Swapship Troopers

by Walker Long

  The bus finally reached the hotel – it featured a huge tower standing hundreds of meters above the surrounding buildings. The tower was narrow and graceful like a swooping arrow pointing out into space. Perched near the top as though it had been impaled on the narrow tower was a huge sphere covered in sparkling windows like facets on a gigantic diamond.

  “Holy shit,” Quantrill breathed when he stepped out onto the sidewalk in the shadow of the massive tower.

  “Yup,” the driver Paul agreed. “You ought to check out the view from the top while you’re here. They say you can see all the way to the Gold Sack Mountains on a clear day.”

  “Wow,” Quantrill breathed. He had no clue where the Gold Sack Mountains might be, but was sure the view from the top of that tower was nothing less than spectacular.

  Three glass domes nestled together at the foot of the tower. The bus dropped Quantrill off in front of the largest of these. A huge sign proclaimed “Iberostar Hotel and Resort” right above a huge, sliding door. Quantrill went inside and found himself in a massive, open area bathed in sunlight. At the center, a tremendous waterfall at least three stories high tumbled down a rocky cliff face.

  “What the fuck?” he mumbled.

  “Mrs. Hardaway!” a perky voice called out. “Welcome to Iberostar Resort. I’m Chelsea and I’ll be getting you settled in today!”

  “Wha-?” Quantrill said in confusion. A tall woman in a skin-tight, one-piece romper was standing right beside him. Her outfit was black with bright red accents and so shiny it looked like she was soaking wet. She had a matching tiny red hat with a black bow perched on her head at a jaunty angle. She had long sleeves but her shorts were so microscopic that her long legs were bare from the crotch down. A nametag pinned to her skin tight top said “Chelsea.”

  The woman was cradling a large p-vid in her arm and looking at Quantrill like they were old friends. He thought for a moment that she had mistaken him for someone else, but then remembered that he was supposed to be “Mrs. Hardaway” for this trip. “How did you know who I am?” he asked.

  “Your driver coordinated your arrival with us,” she said with a smile before chattering on. “Here is your room key,” she handed Quantrill a small card. “You are in room five oh seven with a city lights view. This is Manuel,” she gestured to a slim, young man at her side. “He will help you with your luggage today!”

  “Okay,” Quantrill replied and absently handed his worn, gray duffle bag to the young man. His outfit matched Chelsea’s color scheme but he was wearing pants and his neckline didn’t plunge to below his sternum. “A city lights view?”

  “Yes!” Chelsea enthused. “Your room is in the lower hemisphere of the tower so you will have a fantastic view of Montego Bay and the Strip. Do you have any … umm … other luggage?”

  “I like to travel light,” Quantrill said with an awkward smile.

  “Of course!” Chelsea replied. “Manuel will show you to your room. Enjoy your stay at Iberostar Resort!”

  “Right this way, ma’am,” Manual slung the duffle bag over his shoulder and gestured across the lobby. Quantrill chuckled to himself at the “ma’am.” This kid was maybe a year or two younger than he was – at the most.

  He looked around the lobby and saw a dozen other young women in red and black serving various customers. At this hotel you don’t go to the front desk – the front desk comes to you.

  Manuel led him to a massive, concrete wall that filled one side of the huge dome. Quantrill looked up through the glass roof and saw the concrete pillar extend up and up into the sky. This was the base of the giant tower he’d seen outside. Wide, clear tubes were set into deep grooves on the side of the tower. They led up through the glass roof and continued up the tower as far as Quantrill could see.

  As they approached, an elevator car glided down one of the tubes with four people inside. The curved glass door slid open and the passengers stepped out and into the lobby. Manuel went into the elevator and Quantrill followed. Manuel tapped a finger on the glass wall and the door slid closed. When Quantrill looked closer he saw there was a touch display built into the wall. Glowing numbers appeared to float inside the glass. It reminded Quantrill of the Heads Up Display built into his helmet visor.

  The elevator slowly rose up from the lobby floor. Quantrill felt the heavy sensation in his limbs that told him the elevator was accelerating. It wasn’t a quick burst of acceleration either. The heavy feeling kept on as they went up through the glass roof of the hotel dome. Quantrill looked out over the city as they went higher and higher. His only frame of reference was the distant hotels and casinos, so it didn’t feel like they were moving particularly fast. He knew, however, from the constant acceleration that they must be rocketing up the tower.

  “This seems like a nice place to work,” Quantrill remarked casually. It was definitely nicer than the titanium mill back in Clevlinatti where Quantrill had worked for five months before he was drafted. “How did you get this job?”

