Beshan Sunrise Ch. 02

Chapter 6

The militia had taken their time, but when they eventually showed up, they took her to an old police station near the river. After running her slave registration number and realizing they had a Thorian in front of them, they gave her the welcome she'd expected weeks earlier, when she arrived on Besha. A few blows to the face, some kicks to the ribs as she lay on the floor of that damp, steel-barred basement cell. Predictable.

That sergeant, a vet, she guessed, finally intervened when they started to rip off her clothes. He removed the handcuffs and gave her a bottle of water -- a small kindness that she appreciated.

After the cell door slammed shut, she spat a few mouthfuls of blood into the dirty sink and lay down on the bare bunk. Breathing hurt, a few broken ribs, most likely, but nothing too serious. I guess that's only the beginning.

She had saved Lucille from throwing away her life, but at what cost? Assaulting a guard would add years to her sentence, and at a higher security level, no doubt. Mary had been crying when they dragged her away, and the chances to see each other again were slim at best.

I should have killed that bastard. That would have been the only way to keep the girls safe.

Lying on her back, she stared at the moldy patches and the cracks in the ceiling, her head racing from one disastrous scenario to the next. The hours passed until the heavy steel door to the cell block opened and Renata Alvarez appeared outside. She must have been in bed already; she wore her gray hair open and looked exhausted.

"Gods, Ellen! What happened to you?"

Groaning, Ellen got up from the bunk and walked over to the steel bars. "Got a welcome from the militia."

"Did they... did they rape you?"

Ellen shook her head. "Broke my ribs, that's all. What about the girls? Are they safe?"

"I took them to headquarters, don't worry." She tapped her comlink. "I need to take some pictures to put a stop to this."

After documenting the split lip and the black eye, she had Ellen open the remaining buttons of her overalls, the ones that hadn't been ripped off, and winced when she saw the bruises.

"Push those panties down, please. I want to confirm something."

Alvarez took a closeup of her genital area, mumbling when she saw two red burns below Ellen's pubic tattoo. "Dammit, that matches what your squad mates told me. I'm so sorry."

"Wasn't you who zapped me."

"No, but I hired the guy." She sighed, checking the pictures she had taken. "Assaulting a guard, that's serious, no matter the circumstances. I'm gonna make some calls tomorrow morning, see what I can do. Maybe I can keep you with us, but no promises."

*

Ellen didn't sleep much that night. It was chilly in the cell, and she had no blanket, but at least the militia goons left her alone. Judging from her hunger, it had to be morning, but no breakfast was delivered, and the tap at the sink made a gurgling sound without producing any water. The toilet, of course, was clogged.

Her pain was manageable as long as she didn't move too much, and she waited in tense anticipation until Alvarez returned with the verdict. The woman looked stressed, and she probably hadn't slept much either.

"I talked to the prosecutor, explained the whole situation," she said, running her fingers through her disheveled hair. "Sunrise is the mayor's pet project, so they want to keep this quiet. There have been plenty of complaints about the militia, and them beating up prisoners isn't a good look either."

"Meaning what?"

Alvarez grimaced. "The offer's two dozen lashes. But no additional time, and the case is closed." She bit her lip. "You've had lashes before, I assume?"

"I have," said Ellen, a knot forming in her stomach. She had been wounded in battle and nearly died, but compared to that merciless, excruciating pain the neuro whip inflicted? It wasn't even close.

She looks really queasy, and it's me who's getting the lashes.

"You can take this to court," said Alvarez, "but a Thorian in front of a Beshan court? That could go either way. I wouldn't recommend it."

Ellen exhaled sharply. "I'll take it."

"Good. You can stay on your squad, and we'll take care of you at headquarters to get you back on your feet. Josh will take you, and I'll have a medic ready when you return."

Josh. Will be interesting to hear his explanation.

"Thank you. I appreciate your help, I really do. There's just one thing: what's gonna happen to Wilson?"

She sighed. "No real consequences, I'm afraid. If you were free women, he'd end up in a collar. But you're convicts, penal slaves, you don't have that kind of legal protection. He's fired, of course."

*

The militia goons got her from the cell in the afternoon, this time with more consideration than yesterday. Outside in the parking lot, she saw Josh's van, but it was Ed getting out of the driver's seat. He glared at them as they handed her over, but said nothing. It wouldn't have been smart, picking a fight with four guys carrying assault rifles.

Ellen stared at him. "What are you doing here, Ed? You're supposed to be with your family. With your grandkid."

"It's okay," he said, opening the door for her. "There's the mom, two grandmas, and half a dozen cousins. I'm not getting anywhere near the baby. Have to wait until the dust settles."

"What about the squad? Have you seen the girls?"

"Not yet, " he said, plotting the course, "but they're gonna stay at headquarters until I'm back from vacation. Dr.  Singh is taking care of them. Oh, and Wilson's a little worse for wear, if that's any consolation. Josh really went to town on the guy."

Ellen raised her eyebrow. "Did he now?"

"Aye. Wilson told him Trish didn't want to see him anymore. He really likes the girl. Didn't go over well when he found out it was a lie."

"Where did they even find a bastard like that?"

"Used to be a guard at the jail where we're going. Not sure how he got the gig with us. Anyway, we have to get that whipping out of the way. Then we'll patch you up, fix those cracked ribs. A few days of rest will do you good."

*

Port Lauren's central jail was located in the south of the city at the foot of a hill. The outer walls were riddled with holes ripped by artillery shells and partly collapsed, but the two rings of fences with razor wire seemed more than enough to prevent escape attempts.

Ed took her through long corridors with numerous security doors down to the second sub-basement -- a depressing place with concrete floors and cold, flickering fluorescent light. Ellen's stomach heaved, but she hadn't had anything to eat since dinner last night, so nothing came up.

In the waiting room outside the whipping chamber, Ed pressed a button on his comlink to unlock her leg irons and helped her strip out of her uniform. He winced when he saw the bruises, cursing under his breath, and turned around before she took off her underwear.

"I'll be right outside waiting for you," he said. "I can't watch this, I hope you understand."

She took a deep breath, too deep for her broken ribs. "It's fine. Wouldn't wanna watch it either."

Too bad I've got a front-row seat.

Two attendants, cold and jaded, took her into the chamber, and the first thing that hit her was the smell. A mix of sweat, fear, and a strong industrial disinfectant, lingering in the humid air.

She looked around; an almost empty circular room, surrounded by one-way mirrors. The whipping bot itself wasn't remarkable, just a tall cylinder on an antigrav platform with an arm that held the whip. Probably the same model that had executed her sentence on Zesta; fifty lashes a day for one full week, three hundred and fifty in total.

At least it's only two dozen.

Padded cuffs on steel cables were hanging from the ceiling, and similar ones were lying on the floor. The attendants fastened the cuffs on her wrists and ankles, and with the press of a button, winches pulled the cables taut, stretching her limbs wide and holding her in place. A pinch as the stimulant was injected into her buttock to prevent her from passing out, then they retreated from the chamber.

She looked into the mirror directly ahead and almost didn't recognize herself. An exhausted old woman in a heavy steel collar, naked and with bruises all over, her large breasts sagging. The worst thing, however, was the pubic tattoo -- her slave registration number in black nanite ink, next to impossible to remove. Even Cassidy with her considerable means still had hers, more than fifteen years after completing her sentence.

Weak in the knees, she clenched her fists as panic crept up on her. If Ed hadn't let her go to the bathroom, she would have voided her bladder on the spot.

Mary's safe, that's the most important thing. But Gods, let this be over quick.

A siren howled for five seconds, then a metallic click, and the bot whirred to life.

The first lash landed square between her shoulder blades with perfect precision, making her growl and shift her weight. It hurt, a nasty pain, but it was only the start.

Gods, here it comes.

What followed moments later was worse than any broken bone. Familiar waves of agony, like lightning spreading through her nerves, radiated from the point of impact, up into her fingertips and down into her toes. Her groan, more animal than human, turned into a scream as the neuro charge built up and traveled through her body, burning bright until it slowly dissipated.

One.

*

Back in the waiting room, Ed was pacing up and down when the attendants dragged her through the door. Unable to walk, her nerves still tingling and drenched in sweat, they dumped her in a chair.

Ed sighed, shaking his head. "Gods, Ellen. So sorry you had to go through that."

She allowed herself to cry for a couple of minutes, leaning against Ed's broad shoulder, but decided to get dressed when two guards delivered the next delinquent, a handcuffed and shackled girl less than half her age. The girl was so terrified that not even the threat of the shock prod made her walk.

Gods Almighty. Cassidy was even younger when she got her first lashes.

She remembered her own time in jail, sitting alone in that cell on Zesta. The daily message through the intercom that she dreaded, polite and devoid of any emotion: "Convict Elenore Anderson, please prepare for the execution of your sentence."

The whole process they had taught her that she would never forget: Taking off her uniform and underwear, folding everything nearly and placing it on the mattress. Kneeling with her back towards the door, hands behind her head. Fingers interleaved, that was important. Do not sit on your heels. And absolutely no talking.

Cold handcuffs and shackles, two guards leading her naked through endless corridors to the whipping chamber. Anyone would be terrified. She caught a glimpse of the horror in that poor girl's eyes and quickly turned away.

One of the guards pushed her forward. "Hey! You're already getting five extra for noncompliance. Walk, dammit, don't make it worse!"

Threats were pointless; the girl was past any sense of reason. She thrashed wildly when the door opened and she saw the dangling restraints inside the chamber. Her raw, primal wail shook Ellen to her core.

All pleading and crying was no use, however, as the attendants did their job. They hauled the helplessly struggling girl into the chamber and, after a couple of charges from the shock prod to break her resistance, secured her for the bot. The siren wailed, and it didn't take long until they heard the agonized screams loud and clear through the padded door.

Before the third lash hit, Ellen was already back in uniform and leg irons. On the way to the van, her thoughts kept returning to her daughter. Tougher than that poor girl, no doubt, but how scared, how desperate had she been?

Got what she deserved, that's what you told her. No wonder she hates you. Talk to Dr.  Singh, Ellen, for real this time. Don't just drink his tea.

*

When the van pulled up at the charity's headquarters half an hour later, the whole squad was sitting on a bench in front of a tent, waiting. Supported by Ed and still a bit shaky on her feet, Ellen climbed out of the passenger seat, looking into worried faces.

They all know what a whipping's like.

Mary was the first to reach her, hurrying across the parking lot as fast as her leg irons allowed. "I should have gone with him," she sniffled, hugging her softly, trying not to touch her cracked ribs. "I'm sorry I got you into so much trouble."

"You didn't, and none of it was your fault. Don't cry, I'll be fine."

"Still think I should have shanked that bastard," said Lucille, grinning, "but thanks for taking care of business, Ellen. You're a stand up gal, definitely ready for a proper labor camp."

