by Mark Iles
At the centre of all this lay the planet’s vast spaceport, filled with all manner of vessels which came and went in a relentless stream. The skies were constantly torn by the scream of spacecraft taking off or landing, for being on one of the main space routes was a major source of the planet’s wealth.
To one side of this chaos was the arena, where they were bound. After months of worry, failed crops and backbreaking labour, the year’s first harvest was finally in and it was a world record. For once, they had enough to eat. They could actually breathe a sigh of relief, laugh, celebrate and forget the desperate bitterness of last year’s failed crops and those that had starved to death. High above, the planet’s two small moons, Romeo and Juliet chased each other across a clear blue sky, seeming to wind their way between the towers and fluttering pennants atop the city’s battlements.
As they waited in the queue to enter the arena, the city’s largest building, Selena held her mother’s hand and stared around, wide-eyed. Cora, her mother, squeezed her hand and hugged her tightly, then reached down and picked her up for the first time in what seemed a long time. As she held her five-year-old daughter closely, her mother planted a kiss on her soft and velvety cheek. Not that Selena noticed. She was far too taken up with the way the tall needle-like spires strained towards the heavens, like starships on a leash, entrapping the sun’s rays and sending then away in a scintillating and sparkling display.
“Do you think I’ll see anyone from school, Ma?” Selena asked. “I’ve heard that just about everyone comes here, it’s tradition.”
“Maybe; who knows, sweetheart.”
“Well, I do hope that we don’t have to sit near that Sam Turner. I hate him. He’s really fat and never washes. He stinks.”
In the sleep chamber a faint smile tugged at the adult Selena’s sleepy lips.
“Ma, look, there’s Linda McKenzie; she’s in my class. Linda, hi!” Selena waved frantically, practically jumping up and down as she shouted.
The small dark-haired girl saw her and ran up, green eyes flashing as she danced from foot to foot. “I didn’t know that you were going to be here, Selena; you never said. Exciting, isn’t it! I’ve heard the Maine twins are coming too. You know, those two boys we spoke to at lunch the other day. You said one was cute, and then couldn’t remember which. Mr. Millar’s here too, the grouchy old fart. I hate his history lessons. Look, I’d better go; Father’s starting to get mad at me, because I keep stopping to chat with people. I can’t help it if I have a lot of friends! See you at school tomorrow, Selena.”
“Bye, Linda, see you in class.”
Suddenly they were past the ticket machines and making their way through the throng towards their seats. This was Selena’s first visit to the arena. She’d watched all the previous games on the screen at home of course, but today was special: it was her birthday and she was five, the legal age to watch live entertainment.
Selena’s long curly hair formed a blonde frame about her unblemished face. Some said she was the spitting image of her mother, whom she glanced up at in adoration and excitement from time to time. In turn, Cora looked back at her daughter, smiling encouragingly and ruffling the little girl’s hair, pointing out their seats. At long last they reached them and sat down.
Mother was a fine woman. Everyone said so. Selena had once heard a school teacher remark to his friend that mother was tall and strong, with a classical beauty that made most men’s eyes widen and breath quicken. She wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but knew, despite her young age, that the only sign of her mother’s grief lay in the slight tightening of her once laughing eyes, a bitter twist in the corner of her mouth and the infrequent catch in her voice that all who knew her tried hard to ignore. Aunt May, who Selena considered a grey old frump with a figure like a block of flats, leant across to whisper secretively into Cora’s ear. Cora looked startled for a moment, before turning to whisper back, her smile disappearing to be replaced by a look of deep sadness. Then her mother turned, leant down and placed her arms about Selena.
“I love you, always remember that,” her mother said, placing a kiss on the top of her head and giving her a hug.
“I love you too, Ma.” Then Selena’s attention was distracted by the fanfare of trumpets that announced the arrival of the Royal Family.
