Crineal Chronicles 1: In Hera's Service (8 page)

“Not
at all, Sir, but I’m sure we have other candidates who would be much more
suitable for your rank,” Haraway said earnestly.

Crineal
knew that Haraway was only trying to be helpful rather than obstructive. “I’m
sure she’ll do fine.”

Haraway
nodded in acquiescence. “Of course, Sir.” He punched a few keys. “Let’s see.
Today’s intake is due for their shipboard safety lecture tomorrow morning and
then scheduled for a week’s indoctrination on their shipboard duties.” He
tapped away again. “She can be ready for you in a week, Sir,” Haraway said with
a smile.

Crineal
raised an eyebrow in surprise. “A week? I thought they’d already gone through
indoctrination.” He put his cup onto the desk.

“They
have, Sir. We just like to ensure they understand what ship service is about.
Make sure there are no misunderstandings.” Haraway leaned back in his chair.
“Sometimes they don’t understand that a ship’s crew can be a little different.
So we have our own separate routine; Lectures, tours of the rec areas and crew
quarters. Give them an idea of what they’ll be dealing with.”

Crineal
thought for a second. “Routine? Not official policy? Or even local policy?” he
probed.

Haraway
frowned for a second. “No, no, Sir. Nothing written down. Just something we
prefer to do.”

Crineal
sat back at looked at him. “So if I really wanted her, say, after the safety
lecture, then there wouldn’t be a problem?”

Haraway
stared glassily back at the general, his mind working overtime. It wasn’t by
the usual routine, but it wasn’t breaking any regs, either. He could insist
that the woman go through indoctrination, but then he might incur the wrath of
his boss and the general by not cooperating with Crineal. If he did sign off on
the general’s request, the supply division chief might be asking him some hard
questions, though. In the end he decided that Crineal deserved any minor luxury
they could supply and if Commander Nooney really did want to object then he
could fight Crineal for the woman’s return for indoctrination. Haraway smiled
at Crineal. “No, Sir, I’m sure there would be no problems. Let me just flag up
her record and forward a note to the intake staff.” He tapped away again and
looked at the display once more. “All done, Sir. The lecture should be done by
ten thirty and she’ll be delivered to you by eleven hundred hours.” He turned
back to the general and clasped his hands together on the desk.

Crineal
thought for a moment. “I’m out on patrol until thirteen hundred tomorrow. Would
it be acceptable to leave her in my quarters to await my return?”

Haraway
held his smile in place. Crineal wasn’t making this easy for him. “I’m sure we
can arrange that, Sir. I’ll put another note in to let the escort know to just
drop her off. You’ll need to make sure that they’ll have access of course.”

“I’ll
do that, Commander. Thank you, you’ve been most helpful.” Crineal pushed his
chair back and stood up.

Haraway
rose quickly and saluted him. “A pleasure to be able to assist you, Sir. If you
have any problems or need other assistance, please comm me immediately.”

“I’ll
keep that in mind, Commander,” and with that Crineal turned and left the
office.

Haraway
sat down and stared at the door Crineal had gone through and then pulled up the
woman’s records again to add the note for the escort. He sat back and studied
her picture. Haraway wondered what had brought Crineal’s attention to her. She
was pretty, but not that pretty, no special skills listed. Nothing out of the
ordinary at all, and she was a rebel. Crineal was known to detest them. Maybe
he wanted payback? Maybe he just liked redheads? Well, not for him to question
the motives of senior officers, especially those outside of his chain of
command. He pulled up the screen he had been working on prior to the general’s
arrival and sighed at the amount of paperwork still left to do.

Cyndora
stumbled down the shuttle’s cargo ramp and into the bay, following the prisoner
in front of her almost blindly. She’d never been on a starship before and
twelve months ago she would have been thrilled about a trip into space. Now it
was just one more day of her incarceration. She’d be pleased if she could get
through it without a beating. Dully, Cyndora kept her feet moving as the two
lines of fifteen prisoners each made its way across the deck and through the
huge cargo doors. Her head was down and she paid almost no attention to her
surroundings, apart from making sure she didn’t trip or miss an order. The
guards led them deeper into the ship, through bright white corridors with a
black stripe on the walls that became a green stripe. Eventually they stopped
in a communal shower room. An officer she didn’t know was waiting for them with
six guards and another officer. The female lieutenant dismissed the escort and
looked over the assembled assistants. The uniforms of the waiting guards and
officer were slightly different from the ones Cyndora was used to seeing, black
with silver instead of the grey of the security forces. She guessed these must
be the regular ship’s crew. The woman spoke.