Ellen laughed until the pain in her chest made her stop. "That means a lot coming from you. But I think I'm done with crime."

"Come on," said Ed, "I'll take you to the doc."

Chapter 7

As on Zesta, the neuro whip hadn't left any physical marks, and thanks to a well-equipped sickbay, a medic was able to heal Ellen's broken ribs and bruises in a matter of hours. Her thoughts were still with that terrified girl at the jail when she saw Bianca in the canteen, talking to Alvarez. They hugged, and Alvarez rushed out, wiping her eyes with a tissue as she disappeared through the kitchen.

"Renata's devastated," said Bianca and sat down at a table when Ellen walked up to her. "Apparently, Wilson did the same thing with another squad, and nobody said anything."

That's what it's like, being in command. You're the last person they tell anything important.

"And how are you holding up?" asked Ellen, sitting down across from her. "We're all very worried about you."

Bianca shrugged, fidgeting with a strand of hair. "Talking to Dr.  Singh, drinking tea. My sentence is up next month, I really have to get my shit together."

"I'm sure that's not what he said."

For a moment, a smile flickered over her face. "Of course not. I'll be fine, though. It's just... I thought I was safe here. Four years on this squad and nothing like that ever happened."

"Four years?! You're kidding me. How old were you when you got here?"

She shrugged. "Got my slave stamp a few weeks after my eighteenth birthday. To teach me how to be a 'productive member of society.' That's how the judge put it. Vagrancy laws on Lissandra. First couple of times they pick you up, you get lashes. Third time, well..."

Ellen leaned back, not sure what to say.

"Look," said Bianca, taking Ellen's hand. "I wanted to thank you. This whole thing landed on you in the end, and you really came through for us. What they did to you, that's the stuff of nightmares. Are you okay?"

It's gonna haunt my dreams for a while, that's for sure.

"Let's just say, I see quite a few cups of tea with Dr.  Singh in my future."

Bianca smiled again, this time a bit longer. "The hard cases get honey in their tea. Delicious, you'll see."

"Do you have plans for when you're released? Not going back to Lissandra, I assume."

"Working on it. Convicts can't get permanent residence on Besha, but maybe I can stay on as a serf. Renata's trying to secure funding right now."

"Indentured servitude?" Ellen shook her head. "You'd be paid, but you'd still be... property. Wearing that stupid collar."

"So?" She sat back in her chair, rubbing her temples. "I already have that slave stamp for life, it doesn't matter. No chains and no shackles, so that's something, right?"

"You really want to stay, after what happened?"

"The squad's amazing," she said, fidgeting with her hair again. "And I can't leave Lys, I love her. She has a couple of years left. Plus, there's Ed, he's like a dad to me. Did you know he taught me how to read?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm a refugee kid from Encarion Five, never went to school. We read Emmerson and Picasso, those old space detective stories. Let me borrow his data pad so I could practice. But," she leaned in, whispering, "when he wasn't looking, I read Solarian Passion."

Ellen chuckled. Solarian Passion, oh my.

*

Dr.  Singh had cancelled most of his other sessions to stay at headquarters and take care of Bianca and the other members of her squad. The next morning, Ellen joined him in a small tent near one of the old pavilions. He was sitting behind a camping table with his beaten old thermos in front of him, checking his notes.

"Good morning, doc. You wanted to see me?"

"Good morning, Ellen. Please, sit." He unscrewed the cap of his thermos. "Have you ever had honey in your tea, my dear?"

She suppressed a grin. Congratulations, now you're officially one of the hard cases.

"No, but I heard good things."

"Very well. I'm sure you'll find that it... soothes the soul."

He poured her a cup and added a bit of honey from a small flask. She took a sip, and the tea was surprisingly complex, a blend of bitter herbs and the sweetness of the honey. It had a rich taste with a floral note, reaching deep inside and warming her from the core.

Not sure I have a soul that could be soothed, but it really is delicious.

"Would you like to tell me what happened?" he asked, putting the flask away.

"I'm sure you heard that story at least three times."

"I'd very much like to hear it from your perspective, if you don't mind."

Ellen shrugged. Like she would to a superior officer, she recounted the events briefly, in chronological order and without embellishments, sticking to the facts. Sipping on her tea occasionally, she observed Singh as he listened without interrupting. She mentioned Lucille's rage in that final confrontation with Wilson, but left out the part with the scissors -- the only time she deviated from the truth.

"That's a very... precise report," said Singh when she was done, before adding the dreaded question: "And how are you feeling now?"

Ellen rolled her eyes. "You know, doc, I'm not good at this."

"Much better than when we started." He smiled at her. "You've endured a lot, surely that evoked some emotions. Why don't you give it a try?"

She exhaled sharply. "I'm still furious about what Bianca went through. That kid never had a chance in life, and now this. Then there's Mary. The poor thing's having nightmares again. For me personally..." She sighed and hesitated. "It brought back difficult memories. You know Zesta was hard on me in more than one way. On the other hand, I'm relieved. This could have turned out a lot worse than it has."

"Indeed. What about that topic we discussed last time? Loss of control? You've been a highly ranked officer. This, coming here, has been a big change."

Big change? I'm on the goddamn slave register.

"I thought about it," she said after taking a couple of deep breaths. "When we're talking about Wilson, I would have loved to be in control. Discipline him like a soldier under my command. But the rest of the time? Not so much."

"Surprising."

She nodded. "It surprises me, too. But honestly, I feel like I've been holding my breath all my life. There was always one more battle, one more fight to win. If I didn't have enemies, I would make them. But now, I can just keep my head down and do the work. There are no life and death decisions, no danger. Everybody's still alive at the end of the day."

"Yes." He leaned back. "Realizing that might give a person peace, don't you think?"

"I still want that fucking collar off my neck."

He chuckled. "You mentioned that a couple of times."

*

The squad spent the rest of the week at headquarters on light duty, helping out in the kitchen, folding laundry, and doing other tasks around the camp. There simply wasn't enough work for ten additional people, however, so Ellen and Mary decided to assist with deliveries.

Andrea, one of the volunteers, was filling in for Josh, who had taken a few days of vacation. Ellen was happy to see more parts of the city, especially those neighborhoods where the squads had already made good progress.

The van pulled up at an old school building ten minutes from the camp. Not a single window in the city had survived the war, and this building was no exception, but other than some superficial damage, it looked mostly intact. The weather was pleasant, and a group of men was clearing the school of debris and old furniture to make room for renovations.

Out on the front steps with two canisters full of water, she ran into Marek who was carrying half a dozen dusty chairs, stacked one onto the other.

"Who do we have here?" He smiled at her, setting down the chairs. "It's Ellen, the nice lady with the water. They have you doing deliveries now?"

She recognized him instantly. The man who had at times taken over for Lieutenant Jeffries in her fantasies. And he remembers my name.

"Are you all right?" he asked when she didn't answer. "Mind if I lend a hand?"

Don't just stand there, dammit! Say something!

"Yes, yes, sorry." She handed him one of the heavy canisters, which he lifted without visible effort. "How are you?"

He shrugged. "Can't complain. We're making good progress, and the weather's great. But hey, that situation with the guard, that was your squad, right?"

Ellen nodded, noticing that Mary had suddenly appeared by her side, bringing the large insulated box with lunch.

"Ellen's the one who knocked him out," said Mary. "We were all so scared, and she saved us from that asshole."

Marek raised his eyebrow. "That took guts. Everyone's been talking about that."

"Someone had to," mumbled Ellen, shifting her weight. At least don't stare at him, dammit!

"Where are you ladies from, if I may ask?"

"I'm from Zesta, Home of Sin," said Mary, smiling broadly. "And Ellen's from Thoria. But she's super nice."

Ellen's heart almost stopped. Why did she have to mention that?!

"Huh," he said, scratching his head. "Different worlds, I guess. Can't choose where we're born. Right, Ellen?"

"Right," she said, staring at her feet.

"Ellen's amazing," continued Mary, her smile unwavering. "She was my cellmate on the ship, took care of me when I was really sick. You can always count on her."

Not exactly what Cassidy would say.

He nodded, his gaze lingering on Ellen for a moment. "That's good to know."

"So, Marek," said Mary, changing the subject smoothly. "What brings you here? We're not putting ourselves in any danger, talking to you?"

He grinned. "I'm harmless, scout's honor. I have a small construction business, just fifteen minutes from here. Fudged the numbers to get better credit conditions from the Coalition Reconstruction Fund."

"Huh. But you paid it back?"

"Yes, yes, almost ten years ago. But they discovered it in an audit last year, and technically, it's subsidy fraud. Got six months for my misdeeds."

She bit her lip. "So you're a local. Do you live with your family?"

"With my son and daughter. Both adults, running the business while I'm away. My wife and I separated when the kids were old enough."

"So you're single." Mary grinned. "Ellen's widowed, by the way. And single for a while now."

"Mary!" hissed Ellen, shooting a glare at her.

He laughed his deep, pleasant laugh. "You've got good friends, Ellen."

"Ladies!" shouted Andrea. "The other squads are waiting for their lunch. Let's go!"

*

They got back into the van, Ellen up front with Andrea, and Mary on the back bench. The moment they were in motion, Ellen turned her head.

"Mary, seriously! Why would you quiz him like that?"

Mary smiled, the picture of pure innocence. "He clearly likes you, and you wanted to know all of that, didn't you?"

"Doesn't mean you have to interrogate the man!"

"You wouldn't have asked, you barely said a word." She giggled. "Now you have more information when you dream of him at night. Or when you're on the third floor."

Ellen sighed. "Oh, Mary."

"Seriously though, you have to learn how to flirt, or this is going nowhere. You have to make eyes and smile, Ellen."

"Flirt? Do I look like Trish? I'm fifty-five years old, dammit."

Mary laughed. "Never too old! And Trish doesn't flirt. Not for long anyway. She grabs someone and drops her panties."

*

Ellen looked forward to delivering food, and subsequent conversations at the male worksite, with Mary relegated to waiting in the van, turned out less awkward. Despite the prospect of hot showers, Ellen was disappointed when the weekend came and the squad moved from headquarters to Camp Charlie.

Everything was still quiet on Sunday morning when she sat down on a bench near the chain-link fence, trying to draw the soft, rolling hills of the landscape outside, dotted with clusters of trees. After a few hours of concentrated drawing and half a dozen aborted attempts, she turned her notebook to Trish.

"What do you think?"

Trish looked up and pushed her hat back. "Details are pretty good, but your proportions are out of whack. That tree in the foreground should be quite a bit larger compared to the ones over there. What you need is perspective lines."

They didn't teach that in military school.

"Perspective lines? What's that?"

Trish pointed at her own drawing. "Helps create the illusion of depth. You need the horizon line, and orthogonal lines leading to a vanishing point. Or two vanishing points, but let's keep it simple for now."

"Did you go to art school or something?"

