FountainCorp Security

by Watson Davis

  One girl placed a pot under a tap, the tap coughing up reddish-brown rusty sludge. Five refrigerators lined the wall, condensers on top of them, chugging away, a frosty mist floating in the air before one whose door no longer fit snugly, the icy mist escaping through a gap stinking of chemicals.

  They led us into a hall, dark and warm and moist, and up the stairs, those Nemesis-damned stairs, into the dormitory where the girls waited in those too-rare times when they weren't on duty. A stack of filthy mattresses pressed up against the walls, shattered HV projectors lay on the floor, and a rack of tattered, stained rags served as their only wardrobe. The girls inside wore wispy costumes hiding nothing, leaving nothing to the imagination, showing their needle marks, the festering pustules, the scabs, the bloody scratches, the bruises. Heavy, claustrophobic air closed in around me, stinking of old sex and infected wounds. They sat draped over chairs, huddled in the corners, lay on the floor sucking their thumbs, with circles under their eyes, their skin pale, even the girls dark like me.

  Mercedez pranced in, saying, "Let me introduce the new girls to their new living situation, the cheapest little whorehouse in Orchid Flower station, where you only go if you've been very, very bad."

  Vanessa's chaperon unhooked her collar and shoved her, sending her sprawling to her hands and knees on the spotted gray carpet. She hit, tumbling, crying; the girls who bothered to notice her moved away as though frightened to touch her, as though her touch would hurt them somehow.

  Mercedez giggled. “And you have been very, very bad, haven’t you?”

  They pulled me further into the room, stopping me, pressing me down, forcing me to my knees.

  "What?" Mercedez swaggered to a spot before me, rubbing her hands together, the girls scattering out of her way.

  I wanted her to come closer.

  "I can't hear you, my little Dorothea." Mercedez raised her thin hand to cup her ear, like she was listening to something in the distance, a smile spreading on her face, her face dead white with makeup covering her puffed-up eye and her swollen lip. "No brave words now, girly-girl? No smack talk?" The smile fell from her lips, from her eyes, replaced by a cold hard glare and a sneer. "You're mine again and this time, I'm going to wear your little pussy out."

  She motioned to the men. "I think we're going to leave you hooked up spread-eagled in the foyer for a while and let anyone mount you who wants to, for free, until you learn your place, until you accept the fact you're not going to escape this time, until you embrace your destiny: that your body belongs to me to play with as I see fit."

  Vanessa screamed, "Now!"

  # # #

  Dr. Darnell Nieve, head held high, lips pursed, walked from the airlock through the barrel-vaulted hallway into the bridge. The heels of his five-thousand-credit shoes clicked on the emerald green marble floor that had been polished to a mirror-like shine, the stone coming from a LightDream mine, the shoes from the most renowned LightDream shoe designer. He removed his suit jacket, letting it slide to the floor, to be picked up by one of the ship stewards.

  The captain of the Porcupine's Quill, Leandra Demaray, sat facing the entrance, watching Darnell for her orders, her delicate hands folded in her lap, her red hair cascading down in elegant waves to her shoulders, her blue eyes precise and sharp as they studied him.

  "Get us the hell out of here, Captain Demaray." Darnell unlatched his shirt collar, yanking his silk tie from around his neck. "With haste."

  "Yes, sir." Captain Demaray inclined her head. She settled in her chair, turning it forward toward the main console, and nodded toward the navigator, whose hands flew across her control screen. Lights flashed at the ready, the ship’s lurching almost imperceptible with the artificial gravity compensating for the release of the airlock umbilical and the thrust of the jets pushing them away from their berth at the LightDream Mining Facility in the Orchid Flower station.

  "We should armor up." Darnell walked up to stand beside the captain's chair, his eyes taking in the information on the main console, clasping his hands behind his back.

  "Can we clear the dock first?" The captain touched a button on the arm of her chair, changing the configuration of the information on the main console, adding defensive and offensive information.

  "As soon as you've achieved a safe distance should be fine." A smile crept across Darnell's face. "Besides, the longer we wait, the greater the surprise when Mr. Gorovitz's station goes dark."

