AE-478Chione Eosides
Age 19, height 5’7, weight 120lb
Conviction: Treason
Behavioural: difficult, but overall compliant
Medical: no complications, integration successful
A female guard in fatigues, tactical jacket and beret handed over what Chione was to live on in her new life at Asphodel: two pairs of underwear, black briefs, compression bra, and a single bar of soap. Chione looked down at the meagre collection with disgust and resignation, but didn’t say anything on account of the other woman casually slinging an assault rifle. At the very least, she took to the clothes, even if they barely covered anything.
“Alright prisoner, follow me,” the woman said, in a voice almost as dull as Chione felt.
She led her through another drab passageway, and it wasn’t long until they were in the tight cell block, with walkways enough for maybe two people abreast, and less than a metre between them. The floor levels were also crammed into the available space, so that a tall person ––and this particular guard was tall–– struggled to avoid banging their head against the support beams. Glancing over the railing, it was hard to see just how far these levels went down. Along the sides was an endless series of cells, having doors like vaults with just a small strip of glass to view into them. After a long while of walking, the guard stopped and turned. She slotted in a key card, and the door dislodged itself, revealing the cell inside fitted with four bunkbeds, a single desk, sink and toilet. There were no windows.
“I’m… supposed to sleep here?” Chione said, wrinkling her nose at the scuffed concrete floor, and the slimmest of bedding on the frames.
“Yeah,” the guard said in an irritable huff, “what, did you think you’d have a selection? There’s no brochure either, lady.”
“What happens when this runs out?” Chione asked, shoving the soap bar in the guard’s face, “if I can’t properly bathe it’ll be a health hazard!”
“Do you stink that bad?” the woman raised her brow.
Chione scowled furiously. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised, considering these people just tried to kill her. But neither was she suddenly going to be in a good mood after the hell she’d been through. To her surprise, the expression of the other woman slightly softened, as she breathed out.
“Alright, alright. I can see you’re not one of the transfers. Honestly I thought with these last few batches we weren’t getting civvies who were compatible. But if you arrest enough people… and with the war, I guess.”
“Civvies?” Chione repeated, her own breath staggered. “What, you’re just taking people off the street, throwing them in with the scum? That was a slaughterhouse back there! If Kratia Prime knew––”
“Come on, don’t be naive,” the guard said, rolling her eyes, “Kratia’s perfectly happy with Asphodel. We get them their depholeum, they give us their spare women. No one complains.”
“Depholeum? We’re mining depholeum?”
“Yeah, Asphodel’s swimming in the stuff. Well it was. They’ve tapped the liquid reserves from the surface cavities, but there’s enough shale deep in the torite to keep us in operation for eighty more years, they say. And we supply 40% of the fuel demands of the empire. And even some of the Demesne before the war.”
“Nngh, how do I know you’re not Demesne and this isn’t all some foul ploy?”
“Come on, do I sound like a Demesnée twat? I’m from a colony like anyone else. Name’s… Dee. Zoe Dee.”
“Well, miss Dee,” Chione dug in her brow, “I’ve seen how people at this ‘Asphodel’ act, and I’m appalled. But you better not be anything like Sheinberg or you two will hear from my lawyers when I get home! I am not a criminal, I’m not even a ‘civvie.’ I am Chione Boreavna!”
Dee let out another exasperated sigh, but then turned back to Chione with a forceful gesture.
“Look, lady, I’m trying to help you here when I say this. You. Are. Not. Getting. Out! The sooner you realise that, the sooner you’ll wake up and learn how to survive. To start with: yes, you can get more soap. Obviously we don’t expect you to survive on a single stick.”
“Fine, then where do I get more?”
“Follow me.”
The guard turned on her heel and started marching down the walkway, metal clanging as her boots struck. She led Chione out of the block, through an exit that fed them into a large open space. The walls encircled a large field divided into four by patios, and were dotted with seemingly hundreds of entrances to other cellblocks, in rows going up fifty floors. Above was a bright fake sky with exposed panels interrupting the blues with grey. Below was mostly astroturf, but that didn’t stop the imprisoned women roaming about: some standing, some sitting at benches and a few laying down. At the very centre of the circle was a high tubular shaft and a station at its peak. From this angle, Chione could just about see the windows of the higher deck, which looked down on the whole site, monitoring.
As they walked along the balcony, feeding them along the arc of the circular walls, they crossed a few other prisoners. Some looked as rough as Chione expected. Athletic women with short hair, sometimes cropped or buzzed, and wearing the grimmest of faces. A couple times Chione did a double take, thinking she had seen a man, but on closer inspection were just women with pronounced cheeks or necks. On the other hand, some of the women looked very feminine — hair let long despite whatever the regulations said, sometimes even with shadowy eyes and cherry lips.
Glancing at Zoe, who was resolutely staring ahead, Chione wondered where to place her. She was tall, rather broad-shouldered but with soft features, and a mousy brown bob, with bangs cut so low as to half cover her eyes. Soon enough they had turned through another entrance, though instead of cells it led to a large cafeteria area. It was empty and the only sound was a traditional propellor fan hanging from the ceiling. There stalls surrounding them, built into the sides, although the shutters were down except for the one at the end. That was where a single, very large woman in an apron stood, arms folded as she watched them approach.
“This is Commissary,” Dee explained, “you get anything you want from here. Well, you can try barter with the other girls but we’re supposed to stop you if we see any of that.”
“Commissary?” Chione looked from Dee to the imposing woman behind the counter. “Um… you have more soap then?”
“Ya,” the woman said, in a voice so deep it seemed to reverberate in Chione’s chest.
“And moisturiser? Cleanser? Anything like that? Tampons?”
