A sweltering spacecraft, practically a cargo ship, ferried a crowd of women jam-packed in the hold. There were the guards with them, dressed in light fatigues, berets and simple combat jackets, and there were some undisclosed labourers in coarse blue jumpsuits. Standing near the middle and sticking out was Chione Boreavna, in her white debutante dress with matching gloves, although shackled in a thick steel collar and handcuffs. She stared ahead with a dead look.
She wasn’t alone among the prisoners. There seemed to be quite a few female convicts from another Kratian prison who were undergoing transfer, as well as some women dressed in plainclothes; taken along for who knows what crime. All the while, Chione was straining to still her mind, but her chest could heave with the indignity. Some of these scarred, tattooed and shaven women near her must be vile criminals, and it was a sham that she of all people could be thrown in the same room as them. Surely, the other women were under just punishment too.
And yet behind her was another girl, wearing a familiar pink dress. She hadn’t recognised her at first considering all that had happened, and the serious damage this woman had taken to the face. But even beneath the swelling and stitches, it was unmistakably the girl from the ball, Lucy Daniel. Chione’s insides twinged.
It’s my fault she’s here too.
Hours passed, and each minute was reigned by an agonising silence. The guards forbade any chatter, but they’d have to struggle to be heard over the grinding hum of the engines anyway. The hours were long and without end, and even though there was no change in the harsh fluorescent lights, the passengers had to sleep at some point ––and they would have to do it standing up.
The transport came to a halt, the engines wound down, and there were some swaying turns and reversals as the ship oriented itself to a docking port. The guards wasted no time in taking the passengers out through a passageway and a series of sliding octagonal doors. There was no change to the interiors and there was no telling when they had left the ship and entered whatever their destination was, but after ten minutes of just walking, it was clear they must have entered by then. The walls were a drab mix of steel and concrete. Piping and wires were exposed, and despite the cumbersome network of metal shafts above, the air was thick and humid for want of ventilation. They came to the end, and another door whirred to life as it slowly opened. Hot steam slipped then poured as the crevice widened into an entrance.
Beyond was a large chamber, with walls of rock buttressed by steel beams. Lights flashed atop motorised equipment. Despite the din the room was empty but for a single figure, standing on a cross-walk. As the crowd shuffled in led by the guards, this woman lay her gloved hands on the guardrails and looked down, a gleam in her smile.
“Well well, my new cohort has arrived.”
A cold, wispy voice was coming out of red lips on a pale, thin face. The woman wore a skinny, leather dress which was partitioned into black and white, over which she wore a long cape fastened by her chest, attached with a clear and blooming red tie. By her side she had a long metal staff, wieldedlike a cane as she wandered down rickety grated steps.
“I am Ekaterina Sheinberg, although you will refer to me as Lady Sheinberg; or if time cannot permit you and you must speak with brevity, call me Chief. I am responsible for the security of this facility and in some smaller capacity the implementation of technology. The Vio-92 system is the beating heart of all of our operations, and by extension the functioning of the entire network of Kratian-inhabited planets and attendant fleets.” A small smile crept up along her blood-red lips. “In short time we shall process each and every one of you for Vio compatibility.”
“Where the hell are we!”
There was a rustle among the women on the ground, and even the cool chief Sheinberg raised her brow. Everyone turned, and some got out of Chione’s way as she stepped forward, looking straight at the chief with a hard glower.
“My father is Boreas Iosivitch Eosides. I have been kidnapped on spurious grounds so I demand to know at the very least where you’ve taken me?”
“And your name, Boreas-ovna?”
“Boreavna!” Chione said, almost gasping at the woman’s casual remark. “Chione Boreavna Eosides!”
“Well, Chione, I must say I adore your hair.” She gestured over to Chione’s head, “white as snow, much like my own, although I doubt yours is result of advanced age. You otherwise seem quite… pert.” Suddenly she turned around, her cape waving about as she lifted her staff to the sky. “Welcome to Asphodel Women’s Correctional! You may forget your past name. There is no need for patronymics when these women ––oh forgive me, I mean some of these women–– will be your new family.”
As if prompted by Sheinberg’s words, Lucy Daniel shuffled in and took Chione’s hand, trying to pull her back into the fold. However at that same moment, Sheinberg whipped around again, pointing her stick right towards Chione.
“Come forward, Snow White. Since you decided to so theatrically interrupt my enrolment speech.”
Chione’s nostril curled as she continued to look ahead, staring down the staff ––which seemed overly manufactured for a simple walking stick. She ripped free of Lucy’s loose grip, and she took another step forward.
“You, my dear, should recognise your current station,” Sheinberg explained. “During wartime, there is no counsel, there is no right to defence or trial. Whatever you done, whether you deserve it no ––and judging on your childish attitude my mind leans to the former–– you are now a prisoner. So let me make things easier for you.”