"Wanted to," she said, biting her lip. "Couldn't get in after my first conviction. Doesn't matter, don't need art school to scribble a bit. Gimme your notebook, let's add some lines."

The next couple of attempts were decidedly better, but still a far cry from Trish's elaborate work. Both continued drawing until it was almost time for lunch.

"So," said Ellen, closing her notebook. "Josh's still in the doghouse?"

"Uh-huh."

"It's none of my business, but you know it wasn't his fault. Wilson told him you didn't want to see him anymore."

Trish looked up. "And why the hell would he believe that, Ellen? We had a good thing going. No drama, just two people having fun."

"You can be... intense, Trish. You could have changed your mind."

"Because I'm moody," she said, shooting a glare at Ellen.

"Explosive." Ellen grinned. "Some days it's better to leave you alone if you wanna keep your head on your shoulders."

"Yeah," she sighed, closing her notebook. "I'm working on that with Dr.  Singh. 'Inhale, exhale. Focus on your breathing, my dear.' Limited success so far."

"That might take more than a few months. I was the same. Still am, when I talk to my eldest daughter. Two minutes, and I lose it completely."

"Huh." Trish got up from the bench. "You know, maybe I'm just done with men and with sex."

Ellen laughed. "You don't mean that. Besides, Nuri says she'll take him if the two of you are over."

Trish's head whipped around. "That's what she said?"

"That's what she said."

*

Back from Camp Charlie, work continued at the marketplace. The group proved remarkably resilient, and even Bianca, who still had daily sessions with Singh, had started to smile again sometimes.

Ed had his own tricks for boosting morale. After dinner, Ellen found the rest of the squad on the stairs outside for a meeting of the newly formed book club. Trish had borrowed Ed's data pad and, for the second night in a row, she was reading aloud from Solarian Passion.

"Two long weeks without him, without the touch of his hands, his hot breath on her skin! And yes, without that huge, glorious cock! The biggest cock this side of the Rivia Nebula -- on Helios Prime at least. Definitely bigger than her fiancé's. Roberta felt it getting hard in her mouth, and soon, soon he would ram it into her wet, needy pussy. She shuddered at the thought..."

Oh my.

Ellen looked for Ed and saw him sitting on a wall a few steps away, chuckling and sometimes shaking his head. She sat down next to him.

"It's from my wife's collection," he said. "Didn't realize it was this... graphic."

"Cassidy, my eldest, she loved that drivel when she was a teenager. Read the books, watched the show, everything."

He grinned. "Bianca loves it, too. Claims she's reading Emmerson and Picasso and thinks I wouldn't notice." He glanced over where the setting sun bathed the old theater in a warm red glow. "I'm surprised you can get stuff like that on Thoria."

"She got addicted to Shine, and that didn't even officially exist back home. Getting books and shows wasn't that hard in comparison."

Trish was pacing up and down now, the chain of her leg irons scraping over the warm cobblestones, reading to her captive audience.

"Fully erect now, he pulled out of her mouth. That pang of sadness and regret every time a big, hard cock was no longer inside her! But not for long! She got up and knelt on the bed, her shapely behind, her dripping pussy an unspoken, irresistible invitation."

She sure mentions his size a lot.

"Much to her surprise, Roberta felt his thumb press against her sphincter. That other, deliciously sinful place, too often neglected! She reached for her engorged clit. 'Oh, Guillermo!' she exclaimed, furiously rubbing herself. 'Take me like a cheap Zestan slut!'"

"See," giggled Mary, "we're famous. They know us on Helios Prime."

"What did I tell you? This is so fucking hot!" Trish used her hat to fan herself with fresh air, and Ellen exhaled, feeling her cheeks burn. Gods, Ellen, pull yourself together!

"Roberta gasped as he pushed himself inside her, taking her hard with powerful strokes! That marvelous cock, stretching her tight nether hole! She eagerly pushed back to take him even deeper. An earth-shattering climax was building..."

"Not very realistic though," said Mary, looking a bit flushed herself. "Didn't warm up, and they forgot the lube. Can't have butt sex without it."

Lucille grinned. "Hurts like a motherfucker if the dick's really that big."

Trish stared at them, exasperated. "The use of lube is implied, come on! Wanna hear how it continues, or not?"

"Fine," said Lucille, raising her hands in defense. "Go on."

"Good." Trish tapped a button on the pad. "Because I think her mom's gonna join them any minute. She's in the guest house, too. And remember, she sucked him off on the boat."

"Why would they take the gardener on the boat, anyway?" asked Lyssa, smirking.

"Should have listened yesterday, Lys. It made perfect sense. Now, where were we..."

Ellen buried her face in her hands. Might as well go up to the third floor and... enjoy the view.

Chapter 8

A chilly night was approaching at Camp Charlie, but it was pleasantly warm inside the squad's tent where the smell of stuffed peppers from dinner was still in the air. The whole squad was assembled around the table, chatting and playing board games that one of the volunteers had donated.

"You're really doing this?" asked Ellen. "You're staying with us?"

Bianca nodded. "I'm so relieved this worked out. End of sentence and no plan? Super scary."

"Good," said Trish, rolling the dice. "Who was going to help Ed chain us up at night? Skills like that..."

Bianca laughed and stuck out her tongue. "You're smart enough, I could teach you."

Trish moved her playing piece, and after rolling the dice again, she took Ellen's piece off the board. Grinning mischievously, she put it in prison for the second round in a row.

Ellen chuckled. Figures. Can't even stay out of jail in a board game.

She leaned back in her chair. "They have to take you back to Lissandra to release you, right? You can't just sign the contract here."

"Yeah." Bianca bit her lip. "Five days, not looking forward to that trip. I'll get there in the morning and take a flight back in the late afternoon. Renata already booked everything. But," she beamed, "on a passenger ship, not a slave transport!"

"Thank God," said Nuri, blowing a kiss as she was taking Trish off the board. "Slave transports suck, way worse than prison ships. Those cages they put you in -- you can barely move, like a goddamn coffin. So basically, you'll be traveling like a fancy free lady."

Bianca laughed. "Not quite, I'll be a serf on the trip, property of Sunrise. Can't come back as a free person; they wouldn't let an ex-convict back on Besha. I have to sign my contract at a registration agency on Lissandra."

Nuri grimaced. "So the collar stays on? Not even a short break?"

"Makes no sense cutting it off and getting a new one five minutes later. Besides, I'm used to it. It's comfortable enough." She ran a finger over the metal. "You've been a serf before, right? You know how it works at the agency?"

"Yep," said Nuri, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Quick and easy when you're already on the slave register. They scan you, check that you're healthy and not on any drugs. You sign, they notarize it, and set your status at the register."

"And that's it?" Ellen frowned. "Just like that?"

Nuri nodded. "That's it. Freezes your accounts and suspends your citizen rights."

Free woman to property in ten minutes, thought Ellen, shaking her head. Signing her rights away, immediately after getting them back.

Lyssa was clinging to Bianca more than usual lately, and there had been tears when Renata delivered the news, and kisses in broad daylight that they normally saved for bed.

"It's great you two can stay together," said Ellen, feeling goosebumps on her arms.

"Ellen's getting soft in her old age," teased Trish, fidgeting with her eliminated playing piece. "Isn't lesbianism strictly forbidden on Thoria?"

Ellen scoffed. "I don't give a shit, I'm happy for them. How long's the contract?"

"Two years, four months," said Lyssa, taking Bianca's hand. "That's when my sentence ends. Then we'll have to see."

Bianca smiled. "I'll have some money saved by the time you're released."

Trish gave Bianca a kiss on her head. "But until then, you'll be slave pussy like the rest of us. Well, almost. What about leg irons?"

"Renata said I don't have to wear them. It's only mandatory for convicts."

"So much for solidarity." Trish grinned. "Then you'll be the one who goes and fetches stuff. Anyway! Who's up for another round? Maybe we can keep Ellen out of jail for once."

*

Bianca left the next week. She had been visibly nervous -- excited that she'd be released, scared of the journey, sad that she wouldn't see Lyssa for over a week.

In the meantime, the squad's project at the old marketplace was done. Cleared of vegetation, with new bushes and trees planted, the people from the neighborhood had adopted the place. Vendors sold their wares during the day. Food stands appeared in the evening. Street bands played music. Life had returned to this area, a small step towards rebuilding the city.

After collecting all equipment and their backpacks, the squad left the site for the last time. Everyone was packed into Josh's van, Ed in the passenger seat, and excitement was buzzing.

"That was great work," said Ed. "You can all be proud of what you've accomplished here."

"So what's next?" asked Ellen after getting settled. "I heard we'll be supporting another squad outside the city. Some hospital?"

"Yeah. Renovating an old clinic for the Department of Veteran Affairs. The guys already got started a few days ago."

"We haven't worked with men in a while," said Nuri, grinning. "Last time was so... productive. Will there be a fuck tent again?"

Ed cleared his throat. "Can we not call it that?"

"So, yes?"

"I'm sure there's a room we can use. But please, best behavior. You'll get a couple of hours after dinner to... socialize. But absolutely no mixing with the men without a guard. It's for your own safety."

"Dad thinks we're too good to mix with criminals." Her grin widened. "Forgets that we're criminals, too."

"By the way," said Trish, smirking, "is there a limit per person? Bianca and Lys won't join, so someone's gotta pick up the slack."

Nuri nodded. "I still remember the first night on that site in district four. I... socialized so hard, I almost couldn't walk."

Ed pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just... behave."

*

The van followed a riverside road, leaving the city behind, passing through destroyed suburbs, and finally into the countryside. None of the bridges had been rebuilt, just a couple of small barges here and there were ferrying people over.

After almost an hour, the clinic appeared, nestled in a wooded area near a river bend. Despite its faded white plaster, the five-story building remained impressive, with its columns, statues, and a grand driveway.

"Used to be a private clinic for the rich and famous," said Ed. "Served as barracks for Coalition troops during the war. Abandoned since."

"Where are the men?" asked Trish when the van stopped near the entrance. "I don't see anyone."

"They have their camp on the north side. We'll be in the south. Strictly separated."

Nuri stared at him. "You're joking."

"I'm not." He opened the door, an amused smile on his face. "Everyone out! Let's get our stuff unloaded."

*

It was further from the sea and a bit warmer than in the city, but old, tall trees provided shade. Ellen took a deep breath, savoring the fresh scent of pine needles lingering in the air.

We're really in the middle of nowhere. Peaceful and quiet.

A side door opened, and another guard, Jonathan, showed up. He walked up to Ed, and after a quick conversation, he handed him a mechanical key.

Ed picked up his duffel bag. "Your quarters are on the ground floor, room one thirty-seven. Follow me."

They passed the entrance hall, through long corridors that still showed its previous use. Empty weapons crates and ammunition boxes were stacked at the sides, propaganda posters plastered on the walls.