  "As you wish." Captain Demaray tapped a button. "Ms. Donaho, prepare to reconfigure for battle."

  A melodious tinkling of bells signaled the general alert, the lights blinking red twice.

  "Dr. Hennessy?" Darnell turned to a man seated at a console who was rubbing his hands together, licking his lips. Darnell nodded. "You may switch her on as soon as it's feasible."

  "Oh?" The man looked down, shifting in his seat, coughing, his face reddening.

  "Is there a problem?" Darnell asked, his latent anger rising, ready to vent, already whipped into a frenzy at having to deal with filthy gypsies with delusions of grandeur. "I was advised she checked out."

  "No, sir." Hennessy shook his head. "I mean, yes, sir. I've just... It's just that..."

  "Well?" Darnell's hands clenched into fists.

  "She's already switched on, sir." Hennessy shrugged. "I thought you wanted her on as soon as you came on board."

  "I see." Darnell sighed. He unclenched his hands and placed a sweaty palm on Captain Demaray's shoulder. "Captain, you may want to armor up a little earlier than expected. I'm not sure how quickly this will escalate, but it should be entertaining to watch."

  Demaray straightened, leaning forward and pulling her shoulder out of his hand. Her hand flashed out toward the console.

  The tinkling bells shifted to a loud gong. The lights blazed red. "Battle stations, everyone."

  # # #

  I lunged toward the wall, my hands gripping the rod near my collar, driving the other end of the rod out of the guard's hands; the end of it missed the latch and smacked against the wall, breaking through the sheetrock. I jumped up as best I could, hoisting my knees to my chest, and slammed my feet down, landing with both feet to the side of the man's knee, bending it sideways with a satisfying crack, the tendons tearing and the man flopping face-first into the wall.

  Vanessa surged to her feet and snatched up a chair by the back, throwing the waif lounging on it aside. She swung the chair, smashing its legs against the back of Mercedez's head, pitching the bitch to the ground.

  The lights flickered, dimming, growing almost too bright. Santina stumbled backward, her hands going to her temples, her handler jerking on her collar to stop her. She shrieked, "Keep going, keep going!"

  “Hold on, Santina!” I fell to my knees, my feet caught up in the first chaperon's lower leg, but I twisted, yanking the guard toward me, striking up with all the power in both of my arms. My forearms hit the rod, thrusting it upwards, ripping it out of the man's hands. The bar crushed his throat, sending him staggering backwards, hands clawing at his neck as he fought for breath. He bashed his back against the wall and slid down, eyes blinking with surprise.

  The lights winked off, only the emergency lights remaining and those growing dimmer with each passing moment.

  "Dorothea?" Vanessa called to me, but I was too busy to respond or to glance her way.

  The thug who had escorted Vanessa in hurled himself at me. I readied myself, edging toward him, tightening my body, preparing my arms to strike, but I found myself jerked back, the man on the floor having reached up, grabbed the rod and started dragging me back.

  Vanessa's thug landed on me, forcing me to the ground with his weight, aided by my lack of balance and the damned shackles around my ankles. We sprawled on the man with the bad knee, and he screamed beneath us. I brought my knees up, gaining some space between me and the man on top of me, slipping out the length of wood I'd picked up from the pile of trash on the way in: a long splinter, thick at the base, tapering to a point—a point I
rammed into his ear, pounding the thick base with the palm of my hand, squirming my body, twisting out from underneath him.

  "Dorothea?" Vanessa edged toward me, crouching, popping her dislocated fingers back into place one-by-one.

  "Find the keys for the collars." I lurched to my feet, my eyes failing to acclimate to the increasing darkness, hopping back amongst the girls and sticking my fingers into the tops of my panties where I'd stashed the key I'd stolen from the policeman, the key to my shackles and manacles. I slid the key through the reader slot and the clamps popped open, taking bits of my flesh with them as they dropped to the floor. I fell to my knees, squinting, exploring the shackles with the edge of my thumb for the place to insert the key, the room now too dark for me to see, especially with the collar dampening my on-board and cybernetic enhancements.

  "Dorothea, we've got a problem," Vanessa said, almost backed up all the way to me now. "Remember the Frozen Lotus?"

