Angeleyes - eARC (15 page)

CHAPTER 18

I’ve never liked Earth, and this was a station I’d hadn’t been through since I was new to space. The station was another blown planetoid. Earth doesn’t allow that anymore, but this one was old. We unloaded the rocks and other stuff, straight into quarantine, in case vacuum-transported rock contained something harmful to the environment of a station fifteen light hours out from Earth.

Still, our job was done. After that, we did dinner.

I really wasn’t impressed. This was Earth, or at least Sol system, where salmon come from. It was bland and mushy. I had a seared tuna appetizer, and that was uninteresting as well.

The server said, “It’s never as good up here. They need gravity to grow right. Down on Earth they’re fantastic.”

Possibly. Other systems raise them in emgee with no trouble.

Roger was definitely looking me over. I guess seeing me naked and soapy had interested him more than before. I was sure he’d be great, too, but there were so many reasons not to cross that line.

He and Juan were in charge of contracting cargo. I ran bots to clean the hold, including moving some of the inboard cans to dust behind them. They get filthy after a few legs, even sealed and enclosed.

One of the other things about Earth is they don’t enforce “petty” crimes against individuals. Robbery, theft, vandalism, assault and even occasional rape don’t register. Misfile your docs and short them on your docking tariff, though, and you’ll be facing a tactical team.

We registered as Potterite Sikhs and carried “Wands” as religious artifacts. Our wands all had one-shot stun capacitors in them, that could be yanked out the back and dumped in an emergency, such as if one had just stunned some yunk who wanted a grope inside the suit. Not me, but Mira came back one night and recharged hers. She summarized the story and let it drop.

From the news load, I guessed those capacitors carried enough juice to stun a jump point. The guy had contact burns, amnesia and cardiac arhythmia. He wasn’t out of the clinic for three days.

I managed to avoid using mine.

But that was the next day. The first day, after unloading and dinner, and while looking for our contracts and open lifts, was socializing.

Juan and Teresa came to me.

“You’re not familiar with this station, but can you go clubbing?”

I wasn’t quite sure what he meant. “As cover or for intel? I usually do if we’re not doing an immediate turnaround.”

“Some of each.”

I wouldn’t mind dancing, but it was going to be work this time.

After thinking, I said, “I can. Tell me what you need or where to find the person.”

Teresa told me, “We’re trying to get ID and access strips for any of the mil and gov side facilities.”

I said, “Yeah, they mostly use their implanted ID chips.”

She nodded and held up a small stick. “We can mirror those, given a few minutes, but we need those few minutes in private.”

“Okay. Just anyone mil or gov? Or do you have specific people in mind?”

Juan said, “Definitely the former, and if we see anyone we do have made, I can point them out. Can you link up and get them in private?”

I said, “Depends on if I like them or not.”

“Of course. And you don’t actually have to seduce anyone. We just need them in private for a few moments.”

“Would it help if I did, though?” On the one hand, I didn’t want to be a tease, on the other, I didn’t want to spread for someone just to get intel. I suddenly had all kinds of moral quandaries.

“Absolutely,” he said.

I shrugged. “Then I will if I can.”

I was going to get paid a lot if I survived, and I’d promised to help them get all the intel they needed. I also might get spread and stretched in the process. I decided my moral issues about taking advantage of a fuck that way had to take a pass for strategy and survival.

I had to find clubs I’d like. One called Rockjam appeared to be all live music. I could handle that, but it wasn’t really my type of music listed.

The Depths, though, had lots of trancy. That I could get into.

Juan said, “They’re also near two other clubs we might get hits from.”

“We’ll start there, then.”

Roger was going with me, and he was already dressed with his hair staticked up, wearing a black and silver thoracier and black kilt with edge piping. Damn, he looked smoky. With a jacket draped over his shoulders, he could distract half the ladies in whatever place we went to.

I knew some of the others came along to either overwatch or recon. Juan gave me a very simple code to find people he was interested in, which basically came down to, “Left, right, wearing this, that one.” He was sure we could get away with that without triggering alarms. It made sense. People msged like that all the time while cruising.

