conserving reaction mass, Engine 5 hit 13 days ago, leaking radiation across five parsecs, two Confederation picket carriers (Tesh and Dobson) on the scent, duck in system...
dodging occasional boulder, trying to keep some rock between ion plumes and sensors, hiding tons from megatons, but they are positioned effectively on opposite sides of the rings' elliptic, weak sensored fighter sweeps are regularly ineffective, minimal life support active...null g...passive sensors...no hot food...no water recycling...heat and atmosphere only, main engines and inertia shell cold...using chemical thrusters, weapons and defense screens offline. waiting for the cavalry or for them to move on...or we're found and cortex blanked...
ordinarily The Man wouldn't get so riled about 15 runaways but this was the maiden raid of the League of Free Systems Q-ship Jean Grey...she had shattered their illegal gene mixer and its defenses. plus the breathing proof snatched off an intact module, webbed in behind the cockpit...would erode the Confederation's plausible deniability. Artificial persons predisposed to certain forms of labor are legal, once incubation is complete the Choice is given, most choose the purpose for which they were grown, some don't...frictional loss (they're freed). Soldiers and whores are not legal...the psychological and physical predispositions necessary for specialization in those endeavors renders one incapable of Choice. nurture doesn't have a chance against nature, and the League pays well for good conductors.
So it came to pass I had 10 300 lb. able killing specialists, and 5 100 lb. able fucking specialists strapped down in a fifteen by fifteen meter passenger hold, five meters behind me. I had "rescued" them mid indoctrination, so their personalities and behaviors are only half-formed, butchers and sluts with only a vague notion of who/what they were. being strapped to a g-couch is annoying...14+ hours a day at high burn is ridiculous, no hot meals for a week is demoralizing, shitting and pissing into hoses push the situation into Hell. Tensions mounting...
all the tank grown soldiers know is they should be moving and doing...their elevated testosterone levels and twitchy muscles demand an outlet, burning eyes glare at everyone/thing, guess who gets sedated. the whores look relieved and disappointed...their talents aren't destructive, so I don't care what they do to stay sane. I back Jean into an asteroid cavern (checked for void maggots, wasn't born yesterday)... vein of iridium needed for nano repair systems to finish Engine 5, remote spectrometer finds it, two more days to nominal and we can slip the Feds...been awake for 36 hours...elongate bridge g-couch...set Boolean alarm parameters...pfzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...
the Dream rain feels/smells of lavender silk...SNAP awake and clank noggins with the whore hovering over my face...fuckwhocansneekuponme? she laughs perfectly (of course). glossy maned vision in e-therms. I respected her determinedly competent gaze, arched brow that I will compare all others to...gotdam she looked height weight proportionate, it had been five lives since I lost Her, spliced pheromone glands question resolve.
her name's Britney...she's ceiling anchored...and well, I suppose she pounced.
By His suns...she was faster than me.
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