  "What? I need the Nemesis-damned collar keys." I found the notch, inserted the key, and the shackles dropped off with a delightful thunk. I pushed myself to my feet, my legs unsteady, shaky after being bound for so long. I put my hand on Vanessa's shoulder, steadying myself.

  A man groaned in pain, another cried, but I could not locate them, the men I had taken down, and that worried me.

  For a heartbeat.

  “Oh, no,” I whispered. “The Frozen Lotus.”

  A dim light from further down the hall shone into the room, the light outlining Santina standing in the door, her head at an unnatural angle, eyes glowing, her collar still around her neck but drained of energy, the indicator lights out, the rod attached but dangling down to the ground unattended. I stepped toward her before I realized what Vanessa meant. The man who had been guiding her now stood beside her, his arms hanging loosely to his sides, staring down at the ground.

  "Sssss." I moved my arms slowly. "Everyone, girls, slow, come to me, get behind me."

  Whimpering girls stumbled toward me, their hands touching me, shoulders pressing into my back, my sides, quivering breaths stinking of decaying teeth and bile, bodies stinking of sweat and old blood. I took hold of one of the rods connected to my collar.

  "What's through the door back there?" I whispered.

  One of the girls said, "The bathroom."

  "Vanessa, take everyone into the bathroom." I lifted the rod in my hand, and I ran toward Mercedez.

  # # #

  Edmund Motayen sat in his command chair, leaning back as far as it would go, the palms of his hands pressing into the sockets of his eyes, the heels of his boots hooking on the edge of his console.

  "That's odd." Kevin sat beside Edmund in the Unit Two chair, staring at his own monitor, his hand brushing through the air, twirling the holo-image of the station around; the image changed colors, going dark. "Hmm."

  "Movement, boss," Malordo said, a hard edge to her voice.

  Edmund dropped his boots to the deck, putting his elbows on the arms of his chair. "What have we got?"

  "The LightDream yacht is moving." Malordo pointed to the screen showing the yacht beginning to slink away from the dock, the umbilical whipping back into the station, clamps retreating into their casings.

  "That's really odd." Kevin leaned forward, studying the feed in front of him, magnifying the view.

  "Have any of our hack routines made any breaches into the station control?" Edmund asked.

  Captain Lu yelled back, "No, but we've got the flight path they logged with the terminal. Here. Sending it your way."

  "Looks like they're having some sort of power issues deep in the Family holdings, starting at a brothel." Kevin stroked his chin with his fingers, pursing his lips. "Why does this seem familiar?"

  Edmund's fingers touched the dot on the HV representing a forwarded message from the cockpit, expanding the dot to show the details of the logged flight path; not that the logged flight path would be the one she actually followed, but still, the flight path said the vessel was headed sunward to Venus, to LightDream's corporate HQ.

  "Is she armoring up?" Malordo asked, seeing the ship's delicate antennae slip inside the hull, the hull sliding over to cover up weak points, slowing the ship down but making it less vulnerable to attack.

  "Fuck." Kevin’s hands flew up to his console, jabbing at a light. "Vanessa? Dorothea? Can you hear me?"

  Malordo and Edmund spun toward Kevin, rolling their chairs up next to him, Edmund grabbing the back of Kevin's chair.

  "Guys?" Vanessa's voice sounded ragged, scared, hurt. "Are you really here?"

  "There she is." Edmund waved at a sudden blip on Kevin's holo deep in the heart of Family territory, and rose to his feet, kicking his chair out of his way.

  "Vanessa?" Malordo called.

  "Help." Vanessa, her voice crackling with static, her words clipped and distorted by digital noise, said, "Please, Nemesis, help us."

  "That's our written invitation." Edmund slammed his fist on the battle stations buzzer, screaming, "Suit the fuck up!"

  # # #

  I charged forward in the near darkness, without my vision enhancements engaged, straining to find enough light to show me more than rough shapes and shadowy blobs. Lifting one rod up and to the side, dragging the other behind me, I ran toward Mercedez’s moaning.