I went for skintight purple with micropanties and a gelmesh bra. I wore “tumbler” earrings—gimballed stones inside three small hoops held in place with magnets. I left my hair natural but coiled it up and back.

The Depths was near the center of the planetoid, and there was even a large chunk of leftover regolith there. They’d built the club with it in the high overhead. G in the place wasn’t above .2, just enough to keep food and drink down, and let people dance all out. I thought I’d like it.

I moved in, found a table facing the door and looking across the rear exit through the service passageway. I tagged it as occupied and punched for a drink. I took hard lemonade. Roger sat down with me, and I got oriented with the place.

It had a lot of potential, with the rock and the hub struts nearby, but they’d just stuck in some lights and booths around a basic tesselighted dance floor.

They had heavy traffic because the population was high. They had a good location and didn’t waste much effort on making it special. Having seen it, I didn’t like it much.

The music was good, but too mainstream. I recognized every mix, and all the squirming. It was like fifty other clubs I’d walked past to get to better ones.

Roger sat across from me, distant enough to make me available. We looked around and he nodded.

“That one.”

I saw the guy he meant. He was part of a group of eight males and two females. He wasn’t bad looking, just not great looking. I was distracted by the guy behind him, with a killer dreadhawk and demicup.

Back to work.

I said, “I can try to dance with him at least.”

I moved to the edge of the floor and started stomping, bending, waving, and moving in. You have to stomp lightly at .2 G or you hit the overhead. It was padded, because drunk dancers, especially if from ground or lux G levels, forget about the G curve.

It didn’t take long to get to their group, and shimmy into the circle.

Then I made a point of not making eye contact, just keeping the rhythm going. I brushed shoulders with a couple, touched hips with one, and I didn’t even check if they were male or female.

When I looked up, I was between him and another guy. That one was better looking, but didn’t have as much character. He was all superficial. Still, I grinned and shimmied, letting cleave spill, then turned to our target, then back. I kept the two going through two long songs, and started keeping more attention on our mark.

Once I had his attention, I motioned him to the booth, and got another drink. Lemonade, plain, sour.

“I’m Betty,” I said, not wanting to use anything real here.

“Carson. You move great!” he said.

“Thanks. I just sort of get into it, you know? Feel the music, pick up the waves, zone on the people.”

He was good, and didn’t roll his eyes, but obviously figured me for as much flake as I pretended.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of that,” he said. “I just dance.”

That was when Roger came back.

“Oh, hey!” he said, swishing just enough to not be any kind of a threat to Carson. “I’m Leslie.”

“Carson. The lady here was dancing with me,” he said, indicating me and wondering if there was trouble.

“Good to meet you. She always finds fascinating people, jig?” He knew Earth slang, even if it was more ground than hab. Still, it made him seem more local.

“Yeah,” Carson agreed.

“So what do you do, Carson?” I asked, and his attention was back on me.

“I, uh, work for logistics on the gov side.”

“Oh, cool! I said. “I’m a loader driver. Prob’ly seen a lot of your stuff.”

While we talked, Roger slid his cupped hand near Carson’s right. Whatever device he had was in there, and he shortly slid it away again. He nodded and I saw a thumb’s up under the table. He had what he needed.

Another song started.
Blow Me Like a Whistle
.

“I love the beat!” I said loudly. “Come on!” and grabbed Carson’s hand.

I danced another ten minutes or so, then drifted around and out of their circle. I let a bald chick pick me up, back to the booth, and had an iced green tea. I let on that I liked women at times, and I do, but she wasn’t anything like my type. I chatted a bit, Roger scanned her, and I don’t know if he had a plan or just was hoping for luck. Two songs later,
Down On You
started. I grabbed her hand and went back out again.

I repeated with Carson’s friend, Alix, to show I wasn’t playing favorites.

Socializing is hard work. It’s easier to get spread than have a conversation.

Two hours into it, I grabbed a crab cake sausage roll. It was a bit bland meatwise, but had enough wasabi I teared up.

