by William Cray
In the center of the dry dock, men and machines loomed over the vast empty space, conferring, then directing machines to do simulated work on simulated ships. The dry dock’s mechanisms, replicated here, directed facilities galaxy wide. Here the design work for construction or major repair projects were tested in simulation across a vast holo-graphic framework before being transmitted light-years across the galaxy where the actual work would be done.
After traveling down the lift to the plant area and passing through several security layers he entered the dry dock, sliding the first of the modification data cells into the dermal bus leading to his cortex. He traversed the myriad of catwalks and scaffolding surrounding the massive spectral ship, cradled in the dock below him. He never enjoyed the numbness that accompanied the insertion into the holographic environment, but it was part of the job, and final inspections could only be approved at the ship and in person. Just one of the draconian security measures that he lived with everyday in this job. Some of the closest secrets left to the Old Emperor were stored in this place.
Rachenko was the final authority on the safety of the design and therefore he was the last one to see the plans before they were implemented. As a predictable result he was often the last person to leave the engineering office. But, Rachenko thought, that it had its advantages too. Especially on days like today.
The security system recognized Rachenko as he entered, and within moments the ethereal form of the phantom ship, materialized before him. The super-light was one of the Emperor class, the biggest and fastest vessels humanity had ever designed. Even the scale hologram of the ship was impressive. The vessel filled the room.
Daren was the Chief Safety Engineer-Propulsion and was one of the few people in the dry dock granted access to see the ship in its entirety, with the majority of other specialists restricted to only their areas of expertise. Propulsion was involved in almost every subsystem and was one of the most classified areas of the ship, so Daren came and went as he pleased in all the areas of the simulation. This ship, the Emperor Pharris, would be arriving in Epsilon Eridani within the Imperial Year to undergo a scheduled refit, but the Emperor was having unusual problems with its drive systems, degrading its ruthlessly imposed efficiency.
The same problem also seemed to be plaguing the Emperor Hague, which was somewhere in voidspace, traversing the galaxy at unconscionable speeds, unhindered by the malfunction. But the undiagnosed loss of its efficency was a growing concern. Daren Rachenko wasn’t responsible for identifying the issue or even correcting it. The propulsion engineers seemed to think the problem was in the powerplant rather than propulsion, but he was responsible for ensuring any changes or modifications met the strict safety tolerances required. The ships were enormously expensive and they often traveled with tens of thousands of souls aboard.
Despite the late changes, he liked the propulsion job much more than his old one with structural engineering. Hull stress calibration and measurements were a never ending and boorish task that didn’t fit at all with his active and driven personality, not to mention the pay. Daren Rachenko was well compensated as Chief Design Engineer Propulsion Systems (Safety). In fact, he made enough now that he could indulge in some of his more eccentric tastes. Tastes his wife would not approve of.
His day over, two hours later than he planned, with the modifications approved, Daren headed out of the corporate office and down to the company’s small parking garage. As one of the few in the city with a personal vehicle permit he climbed into his own freecar, a previously owned forest green three seat Whisper, that was overpriced, but it was his after all, and exited the Triton Mechanics building on the south side, making for a local bar near the lead line on the city’s north trench.
Arriving forty minutes later, the travelway was jammed, he parked his Whisper in a public garage, walking the last hundred meters or so to the bar in the frigid air. Twenty or thirty cabbies stood outside in the cold next to their parked vehicles, bundled against the biting chill in their heated redcoats, advertising their services with warmed cars and peddling illicit wares which were on the house for paying customers. With the parking garage almost full and the cabs stacked outside, an outsider would think the small little strip of bars and clubs along the lead line would be packed and doing a thriving business, but as usual, the Highline Bar was empty.
Rachenko entered the Highline and within a few minutes he made an exchange of two thousand Commonwealth Hagues from an account his wife didn’t know about, to an equivalent but untraceable credit chit, good for one night and good in only one place in the known galaxy. The Zone. Rachenko slammed the obligatory drink, a frothy tart concoction that washed away the day’s earlier stress, and headed out to find a suitable cabbie. He was looking forward to blowing all two thousand Hagues tonight.
It had been a few weeks since he had partied, and he deserved a little fun now and then. His wife wasn’t fun anymore. She hadn’t been for years. She just didn’t understand the stress that his job put him under. He had the responsibility for thousands of lives every time he approved a design. One poorly conceived beam weld or bulkhead, which was not reinforced to standard, could cost lives and billions of Hagues. His wife hadn’t appreciated his critical work in the name of the Empire’s galactic security. She would never understand his needs to unwind this way. He still loved his wife of twelve years, so he wasn’t really cheating on her. He was just adding variety to keep his marriage together.
Climbing into the cab, the driver headed towards the zone without saying a word. Daren had a minor bout of consciousness, but it soon faded as he tuned in a selection of modern fusion-pop on the cabs media bank. The loud reverberating music drowned out any guilt that may have crept into his plans for the evening as the cab wound its way through the dark shafts and access tunnels towards the surface and the Zone. Daren checked the local radiation reports. The conditions will be perfect tonight, he thought. Bad enough to keep out the patrols, but not bad enough to send everyone underground. He grabbed a tube of pills from a pocket in front of him, ingesting three of the tiny white and green capsules, forcing them down. Four hours coverage, plus one extra pill to be on the safe side. He put the tube back. Every cab servicing the areas above the lead line had them. He reclined into the seat, feeling the groove and and planning out his night’s adventure.
