neck. Her long blond hair teased his bare chest and her breath stirred the hairs at his throat.
“It’s getting better,” she said, perhaps to convince herself as well as him. “Jule suggested I use lubrication, and it didn’t hurt nearly as much this time.”
“Was it the same guy? Colonel Royer?”
“No. There’s a new man in the office, a Major Marlow. I heard he had been to Sirius, but now he’s back. I guess he isn’t really new, I just haven’t seen him before.”
“Old guy?”
“No, maybe thirty. He seemed friendly enough—I mean, all the girls like him—but…”
“The girls like him?”
“Yeah, except for the rape. He’s nice and everything, you know. Friendly and charming. He’s not like the older men—he makes you laugh.”
“Goddess!” Erik kissed her on the head and pulled her a little tighter.
“I’m sorry. I was planning on you and me tonight, but I just don’t feel like it now.”
“Don’t even think about it. I’m the least of your worries.”
She lifted her face and kissed him on the lips. “No, you’re not. I like worrying about you. I just wish you were the only one I had to think about.”
“That’s what I meant.”
“I love you, Erik. You really helped me out. That first time would have been so much worse…”
“Didn’t cost me anything.” He tweaked her nose with a finger. “I actually kind of liked it.”
She laughed in spite of everything.
“It could be a lot worse,” she said. “At least I’m safe on the street.”
He nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good thing. What does this Marlow look like?”
“Why? Are you going to kill him?”
“I’d like to. And that colonel too. All those SE bastards.”
“Well, don’t. It would only get you killed too, and it wouldn’t change anything. Except maybe for the worse.”
“I know. But I can dream, can’t I?”
She snuggled closer and sighed. “Erik, you’re so sweet.”
Valyn dozed. It was still early evening and Erik was tired, but not ready for sleep. Valyn was stressed over her day at the office, so he lay beside her for comfort, happy to give her the support of his physical presence. But an hour later she jerked awake with a sharp intake of breath. She sat up and placed a hand over her face.
“You okay?” he asked gently.
Valyn nodded. “I was starting to dream. It—came back to me.”
“Have you been having nightmares?”
“Sometimes. Not every night, just after…”
“Want me to make some tea?”
She sat there a moment, then pushed the sheet back and swung her feet out of bed.
“I’ll do it.” She heaved a s
igh. “Maybe some cake?”
“Sure.”
Ten minutes later they were seated at the tiny kitchen table over sweet cakes and steaming cups of tea. Valyn seemed distracted, almost distant. Whatever she had dreamed had affected her.
“You really need to find another job,” he said.
“I know, but I don’t have a choice. They won’t let me quit.”
“What’re they gonna do? Your dad is Regent and you have an exemption.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, but I am sure I wouldn’t like it. They might cancel the exemption, and then I’d be worse off than I am now.” She sipped her tea and sighed. “I need to go to Temple.”
“Will that help?”
“It won’t hurt.” She glanced up. “Will you come with me?”
He frowned. “Now?”
“Yes, please. It’s only a few blocks from here.”
Erik took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He had held onto his faith as long as possible, praying endlessly that the Sirian onslaught could be stopped. But as mile after mile of the Sophia Alps fell into enemy hands, city after city was captured, and thousands of Vegan women were forced into slavery, he came to the conclusion that Sophia either wasn’t there or wasn’t listening. He hadn’t exactly become agnostic, but certainly disillusioned. If Sophia really existed, she wasn’t as powerful as the Sirian Confederacy.
“Okay.” He nodded. “Curfew isn’t for a couple of hours yet.”
* * *
Erika Sebring couldn’t believe her new apartment. Located on the top floor of the Sophia Arms Downtown, it looked like a honeymoon suite. Wide open and spacious, with three bedrooms, a thousand square-foot living room, a huge kitchen, two bathrooms, and a crystal waterfall—in prewar Vega it would have rented for four thousand crowns a month; she was paying nine hundred, and the lease was permanent. She’d only been there a week, but still pinched herself every time she stepped inside.
She also felt a trifle guilty. Brandon Marlow had found it for her, signed the contract in the name of the SE, and handed her the key.
“All you have to do is pay the rent,” he told her. “As long as you don’t trash the place, you can never be evicted.”
She hadn’t argued. She hadn’t been sure what kind of life she would have once she returned home, but didn’t expect a picnic. Life on Vega had changed for most civilians, usually for the worse, and she expected to suffer along with her people. Instead, Brandon Marlow had set her up like a queen.