There was actually a ladder up and then down across the grav center, right through that rock. I gestured to Roger, he agreed, and up we went following a line of other people. I didn’t look up his kilt. I didn’t need any distractions. There was a turnaround near the middle, crowded with bodies, and I got groped once. Some asshole. Then we climbed down the ladder, watching out for feet and heads.

On the other side of the core mass was The Club in the Hub. The rhyme was silly, but it wasn’t bad. They had much better decor, but it was crowded and almost too loud.

I mostly danced while Roger milled about with a drink, seeming friendly, and apparently scanned a lot of chips.

That four hours was very, very exhausting. I was staggering as we reached the ship, and just fell into my bunk.

I woke and got breakfast heated. Jack and Mo had gone dockside to eat at one of the dives, but most meals were aboard even in dock. I did perch and eggs, bacon and ham for the others, and some chopped greens with wheat toast. I had rice ready if anyone wanted it, but no one did.

“This is good stuff,” Roger said. “You do well even with prepacks.”

“It’s mostly keeping it moist and adding some seasoning,” I said. “But thanks.”

Really, what most people don’t seem to get is the prepacks are just bases. You add toppings, seasonings, extra meat or green, and it turns into decent food instead of just edible fuel.

Jack and Mo came back, and decided to have second breakfast, I guess. Half the crew ate a lot more than I figured. They burned it all off in metabolism and exercise.

I was cleaning up when there was a buzz at the lock. Mo was closest, he went to look, then came back wide-eyed.

Behind him were three UN BuSec goons in half-suit, half uniform.

“Who is the ranking officer?”

“I am, sir,” Juan said. “May I help you?”

“We need to see all the crew.”

“At once,” he turned, spoke to the board, and the speakers said, “All crew to C-deck, now.”

Bast and Teresa came from below. Everyone else was here.

“These are all the crew?”

“As manifested, yes,” he said. “Same as we’ve had the last couple of years.”

He glanced over Teresa, looked briefly at Mira, then at me. He flashed his badge again, and reached out.

Before I knew what happened, he’d swabbed me with a probe.

Oh, shit.

His terminal did something, and he said, “Angloyce Kaneshiro, you are under arrest. You are charged with falsifying ID, illegal immigration, trespassing, espionage, reckless endangerment by violation of quarantine, and unauthorized slidewalk transfer.”

That made my blood freeze. They were going to arrest me. I didn’t dare say a word, because I didn’t want to risk the others.

Juan asked, “But . . . really? You’re arresting her?”

“These are the charges.”

Juan gave me a look of confusion and anger.

I looked around as the rest backed away from me. They looked surprised, horrified and I felt completely betrayed. They knew all this. They’d helped. Were they just going to let me be carted off?

Of course they were. They had a mission, and they’d do their best without me. They were acting outraged to separate themselves from me.

They were right, too. The war was more important than I was.

I teared up and started weeping.

It was so fast I couldn’t even follow it. I hadn’t seen the other two cops come in. They were big, shaven-headed, wearing lots of gear. Each one grabbed an arm and I was turned and slammed against a dolly hard enough to sting my scalp. There were buckles around my legs under my knees, arms below the elbows, waist and shoulders, cinched down until they bit.

Then they threw the hood over me, and I thought I was being drugged. I wasn’t, it was just antiseptic in the fabric, but it was black and I couldn’t breathe without effort.

It was terrifying. They wheeled me out, and I couldn’t tell where I was. I was helpless, and expected to be hit any moment. I was strapped down like cargo, helpless and squishy against anything. What if they tripped and dropped me on my face?

I was ready to throw up.

CHAPTER 19

I couldn’t blame Juan and the others. They had a war to fight. I was a casualty, no different than if I’d been shot. Letting me go made them look more honest.

There were locks closing behind me, I was sure. Then I was stood upright, and the chest and arm straps removed. They were pulled, blood rushed back through the flesh, and I wobbled forward because my legs were still secured.

Then those were loose.

The hood came off, and I was in a small cubicle with the dolly blocking me in.