One thirty-seven turned out to be the clinic's pharmacy. Unlike the other rooms, it had a heavy security door and a small window to the left with a sliding glass pane. He inserted the key and unlocked the door.

It was a tidy room, recently cleaned. Walls lined with cabinets and shelves surrounded ten military-olive cots, placed where central shelves had been removed.

"I guess you don't have to sleep on the floor this time," said Ed. "Just hope they saved one for me."

Lyssa pointed at the steel-barred windows. "Does that mean...?"

He nodded. "No chains required at night as long as the door is locked. The other squad wanted you to have the room. Jon says they're 'thrilled' having you here."

"I bet," grinned Trish. "Think they want something in return?"

"You can ask them tonight." He picked up his bag. "Alright, lunch in thirty minutes. Get settled, look around, but south wing only. Stay away from the other camp."

Trish smiled at him. "Small peek?"

He cleared his throat. "I'm responsible for your safety. If I catch anyone sneaking over behind my back, that's it. No socializing privileges. I mean it."

"Yes, dad."

*

They took their lunch behind the building, on the large veranda overlooking a small, riverside park. The park was overgrown, but it would have to wait. Removing the trash and broken furniture from the clinic was the first priority, while local handymen fixed the damage in the roof.

"Spectacular view," said Trish, playing with the chain of her leg irons. "Maybe I'll just stay out here after dinner and draw."

"What?!" Nuri stared at her. "You gotta be kidding me. There are real, actual men waiting!"

"Yeah," grinned Trish. "Maybe not tonight, but I still have to draw it. Tonight's all about having fun, of course. 'Oh, Guillermo! Take me like a cheap Zestan--'"

Ellen groaned. "Come on! Tone it down a little!"

"Sorry. I'll shut up." Trish picked up her sandwich that she had barely touched and took a bite.

Seriously, Ellen! Why did you snap at her like that? They're excited, don't spoil it for them.

She sighed. "Sorry, Trish. It's just... casual sex -- far outside my comfort zone."

"I know, I know." She touched Ellen's hand. "Didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Hey Trish, ever considered doing this professionally?" asked Lyssa, grinning. "One guy is obviously not enough for you."

"Honestly, I have," said Trish. "More than once."

Nuri crumpled the sandwich wrapper. "As much as I love sex, that's just a shitty job. Tried it as a serf for a year, but I don't like having sex chained up. Made me feel less than human."

"Why would they even do that?" asked Ellen.

Nuri shrugged. "Slaves, serfs, free women -- no matter who you are, you're chained by the neck to your bed. It's tradition, apparently."

"Nobody was chained at my daughter's place. And she definitely had serfs."

"Really?" Trish's eyes lit up. "I should apply. Put in a good word for me?"

"My good word means nothing to Cassidy." Ellen sighed. "And please don't do that. You're such a bright young woman; don't sell out your dignity."

Trish scoffed. "Dignity? I'm a twenty-six year-old who still lives with her parents. Who can't even feed her own kids. I hated that retail job, but at least I was able to contribute. And now I screwed that up, too."

"There must be something you can do. You're smart and incredibly talented."

"Art doesn't pay, Ellen. Three convictions, there's no chance I'll ever find a decent job. Without kids, I'd do the same as Bianca. Just stay in a collar, do what I'm told, and not be a fucking burden."

"Hey," said Lyssa sharply. "That's not why she's doing it, okay? She doesn't have a family to fall back on, remember."

Trish raised her hands in defense. "Sorry, sorry! That came out wrong."

*

After everyone had eaten, Ed assigned tasks for the afternoon, but the excited chatter about the night's activities couldn't be contained. When they finally went back inside, Mary spotted a figure down the corridor.

"Look!" she said, waving at the man, who promptly waved back. He stood there for a few moments before disappearing behind the corner.

Ellen froze when she recognized him. Late twenties, blonde hair, scar on his right cheek. That's one from Marek's squad!

"Ohhh," said Mary, glancing at Ellen whose cheeks had taken a rosier complexion. "That's his squad, isn't it? It's gonna be so romantic!"

*

The afternoon dragged on, and Ellen tried to keep her distance as rumors and speculations about the other squad circulated. Dinner was a hasty affair, and when the others left for their much anticipated activities -- to reenact the steamiest scenes from Solarian Passion, no doubt -- she joined Ed, Lyssa, and Lucille on the veranda.

Too restless to sit down, still thinking about Marek, she decided to find something to do. She was standing at the entrance of the park behind the clinic, using a scythe to cut a path through the waist-high grass, when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"Doing overtime?" asked Marek from the top of the stairs.

Ellen turned around. "Private project. I thought it would be nice having dinner at that fireplace over there."

"I'll give you a hand, if that's okay."

"You're not in that room? Must be quite the spectacle."

He shrugged. "With a bunch of kids half my age? I don't think so."

Ellen handed him the scythe and got herself gloves and a machete to remove the more sturdy vegetation in the way.

This is not what he came for. Talk to him, dammit!

They worked for half an hour, talking and making good progress, but the fireplace was still half a day's work away, even with two people on the project.

She straightened her back. "I think that's enough for today. Would you like to join me on the veranda?"

He chuckled. "I thought you'd never ask."

*

Sitting on a bench on the veranda, they watched the sun go down behind the hill. Marek carried much of the conversation, telling her a lot about his children, now running the business, and some stories from his youth. Time passed quickly, and she was surprised when Ed came to get her for lockup.

"May I walk you home?" asked Marek, offering his arm. "It's less romantic in leg irons, but a man's gotta try."

She laughed and took his arm, walking with him down the corridor. Ed had already herded everyone else into the pharmacy, and she stopped at the door.

"I guess this is me."

Marek took her hands. "Thanks for a lovely evening." He leaned forward and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. "Same time tomorrow?"

Ellen stood there, frozen. Gods! What the hell do I do now?

"Sorry, if that was too... forward," he said, smiling at her. "I didn't mean to startle you."

She gulped. "No... I mean... yes. Yes, I'd really like that."

Still stunned, she entered the pharmacy. She heard the key turn as Ed locked them in for the night, and she was surprised that her leg irons were lying on the floor behind her. Ed must have removed them, and she hadn't even noticed.

Mary was already in bed; she had pushed her cot next to Ellen's, but didn't seem ready to sleep.

"Did you have fun?" asked Ellen after she had somewhat recovered. She took off her boots and pushed them under the cot.

"Yes." Mary sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. "Haven't had sex in ages. Didn't realize how much I missed it."

"Ages? My last time you weren't even born."

And I could give you the dates and locations of every single time. It's not a long list.

"This last year, I did Shine, not men," said Mary, rolling her eyes. "If I had sex, I don't remember any of it. Anyway! Did Marek find you?"

"Don't tell me you sent him."

Mary shrugged. "He asked for you. I think you and your man should join us." She giggled. "I wanna hear 'Oh, Marek! Take me...'"

Ellen shook her head, chuckling. "Like that's gonna happen. But it's good you kids had fun."

The lights were dimmed, and most of the other girls were already in bed. Ellen stripped out of her overalls and folded them, looking over to the steel-barred window.

Still not great, but so much better without that goddamn chain.

"Honestly," said Mary, "I'm feeling like Roberta from Solarian Passion. Lars may not have Guillermo's size, but he sure knows how to use it. Ate me out, too."

"Too much information."

"Yeah. I'm starting to sound like Trish." She grimaced. "How did your evening go? Did you kiss at least?"

She waited for an answer as Ellen crawled into bed and zipped up her sleeping bag, but that answer didn't come.

Mary grinned. "You did, huh? Good for you!"

"He kissed me," mumbled Ellen. "On the cheek."

Gods, she thought, a knot forming in her stomach, What am I gonna do if he wants more? I have to give him something, or he's gonna lose interest.

"It's a start, I guess." Mary turned her head. "Tomorrow you kiss back. Wanna practice with me? Goodnight kiss, no tongue?"

"Sleep well, Mary."

*

The rest of the week, Ellen found it hard to focus. She spent her evenings with Marek and worked mostly alone during the day, trying to stay away from her squadmates' breathless recounting of last night's events. It was a nice change of pace when Singh arrived on Friday morning to spend the rest of the day with the two squads.

This time, however, instead of his thermos, he pulled a data pad out of his briefcase.

"Before we begin, you've got a letter."

Ellen raised her brow. "A letter? I thought we weren't allowed."

"Came through a judge from Zesta. Renata checked it, she says there's no need to be alarmed. It's from your daughter, Cassidy."

"But... but why would she...?"

He handed her the pad and she sat down to read.

Hello, mother!

Judge Reinhardt has been so kind to pass along this message, and I hope it finds you well and in good spirits, all things considered.

Amara is on parental leave now and looked a bit stressed when we talked this morning. Little Andrew was born last month, and she doesn't get a lot of sleep. It doesn't help that his sister is already showing the wild streak that seems to run in our family.

As for me, I've got my hands full, too. We've always had our differences, and I know you don't approve of my business, but I'm surrounded by friends, and I'm happier than I've ever been. Carla and Sylvie are my two youngest and such bright, amazing women -- they take on more and more responsibilities, and in a few months I'm sure they'll be the ones in charge. They say they would love to meet 'Grandma Elenore.' Maybe you can say hello when you return.

This whole situation must be hard on you, but it'll be easier if you loosen up a little. Try to make friends, mother. Don't deny yourself a bit of human connection, that's what makes all the difference.

Amara sends her love, she'll make arrangements to come to Zesta when you're released, and maybe we can have coffee and cheesecake on the promenade. I would like that.

Cassidy

Ellen returned the pad and wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

"Are you okay, Ellen?" he asked, his hand on her shoulder. "What is it?"

She blinked back tears. "Gods, I didn't even cry when my parents died, and look at me now. We never had much of a relationship, and now she wrote me a letter."

And Amara had her baby! She asked me to be there, and I couldn't come. When she was pregnant with her first child, she didn't even tell me.

"Children grow up, and even adults get wiser with age." Singh glanced at the pad. "Cassidy Evangeline Anderson. Beautiful name."

"After my grandmother." Ellen took the tissue he offered and blew her nose. "The black sheep of the family, but I loved her very much. She wasn't like the others; didn't join the Navy, fiercely independent. Good with children, like my other daughter, Amara."

He smiled. "Let's have some tea, shall we? Tell me more about your grandma; she sounds like a fascinating woman."

*

Friday evening had her more on edge than the rest of the week. The squad would spend Saturday night and Sunday at Camp Charlie -- a break from her evenings with Marek. It didn't help her growing unease that even Lucille had joined the rest of the squad in that room.

"What's up with you?" asked Marek, holding her hand. "You seem a bit tense tonight."

Even more than usual.

Her sharp mind was something she had always been able to rely on. Thorough analysis, clear conclusions. Taking charge. But now? Scatter-brained. Insecure. Scared, even.