The Queen was an unpopular tyrant and looked much older than her declared forty years. The King, long since dead, was said to have been swept away by her once exquisite beauty, which had gradually deteriorated into that of the small scrawny rat-faced woman who now swept so grandly into the royal box. In recent years she had taken a string of lovers, all presumably blind, in an attempt to create an Heir to the Throne but more likely to satisfy her well known sexual cravings. Aunt May was often heard to declare that the Queen’s lovers simply had to be partially sighted, for the woman had a face like a bucket of smashed crabs; but then Aunt May was no beauty either.
With a second fanfare of trumpets, the show began. The acrobats and jugglers came first, then the clowns. The latter always fascinated Selena and so it wasn’t until the next act, consisting of two robot gladiators fighting it out with an assortment of bizarre antique weapons that she noticed her mother was missing.
“Aunt May, where’s Ma?”
Placing a reassuring arm around the little girl’s shoulders, the older woman said, “You’ll see her soon, Selena. Now, watch the show.”
Just then one of the robots fell with a final clang and a sickening theatrical groan. The crowd leapt to their feet, roaring their approval. The Queen stood, judged the crowd and stuck out her fist, raised her thumb and slowly turned her hand over so that her thumb pointed downwards. The crowd roared in delight as the victorious robot began to chop the other to pieces with a large double-bladed axe. Through the clamour, cries of glee and despair from the betting majority could be heard as credit slips changed hands. An ice cream was suddenly thrust into Selena’s hands from a mysterious benefactor. After staring at it in astonishment for a few moments, and glancing at her Aunt to see a smile and nod of approval, she began to lick at it gratefully.
The trumpets declaring the next act faltered in mid-note. All heads turned to look up at the massive stone entrance across from the Royal Box and fingers pointed, astonished whispers turned into a buzz before silence fell once again. When Selena looked up to see what had caught everyone’s attention, the ice cream fell from her grasp, unnoticed.
In the sleep chamber a low troubled moan escaped Selena’s lips. But no one heard her. Unable to wake up, she couldn’t escape the memory, the despair and agony it brought her.
Standing atop the ancient grey stone colonial crest was her mother.
“Mama!” Selena gasped, jumping to her feet as she stared upwards, her hands reaching forwards as if to grab her mother. Her aunt stood too. She grabbed Selena, hugging her tightly for a second before Selena shook free.
This was to be Selena’s moment, the one that was to shape her entire life.
Cora Dillon stood alone, glaring defiantly down and across the arena towards the Queen. Her long white gown drifted serenely in the light breeze, accompanying the fluttering pennants at her side and giving tantalizing glimpses of her well-honed and tanned body to those watching from far below. The crowd remained eerily silent, as she touched a throat microphone and raised her arms. “Listen to me, all of you!” she cried, her voice ringing out across the stadium. My name is Cora Dillon and I was the legal wife of Raynor, the Queen’s last consort.”
At this there was an immediate low murmur that rapidly rose in volume and ran through the masses.
The Queen bent down and spoke urgently into an attentive guard’s ear. He nodded and waved to two of his fellows and Cora watched them disappear into the throng, knowing that she had little time left.
Selena’s mother pointed to the Royal Box, saying loudly, “The Queen saw us walking in the city gardens early one morning and immediately wanted my husband for her own. That very night our doors were smashed down and
Raynor was dragged away in front of my eyes. I was beaten senseless for trying to stop them, and hospitalised for five days! At first I thought he’d just been arrested, like so many others in recent years. Then a decree announcing our divorce arrived, by Royal Messenger.” Cora’s face twisted with grief. “Like most of us, I kept silent, hoping and praying that she’d tire of him eventually and set him free so I could be with him again…”
By now the murmurings around Selena had risen to an unsettling rumble. Many of the people here had lost family and friends to unscrupulous royal visitors or palace guards. If they were actually returned, it was usually only after they had been brutally raped or otherwise sexually abused. Some never came back at all and no trace was ever found of them. Those family members who spoke out, or dared to complain, simply disappeared along with any conspirators.
