Surefoot 48: Immaterial Girl

She bristled; it was a small fortune, one her parents had saved over the years, and her research had led her to believe he would have been more impressed with this amount. Still, he hadn't rejected the offer outright. Yet. "Shipmaster, as an experienced and respected member of the Orion Free Traders, you recognise a bargain. I require very little in the way of accommodation and food, the journey will not take long-"

He reached into the chest, nudged its contents around as if looking for hidden things. "Why do you wish to run away, Immaterial? Do you have a lover waiting for you among the kafirlirs out in Federation space? Did you commit murder to obtain this little treasure? Perhaps you're a master spy for Starfleet Intelligence, bringing home world-shattering secrets?" He chuckled again. "Well?"

She shut the chest lid. "That is my business, Shipmaster, not yours."

He smiled mirthlessly. "Come, come, Immaterial. Discretion is part of a Free Traders' code. Why leave?"

She stared up. She could tell him. She could tell him of the day when her life, her world, stopped being sane and secure. When she woke up to recognise what Orion society was built upon: slavery, of their own and other people; piracy, in the form of men like Hazaak Sur and other so-called Free Traders; and criminal activity, as driven by the Syndicate and murderous figures like Zaddo Natale.

Not that anything had ever been concealed from her. But it took the brutal murder of a friend, who happened to have been a slave, to open her eyes, and begin to see. And the more she saw, the more she hated her people... and herself, for her unwitting support of their society, simply by being a part of it. She was young, but she was old enough to accept that she couldn't change things. But she couldn't live with them either.

It had taken her years to organise this day, to research and rehearse and plan and prepare. This was the day. This was the man.

She raised her chin to him. "Because I want something that I can't get here. When somebody wants something, they turn to a Free Trader. And when somebody wants a Free Trader who is honourable, they turn to you. Now, do we have a deal, or do I take my business elsewhere?"

Hazaak Sur regarded her for a moment, before turning away, reaching for a curved dark bottle on the shelf, speaking over his shoulder at her. "Sentinel Minor IV is a Federation colony in the Typhon Sector on their side of the border, six weeks' travel from here; we have an ongoing contract to provide pergium for their reactors, because it's cheaper for them to get it from us than to import it from the nearest Federation mining colony. From there, you'll have access to Audet IV, Starbase Sierra Tango, Tiburon, a few other places." He uncorked the bottle and drank from it before continuing. "Your funds should be enough to buy you passage to any of them."

Her elation at his apparent acceptance of the deal was almost immediately eclipsed by her confusion over the rest of his words. "My funds? I-I thought that I wouldn't have much if anything left after I pay you-"

"You're not paying passage on my ship with that pittance." He pointed to her lower half. "I want that."

She blinked, confused. "M-My robes?"

He guffawed. "No, not your robes, stupid girl! I want what's in them! You are a virgin, aren't you?"

Now she felt herself turn a dark emerald, and was certain her temperature had doubled. He- He couldn't mean it- He was joking with her, the way Papa's friends joked with her sometimes when he wasn't around!

"Why do you stare at me with such disdain?" Haazak Sur demanded, sounding irritable now. "It's a very reasonable proposition. You'll stay in my quarters and serve me - in bed and out of it - and in return, I'll get you into Federation space; you have my word as a Free Trader on that."

She stuck out her chin. "I'm not a... a whore, Shipmaster!"

Now he grunted at her indignation. "Typical Merchant Class Sanctimony. You think your Daddy isn't getting ready to sell off your little cuksir to some old local merchant with a shrivelled piece, before putting you under the knife for your Sunnetci?"

She shuddered... not just at his words, but because of the truth behind them. In a few years, Papa would arrange for her marriage-sale to one of his older friends, and then she would undergo the Sunnetci, the ceremony removing her sudoral gland, ensuring her fidelity to her imminent husband-owner, eliminating her ability to bewitch men... and eliminating her ability to fully enjoy herself physically as a woman. Most Orion women had undergone the ceremony for generations, an aspect of their lives since the Patriarchate seized power from women centuries ago.

"Only now," Hazaak Sur continued. "You are in control of your own body, and what you do with it... which I suspect is part of the reason for your desire to escape. And by paying for your journey in... personal service, rather than currency, you'll have substantial capital to help start you in a new life." He leered at her. "You might even enjoy yourself."