Either pull yourself together, or break this off, whatever this is. Go to bed, and dream of what could have been. A bit of spit, two fingers. Better than nothing. Still more than you had in thirty years.

She sighed. "Look, I'm really sorry. It's not fair that I'm wasting your time. This all comes easy to others. Me and intimacy... it's very frustrating."

Terrifying, that's the right word. You led infantry assaults, but this? Your goddamn hands are shaking.

He briefly touched her shoulder. "Is it something you want? Make new experiences?"

She closed her eyes and sighed, the cool evening air brushing against her skin.

More than anything.

"How about a kiss?" he asked, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. "Not on the cheek, a real one this time. If you let it happen, I'm sure it's something you'd enjoy."

Ellen took a deep breath, making him smile. "Yes, please."

When his lips gently touched hers, she closed her eyes, and a wave of warmth spread through her. It took only a few moments until she kissed back.

Gods Almighty! So this is what I've been missing all my life?

She looked into his deep, brown eyes, her hands sweaty, and her heart racing. The soft glow of the veranda's lanterns illuminated the smile on his face.

"Did you like it?" he asked.

She exhaled. "Please, can I have another?"

Chapter 9

Ellen sat on a bench on the veranda before breakfast, breathing in the crisp early morning air. The light was perfect for drawing, the vibrant green of the trees, the gentle rustle of leaves, the murmur of the river below. She smiled to herself, lost in the beauty of the moment, when Trish appeared, notebook in hand.

"How are things with Marek?" she asked, smiling at Ellen. "I hear there have been kisses and... more."

She suggestively cupped her breasts, making Ellen blush.

"What?! Your sources are wrong. Just kisses."

"Huh," Trish grinned. "There are some great places to kiss, you know. When are you going to use the room? You need some alone time with Marek."

Ellen sighed. "It's hardly alone time, is it?"

"You haven't even looked at the room? Really?"

"No."

Trish flipped a few pages and turned the notebook. "See? Privacy for those who want it."

Ellen glanced at the drawing. It showed a treatment room with hospital beds along one wall, curtains surrounding three of the beds. A girl knelt in front of a naked young man, his eyes closed. On the left, a couple was having sex, their faces turned away.

"Wait, is that Mary?"

Trish chuckled. "She said it's fine. Zestan girls -- we're not shy." She pointed to a few shaky lines in the upper part of the drawing and giggled. "I had someone's tongue between my legs. Hard to draw a straight line."

"I can imagine." Ellen shook her head and leaned back. At least there are curtains.

That first real kiss had awakened something, a craving for more. She had worked up the courage to touch herself in bed, like most of the other women on the squad, finding release after seeing him. But the thought of having sex in front of everyone was revolting.

"Even Lucille joins, and she's old enough to be your mom." Trish, pulling up her legs. "Not every time, though. Sometimes she just watches. But," she licked her lips, "I love being watched."

Ellen sighed. "You know how I was brought up. This openness..."

"It's okay." She took Ellen's hand, squeezing it gently. "Honestly, I'm a little jealous. Sex is fun, but with someone you love? Whole different level. You'll see."

"Gods! Why does everyone keep pressuring me?" Everyone except Marek, thank God.

Trish shrugged. "You're our friend; we're just looking out for you. Besides, do you think anyone's gonna believe you got through Penal without spreading your legs for someone?"

"Probably not."

"See! Use it as an opportunity to experiment. We're all on birth control, so relax."

She's right, Ellen. That project with Marek's squad won't last forever. Make some memories with him while you can.

"I've got an idea." Trish grinned, mischief in her eyes. "How about a nude for your man? Something to remember you by."

Ellen gasped. "Are you crazy?"

"Look." She flipped back and showed a drawing of Mary, sitting naked under a tree in the old marketplace, a dreamy smile on her face.

"What?" Ellen stared at the paper. "When did that happen?"

"Never. Left out the collar and the tattoo, but other than that, it's pretty accurate. I can do you, too. You don't even have to undress, I've seen you often enough in the shower."

"I have to admit, it's beautiful."

"There's beauty in all of us," said Trish, opening a fresh page. "And honestly, when I'm your age, I hope I'm still this hot."

Ellen laughed. "Right."

"You've got amazing boobs, by the way. It's a shame you don't like to show them. May I?"

"Forget it." She chuckled, pushing Trish's hand away. "But how about a portrait for Marek? With clothes and everything?"

"I can do that. Sit back, head that way... yes, and now smile. It's gonna look amazing, promise."

*

Everyone, Lyssa in particular, counted the days until Bianca's return. When the day finally arrived, the whole squad lined the driveway as Josh's van pulled up. The door slid open, and Bianca jumped out, running straight into Lyssa's arms.

"Look who's back, all fancy," said Trish, grinning. "No more leg irons."

Bianca laughed. "Yeah. Still feels unreal after four years."

"Come here, kid," said Ed, opening his arms. "Missed you."

After a long hug with Ed, Bianca wiped her eyes. "Gods, I'm so glad to be back."

"I can imagine," said Lyssa. "Five days on that horrible ship without food? What a nightmare."

"Uh-huh. I was starving, and when I finally got there? They didn't even take off my cuffs; took me straight to a deportation cage at the terminal."

Lyssa stared at her. "What? Deportation, where?"

"Home. Encarion Five."

"That colony's a radioactive wasteland," said Ellen, taking Bianca's backpack. "You can't live there."

"They don't care. Legally, I'm a Lissandran citizen, but they're still trying to deport me. I begged them and told them I had a contract waiting." She sighed, fidgeting with a strand of hair. "They finally took me to the agency to register. Spent the rest of the day in lockup until my flight."

Ellen shook her head. "Fucking bastards."

Not a lot Thoria did right, but bombing those fuckers? High on that list.

"I am so done with Lissandra," said Bianca, exhaling sharply. "Whatever! The flight back was nice -- food, showers, and a comfy sleeping pod in third class."

"And now you're back with your friends," said Trish, grinning. "We saved you a cot in our little jail."

*

After days of exhausting work, Ed had agreed to a day of gardening to boost morale. Sitting at a picnic table at the edge of the property, it started to rain, but the trees provided enough cover. Most of the squad was busy at night, so Trish decided to convene the book club, reading the last chapter of part twenty-two while eating her sandwich.

Mary stared at Trish. "So Guillermo was a prince all along? Really?"

Ellen chuckled. Long lost crown prince of Massanas. Right.

"Told you he wasn't an orphan," said Lyssa, chewing. "I mean, it's Solarian Passion. Come on!"

"It's pretty smart," said Mary, passing the rest of her sandwich to Bianca. "You can have multiple spouses on Massanas. Now he can marry Roberta and her mother."

Lyssa grinned. "So predictable. I bet there's gonna be a harem for some girl on girl action."

"I heard a woman can have multiple husbands there, too," said Trish, grinning mischievously. "I can totally see myself with two husbands, One, a great dad. The other, good in bed. Hard to find both in one guy." She chuckled. "Or maybe two for bed."

"Let's not get distracted." Mary leaned back. "We gotta start the new book. Any idea what's coming up? It's gotta be the wedding, obviously."

Trish nodded. "And the wedding night. That alone's three chapters, and the bridesmaids get some action, too. We're gonna meet Valentina again."

Lyssa scoffed. "I thought she was in a convent on Herados."

"You never pay attention. That was her twin sister, Augustina. Besides, Valentina gets her own spin-off in part twenty-seven."

Ellen chuckled, finishing the last bites of her sandwich. It was raining harder now, and they would get soaked returning to the building, but she didn't mind. Maybe tonight, Marek and I--

"That's weird," said Ed, tapping at his wrist. "Comlink's lost connection."

"Huh?" Ellen sat up straight. "Just sat comms or local frequencies, too?"

He checked his device and cursed. "Everything."

Suddenly, she was wide awake, and old instincts were taking over. "We have to move. Now."

"Agreed." Ed jumped up. "Quick! Everyone back to the building. Move it."

"What is it?" asked Lyssa, sounding worried.

"Could be a jammer," said Ellen, her eyes scanning the treeline. "Slavers."

A startled murmur went through the group, panic setting in. The heavy rain pattered against the leaves, and the smell of damp earth and fear filled the air. There had been rumors at Camp Charlie about raids in the city -- gang members crossing the river, dragging off women -- but out here, in the middle of nowhere?

Bianca spotted the first one among the trees, her eyes wide with terror. "There!"

More black-clad men appeared in the pouring rain, still twenty meters away, coming from every direction. Seven, eight, a dozen in total. Groups of two, armed with clubs and shock prods, the loops of zip ties visible on their belts. Definitely slavers.

Ellen looked around, her heart pounding. Cut off from the building, with no way to call the militia. The rain would drown out any cries for help.

Fuck! Is that Wilson? Explains how they found us.

"Everyone on the ground," shouted one who seemed to be their leader, cruel amusement in his voice. "Surrender, and we won't hurt you. Not much, anyway."

"Like hell." Lucile spat, her eyes blazing with cold fury. "When I was their age," she nodded towards the rest of the squad, "guys like that dragged me off to Nivia. Took me six years to escape."

Ellen felt a surge of adrenaline. "They're gonna take the young ones and kill the rest. I say we go down fighting. Never expected to live this long anyway."

She gripped her shovel. Not a Thorian fighting staff, but better than nothing.

"A few of us might make it to the building," said Ellen, stretching her muscles. "With the guys' help, it's a different fight. But we need those leg irons off."

"On it." Ed tapped his comlink and cursed. "Fuck! The jammer drowns out the signal. Nothing I can do, I'm sorry."

Focus, Ellen. Situation analysis.

The attackers held their ground. Keep them surrounded, then send in a few to drag out the prey -- if that was their plan, it made sense. Ellen's gaze shifted to the clinic where two of them blocked the way. Ed wouldn't be fast enough, and that left only one person who wasn't shackled.

"Bianca, I need you to run for help. Stay behind us; Lucille and I will clear the way."

Bianca nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. She squeezed Lyssa's hand, trembling, but determination flickered beneath her fear.

Ellen switched the shovel to her left hand and picked up a fist-sized rock, feeling its weight. There are no rules in hand to hand combat.

Lucille by her side, she advanced and hurled the rock from two meters away, striking the left attacker in the chest. Stunned for a moment, he couldn't fight back, and Ellen didn't hesitate. Swinging the shovel two-handed, with all her might, the blade connected with a sickening clang against his skull. He fell, unmoving.

One down.

Meanwhile, the other attacker lunged for Lucille. She let him get close, then swung the spade's blade down with precision, neatly severing the front half of his foot. Blood poured from the wound, and he crumpled with a high-pitched scream of pain. An upstroke to the chin and a hefty knock with the spade to his temple sent him sprawling into unconsciousness.

Two down.

Lucille kicked his ribs for good measure. "And that's how you deal with slavers. We don't fuck around, ass wipes!"