In one clean motion, Sheinberg sliced her staff up and then down, as it emitted a hot red beam. Chione could barely blink before she reacted. She tried to recoil but it was too late. It hit, spraying vertically across her body. There was a loud ripping and tearing, although she felt no immediate pain. After staggering, she stood again. And then her dress fell apart.
“Aaaagh!”
Chione clutched at her own body, trying to stop the disintegrating shreds from leaving. But the more she held onto a fistful of fabric, the more other pieces glided away. In just a few seconds, she was naked except for her gloves. Sheinberg laughed, setting her staff down to the floor as she tweaked a knob on the pommel.
“That was my lowest setting, as a fair warning. The next time I have to put one of you whelps into line I shan’t be so lenient. Assuming you make it past Vio integration, we’ll hand you a new set of clothes.”
There was a rustle among the women behind her, and Lucy audibly gasped. A trembling Chione held her arms firm around her chest and doubled over, but there was no hiding her exposed body.
“You… you…”
“I,” Sheinberg loudly cut her off, “will now lead you all to Vio integration. Come along, ladies.”
All the more obedient, the crowd started to shuffle forward upon Sheinberg’s word, and despite her shame, Chione was forced to walk along. Lucy bit her lip as she kept to Chione’s side. After throwing a heady glance to the Chief’s back, she leaned over to whisper:
“It’s so barbaric. I’m sorry about it.”
“It’s… fine,” Chione said through a low strained voice. “Neither of us should be here. This has to be some mistake. My father––” Her gaze fell again, as did her words.
Lucy clutched onto Chione’s arm and suddenly said, “I guess we’re going to be locked up together. Maybe we could share a bunk?”
“I suppose so.”
Chione managed a smile. But it faltered again as she struggled to cover herself with just her hands.
“I could lend you my dress, lady Boreavna! They’ll probably just cut it up later, but you shouldn’t have to go about like this. I’m happy to just go in my underwear so you can––”
Without stopping or turning around, Sheinberg slammed her staff to the ground, making both a loud thud and sending some sparks flying from the tip. Lucy straightened up and let out a squeak. She went silent for the remainder of their journey.
They were now along a walkway overseeing a large chasm, hollowed out rock going down for half a mile below. Across from them was a platform, suspended over the gape with high-tension wires and illuminated by harsh floodlights. There was another piece of mining equipment, but this was a large vehicle, some sort of excavator. Its design was blocky with thick exposed bolts along every panel. Upon various levels of the machine were guard railings, and a narrow ladder was built into the hull. A large arm protruded from the top, its movements governed by hydraulics and equipped with a drill-like antenna ––or rather a laser. This was the Vio-92.
The top hatch opened, and apart from a blast of steam, what came out was a girl. She had quite a lot of hair ––deep red or maroon and tied up in a massive pony tail–– and not a lot in terms of clothes. Her midriff, thighs and arms were coated in sweat, as was the forehead she swiped with a palm. As she took in a large breath of the comparatively cooler air, she glanced over, before noticing the prisoners on the walkway. Her eyes, almost as red as her hair, began to glint.
Sheinberg gestured towards the machine with her cane-like rod, explaining, “that is what you will be working with. While it may seem inelegant, it has the best manoeuvrability for the Asphodel mining cavities, and its beam is the only thing that can cut the thick Torite rock. Ah,” she chuckled, “it seems little Roxie is on shift today.”
The Vio’s driver, Roxie, jumped down from the roof of the vehicle and onto one of its legs. She promptly grabbed the railings and leant over to espy the group below.
“Fresh meat is it, Chief?” She called, something like glee in her high register, “I wonder if there’ll be leftovers. I’m dying for a bite. And hello….”
Her eyes widened as they fell on the naked Chione, who herself was starting to glisten in the hot, humid air. Roxie leaned forward and rested her head on her hands, while a grin spread across her face.
“Now isn’t that a sight! Hey, darling, want to give us a twirl? I wanna see the whole thing!”
For the first few seconds, Chione didn’t recognise what Roxie was saying, no less that it was about her. But as realisation dawned, her arms wrapped around her body even tighter and her skin began to prickle. She looked around, jaw beginning to drop. Lucy had her hands to her mouth, but for Sheinberg it had barely registered. Chione grit her teeth.
“What did she just say?” Chione said. “That… that prisoner–– that criminal!”
“Oh,” Sheinberg raised her brow, “surely that’s something the two of you have in common.”
“She said those disgusting things! Like she was some gross old man.”
Sheinberg however just turned away, giving a half shrug.
“You whine too much.”
Scowling, Chione looked back at the odious prisoner on the heavy machinery. Roxie was still watching her with that persistent leer, and as their eyes met, she blew her a kiss. Chione shuddered, and resolutely looked forward again. She hoped she never saw that woman again.