  “Uhh,” the young porter said in surprise. The question seemed to catch him off guard. “My uncle got me this job. He’s the night supervisor in the boiler room.”

  “Nice,” Quantrill acknowledged with a nod. Who you knew made all the difference. Quantrill’s problem: he didn’t know anybody.

  “But I won’t be here much longer,” the kid said in a gloomy tone. “My number is coming up.”

  “I’ve been there,” Quantrill sympathized.

  “You know somebody who was drafted?”

  “Huh?” Quantrill started. Then he realized the porter thought he was a woman. He would have no idea Quantrill was a draftee himself. “Yeah, I know a bunch of people who were drafted,” Quantrill answered truthfully.

  “Yeah? What service?”

  “Marines.”

  “Aw, that’s hard core,” the porter remarked. “I’m thinking of going for Technical Services. Nice and easy.”

  “You don’t want to do that,” Quantrill told him. “Trust me.”

  “Right,” the kid replied in a sarcastic tone that said Quantrill wouldn’t know a bayonet from a butter knife. That was probably because he looked like a woman. Like having tits made him brain dead. Fucking dumbass.

  “Listen, you wanna wear an orange jumpsuit and end up as Bug bait, be my guest,” Quantrill shot off. “But if you want a fighting chance, you’ll need to fight. If you’re good at math and science and shit go for the Fleet. If you’re tough, go for the Marines. If you’re good with machines try Armored Cavalry. If you can walk and pull a trigger, go Infantry. Got it?”

  “I’ll … I’ll think about it,” the kid replied with a bit less sarcasm.

  “Damn right,” Quantrill grumbled.

  At that moment the elevator entered the huge sphere at the top of the tower and the view outside went dark. Quantrill felt the car slow. Seconds later they were in the light again. The inside of the tower was open forming a huge, round space. The bottom was a small, circular courtyard with benches and a fountain. The floors above that were circular and open to the central courtyard, with each floor larger than the one below until the middle where they became progressively smaller again.

  “Wow,” Quantrill breathed. It was amazing! And to think, this whole thing was hundreds of meters up in the air.

  “The Iberostar Tower took over three years to build,” Manual went into tour guide mode, “at a cost of over twenty billion credits.”

  “Holy shit,” Quantrill exclaimed. You could buy everyone on Earth a cheeseburger for that kind of money.

  The elevator glided to a stop and the glass doors slid open. Outside was a round corridor – numbered doors were equally spaced along the outer radius. Along the inside there was a waist-high guard rail. Quantrill rushed to the low rail and looked out at the central courtyard. The floor below hung out about two meters further forward, the floor above was two meters back. The courtyard was five stories below.

  “This is awesome!” Quantrill giggled. He had never seen anything like
it!

  “Your room is right this way, Ma’am,” the porter told him. He led Quantrill around the huge circular corridor to room 507. Quantrill tapped the lock with his card and the door swung open.

  “Holy shit!” Quantrill exclaimed. The room was amazing! It wasn’t as large or as luxurious as the room at the Hotel Azure but it was still head and shoulders above anywhere else he had ever stayed. There was a small sitting room with a sofa and chairs separated from the bedroom by a set of sliding pocket doors. Beyond the giant bed, the entire back wall was one big window.

  Quantrill rushed to the window to have a look. Unlike most windows, the massive pane of glass wasn’t straight up and down. Because the room was in the lower half of the globe, the window tilted outward at the top. He could get right up to the glass and look straight down but couldn’t see a trace of the rest of the sphere or even the tall, narrow tower. They might as well have been floating in midair.

  He did see the city far, far below. The main street through town – the Strip most people seemed to call it – was lined with huge hotels and casinos. There were carnival rides and theaters and Quantrill couldn’t even guess what else. Out from the Strip, narrow side streets were lined with smaller houses and apartment buildings – homes for the employees and their families, no doubt. At the other end of the Strip he saw the train station and the thin ribbon of track stretching into the barren countryside beyond.

  “Wow, you can see the whole city from here!”

  “Yes, you can,” Manuel agreed. “The Tower is four hundred meters taller than the next highest building in Montego Bay.”

  “Amazing,” Quantrill shook his head. If it weren’t for Lieutenant Hardaway, he never would have even known places like this exist. No matter what else happened on this trip, it was already well worth it.

  “Would you like some help unpacking, ma’am?” the porter suggested.