"Bianca!" shouted Ellen. "Now!"

Alarmed, the other men tried to close the circle, but they were too far away. Bianca sprinted off into the rain towards the clinic. Run, girl!

On the left, three attackers had grabbed Lyssa and another girl, wrestling them to the ground. Zip ties closed around their wrists as they struggled and kicked, crying desperately for help.

Mary tried to run in her leg irons and was quickly captured. A fourth attacker hoisted her by the midriff, dragging her away. But Trish, fueled by red, hot rage, tackled him with a furious battle cry, a rock clutched in her hand. He pulled a knife from his belt, but she bit down hard on his arm, gnawing and refusing to let go until he screamed and dropped the weapon. Fury in her eyes, she brought the rock down twice against his forehead. He fell, lifeless.

Three down.

Trish wiped his blood from her mouth and snatched the knife. She exhaled, looking where help was needed.

A few steps away, Ed was defending himself against two men. One of them was limping, bleeding from a broken nose, swinging wildly with a club. Ed blocked his blow, dealing a hard right to his kidney.

"Ed!" screamed Lyssa when the second man approached with a knife. "Behind you!"

It was too late. A stab in Ed's side and he fell to one knee, his hand pressed against the wound. He groaned as blood turned his uniform red.

Trish threw herself in front of Ed, slashing at the attacker's ankle, hitting him twice. But the one with the club came at him from the other side. A powerful hit to the head and Ed collapsed, unmoving.

Lyssa wailed, straining against the zip ties, a boot on her shoulder holding her down.

Big mistake, asshole.

Ellen rushed over, her leg irons almost making her trip on the uneven ground. She caught the attacker in the neck with her shovel, saving Trish from his knife. Blood spattered, pumping out of a deep, deadly cut.

Four down.

"Stop that!" yelled the leader, desperation creeping into his voice. "On your knees, or I'm gonna sell you to the cheapest, dirtiest whorehouse on the Rim!"

Lucille laughed, raising her bloody spade. "Been there; I don't think they want me back. Come and get me, coward!"

"Last time wasn't enough?" shouted Ellen as Wilson approached with a machete. "Drop that thing, or you're gonna regret it."

The leader hissed something and Wilson lunged. Ellen parried, swift and precise, movements impeded by her leg irons. Still, it was a one-sided fight -- a step, a swing, and the shovel crushed his face, bones cracking.

He dropped the machete on the muddy ground, then dove to retrieve it. Eyes on the weapon and fingers wrapped around the handle, he never saw Lucille's spade descend. A wet thud as the blade chopped off his hand at the wrist.

Wilson screamed in horror, clutching his bleeding stump.

"That's for Bianca, shitstain." Lucille spat. "You brought these fuckers here, didn't you? Now run. Bleed out on your own time."

Five down.

"Anyone else want what he's having?" Ellen picked up the machete, pointing it at the leader. "Hurt one of the girls, and you won't leave here alive."

Almost half their force out of the fight, the first attackers were slowly retreating when Ellen heard an angry roar from behind. Led by Jonathan, their guard, ten men armed with shovels, spades, and axes appeared. Their leg irons removed, they were running towards the slavers, chasing them towards the river.

Ellen knelt down and applied pressure to Ed's wound. "Don't you die on me, come on! Your girls need you!"

Chapter 10

By the time the militia arrived, four of the slavers had been killed in the confrontation or had died from their injuries. After the male squad had cut them off from the boats, their leader and one other drowned in a desperate attempt to swim across the river. Most of the others were hunted down and surrendered; the ones who didn't were shot. It seemed the militia hated slavers even more than Thorians.

Ed had not regained consciousness, and when he was rushed off to the hospital, almost an hour away, he barely had a pulse. Still in a state of shock, Ellen's squad was taken back to headquarters as Alvarez and Bianca went to the hospital to stay with him.

News from Ed wouldn't come until morning, and eventually, most of the squad went to bed. Trish was clinging to Ellen, long after everyone else had left for the tent. The medics had given her a mild sedative, and still, her hands were shaking, and she remained pale -- a state Ellen knew all too well from many soldiers once under her command.

"Gods," said Trish, finally finding her voice, "I can't believe I stabbed someone with a knife."

"It was instinct," said Ellen. "It's what kept us alive. If we hadn't fought, they would have sold you off-planet, and you'd never see your kids again."

"Still. I mean, I've been in fights before, but this time, I really hurt someone." She shuddered. "Didn't think the knife would go in this easily. I can still feel it."

"You saved Ed, and I was the one who finished that guy off. Not you."

Trish exhaled sharply. "Doesn't it bother you? That you had to do it?"

"I've been at war. I'm used to pushing things away." She rubbed her temples. "It's not healthy, I know. That's why you will talk to Dr.  Singh and process it properly."

"Yes, ma'am."

Ellen leaned back. "Honestly, the universe is better off with a few less slavers. I hate that it came to that, but I'm not losing sleep over it."

"Gods, I hope the doc can help me." She leaned against Ellen's shoulder. "Twenty months left on my sentence. I hope that's enough time to turn me back into a human being."

"You're very human," she said, stroking Trish's hair. "As long as it bothers you, I'm not worried."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And you're resilient; if anyone can bounce back from this, it's you."

*

The next morning after breakfast, Alvarez and Bianca came with news from the hospital. They entered the squad's tent, both looking exhausted, but relieved.

"He made it out of surgery," said Alvarez, tears running down her face. "They will keep him for a couple of days, but he'll make a full recovery. Thank God."

Everyone in the group felt a weight lifted off their shoulders.

"Please, can we see him?" asked Lyssa.

Alvarez nodded. "He asked for you, wanted to know if you're all okay. First thing when he opened his eyes. Let's go."

The whole squad crammed into the van, with Alvarez in the driver's seat. She tapped the destination and leaned back with a deep sigh.

"I'm so exhausted," said Bianca, leaning her head against the window. "It was touch and go for a while. I thought I'd lose him."

Mary took her hand. "You two are close, huh. You've been on his squad the entire time? Four years?"

"Minus two weeks." She blinked away a few tears. "When I first got here, I was so, so angry. You know, I didn't do anything wrong. Vagrancy laws; I was just poor."

"We had to reassign you," said Alvarez. "To Ed, because he's good with the young ones."

"And he helped you?" asked Mary.

Bianca bit her lip. "First week on his squad, I left. Just walked, no thinking, no plan. Couldn't get the leg irons off, and our collars have trackers; it was absolutely stupid. Walked for quite a while until Josh picked me up and gave me a lift back."

Mary grimaced. "Oh shit, that got you in trouble, huh."

"I thought I was getting lashes for sure. But Ed just said, 'Glad you're back, kid. Are you okay?' I have never cried this hard in my life."

*

A group of shackled women making a visit to the hospital was about the spectacle Ellen had expected. They tried to be quiet, but curious eyes followed them as they walked through the wards.

"What are you all doing here?" asked Ed, sitting up with a groan when the room filled with people.

Bianca sat down on a chair next to him and took his hand, but couldn't say a word.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," he said, squeezing Bianca's hand. "Not that easy, killing a stubborn old soldier. You'll have me back in no time."

Bianca sniffed, drying her eyes. "Gods, I wouldn't know what I'd do without you."

"Did you hear, Ed?" asked Nuri, smirking. "They captured Wilson. Lucy chopped his hand off."

"Aye. Renata said they would have reattached it, but the medics couldn't find it."

Lucille grinned. "Must have fallen in the river. Guess he'll have to wank left-handed."

*

They spent ten days at headquarters and Camp Charlie, attending sessions with Dr.  Sing, helping out wherever needed. When Alvarez offered them a choice of assignments, the squad, after much debate, decided to return to the clinic.

Ellen stayed out of the discussion, but she was glad about the outcome; she missed Marek and knew the men were already back at work. Ed had promised improved security, and as they loaded into the van, she hoped it wasn't just the blaster strapped to his thigh.

The drive took the usual hour, and anticipation hung heavy in the air, an unease that grew stronger the closer they got to the worksite. Hardly anyone spoke; everyone scanned the landscape, looking for anything that seemed out of place.

Finally, at the clinic, a lean woman in an army uniform greeted them as they exited the van. She was in her sixties, a blaster rifle slung over her shoulder, and she brimmed with energy.

"Meet my old sergeant, Vera," said Ed. "Vera, meet my girls."

"Old?" Vera grinned, pulling him into a hug. "So that's the hero squad, huh. Nice work fighting off those bastards."

Ed picked up his duffle bag. "The clinic's for vets, so I thought some of them might want to contribute."

"Camping out in the countryside, like the old days. You'll be perfectly safe, ladies; we'll have four on site at all times. Round the clock protection."

Ellen looked up at the roof where a man with a sniper rifle stood. "The sightlines aren't ideal. Plenty of blind spots."

Vera shrugged. "It's workable. We've cleared key areas, and we have proximity sensors all around the perimeter. Anyone coming within a couple klicks, we'll know. Plus, we've stashed some stun grenades we can detonate if necessary."

"And the militia will send troops if comms are jammed," said Ed. He looked at Ellen. "Satisfied?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Probably safer than in the city."

*

A few days later, things had normalized at the clinic, and work was progressing like before. As most members of the squad were enjoying the evening in the common room, Ellen was lying on a bench on the veranda, her head in Marek's lap. The mild night air was still warm against her skin, and the chirping of cicadas provided a soothing backdrop to their quiet conversation under the starlit sky.

She had opened the lower buttons of her overalls, inviting his hand in, and he was running his fingers along the curve of her breasts, sometimes touching her nipples, making her shudder.

Mary was right, this really is nice.

"Look at you, Elenore Anderson," said Marek, stroking her hair with his other hand. "Consorting with a common criminal again. Didn't your parents teach you better?"

Ellen laughed and almost fell off the bench. She raised one leg, making the chain of her leg irons jingle. "What about yours? A Thorian convict on Besha, I'm quite the catch."

"I'll introduce you," he said with a chuckle. "I think they'd approve."

"I'm not so sure," she said, looking up into his brown eyes, her pulse quickening. "But I will go to the room with you. I'm just working up to it."

"There's no hurry," he said, his deep voice always calming her. "Let's just enjoy each other's company and not obsess over it. You're putting too much pressure on yourself."

She sighed, clenching her toes as his fingers explored further down. "You know we don't have forever. Maybe another couple of months until the clinic's up and running. Less than three months until you're released."

"I'll visit."

Ellen said nothing. Sunrise regulations prohibited relationships between civilians and penal slaves. She knew others had asked, but Alvarez had been adamant. And it made sense; there was no way to guarantee safety.

"It's just," she stifled a moan, "sex with someone who's not my husband. For pleasure, not for procreation. That's... I mean, I want this. I will do this."

He chuckled. "Thorian morals have deep roots."

"We set half the quadrant on fire. Not sure our morals count for much."