“Remove your clothes and put on the coverall,” someone said. Everyone present were female. They were in shipsuits with armor and gear belts. The coverall was screaming fluorescent green, and thin paper.

I stripped. They didn’t probe me, but I know I was ultrasounded. The coverall didn’t help keep me warm. But I may have just been chilled from fear.

I decided I was going to do my best to resist interrogation. Maybe the crew could get off the station, or at least into some hole somewhere and ask the habitants for help. If I was lucky, I was going to spend my life in an Earth prison.

But I was pissed as hell at their reaction. Yeah, it was necessary, but fuck, I felt like I’d been held up to block bullets.

The guards emptied out my wallet and imaged everything, then dropped it all into a bag. They kept my phone. I hoped there wasn’t anything too incriminating on there.

I wasn’t even sure how much damage we’d done to them. We’d slowed down some shipments, and killed a few control drones, but was it really an effective thing, military-wise? I didn’t know.

They left me in that cell. It had water and a toilet, and a bare rack with no mattress. It was a featureless poly block with an overhead light strip.

I have no idea how long I was there. I didn’t sleep and didn’t get hungry, but I did feel dizzy. I may have been gassed. Or it may have been just fear.

I had no track of time, except that I knew I should be tired and hungry, even though I wasn’t. I drank water because I needed to, and peed when I needed to.

Eventually, I heard steps outside, and a lock slide. The lock was much louder than it needed to be. Probably to scare prisoners.

Two guards in masks and armor motioned me out, and I complied because I knew they’d drag me if I didn’t, and hurt me in the process. They threw a bag over my head and cinched it so I couldn’t see and could barely breathe. They didn’t dolly me, they just cuffed me with cables and guided me along.

I went right, left, right, and then shortly left again, into a room. The door clanged. It was amazing how sensitive my ears were even through the bag, because my eyes weren’t. I could smell my breath, though, and it smelled sour and scared.

The cuffs were pulled and I was guided to sit on a reclining bench.

“What is your name?” The voice was male and in standard English.

“Aonghaelaice Lillyan Kaneshiro.” I was scared that was the wrong answer.

“Date and place of birth?”

I told them, in Freehold standard.

“What is that in Earth standard date?”

“I’m sorry, I have no idea.”

“You don’t think it’s important to know the calendar of the parent planet?”

“I know Earth time and use it when traveling, but I was never told what the Earth date was.”

Right then something punched me in the gut. I curled up and couldn’t breathe, didn’t dare puke and couldn’t find a position that didn’t make me feel worse.

“I don’t like your attitude,” the voice said. He sounded Earth American, in his forties, maybe.

I think he hit me just to establish the dominance he already had anyway, and I think the fucker enjoyed it.

“Well?” he asked.

I couldn’t speak, just let out a moan that was more “eep” than anything.

Hands grabbed me from both sides, and someone started pouring water over the bag. It trickled over the coverall.

When I tried to inhale, the cloth bag came with it. I tried tilting my head, but they held me down and I got liquid in my nose and panicked. I tried to scream, and just barely managed to hiss out, “Please top ur rownin me.”

“We’ll stop when we feel like it. You are a filthy scum terrorist.”

I couldn’t breathe and couldn’t not breathe, and was held tight so I couldn’t thrash. I desperately tried not to inhale, because I also realized the wet fabric wouldn’t let gas exchange. I felt CO2 burn in my muscles and lungs.

I passed out.

I woke up mumbling, something about Teresa having nice hips, and Roger being in the shower with me. All dream.

“When did you first acquire false ID?” someone asked.

“When I was ten,” I said. I had. I didn’t realize they meant this time around. I was too disoriented.

“Why did you do that?”

“I wanted to travel. It’s hard to get some places without local ID, so I got some, and I have real ID as well. I’m not trying to scam, just work and travel.”

I was hauled off that bench, and tossed onto something else. Someone ripped the bag off and scraped my face in the process, then wrapped a blindfold over my eyes and cheeks. I still couldn’t see, but at least I could breathe.