Half an hour later, Rachenko stepped into the night air inside Habitation Dome 11. He approved a big tip for the cabbie then pulled his redcoat tight. The night seemed electric. It was cool out, but not freezing. The sun had been down for over four hours and the orange pastels of the setting sun had been replaced by the purple night of the sky on the surface. He walked, towards a series of low gray warehouses. He had been to this location before. Both times the place had been spry, hitting on all cylinders. Daren could see a few people ducking into the alley, heading to the side entrance of the converted warehouse. He followed closely behind, using the edge of the building, trying to obscure his identity from any police cylcos that may be scoping the scene.
The doorway opened as he stepped up onto the entry ramp. A gruff looking door attendant took his credit chit, validating his money. With his entry fee paid, a cute young aqua haired variable girl came up and slid her arm under his. She was too young to work a place like this, but she smiled bright, and led him up to the second story before passing him off to one of the hostesses.
The music was blaring, its driving beat coordinating the thrash of bodies on the dance floor. The sound of the massive fans, circulating the air down onto the dance floor, was drowned out by the noise of the hyped up crowd. The hostess showed Daren to a long print couch with a short table in front of each end. The couch was empty and the escort pulled off the wire catch, clearing the reserved space for him.
The people of the Zone appreciated his importance and treated him with a respect he couldn’t get in his own apartment, even if he did pay for every gesture of kindness and deference.
Even before he sat down, three variable gi
rls approached him, all showing their attributes, and vying for his attention. He thanked them, always courteous to the girls, and then sent them on their way.
The hostess sat down next to him. Over the noise of the music, she asked if he needed anything special as trays of consumable ecstasy was passed to him from a shirtless server. Everything from liquor, to recreational drugs, to the more hardcore Max was laid out on the table in front of him. He took his usual, a bottle of stiff imported laq and four vials of Max. He paid with his chit and dropped the Max into his coat pocket.
The hostess, he didn’t hear her name, remained next to him, watching the Max vials go into his pocket. Finally, Daren leaned over to her and asked, “Is Traya here tonight?”
The escort gave him a disappointed look, “Traya? Yeah I suppose.”
Daren slipped a hand into his pocket, pulling a vial out and tossing it to her. She brightened at the big tip. “I'll see if I can track her down for you. Mister … ?”
“Just call me Daren.”
“Ok love … if she's not here … want me to come back?” Daren checked her out as she stood. She was attractive, but her deformity gave her back an odd slip in her posture, and he thought he could see something was amiss with her left hand in the blaring confusion of the lighting. She wasn’t bad, and seemed nice enough, but she wasn’t his type.
“I'll be ok. Thanks.”
She gave him another disappointed look then headed into the crowd. He felt bad about sending her away like that, but it was his money and if Traya wasn’t here, he told himself that he would just go home.
The music picked up its beat as Daren watched the surging crowd begin to sway in rhythmic motion. He could see the majority of the trench males hooked up with all shapes and configuration of variable females. A small clique of party girls held court nearby. They came for the drugs and danger of parting in the Zone. Variable guys swarmed around them like flies on bullcattle on a hot summer day.
Couples and small groups were already engaging in torrid sex acts around the periphery of the dance floor. He felt is pulse quicken as he thought he saw Traya’s blonde hair grinding on some older guy in a suit. But it wasn’t her. Daren took a quick swig of the laq as he continued to scan the club for her.
Traya was a professional, but still she had called called him and asked him to come down tonight. That meant she enjoyed his company, didn’t it? That had to mean something.
Through the surge of the growing crowd Daren spotted Traya moving past the flow of thrashing bodies with raised arms and playful laughs, making her way out of the dance floor and heading towards him, smiling devilishly. She was wearing that slick black vinyl dress that shined in the flashing lights of the club with the sheen leggings under the short dress showing just a hint of skin. Her straight shoulder length blonde hair bounced as she approached, half hiding the right side of her face. Daren saw the twinkle in her blue eyes and the manner of her walk that said she had already hit the Max tonight. Her beaming, mischievous smile made Daren grin. He knew this was going to be a good night. He stood as she came over, tucking in his shirt past his belly and straightening his appearance. Her short slender form strutted over to him, pushing him down onto the couch and giving him a long deep kiss, playfully tugging on his tie as she did. Just as quickly she jumped off him, pulling him up by his tie, digging around his clothes and body until she found what she was looking for, the three vials in his coat pocket. She pulled them out, smiling, “You been holding out on me?”
“They're all for you baby.”
Traya laughed, flopping onto the couch and twisting closer next to him, reaching into her purse and pulling out an injector. Daren watched as she shoved one of the vials into the injector, checking the tightness so not one drop of the potent amphetamine was lost. She grabbed his wrist twisting it over palms up, “You first.”
“Me?”