“Alright,
listen up. You…people,” her lips twisted at that word. Officially the prisoners
in front of her were part of the Space Corps and therefore had a rank, even if
that rank was below crewman. Most crew viewed that rank as being about on par
with that of a chair and behaved accordingly. “Are now assigned to the IFWSC
Carrier Annihilator. It is the finest ship in the fleet,” she said with pride. “And
you will do nothing to disgrace her.” The lieutenant looked around at them
menacingly, leaving them in no doubt what treatment they could expect if they
did so. “You are designated as intake Sixty-Five B. Remember that and respond
rapidly to any call for the reference.” She consulted her data pad. “You’re
slated for a safety lecture at oh eight hundred ship’s time tomorrow morning
followed by a week of ship’s duties indoctrination.” There was silence. They
all figured that meant another week of physical and sexual abuse with beatings
for those who failed to learn fast enough. The lieutenant continued, “You will
rise at oh five hundred and exercise for an hour, then you will shower and eat.
Are there any questions?” The room stayed silent, if anyone did have a question
they were wise enough to keep it to themselves. “Very well, you will now take a
decontamination shower and be issued new uniforms. Dump your old ones in the
basket there,” she pointed to a large linen holder trolley in the corner.
“Intake strip!” the lieutenant yelled.

They
all dutifully pulled off their togas, underwear and sandals and formed a line
to drop them into the indicated trolley. There was no hesitation even though
there were both men and women in the group and amongst the guards. Modesty was
something they had lost months and months ago. By the time Cyndora had
deposited her old clothes into the trolley, hot water was already streaming
from the shower heads. She found an unoccupied one and stood under it, letting
the hot water cascade over her. It was hot enough to sting, but it felt so good
she didn’t care. There were soap dispensers fixed into the walls under the
shower heads and she let some run into her hands. From its scent she guessed it
contained anti-bacterial agents as well as soap. All things considered it was
better than what she had become used to recently. She lathered her hair and
rinsed it clean, then stood there with the water running over her until it shut
off and was replaced by blasts of warm air. She turned herself in the air
currents to make sure she was completely dry and then joined the line, falling
in behind her friend, Jaydea, as they were herded through a door and into the
next room. A large replicator unit was built into the wall of the room and each
person was instructed to stand in front of it. She guessed it was scanning
them, as a few seconds afterwards a slot opened in the machine to present a small
pile of neatly folded clothes. Soon it was her turn. Cyndora stood there naked
and waited for the scan. She felt nothing and wondered for a second if it was
working. Then the slot opened and inside was the expected pile of clothes. She
quickly stepped forward and took them out of the machine and then moved to one
side to where those who had already been scanned were waiting, either dressed
or donning their clothes. Cyndora dropped the sandals to the floor and pulled
on the small white panties. That done she slipped her feet into the toe-holds
of the sandals and tugged the toga over her head, carefully making sure it was
settled correctly. A disheveled uniform meant punishment. Cyndora noted that
the toga and panties were of better quality than the ones from the training
center, they felt softer against her skin and fitted more comfortably. Once
everyone was again clothed the lieutenant ordered them into ranks and looked
them over.

“You’ll
do, I suppose,” the female officer said disparagingly. “Ok, those of you rated
as senior take a pace forward. If you’re too stupid to be sure, then ask,” she
snarled at them.

About
a third of the room moved. “You’ll be following me to the seniors’ quarters.
The rest of you follow the ensign there.” She pointed at a young man off to one
side. “He’ll take you to the standards’ quarters. You have the rest of the day
to settle in, eat and rest. You’d better be ready to go at oh five hundred
tomorrow. Dismissed to quarters!” She turned and headed out through a door
behind her. Those designated as seniors followed her and two of the guards fell
in behind them. When they had cleared the doorway, the ensign they were to
follow went through and Cyndora took her place in the line and left the room,
the four remaining guards bringing up the rear. After a short distance he
stopped outside a door, keyed it open and gestured them inside. The lieutenant’s
group continued on down the passageway. The room contained rows of standard
basic beds, but they looked like heaven to Cyndora. Some were occupied, most
were empty. Once they were all inside, the ensign addressed them from the
doorway.

“Find
yourself an empty bunk and get settled, regular dinner call is in an hour. Any
bed with a green light on the panel by it is free. To claim it put your hand on
the panel scanner. There are two laundromat units either side of the shower
area door for you to clean your uniforms. The mess hall is over there,” he
pointed to the other side of the dorm from where he had indicated the shower
area. “Any questions? Good.” He didn’t wait for a reply and closed the door,
leaving them to find their new homes.

Her
little group started to disperse and Cyndora made her way over to a bed with a
green light next to it, adjacent to the one that Jaydea had chosen. She palmed
the scanner and the light turned red. With that done she sat down onto her bunk
and looked around the room. It seemed to be a standard multi-sex dorm, very
basic but clean, painted in the same white coating she had seen in her march
through the ship. It was far better than anywhere she had been kept in the last
year. She wondered what significance the green stripe on the walls had. Cyndora
noticed that some of the bunks with red lights had a few small personal effects
stored in the small panel recesses that served as shelves. This surprised her
because, as prisoners, they hadn’t been allowed to own anything. As she thought
about it, one of the women, who had been lying on a bed watching them since
they entered, stood up and made her way into the center of the room. She was
tall and well built, with a dusky skin and black hair.