They were strapping me to a frame, and I felt very exposed. All of a sudden, every centimeter of me was twitching.

Then I felt something pinch my big toes.

Whoever was doing it wore gloves, and I felt alcohol wipes. They didn’t feel like sensors of any kind.

The suit was ripped open, then they played gyno and slid something cold and hard up inside me. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it was bad. It wasn’t surgery, but I didn’t want anything touching me there, but I had no choice. The fingers on my labia were cold. I mean, not only not romantic, but not hurtful. I was just a thing they were examining or probing.

I felt a really sharp tingle between the egg inside me and my toe. It went from buzz to tickle to a clench of excitement to actual pain.

“Ow!” I said, and regretted it. They knew how to hurt me.

“It’s all up to you,” he said. “You talk, nothing happens. You act stubborn, it hurts more.”

Electric shock from cooze to toe. I understood it. It meant no current through the heart. So they wanted to keep me alive, and they did want to hurt me.

“I’ve told you what you asked!” I said in a panic. I didn’t want to be zapped or worse, and I knew I’d tell them everything if they did. I wanted to comply with anything that didn’t give away the team, so I wouldn’t have to do that.

“Your answers were too cute. So, you have false ID. How many, and where?”

My Caledonia ID was real. My Freehold ID was real. My Novaja Rossia ID was a transient authorization, and real. I knew what he wanted, but those were easy to find and if he couldn’t find the people who did it, I didn’t want to burn them. The only fake ID I had was the one for aboard ship. So I had to tell them about that but make it sound like it was my idea to make it.

I tried to remember how someone had told me they did that.

I took too long. I think I felt voltage spark inside me, and it fucking hurt. I cramped up like an orgasm gone terribly wrong, and I could feel the muscles down my thigh rippling. I screamed and everything went fuzzy.

I heard blood rushing in my ears, and the lights came back slowly. I’d fainted. The mask was off now and the lights were too bright in my face, dark everywhere else.

“I needed to work and the war made it hard for Freeholders to sign on ships. So, I—”

“You will not use that term. You are a ‘Grainne colonist.’ There is no war, only a liberation action. It is important that you understand and use proper terminology.”

“Fine. Either way, I needed work and couldn’t do it on my real ID.”

I guess he didn’t like my attitude again. I got shocked hard enough I thought I really was dying, then realized I’d been hit on the cheek as well, with some sort of baton. It came back the other way and hit my temple.

I woke up again, gasping, cold and ready to vomit.

“Awake? Good. You will act in proper respect to UN authority. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” was all I could say.

“My chosen pronoun is xir.”

“Sorry, xir.” I hoped I got the pronunciation right, with that “zh” sound from Spanish. Gods, really? His voice was pure male. There was nothing the slightest bit trans about his presentation. If his psychology was that far off from his physicality, he either needed to fix his brain or fix his body. Maybe that conflict and anger was why he was taking it out on me. Or maybe he was just a fucker. Or maybe he was lying to try to confuse me and find an excuse to hit me again. That would make him a dishonest fucker.

“So, you created false ID to travel with.”

“Yes.”

“That is a felony offense with a stiff penalty.”

“I wasn’t doing anything illegal. All I’ve done is moved around systems.  You can find a bunch of ships I’ve crewed on,” I said.

“We have that.  What we’re concerned about is the information you’ve given to the rebellious factions, and the actual sabotage you’ve performed.”

“I haven’t sabotaged anything.”

Something smacked my cheek and it burned and stung.  I saw it in his hand.  It was a flat rubber sheet, heavy enough to slap. It probably wouldn’t leave any damage except a welt.  But the pain made me cry. It hurt. I wanted to curl up and couldn’t.

Then they ran current through the probe and out my toes.

For a moment it was the most amazing orgasm I’ve ever felt. Everything clenched down and my brain melted.