“Come on …” She cooed, “You always see me geeked. I wanna see you do it, just once.”
He half-heartedly pulled his wrist back. “I don’t know … that usually isn’t my thing.”
She leaned over him, pulling his wrist closer to her, putting her lips millimeters from his. As she spoke her lips touched his softly. “You don’t know what it’s like to fuck on Max. You may never go back.”
“That's what I'm afraid of.”
She smiled, running her tongue across his lips. “You may never go back to your wife is what I mean.”
Daren smiled back, his hands sliding around to her firm perfectly shaped ass. His hands slid down until they met the narrow strip of exposed flesh between her skirt and the leggings. She moaned close to him. His expression was all the permission, she needed.
Traya pulled open his shirt at the top, exposing his chest, pressing her hands against him. She guided his left arm up and reached under his shirt, injecting him on the inside of his left arm, pulling the injector out with it about half full.
“That way your wife won't see,” she said.
Traya flopped back and pressed the injector against the inside of her exposed left thigh shooting the rest of the vial, repeating the process with a full vial. She dropped the injector on the table and sat back, letting the rush flow through her veins
Rachenko thought briefly about the rumors of the bad shit going around. Another freak out victim had been found the car audio said. The rest of New Meridian was aghast about the deaths, and it scared Daren a little, but he looked at Traya as she rolled back into the drug’s ecstasy as it coursed through her body. She arched her back and smiled as her eyes flittered in total relaxation. She was incredible, he thought. Those others that had died were probably just stupid geeks that O.D.’d on impure stuff and they just lost it. No one would sell bad shit in a club that catered to the finer members of society, he told himself. It was bad for business. Besides, Traya would take care of him, wouldn’t she?
The drug smashed into Daren, and he exhaled violently, his body shaking for a moment. He couldn’t catch his breath, and his heart burst in staccato crashes. He gripped Traya's hand tight as the drug tightened his chest and eyes blanked out. He tried to cry out for help, but nothing came out but a rush of air. Traya had injected him with the bad shit. Chills shot across him in a wave of ice from his chest. Gripping Traya tighter his motor control seemed to slip away. Daren thought his indulgence had killed him. He was dying.
Then it hit him, the warm ecstasy that refocused everything and released his body from its tense grip. He breathed again, in short shallow convulsions, slowing to long deep intakes of air flavored with Traya’s sensual perfume. He eased into the couch, tension flowing out of him. He looked off into the crowd. The bodies seemed to flow together in a liquid painting of moving colors. The falling glowglitter looked like diamonds falling from the ceiling. He felt strong and alive, indomitable. He looked over at Traya, who was smiling back at him in wonder. Her eyes were jewels that shined in the diamond rain. She reached her bare warm hand inside his shirt and it was fire in him. She giggled.
“I love watching guys the first time.” She said, putting one of his hands on her slender stomach. “I told you you’d never go back.”
The two sat back for a moment waiting for the full impact. Traya’s petite hand gripped his, fingers interlocked, draping one leg across his in an inviting pose. They sat back, taking in the flow. The diamonds became sharp crystals that reflected the liquid colors. He moved his hand to her thigh and followed it up, his fingers caressing the neat skin beneath her skirt. She purred, but pushed his hand away just short of the warm triangle between her legs.
“Not yet.” She said. “Let it settle in. We should dance.” Traya grabbed Daren’s hand and dragged him onto the dance floor, pulling him along, straightening her vinyl skirt.
The thumping of the music, the bright flashing of the lights and the supersensitive touch of Traya’s body against his created an induced euphoria. The popular song continued the trashing torrent of activity on the floor. Traya kept him dancing for an hour, constantly
teasing and touching. The two changed dance partners in the gyrating orgy, but always came together, and explored each other’s body further each time they renewed their dance. Rachenko’s mind swirled with the motions and gyrations of the crowd. He had never felt so good, so released from his inhibitions. He burned for Traya. He thought he loved her.
Finally, Traya led him off the dance floor. Taking him by the hand, leading him back to the couch. She flopped down first, pulling him down on top of her. She giggled as she undid the belt on his trousers, pulling open his fly and thrusting her hand inside. He hovered over her, trying to lock his lips to hers. She teased him by turning him away several times. Finally, when she had freed him of his restraints, she allowed him to kiss her.
Daren ran his hands up along her slender thighs, coming up higher under the dress. He felt her soft skin against him. He looked around into the rain of diamonds. Liquid color people moved all around them and he slowed his hands. Then she took him into her and he forgot about everything else. As they moved together she manipulated him like he had never felt before. She gripped him and released him with each movement of her hips.
Daren moaned, about to reach the apex of his evening and fulfill his burning desire when a stranger sat down on the edge of the reserved couch. The man had been there before. It seemed like the creep was always there, but Daren always forgot about him.
Daren turned towards him, to tell the asshole to get lost, but Traya turned his head back to her lips. Traya didn’t even notice him. She just giggled and pleaded sweetly for him to be with her now. As he acquiesced, he began to tingle. He had never felt this way during sex before, feeling intimate and extroverted at the same time. It was a tremendous rush but the sensation was different somehow, like another person was involved somehow. Watching … no participating.