I should go to bed early. If I don't finish this soon, I'm gonna explode.

The door to the veranda opened, and Marek quickly withdrew his hand. Mary walked over to the bench and glanced at the open overalls, her grin widening as Ellen's cheeks flushed.

"We finished early today," she said. "The room's empty, if you want to use it. Jon's sitting outside the door, but he won't peek."

Ellen gulped as Marek smiled, amused. He gently stroked her cheek, making no move to get up. She quickly buttoned her overalls.

The thought of him touching her naked breasts... kisses, where his fingers had been moments earlier... him inside her...

Gods, Ellen! Where is that coming from? That's way too much Solarian Passion.

"The room's empty?" she asked. "You're doing this for me? Us?"

Mary smiled at her. "Yes. We felt you might need a little push."

Ellen took a deep breath. She would have been perfectly happy out here with Marek, talking and watching shooting stars. Maybe with his hand a little further down.

They cut their night short for you. On with it! This is the moment you've been waiting for.

She jumped up. "Come on, let's go."

"You sure?" he asked, looking up at her, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Gods, yes." She grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. "It's definitely going to happen tonight. This isn't the time to chicken out."

*

The next day, Ellen's thoughts were lingering with last night. She found it hard to focus and even harder to escape Mary's curious questions. Working alone on the second floor, she heard Ed's heavy boots behind her.

"There you are," he said. "The mayor wants to see you."

Ellen turned around to face him. "The mayor?"

"Aye." He took the box Ellen was carrying. "He'll be here any minute, to thank you for your role in fighting off the attack. The others are already in the driveway."

"Huh."

"He wanted three or four names, so I suggested you. Lucille, Bianca, and Trish."

Ellen walked up to the clinic entrance, just when a sleek black van with tinted windows stopped in the driveway. Renata Alvarez and an old man in dress pants and a crisp white shirt got out. He had his sleeves rolled up and a broad, practiced grin on his face.

Gods, a politician. No good deed goes unpunished.

"Please meet Mayor Hofstatter," said Alvarez. "When he heard of the attack, he wanted to come and express his thanks. You didn't just save yourselves that night."

Hofstatter nodded. "City police interrogated the slavers and were able to rescue seventeen women before they could be shipped off-planet." He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. "Sorry for coming so late, but I wanted to have something tangible for you, not just warm words."

He pulled four envelopes from the front pocket of his shirt, and before Alvarez could introduce them, he had handed the first one to Ellen.

"You must be Elenore," he said, shaking Ellen's hand. "Lucille, pleased to meet you... and you..." He looked at Bianca's unshackled feet. "Bianca, you were the one who brought help... and Patricia. I am truly inspired by your bravery: thank you on behalf of the city."

What do you know, he must have read our files. Actually made an effort.

Ellen looked at the white envelope with her full name in flowing script, still unsure what to do with it, when Lucille had already ripped hers open.

Lucille snorted. "What's that gonna do for me?"

"It's a Letter of Recognition," said Hofstatter, his grin unwavering. "Goes a long way if you ever decide to apply for citizenship."

Ellen opened the envelope and glanced at hers. Long-winded thanks as expected, but at the bottom of the page, there it was: three months sentence reduction. Not bad.

"Really?" Trish's eyes lit up, staring at the letter. "I'm going to see my kids three months early?"

Hofstatter nodded. "Took some doing; early release is... unusual. It's not a lot, I know, but better than nothing." He turned to Bianca. "That only applies to convicts, obviously. We're going to wire three months' extra pay to your account."

"Sir, can I pass my reduction to someone else?" asked Ellen, folding the letter. "My friend here has two young children. It would be great if she could go home sooner."

"Oh, fuck it." Lucille scratched her butt. "She can have mine, too. I've got seven years; I don't give a shit about three months more or less."

Hofstatter shrugged. "If that's what you want, I'll make it happen. Less paperwork with the Teraxans."

"Y-you would do that for me?" Trish stared at them, her hands trembling. "I'd be home after... fifteen months?"

An amused smile was dancing on Lucille's lips. "Save the tears, kid. Still got plenty of time to read that book to us."

*

The following nights, Ellen spent a lot more time in the common room. It had been awkward at first -- lying back, like with her husband decades ago, letting Marek do all the work. Holding her breath with the curtains closed, keeping quiet. Enjoyable, yes, but Solarian Passion, that absurd, ridiculous book, had shown that there was so much more to experience. Being active, taking charge instead of just letting things happen.

Accepting Trish's help had made all the difference. Watching her outrageous activities, the sheer fun she had, losing herself completely in the moment. She had answered questions, and she demonstrated, half for her own pleasure, half lessons for Ellen.

And Marek -- he could make it last.

The month after that first night had been a neverending thrill. Spending time in that room, having sex with him every night. Learning, improving, feeling with an intensity she never thought possible. Madly in love for the first time in her life.

"You two were at it like bunnies," giggled Mary when they were lying in bed after lockdown. "Like Roberta and Guillermo."

Ellen sighed, her hand moving slowly between her legs under the blanket. "Should have done this way earlier. Gods! I had him an hour ago, and now I'm all worked up again."

"Uh-huh." Mary turned her head. "You're turning into a Zestan girl. Good for you!"

"I think I'll stick to one man, though."

Lately, she had left the curtains open. It was exciting, liberating. Being loud as he pushed her over the edge, with people close by, sometimes watching. The sounds of others doing the same. Seeing things she didn't dare do yet.

My daughters would probably find it funny. Their old mother, doing this. But hell, the universe gave me this chance; I'm not gonna waste it.

She bit her lip, her hand moving faster now. A glance over to Mary, who was doing the same, winking and blowing a kiss.

Fifty-five years, and I never felt this alive.

Chapter 11

Time passed faster than Ellen ever thought possible. The clinic had been renovated, the small park in the backyard brought to order, and both squads assigned to different worksites. Saying goodbye to Marek had been hard, and she hadn't been able to see him again before he was released, three weeks after the end of their joint project.

Ellen was nervously pacing up and down near the chain-link fence at Camp Charlie, the warm afternoon sun on her face. Sunday at three -- the time they had agreed on, almost four weeks earlier. All week she had tried to push away the doubts that had taken root in her mind. He's free now. Why would he still want me? And now, ten minutes after three, he was nowhere to be seen.

Mary was keeping her company, sitting on a bench with her eyes closed, enjoying the sunlight.

"I don't think he's coming," said Ellen, a lump forming in her throat.

"Of course he will."

She sighed, fighting back tears. "I'm so goddamn stupid. Happiest three months of my life, but why the hell did I think it would last?" She sat down heavily next to Mary. "I'm a Thorian convict on Besha. Why would he come back?"

"Seriously?" Mary put her arm around her, giving her a gentle squeeze. "Because he loves you as much as you love him. He was probably held up, that's all." She turned her head, a smile spreading across her face. "Look!"

Ellen took a deep breath. There he was, the first time she saw him in civilian clothes and without a collar. Handsome as ever, rushing over from the parking lot.

"You thought I wouldn't come," he said in his deep, soothing voice as she wiped her tears with the sleeve of her overalls.

"It's just... we had fun, but you're free now." ... and you can pick any woman.

He stuck his fingers through the fence, touching hers. "You're my girl, Ellen. I couldn't leave you."

Mary walked up to them. "You forgot this," she said, handing Ellen a rolled-up sheet of paper. "Great seeing you again, Marek! Have a lovely afternoon, you two."

"Another portrait?" he asked after Mary had left. "You know, I had the other one you gave me framed. It's hanging in the living room now."

Ellen laughed. "That one's definitely not for the living room. Trish made it when we were still at the clinic together, but I was too much of a coward to give it to you."

She pushed the paper through the fence, and his eyes lit up when he unrolled it.

"Wow," he said, whistling softly through his teeth. "Beautiful. That girl really is an artist."

"A bit flattering, maybe, and not realistic without the collar and the tattoo."

The memory of her sitting by the riverside, posing for Trish, made her chuckle. Moving as little as possible for an hour, nipples stiff from the breeze and pebbles digging into her naked butt.

"I think it's perfect, thank you so much." He gave her a gentle kiss through the fence. "I'm sorry to spring this on you, but you remember I promised you'd meet my parents?"

She nodded, feeling a flutter of nervousness in her stomach.

"Mom wanted to look her best, that's why I'm late. They're waiting around the corner with my kids, and they would all love to meet you. If that's okay with you."

Ellen gulped, looking down at her teal overalls. The collar can't be helped, but at least I'm not wearing leg irons.

"Yes," she said, meeting his warm gaze. "I would like that very much."

*

The rest of her sentence, they spent every Sunday afternoon taking long walks, talking -- she inside the fence, he out. Sometimes he brought his mother, a warm old lady with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, whose freshly baked pastries she enjoyed, passed over the fence when nobody was watching.

Twelve months had finally gone by, and she returned to that makeshift warehouse at headquarters, the air in the tent warm and stuffy as she handed in her heavy backpack and tools. She had said her goodbyes -- a lump in her throat as she hugged Mary and Trish -- and memorized the messages she was supposed to deliver on Zesta: Hopeful news for Mary and Trish's families, an update for Lucille's son, and a few others.

Can't believe the year's already over.

"I'm here to get my stuff," she said, prompting a laugh from Alvarez.

"We're all glad you're staying," said Alvarez as Ellen started to unbutton her overalls, the fabric now soft from a year of wear. "Or, coming back, rather."

"Thank you for making it possible. You have no idea what this means to me."

"We owe you a lot, Ellen. I'm still sorry about what you went through with Wilson. And that whipping -- my blood runs cold, just thinking about it."

"It's fine," she said, stripping out of her overalls. "I've had a lot worse."

I'd take a whipping every week if that meant I could stay here.

Her serf's contract was already waiting at a registration agency on Zesta. She would spend a few days there, see Amara if she could make it, and pay a visit to Cassidy. A few good meals, spending the last credits she had in her account, and then back to Besha.

"And it's really okay if I stay at Marek's on the weekends?"

Alvarez pulled a familiar plastic container from the shelf behind her. "As long as you show up for work, you can stay there every night of the week."

Ellen smiled, thinking about Marek. Gods, those walks were nice, but being with him again, like we were at that clinic? Can't wait to be back.

Overalls neatly folded, underwear placed on top, she knelt on a chair.

"This is the part I hate," said Alvarez, pulling the set of restraints out of the container where they had been stored for a year.

Ellen chuckled. "Probably not as much as I do."

She shuddered when she felt the cold steel belt encircle her waist and held it with one hand until Alvarez had closed the lock in the back. The ankle cuffs went next, the metal cool against her skin, then Alvarez helped her off the chair.

"Alright, Ellen," she said, taking a deep breath. "Ready?"

"Yes, let's do this. I've got a flight to catch."