Then everything kept clenching down, and it was the worst cramps I’ve ever had, and it felt like someone was burning my clit off with a torch. My legs locked up, too, and I could feel those muscles pounding and cramping, down to my toes. It felt like they’d curled to my heels. I screamed as I peed myself, and that hurt worse because it let the electricity flow better.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” he said, smiling a creepy smile and running a hand down my side.

I wanted to throw up. I wasn’t sure if they were going to rape me for real, or just torture me with the worst tingler in the world. I knew I was helpless, and I knew I’d say anything to make it stop if they did that again.

“Tell us where you hid out in Caledonia.”

That really wasn’t very secret among skulkers, and it gave me an easy out. If I could just talk long enough, we’d get through today.

“I spread for this guy in maintenance named Edwin Marrot. He was a Mechanical Rate Three, and worked in . . . I think it was the enviro section, but it might have been the utilities section. Whichever one deals with filtration, but also does routine deck duties. Smart enough, but no genius. He was very friendly. We had four regular cubbies we’d use, and it really was hot, having him shove me face first into the bulkhead. Gods, I love a strong man. He had a favorite spot . . .”

It worked. They let me talk. I slowed down after about a half hour, and I was soaking wet the other way, remembering how he’d handled me.

I stopped and said, “I need a drink, please, xir.”

He nodded, and someone behind me held up a tube with real water, cold and fresh. I sipped, gulped and sipped again.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Tell us about the hideouts, not about your boyfriends.” He emphasized it as “
boy
friends.”

“Right. Well, as I said, I have the code to that storage. It’s only a temp and quickie, but you can hide there most of a day, and if you know the schedule, indefinitely, as long as you keep your gear tight. Even if they get off sched and find you, usually all that happens is they chase you off, and if you run fast, you’re gold. There’s lots of those. I can probably point to several on a blueprint. Do you have a blueprint? And I bet the pattern is repeated around the hub. I’m sure there’s others.”

“We’ll come back to that. Where did you hide the stuff you smuggled?”

“Oh, the main corridor is easy. First, you have to enter the service corridor, I think it’s Seven Charlie in Alpha Red . . .”

I talked for two hours. I told them everything I’d told Juan about those routes, because I assumed he’d consider them compromised anyway. I knew how often the dumpsters were emptied along there, and made hints about stashing stuff. I told them about the overheads, and the under-decks, and the power conduit last.

“Well, let’s check some of those statements,” he said.

Someone else shouted, “Not to fifty!”

Enough voltage slammed through my cunt to open a cargo hatch. I blacked out screaming.

I woke up panting, writhing, face covered in vomit. The idiots were lucky I hadn’t aspirated it.

“It’s what I told you,” I said through tears. They were real. I was lost, helpless, hopeless, pissed the fuck off and disgusted.

“Keep talking,” he said.

I talked for what I hoped was another hour. I made up some crap about storing stuff in the warehouse behind Tad’s Backy, because he tried to demand head for a short debt once. If they tossed his place, I’d laugh.

“I’m thirsty,” I said.

“Keep talking.”

“So thirsty. And tired.”

I really had no trouble faking tired. That jolt had been stronger than most workouts, all at once. I’m sure there’s thirty-fours who’d love it.

“What did you smuggle? We know there were weapons involved.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t take any weapons. Tobacco and some leather is all.” I hoped if I admitted to nondangerous felonies of forbidden material, I could get them away from the terrorist thing they wanted to push. A criminal was much safer. They’d parade me for publicity and I’d stay alive, and maybe I could get a lawyer later.

“I want to know about the weapons.”

The lights went out again, and my entire lower half went numb.

My vision came back in splotches, and I was in agony. It felt like I’d shit myself, but it might just have been sweat and residue and leftover paper from the coverall. The bench was really hard under my back and ass, then. I’d been there a long time.

His voice softened. “All you have to do is tell us. You’re going to prison, but you don’t need to suffer.  Just tell us where the drops were made, who’s hiding where, or who was hiding. We’ll take it from there.  You’ll be jailed under the code for illicit information transfer, minimum security, non-violent, and out in a few years.  But if we have to dig, I expect we’ll find you had an active role. At that point, you start getting multi-life.”