Cora’s voice trembled. “How often did my husband refuse you, my Queen, and beg you to free him?” She made the title sound like a curse. Her arm snapped out as the Queen rose as if to go. “Oh no, you can’t leave yet, the entertainment is only just beginning! Did you know that he smuggled letters to me, telling me the things you tried to do to him and have him do to you? I have them all in a safe place. But, just in case they should somehow disappear, there are off-world copies too.”
Her voice dropped in volume but still carried clearly. “He wouldn’t satisfy you, would he, my Queen? Was that why you had him murdered?”
The monarch’s face, previously purple with rage, whitened visibly.
Cora continued, her voice rising in anguish, “If only you’d let him go. We would have left Capulet and never said a word, nor troubled you again. Why did you kill him, when there are so many out there who would gladly pleasure you? While for me, there could only ever be Raynor. I miss him so very much; he was my love, my life and my soul.”
Selena’s mother turned to the crowds, throwing her arms wide, demanding their attention; the wind rose slightly, catching her hair and blowing it backwards like the pennants fluttering around her. “That evil woman killed my husband simply because he refused her! How can we hope to rise above barbarism, when our own royalty are nothing more than murderers and thugs?”
The Queen leapt to her feet, but whatever she shouted was lost in the mayhem. The noise was so great that Cora didn’t seem to hear the footsteps behind her, nor the mad scrambling as the guards began to climb. Then, as if in surprise she quite suddenly glanced over and saw them. Turning away, Cora looked down towards her daughter’s terrified face. In spite of the distance, their eyes met.
A dreadful understanding dawned in Selena’s mind and the breath caught in her throat. “Mama, no!” she wailed. “Don’t you leave me alone, Mamma, please!”
Cora drew herself more erect. She knew the only reason she was still alive was because the Queen wished to avoid a public execution, or a sudden suspicious death. Wiping away a tear she turned to face three flushed guards as they made their way towards her. She glared at them defiantly, hands on hips. Then slumped and offered them her wrists, as if for them to cuff. Suddenly she raised her hands as if in surrender and screamed, “No! Please, don’t!”
She clutched at her chest as if in sudden agony; then staggered and fell from the precipice in what seemed like slow motion to those watching far below, hitting the stands with the most sickening of thuds.
Over two thousand people died in the riots that followed and destroyed much of the city. Fires blazed unchecked, police officers were attacked by gangs of rioters while gunshots and explosive devices were fired into the Royal compound.
The spaceport was completely sealed off and made safe. But, even so, many companies and ships decided to use other ports until the disturbances were over.
During the next three months countless others were imprisoned or simply disappeared and were never seen again.
Chapter Four
Selena woke to find the coffin lid open and one of the guards glaring down at her. His top lip curled, as he growled, “You, Dillon, get the hell out of that coffin—now!”
Still groggy, she shook her head to clear it, pulling herself erect and out onto the floor. She staggered slightly and held onto the lip of the sleep chamber for balance. Losing patience, the guard pulled her away and then pushed her hard in the back with both hands, thrusting Selena into a long line of other naked prisoners, males and females, being corralled along a narrow bare metal passageway towards the showers. She grabbed the arm of a woman nearest her and steadied herself, feeling better as the line moved forward. Some of those around her attempted to preserve their modesty as groups of them were thrust into overcrowded cubicles steaming from hot water. An evil-smelling jelly was hosed over them by grinning black-clad guards, while other guards stood just outside, watching in silence, poking them viciously with long black plastic clubs.
“Rub each other down!” one of the guards bellowed, as the prisoners shrieked and tried to shield their eyes from the stinging liquid. “You’ll be balder than baseballs when you come out. Just make sure that cleaning agent gets everywhere; we don’t want any infections spreading, now do we?”
Once in the shower Selena found herself pressed up against the multitude of others, her back being washed by a slim girl who looked in her late teens. Selena bit back her horror as her hair began to fall out. The same thing was happening to those around her, as the cleanser worked its magic.
“I’m Yung,” the girl soaping her said.
“I didn’t ask how old you are.”
“Bella Yung, that’s my name but everyone calls me Yung. The guy behind us is Kes Philips. We need to help each other, you do me next.”