The woman shrugged, “sure, gots something like that. Not cheap mind.”
“Cheap… wait, I have to pay?” she looked back at Dee.
The guard rubbed her gloved hand over her face.
“Yeah, of course. We’re not giving freebies.”
“Okay, well where do I get money? You didn’t exactly let me bring any possessions.”
“You have an account,” Zoe said, as if that was supposed to clear it up. “With the Vio injections it’s actually super easy. Nadia here just does a biometric scan on her reader and deducts from your savings.”
“And how do I put anything into this account?”
“Well you work obviously. Shifts in the mines are completely voluntary. If anything, people scramble to get a place at the start of the week. That’s the only way to get money for Commissary.”
“Used to be family too,” Nadia remarked. She reached out for the broom laying against her counter and idly began to sweep. “You have family, they love you. Put money in your account. Simple.”
Chione swallowed, but bit back any retort. It was all too fresh, and even just thinking about it would cause her pain again.
“Yeah well they discontinued that few years back,” Zoe Dee recalled. “Don’t even know why. It’s not a communication embargo, right?”
“Nah,” said Nadia, “you come here, you can get pen and paper. Write a letter if you want, we send it.”
That caught Chione’s ear, and she began to lean in.
“I can send a letter? To anyone I want?”
“Sure, nothing to us.”
That definitely stuck with Chione. It replayed in her mind, as she continued to idly follow Zoe out of the Commissary centre and back down the walkway. Dee decided she ought to show the girl around a bit more, and next up was the Infirmary.
“Probably the second most likely place you wanna be,” Zoe explained, “after Commissary that is. People get in enough fights and mining accidents to overwhelm a war medic, let alone a small clinic. So we’ve started having to ration the beds.”
“Ration how?” Chione asked.
“Fuck if I know,” Zoe sighed, “honestly might just be preference of the Sister. And she’s… well you’ll see.”
The Infirmary was indeed quite small, especially against the sheer scale of the facility. There were two rows of beds either side of the hall, separated by light silk drapes, giving the room a feeling of an airy tent. At the far side a nun appeared to be bending over, watering a plant.
Zoe stood frozen, more alert than she had been the entire afternoon. The nun’s dark robes were quite flattering, hugging her soft curves and folding in as she brought herself up to her feet. Zoe seemed to be struggling to keep her eyes glued to some spot high on the wall behind her. Chione looked from the nun to the guard, but said nothing. With a sudden step forward, Zoe cleared her throat.
“Ahem… Sister Ambrosia?”
The nun turned, showing a very pretty, small face framed by large rectangular spectacles. She had a voluptuous figure that danced as she gently glided over to them, but her expression was innocent enough.
“Ah, hello there miss Dee. And you,” she turned to Chione with a smile –– although it wasn’t one she trusted, not after all this–– “I haven’t seen you around yet. What’s your name?”
“Chione Bor–– I mean, Chione.”
“She’s a civvie,” Dee quickly added. “I checked her profile. No history of violence, although she has a bit of a lip.” The guard took hold of Chione’s shoulders and leaned down to say in a hush, “please, give the Sister your best graces. She is a hardworking, virtuous woman and––”
“Ahaha, calm down, Zoe,” Ambrosia tittered behind her closed hand, “I think you get a little over eager. But do you mean to imply that we shouldn’t extend mercy to the wretched and to the violent? Surely they are the ones who cry out for absolution the most.”
“S-sure, I didn’t mean to imply….” Zoe trailed off, not completing the thought.
Chione however looked at the nun dead on and said, “no. Some people are vile scum. They’ll take your forgiveness and spit it back in your face.”
Zoe’s eyes widened, but Ambrosia’s eyelids lowered.
“Well that is a sadly blinkered view, we should offer grace to all.”
She said this, and yet she wore a soft smile towards Chione going forward.
“So,” Chione asked, looking at the various beds and medical equipment, “you said mining accidents?”
“Yeah,” said Zoe Dee, “I don’t think those mechs down in the shaft are built to standard. One girl’s arm got crushed in a structural collapse the other week. We’ve had explosions, fires, machinery falling off cliffs. The Vio in your blood should allow you to handle the controls but there’s basically no training. Best hope is to get apprenticed by someone experienced.”
“Oh, and there’s that awful radiation,” Ambrosia opined, “I get so many mystery illnesses. Migraines are especially common, but those girls are being poisoned daily!”
Chione pulled her cheek, throwing a look at the Sister.
“Radiation?”
“From the lasers they use to cut rock. I’m told the cockpit filters out 90%. But the remainder is enough to shave years from your life.”
“… How many?”
“Oh,” she bowed her head slightly, “twenty, give or take.”
Chione looked to Dee utterly appalled, saying “so I have to go down there and risk all that just to get basic supplies? And food?”
Zoe nodded. “Food, water, you get everything at Commissary.”
“So what, I either die quickly or die slowly? Or maybe die even faster if my vehicle explodes!”
“Look, lady,” the guard scowled, “it’s the same for everyone, so keep your voice down. Last thing you want is for your fellow residents to hear you whine. God, even civvies aren’t this bad usually.”
“This is a travesty! I’m a hostage, not one of your murderers and thieves. I’m not going to let you use me as a cog in your blood factory!”
“Yeah well you’re gonna have to figure something out,” Dee sighed. “There are… other ways to get what you need, but it means learning to get along with the others here so don’t let them hear you act so high and mighty.”
“Pah,” Chione spat, looking at the woman with a dagger stare, “no chance. I’m telling the outside world what’s going on here and once they hear of it they’ll rescue me. I don’t intend to stay any longer than I have to.”