“Listen
up, newbies. There’s a few things the guards didn’t tell ya, so I’m gonna make
sure you’ve got it straight.” She looked around to make sure they were all
paying attention. “First up, no stealing. Not from the crew and not from each
other. If any crew stuff goes missing, they’ll be in here ransacking the place
and handing out beatings. And ya sure as stars don’t want to be the thief. If ya
steal from one of us, you’ll still get the beating and you’ll be on your own
from then on. Being on your own in here ain’t good. Secondly, sometimes one of
the crew takes a shine to one of us. They treat us a little better and
sometimes give us little gifts. The higher the rank, the less likely ya are to
be bothered by other crew members whilst they’re about. Which is good. But ya
don’t try to muscle in on anyone else’s action. If ya get called over, that’s
one thing, but ya don’t try and worm your way close to someone’s good thing.
You’ll end up like the thieves, bruised and on ya own. Apart from that, we all
try and look after each other and share what we got. It might not be much, but
it’s all there is. Lesson over.” The woman swept her gaze over them once more
and then returned to her bed where she climbed back on it and rolled over to
sleep.

Cyndora
mulled over the woman’s words. She guessed they made sense when you had as
little as they did and she supposed that some of the crew could be nice, but
she wasn’t counting on it. Cyndora knew that most of her time was going to be
spent with drunken and semi-drunken crew members, getting screwed by them to
keep them happy. The best she could hope for was that some of them were gentle.
The redhead stretched out on her bed, luxuriating in the most comfortable thing
she’d lain on in almost a year, and waited for the dinner call. The mess hall
was attached directly to the dorm room and had basic, long, plastic tables and
benches to sit and eat at. The food was better than she expected, with at least
a little choice, and even resembling the items it was supposed to be, rather
than a mush. She sat chatting with Jaydea as they ate. They had been friends
for years and were caught at the same time at a rebel meeting. Through some
miracle of the system they had been kept together during the horrors of the
last twelve months. By the time they were finished eating and talking they
still weren’t sure if they’d made a smart choice opting for Space Corps duty,
or had just consigned themselves to an even deeper pit of hell than the prison
they had been destined for. They returned to the dorm room from the mess hall,
stripped down to their panties and curled up to sleep in their respective beds.

Cyndora’s
alarm buzzer went off at oh four forty as she’d set it to do, so by oh five
hundred she was up and waiting when the ensign from the previous day appeared.

“Intake
Sixty-Five B, on your feet, front and center,” he yelled.

No
one had made the mistake of not setting their alarm or for setting it to oh
five hundred exactly. They all knew better than that. Once they were in front
of him he gave them a quick inspection. Failing to find anything wrong he led
them to a door that was opposite the mess hall area entrance. He keyed the
panel and then turned to them.

“This
leads to the exercise area. There are various machines there to aid you to keep
fit. You are expected to exercise for at least an hour a day. If you fail to
keep yourself in shape you will be disciplined. Further failure will see you
sent back to serve out your prison term. Am I clear??”

“Yes,
Sir,” they all chorused back. Not much call for a fat sex slave, Cyndora
thought.

“Very
well. Each of you will enter by placing your hand against the scanner; this
will register you as authorized. This privilege can be removed.” Cyndora
puzzled over that for a moment, why block them from the area if they were
supposed to keep fit? Then it dawned on her, it would take a lot more effort
without the available machines. Clever, she supposed, in a cruel way.

One
by one they had their hands scanned and entered the exercise area. There were a
number of basic machines such as treadmills and rowing machines, but nothing
exotic. A number of people were already in there working out, naked. It made
sense, she guessed, getting your uniform sweaty first thing in the morning
wasn’t going to win you anything good. Once they had all palmed themselves in
the ensign addressed them again.

“Right,
you have an hour to work out, then shower and eat. I’ll be back in the dorm at
oh seven forty five to take you to the lecture hall. Now get to it.” He turned
and left them standing there. A couple of people looked at each other,
shrugged, undressed and headed for the machines. Cyndora disrobed and followed
suit. Once her workout was over she followed the others to the adjacent shower
room. It came as no surprise to her that it was a communal one. Cyndora felt
much better once she was clean again and enjoyed her breakfast before being
trooped off to listen to the young officer deliver his talk.

Three
hours later, the ensign was finishing up the safety lecture. They were in a
classroom area with chairs that had small work tops attached to them. Cyndora
had heard where the evacuation stations were, the areas that could be sealed
against vacuum and so on and been admonished to review the information on her
bed panel data unit.

“Ok,
that wraps up the lecture. Study the information. This is a fighting ship; it
might save your life.” He glared sternly at them. “On your feet, you’re now
heading to ship indoctrination.” Cyndora wilted a little inside. More abuse,
she thought. The ensign stopped for a moment and looked down at his data pad
and frowned, then looked up at them. “Is there a Cyndora here?”

Cyndora’s
heart stopped and her stomach did a flip-flop, being called out always meant
something bad, but she raised her hand and stepped forward. No sense in making
it worse.