Alvarez took her hands and closed the cuffs at the front of the belt -- snug, but not too tight -- and Ellen grabbed the connecting chain, taking a few hobbled steps.

Dammit, that stuff really makes me miss my leg irons.

"Josh's waiting out front. Have a safe trip, and take all the time you need on Zesta, okay?"

*

Conditions on the flight back were the same as twelve months before, but much less cramped. Ellen shared a cell with Tanya, a Zestan native who had worked on a different Sunrise squad. They spent their days talking and relaxing until the ship finally docked and they were herded off, down the same long, echoing corridors, into the bowels of Zesta's central jail.

The stale air in the holding cell reeked of sweat and urine -- harsh fluorescent lights and the hard, uncomfortable steel benches she remembered. A dozen shackled convicts were already there when they entered, everyone filthy from days in transit, and many looked exhausted. Just a woman in the corner glared, defiance in her eyes, her mouth covered by a bright orange panel.

An overhead speaker chimed and an impassive voice announced, "Convict Celia Whitaker, please be advised, you will receive seventy-five lashes for disruptive behavior on the transport. Your sentence will be executed over the course of three days, and your release will be delayed accordingly."

The gagged woman groaned and tried to stand up, the short chain connecting her collar to the wall snapping taut. She fell back hard on her butt, eliciting a muffled curse.

Ellen grimaced. Wouldn't wanna be her.

"At least they're polite when they whip the shit out of you," said Tanya, tugging on her cuffs. "I wonder if they're gonna make us bend over and spread for old times' sake. It's been forever since I had someone's fingers up my butt."

Ellen chuckled. "I don't care as long as they don't try to deport me. I'm not a citizen."

"Nah, this is Zesta. The lower decks would be empty if they did." Tanya leaned back and closed her eyes. "You're really going for citizenship on Besha? A four-year term in a collar, that's a long time."

"Port Lauren's gonna be a great place to live. And I still have ten years until I can collect my military pension."

The speaker chimed again. "Convict Tanya Rousseau, please prepare for processing."

Tanya stood up, her connecting chain clattering on the floor. "Guess I'll find out if I still have a husband." She snickered. "Honestly, at this point I'd trade him for a sandwich and a cold beer."

Ellen laughed. "Best of luck, and safe travels, wherever you choose to go."

"Safe travels, Ellen. I hope it all works out with your daughters."

She shuffled towards the door, and Ellen leaned back, too nervous to sleep. Her hunger pangs were back, but it couldn't be long now. Half a dozen more were called, including the unlucky gagged woman, and the cell was almost empty.

"Convict Elenore Anderson, please prepare for processing."

Finally!

They escorted her through more sterile corridors to the out-processing center, making her sit on yet another hard bench in front of a high counter. She was the only prisoner there, but it took a moment until the guard behind the counter acknowledged her.

"Just a moment, please," he said, polite and businesslike. "A technician will be with us shortly to cut off your collar,"

"I'd like to keep it, if that's possible. I'm going back as a serf. Same owner."

He shrugged, tapped on his pad. "If you change your mind, tamper protection's disabled. Any registration agency can cut it off for a couple of credits."

Another press of a button and the electronic locks opened. Out of her restraints for the first time in days, Ellen rubbed her wrists and stretched her stiff muscles as the guard shoved the pile of chains into a slot in the floor.

The pubic tattoo was a permanent reminder of this time in her life, but Marek had the same, his number forever etched in her mind. She brushed her finger over it, thinking about how he had kissed it before moving further down.

Gods, Ellen, your nipples are getting hard. This really isn't the time or place.

She remembered the rules -- required behavior when unrestrained and jail staff was present -- and quickly knelt on the floor, legs spread at shoulder width, hands behind her head. After a moment, she interleaved her fingers.

"No need for that anymore," said the guard, looking up. He pointed at a red circle on the floor. "Step inside the circle, please. Keep your arms away from your body."

A faint humming as a blue beam scanned her from head to toe.

"Perfect health, no anomalies," he said after a cursory glance at his screen. "Congratulations, you have completed your sentence, and you're off the slave register..." he tapped a button, "now."

For a few days anyway.

He pointed to her left where a door buzzed open. "Through here, to the showers, please. My colleague on the other side will return your belongings. Good luck to you, Ms.  Anderson."

*

It only started to feel truly, terrifyingly real when she walked out the gate, her heavy duffle bag slung over her shoulder. The entire time she half expected guards to appear and put her back in chains for deportation, but nobody came.

Her stomach rumbled; a quick bite on the way, then find a cheap hotel. The old comlink on her wrist seemed to work, accounts unlocked, so she could send messages to her daughters. If Amara really had traveled here, they could set a place to meet. Cassidy's home and business were on deck ninety-seven; she had promised coffee, but it was better if she didn't show up unannounced.

She wrote me that nice letter. I hope she hasn't changed her mind.

When she turned around the corner towards the waiting area, she saw her registration number on a large display, on top of a long list of others. The room was packed; excited chatter, families hugging their sons or daughters, a young man welcoming his girlfriend with roses and a long, passionate kiss. Happiness, at least for a moment.

And there they were -- Amara and Cassidy, standing near the door, talking. Her heart almost stopped, and she let the bag slip off her shoulder, a wave of dizziness washing over her.

They both came!

Amara's eyes widened when she spotted her mother and rushed over, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She looked a bit tired, her long hair tied into a ponytail, but she still had that bright smile she had since she was a little girl.

"Hey, mom." Amara's voice trembled. "You look pale. How are you?"

"I'm fine," said Ellen, cupping Amara's face, gently stroking her cheek. "You came... all the way from Trivara. Thank you. Have you been waiting long?"

Amara pulled back, her fingers tracing over the metal of the collar around Ellen's neck. "Mom... why? Why are you still wearing that?"

"I'm going back on a contract. I'll explain later."

While they were hugging, Cassidy stood a few steps behind. She was wearing one of those pilot's overalls she loved, clutching a small paper bag, her hands shaking slightly, and her facial expression was hard to read. She hesitated before she took a small step forward, then stopped.

Ellen's lip trembled as she lifted a hand. "Cassidy... hello. Thank you so much for being here."

Cassidy's gaze softened almost imperceptibly. "You must be starving," she said, a light tremor in her voice as she held out the bag. "I brought you a sandwich. Homemade bread, with that Genarran cheese you like."

Tears welled in Ellen's eyes, her view blurring. "Thank you." She opened her arms. "May I? Please?"

It felt like an eternity until Cassidy nodded. Ellen pulled her into a hug, holding her close for long, precious moments.

Gods, the last time I held her like this... she was little more than a child.

"Are you okay, mother?" Her voice was muffled against Ellen's shoulder. "Was it so bad?"

It was the best thing that happened to me in a very long time.

"No, it wasn't." She wiped her eyes with a tissue Amara handed her. "I'm just happy to see you, that's all. Thank you so much..." Her voice broke and she needed a moment to compose herself. "Thank you so much for that letter, and for being here. I'm... I'm very sorry that I gave up on you."

This time, Cassidy's arms tightened around her. "I know I haven't been easy," she mumbled, her own tears hot against Ellen's cheek. "Gods, mother! Now you made me cry, too."

"We should really talk," said Ellen. "Maybe have that cheesecake on the promenade?"

Amara nodded, picking up the duffle bag. "You really should, but first we'll go to my hotel. We booked a room for you, and you get to see your grandson. You can eat on the way."

"You... you brought him?"

"Of course," she said, putting her arm around Ellen. "The whole family's here."

*

What was supposed to be a couple of days turned into two weeks. Three lovely days with Amara's family before they had to travel back to Trivara, the rest of the time at Cassidy's place, and it had been a lot less awkward than expected. A brothel, sure, but it was also a home, and a much happier one than her house on Thoria had ever been.

Still, despite talking to him on hyperspace comms every day, she missed Marek, and she missed her squad. It was time to get back to work. Back home.

She had delivered her messages, visited Mary's parents and Trish's family. Lucille's son, an elementary school teacher born long after her conflicts with the law, had been worried sick. It had taken a while to reassure him that his mother was doing fine, looking forward to seeing him again.

"I have a favor to ask," said Ellen as she and Cassidy were walking towards the docking ring. "One of the girls on my squad needs a job when she's released. Three convictions, single mother with two kids, not a lot of options. She... she can be a bit of a handful, though. Explosive, but she's made a lot of progress lately."

"She's your friend?"

"Yes. A very good friend and an amazing artist. She says she'll take a five-year collar if she's allowed to stay with her kids. I think she'd very much prefer regular employment, though. She's a free spirit."

Cassidy stopped walking. "A job at my place, you mean?"

"She's... very open to working in your line of business." Ellen shrugged. "She loves sex, but it's different as a job, of course."

"Understood. I can always get her something at the docks or in housekeeping, at a casino. Just doesn't pay as much. Tell her to come find me, and I'll take care of her."

"Thank you. That means a lot."

*

Ellen made herself comfortable in the copilot's chair and watched Cassidy program the course. According to the ship's nav computer, the trip to Besha would take a bit over a day -- much faster than the old prison corvette that had taken her last time.

"I don't want to be a bother, Cassidy. The charity got some additional funding; they would have paid for a ticket."

"Happy to do it, mom. Besides, you met my little family, now I wanna meet yours. Especially your man. It's good that you finally have love in your life."

And everything that comes with it. Ellen bit her lip, thinking about some of the things Carla and Sylvie had taught her, demonstrated with the help of some very willing customers. She couldn't wait trying them out with Marek.

Oh, take your mind out of the gutter! You'll be back with him soon enough.

Much to her surprise, Cassidy had been just as warm and caring towards her young friends as Amara was with her children. The girl had come a long way, no longer the angry kid that left chaos and destruction in her wake, constantly in some sort of trouble.

"I still can't believe you're drinking tea, mom," said Cassidy, a chuckle in her voice. "What did they do to you at that camp?"

"Tea with honey, it's delicious." Ellen poured herself a cup from the thermos she had bought. "Soothes the soul, says my therapist."

"It's tasty, but I run on coffee. Sentarran beans, no milk, no sugar."

As her daughter released the docking clamps and tapped a request for takeoff into the comms, Ellen ran her fingers over her new collar. A gift from Cassidy, a dura steel model similar to what some of her girls wore. Welded shut and just as secure as the old model, but more comfortable and light as a feather. Expensive, no doubt.

The radio squeaked, "Zesta Control to Furious Rose, good morning. A little stroll around the block, Cassie?"

Ellen chuckled. She really knows everyone.

Cassidy tapped the mike. "Rose to Control, good morning. More than a stroll, Dan. My mom's been here for a visit; I'm taking her home."

"Control to Rose, you're cleared for priority departure on egress corridor Delta. Have a good flight, ladies. Stay safe out there."

"Thank you, Control. See you in a couple of days, my friend." She took her hand off the thrust lever and looked over. "Wanna do the honors, mom?"