As he continued to chuckle, she forced herself to speak. "B-But Shipmaster. I- I have already made a very reasonable offer-"

"An offer is only 'very reasonable' if both parties agree that it is very reasonable."

"I- I can work onboard- cook, clean-"

"I have men onboard to do that; you, on the other hand, can do things they cannot. I have given you the price for passage on my ship, and it is non-negotiable. You accept or reject it of your own free will."

"B-But I'm- I'm only-"

He leaned in, reminding her, "You're old enough to desire to leave Orion. You're old enough to plan all this to make that desire a reality. You're old enough to understand the terms I offer. And you're old enough to decide for yourself if six weeks spent giving your body over to me is worth it." He drew back. "The Ngoutuk leaves in two hours, and I must see to some business in the Port first. Now is the time to tell me if you accept the offer or not." He raised his beefy hand. "Well, Immaterial?"

She stared up at him, unbelieving of how quickly her plans had collapsed around her-

No. Not collapsed. Restructured. Deals can be like that, her Papa once instructed her. Circumstances change in a heartbeat, and the trader who is unprepared to adapt just as quickly will end up all the poorer for it.

She could reject his disgusting offer. She could leave the ship, the Spaceport, return across town to her home, her life, her future being laid out for her.

A future she despised. As part of a society she despised.

Hazaak Sur was right; she wanted more. She wanted to be part of something better.

And over the last few years, since making that decision, she had heard about the kafirlir Federation, and the rumours about what their society was like.

She had no proof that it was true, that it was just rumour, swiftly quashed by their Information networks. But she had to take that chance.

And now she made another decision.

She raised her own hand, spat into it, and offered it.

Hazaak Sur, amused by her use of the traditional Trader's gesture, spat into his own, and clasped hers.

There was no turning back now.

*

NOW:

The air outside on Donatu V was hot and thick, and filled with the sounds of birds in the surrounding foliage that was slowly consuming the stone buildings that had once housed hundreds, if not thousands of people centuries before. Cadets were still obtaining plant and animal samples, or in the case of the Security cadets, putting others through demonstrations of unarmed combat (except for the massive Urad Kaldron from her own Squad, who seemed content to let cadets try and fail to knock his hippo-like body down).

She descended into the tunnel her friend Stalac had initially made, and then expanded upon afterwards to accommodate the carbon-based bipeds he served with, feeling a chill as she ducked her head here and there, before emerging into a much larger chamber, something almost the size of the Surefoot's Shuttlebay.

She glanced around, noting the Science and Engineering cadets milling about the ancient machinery here, scanning or recording what they found, or working on the generators and scanners they had brought down to assist them in deciphering the purpose of the place.

Which worried Zir. One of the basic scientific principles she had learned regarded the care one needed to take upon discovering a virgin archaeological site. Once Stalac had found it and a cursory examination was taken, it should have been sealed off and the Federation Archaeological Bureau office on Donatu V alerted. Her fellow Squad Leaders seemingly agreed - at the time, anyway.

She saw the other two in question talking excitedly between themselves and strode up. "What's going on?"

They turned. Beta Squad Leader Francis Nguyen, a slight Terran male of Asian origin, visibly steeled himself for her approach and the inevitable argument, but Gamma Squad Leader Jexa-Naku, a ramhorned Grazerite female, slipped on the political smile and charm she no doubt learned from her older brother, a prominent member of the Federation Council. "Ah, Zir, there you are! I thought you might have been... having a rest somewhere. This jungle environment is most enervating-"

"I asked you what was going on?" She waved her hand towards the other cadets working nearby. "I thought we agreed to leave everything intact and just send the preliminary report to the Bureau?"

Jexa wrinkled her snout as her lips lifted further. "Yes, and a very sound, prudent suggestion of yours it was! But as we discussed it further in your absence, we agreed that it would not be a... suitably demonstrative illustration of our potential."

Zir crossed her arms, silently challenging her to continue.

But now Nguyen stepped closer. "Yeah, Zir, think about it: we go back to T'Varik, tell her we made this incredible discovery, something that will make the archaeologists have kittens, and when she asks us if we took the opportunity to provide them with a complete report, what will we say?"