  Behind me, Vanessa yelled, "Let's go, let's go. If you give a rat's ass about your freaking life, go through the damned door." Feet shuffled and girls began to scream, to yell at each other.

  I used one rod as a lance, driving the blunt end into the chest of the zombified chaperon Mercedez once called Robert, sending him tumbling backward, arms flailing. I reached down and grabbed Mercedez by the neck, hoisting her to her feet.

  "No!" she cried, cringing away from me, twisting in my hand but unable to free herself.

  In the corner of the room, Santina placed her hand on the head of the man still choking to death, pulling his head back, and lowered her head to his like an old lover.

  I yanked Mercedez back with me, lugging her away, forcing her to acknowledge me, saying, "Unlock this fucking collar."

  "No!" She squirmed against my grip, trying to pull away from me, pushing at me with her fists. "Get away from me, you whore!"

  Santina stood, staggering, stumbling forward to the guard lying on the ground with the damaged leg, the guard trying to crawl away from her on his back, but she threw herself on him like a sex-starved teenager, planting her lips on his.

  The guy she had just left jerked to his feet, no longer gasping for breath, his arms and legs spasming, a dark liquid drooling down his chin.

  "Release my damned collar or I’ll feed you to them," I growled at Mercedez. “Look! Do you want to end up like that? Set me the fuck free!”

  Trembling, pressing against me now, she jabbed her thumb into the side of the collar, and the latch snapped open. I ripped the collar from my neck, tossing Mercedez back toward the door through which the girls had fled; my on-board booted back up, and my vision blurred before clearing up, showing me things I would have preferred not seeing.

  Santina slurped, her hands tearing at one guard's collar, expelling a black goo from her mouth into his. He gurgled, sputtering, all his muscles contracting.

  Another of Mercedez’s henchmen lurched to his feet, and the other thug lunged toward me. My hands grasping one of the rods still attached to the collar, I swung at the goon, the rod striking him against the side of the head, opening up a gash; bolts of electricity darted from the collar to his head, the lights of the collar dimming, the electricity draining. The goon fell aside, eyes blinking, his actions growing more coordinated.

  "Dorothea!" Vanessa called from behind me. "Quit fucking around! I have contacted Edmund."

  Edmund?

  I flung the rod in their general direction and spun around toward the door, shoving Mercedez through. Robert and the other guy didn't attack me, jumping on the collar instead, sparks flying from where their hands touched the metal, the light on the collar fading, dying as the
energy drained from it.

  I slipped through and slammed the door shut behind me. Everyone in the room stared at me. I pointed to the door on the other side of the room and said, "Run for your fucking lives!"

  Lights Out

  "Dammit, Edmund!" Captain Lu yelled. "They're powering up their weapons, and I believe they just realized our weapons are hot."

  "Well? Shoot them!" Edmund yelled back. "But get us close enough to this spot in between these towers so we can make an insertion."

  A three-dimensional map of the station appeared in one of Lu's windows, two points blinking: the ship and Edmund's desired insertion point.

  Lu shifted her comm line, isolating her copilot, Stemple. "I'm plotting the damned course he wants. Can you work up a firing solution that doesn't end up murdering civilians?"

  "Fuck," Stemple said, the main window before him flashing and turning into the gunnery console. "Fucking fuck."

  Lu's hands danced through the air, her flight plan transmitted to Stemple. The old ship responded with a sluggish acceleration, the station rolling around her as the ship banked to her commands, veering through a loading zone, sending mining flitters swerving away from her, the ship's grav plates struggling to nullify the effects of the changing momentum within the hull.

  "I need more altitude," Stemple said, his voice deadpan. "You're putting a crapload of mining ships between us. I don't want to try to sneak a shot through."

  The comm sputtered, a voice breaking in, overriding the emergency channel, warbling with digital interference. "EC28201? EC28201? This is Orchid Flower control. You are leaving your assigned slot. Return to your place at once, or we're going to divert your asses to the end of the waiting list."

  "We are innocent, Orchid Flower." Lu licked her lips, a calm falling over her except for the itching of her palms. "But the LightDream shuttle raised her shields and her weapon systems are live. She appears to be preparing for hostile action. We are protecting ourselves."