“Typical,” Kes said, rubbing away at another guy. “I used to dream of being in situations like this, and look where I am when it finally happens.”
“No wonder it remained a dream,” Selena retorted, looking at him over her shoulder. “My mother used to say that ginger gits like you should be shot at birth.”
Kes looked a trifle shocked while Yung snorted, but before he could reply a guard reached into the showers and grabbed a cowering woman with one hand and slapped her hard across the face with the other, so that she flew backwards into those standing behind her. The guard grabbed her arm again and dragged the woman out into the passageway, as she strained in vain to conceal her breasts and pubic area with both hands. “What’s the matter, something special are you?” he screamed into her face. “Get it through your thick skulls, all of you, you’re nothing but vermin; unwanted by the universe and sent here to die fighting to protect the rest of humanity.”
A second guard grabbed the woman’s wrists and pinned them behind her, as she struggled, while the first one spread the jelly over her shoulders and arms. He massaged her naked breasts and squeezed them mercilessly before moving his hands down between her legs. Her eyes widened with shock as his fingers penetrated her. Then he thrust her back amidst the others, a shudder of disgust running through him. The other prisoners grabbed her as she stumbled back into them and began rubbing her down vigorously.
“The only friends you have are each other,” the guard with the hose snarled, striding back and forth as he sprayed a constant stream of gel over them. “You need to remember that, because no one else cares whether you even exist anymore, which planet you’ll die on, or why. Your histories have been expunged, your personal data gone. Friends and family consider you dead. We can do whatever we want to you, when we want to and how we want to. We can stand here and kill you one by one, if we wish. There would be no investigation and no charges; your replacements would be here in a few weeks. So I suggest you learn to do what we tell you, and do it now!”
As he finished speaking, powerful icy jets of water smashed into them from overhead outlets, the cold shocking the breath from their bodies. Gasping for breath, some of them tried to escape, only to be punched and kicked back into the press of bodies. The water stopped just as suddenly as it had started, and they emerged to find that they were indeed completely bald, the drain
s behind them clogged with hair, until the gel dissolved even that. The guards marched them past high-powered dryers venting hot air from the walls, hitting stragglers viciously with their black clubs across their buttocks and backs as they hurried to the sleep chambers. There, Selena saw that their prison uniforms had been replaced by thin green coveralls. They dressed quickly, pulling on their new clothing and black boots. The abused woman sobbed but no one went to help her. The only attention she got was from a guard who punched her hard in the face and told her to shut the fuck up as she staggered backwards, hand across her jaw and eyes wide with fright. It was as if the guards were daring them to show any sign of defiance, but not one person spoke. Once dressed, they were led down to the hanger.
There were a few nervous looks as they boarded the shuttles. Selena hated the sterility of the vessels, with their ivory-white basic necessities. But they remained silent, even when they strapped themselves in and their craft departed the mother ship, watching through the portholes of the shuttle as they descended to the tan-coloured planet far below. The silence stretched as the planet grew in size, until the landscape flashed beneath them. Selena tore her gaze away, glancing at the other prisoners. Although no one made conversation she caught one or two of them eyeing her speculatively.
After the shuttle touched down there was a loud hissing sound and the compartments were thoroughly doused with a thick cleansing mist. Coughing, Selena struggled with her straps as the doors hissed open, revealing black-clad and stern-faced soldiers waiting outside.
“What the hell are you lot waiting for,” barked a thin but tall corporal with skull and cross bones tattooed on his earlobes, his skeletal face twisting with disbelief; “to clear Customs? Get the hell out of there!”
Fighting free of their seats, the prisoners hurried into the daylight. They stood bald headed, blinking and shivering in the cold morning light as the corporal formed them loosely into squads of twenty then marched them down the barren road, past vast rows of spaceships. Some of the vessels were obviously battlewagons, while others looked like transports of some kind. Columns of robots loaded or unloaded them in constant streams, while laden conveyor belts trundled into the crafts’ hidden depths and men shouted as they ran back and forth, trying to bring order to the apparent chaos.