Zir glanced over at a large metal wall, dominated by a round archway three metres in diameter, where nearby, Beta and Gamma Squad's Engineering cadets were kneeling around a portable generator, arguing over what sounded like the proper means of making a connection. "We'll say we followed Regulations. There are protocols-"

"Of course there are, Zir," Jexa agreed unctuously. "But our Science cadets believe that the Donatui machinery down here is still capable of functioning, even after over a thousand years! Can you imagine if we find an intact computer and succeed in reactivating its memory banks? The contribution we could make to Science-"

"Can you imagine if we find an intact computer and succeed in accidentally damaging and destroying it?"

"Really, Zir-"

"And don't pretend you're doing all this for the sake of Science!" she continued, her anger growing. She'd known from the start that Jexa was ambitious and political, and would stroke you with one hand and stab you in the back with the other if it suited her, but she didn't think the Grazerite would go this far.

"Our people are being careful, Zir," Nguyen assured her. "You don't have to get so hotheaded about it-"

She looked around, seeing Stalac and her Squad's Engineering Cadet Tori Emoto nearby, thankfully not involved in the current activities. "Tori! Stalac! Stop what you're doing! We're not assisting in this any longer!" She looked back at her fellow squad leaders. "If you continue with this, I'll file a formal protest in my report to Commander T'Varik."

Nguyen frowned. "But we need to show that it was a unanimous decision to continue!"

"But it wasn't. And it won't be, I can promise you that." She stopped as she felt the rumble of Stalac, the Horta slithering along the floor of the chamber, looking (at least in Zir's imagination) more comfortable being underground. "Stal, have we learned anything new about the Donatui, based on what has been discovered already in here?"

The Starfleet combadge and voder bolted onto the Horta's front shifted to face the humanoids. "Quite a bit actually, Zir. There is definite evidence of sophisticated computer technology on this level, along with exotic energy manipulation devices. The original assessment of the Donatui being strictly pre-industrial will need to be reassessed by the Bureau archaeologists."

"Thanks. Sounds like we have enough to dazzle T'Varik." Zir looked back at the squad leaders. "Stop this. Now."

Now Nguyen looked doubtful, turning to Jexa. "Maybe she's right, Jex."

But the Grazerite appeared annoyed by the turn of events. "Dear, you really need to consider how much extra effort you need to make a name for yourself in Starfleet, to compensate for your deficiencies."

Zir bristled, as beside her, Tori stepped up, scowling. "Excuse me, dipshit? You wish you were half as good as our Squad Leader-"

The Orion girl waved off her friend's further protests, keeping her glare on Jexa. "What deficiencies?"

Jexa grunted with exasperation, as if Zir was being deliberately obtuse. "Isn't it obvious? You're a citizen of an outlaw state, a race of criminals and slavers-"

On Zir's left, Stalac rumbled loudly.

Before anyone could respond, the circular arch nearest them suddenly glowed with a blue-white brilliance of energy, and behind it, a strange whine of mechanical devices. Near it, the engineers beside the portable power generator whooped in triumph and high-fived each other.

Jexa blinked at the resplendent arch, smirking. "Last chance, Zir, to do something smart for yourself."

But Zir was only half-listening, the hairs on her arms and neck rising. Something was coalescing, building up- something was wrong! "Turn it off."

"Zir-"

"TURN IT OFF!" she shouted at the cadets.

Something from the arch caught her eye, something being launched towards Jexa and Nguyen.

Without thinking, she shot forward, arms outstretched, shoving her fellow squad leaders away from whatever was coming out of the arch, and hoping she had enough speed and momentum to avoid it as well.

She didn't...

*

THEN:

The recycling system of the toilet bowl in Hazaak Sur's hygiene chamber was not a place she would have liked to spend any time near if she could help it - but that didn't stop her from shoving her head into it to bring up the contents of her stomach. She clutched to her body what clothes she could grab on her way in here, but the pain in her abdomen - everywhere - made her drop them now and clutch herself instead, flicking her hair behind her to keep it from dropping in to join her last meal.

She had tried. She had really tried to be grown up about it. In the hours since accepting the deal, since the ship launched itself into orbit and she felt the jolt of warp speed, she had puttered about the Shipmaster's quarters, discarding the Courier's robes for her casual blouse and trousers, finding a place to secure the few possessions she had brought with her... and wondering what her first time with a man was going to be like.

She knew about sex, of course. She had even seen some videos that some of her friends had taken from their older brothers, and remembered being both horrified and hypnotised by the... gymnastics on display. She imagined the reality would be more mundane.

And though she didn't know when he would return to his quarters to... claim his side of their bargain, she knew he would at some point that evening, and she wanted him to be met with someone who was grown up, mature, cosmopolitan, able to handle such transactions with coolness, sophistication.

And though Hazaak Sur came across as common, crude, she imagined that he had a way with women, that his experienced hand would guide her, and that his pride would ensure that he left her first time immensely satisfied, admiring his skills. She imagined him to be like the pirate shipmasters in those cheesy romantic tales, the rugged adventurer who would sweep her off her feet and sail her through the stars. metaphorically as well as physically.

Later, she would hate herself for being so naive.

He showed up around 2147 hours per his quarter's chroniker, barely glancing at her before grunting, "Get those things off."

It took her a moment to realise he meant her clothes, that he would make no effort to seduce her. She turned her back on him, listening to him strip as well. Everything will be fine. Everything will be fine. It'll be good. It'll be good...

She found an excuse to look everywhere but in his direction as he told her to lie down - though as he approached, she did catch a glimpse of his bulky flabby green body... and yes, she looked down there, too, seeing how aroused he was.

He was spreading her legs and fumbling to get in her, grunting and cursing her as if it was her fault.

She wasn't aroused, wasn't ready for him in the slightest; it hurt, and she cried out in pain, but that didn't stop him, obviously giving her no more thought than he did that roast bird she'd watched him devour earlier. She turned her head to one side, trying to distract herself with the rows of bottles she had rearranged on his shelves while waiting for his return; at the jewelled daggers on the walls; at the pockmarked ceiling, somehow stained with wine or food or something else thrown up at it; at the battered desk computer screen, at anything, at everything...

She couldn't ignore his body odour, his hot flesh and the bristly hairs on his thighs. She couldn't breathe, he was heavy and taking something from her that she would never get back and she just wanted it to be over just be over just finish just get off her and leave her alone please stop please please please-

And then, just like that, he was done, spent, and withdrew to lie beside her.

Leaving her to roll off his bed and stumble into his hygiene chamber, vomiting, and wishing it wouldn't stop until she turned inside out. The sophisticated, mature women she wanted to be in front of him had warped away to parts unknown, leaving a little thing who ached in ways she never thought possible, and who wanted nothing more than to get into his shower and burn off every part of her touched by him.

Gods, what had she done?

She rose and washed her mouth out at the sink, before more tentatively cleaning herself elsewhere, wincing with lingering pain. Finally she dressed herself in the clothes she had grabbed on her way in here, hoping he had gone somewhere to leave her alone.

But Hazaak Sur was still there, only now sitting naked at his desk, hunched over a small black open box, squirting something up his nose with a tiny spray bottle. He never looked up, instead muttering, "Hurts, huh? At least you proved you were a virgin. Come here, Immaterial, this'll help."

She remained at the doorway, swallowing before speaking, her voice sounding hoarse. "W-What is it?"

"V." He grunted, noting her confusion. "Vraxoin. Good stuff, too. None of the street-level crap. Come here, it'll help."

She screwed up her face at the mention of it. Her friends back home often boasted of taking Vraxoin, but she had never taken any, and never would. What she had done for this wretch was bad enough, without degrading herself further through taking drugs. "N-No, thank you."

Now he looked up at her again, his voice and look hardening. "I said come here."

She steeled herself, wanting to throw up again despite knowing she had nothing left inside her. "You've got what you want, leave me alone-"

Suddenly Hazaak Sur bolted to his feet, knocking his chair over and storming towards her. She tried to step back into the hygiene chamber and close the door to him, but he slid it back open, grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her towards the desk. She struggled with him, but he ignored her efforts as he lifted up the spray bottle he had been using on himself, bringing the nozzle to one of her nostrils and squeezing.