  Quantrill turned away from the city view with a frown. Did they offer that kind of service to everybody? Or was this kid just looking for a chance to paw through his underwear? He would get quite a surprise when he found Marine standard issue men’s boxer shorts. “No, I can handle it,” Quantrill told him.

  “Of course, ma’am,” the porter agreed, but didn’t move from his spot. Quantrill began to wonder when the kid was going to leave.

  “Soo,” Quantrill said vaguely. “I think I’m all set here.”

  “Of course, ma’am,” Manuel agreed again and scurried out the door. Quantrill engaged the privacy lock and bounded back to the bedroom. He kicked off his heavy combat boots and took a flying leap and landed square in the middle of the gigantic, fluffy bed.

  “Woo hoo!” he giggled. “I’m on vacation!” He kicked his feet and rolled around on the wide bed. When he was drafted he worried about just surviving his tour. He never imagined he would end up somewhere like this. He was just a poor kid from the ghetto. Now he was staying in a hotel on top of the world! It was all thanks to Lieutenant Hardaway. It was incredible! What did he ever do to deserve such luck?

  Quantrill sat up with a start. He took in the luxurious surroundings and felt a cold chill creep up his back. He was completely out of place here. “I don’t deserve this,” he whispered.

  He hopped out of bed and paced the room nervously. Did Hardaway make a mistake inviting him here? Was he fooling himself trying to fit in a place like this? Would Hardaway change his mind and send him back? What a disaster! He felt hot tears well up in his eyes at the thought.

  “What the fuck?” he grumbled and wiped at his eyes angrily. Where was all this emotion coming from? He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He just needed to look at the situation logically.

  Hardaway never did anything carelessly. He invited Quantrill. He even took a huge risk by smuggling a dose of PinkVector. The Lieutenant wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t want Quantrill here with him.

  Of course, he got the PinkVector because he wanted the feminine version. That was pretty fucking obvious. The drug worked – Quantrill’s body was completely feminine. Was that enough? Maybe he was feminine enough for a war zone but here – surrounded by hundreds of actual women – Hardaway might not be quite so impressed. How could Quantrill compete? What the hell did he know about being a woman anyway?

  “Get your shit together, Marine,” he told himself. He didn’t know anything about being a Marine when he was shipped off to boot camp either. But he figured it out. It wasn’t easy. He sucked balls at times. Hand-to-hand combat drills are brutal when you’re 40 kilos lighter than the other cadets. But he kicked ass at other times – like getting a better marksmanship score than anyone in camp – including the instructor.

  There were things he kicked ass at when it came to being a woman, too. There were the huge tits for one thing – well, two things. He would just have to make the most of that. And then try to minimize the things he sucked at – the girly shit like perfume and makeup and … and … knowing any other girly shit.

  The problem, of course, was that there was no boot camp for being a girl. Or was there? Quantrill grabbed a flyer on the dresser. The hotel had information about restaurants, casinos, amusement parks, and the one that caught his eye: the Iberostar Mind and Body Spa. The flyer had an absolutely stunning woman lying serenely on her folded hands while a pair of arms reached into the shot to massage her bare shoulders. Directly underneath were the words “Be Your Most Beautiful Self.”

  “My most beautiful self,” Quantrill repeated. That sounded fucking perfect!

  Chapter 16

  Spa Day

  The spa was on the lower level, so Quantrill grabbed his key card and headed for the elevator. He tapped on the glass where it said “Mind and Body Spa” and was on his way. He rode the glass tube down to the lobby where he had arrived, but didn’t stop there. The elevator descended through the floor and emerged in a long underground corridor.

  There were no windows but the tall, arched ceiling was lit up like a summer sky. The corridor was as wide as a two-lane highway and lined with a dozen shops and stores. There were places selling clothing and electronics and gourmet food. It was a regular shopping mall. Tourists and other shoppers strolled along the wide hallway.

  He found the Iberostar Mind and Body Spa near the far end. In the wide front window there was a banner labeled “Before and After.” One side had a sad, tired, unattractive woman in a shapeless, dreary outfit. On the other side a somewhat similar looking woman was smiling brightly and wearing a sexy red dress. Her skin was glowing, her teeth were shining, and her hair was glossy and full. Quantrill decided he had come to the right place.

  There were two employees at the reception desk, so Quantrill went inside. One was a tall, angular middle-aged woman in a form-fitting, black bodysuit underneath a black apron. She was leaning over the desk and chatting with a young, blonde girl.

  “How much to get what she got?” he asked. The woman in the bodysuit turned to him. A name tag on her apron said “Antimony” and “Spa Concierge.” She gave him a confused look, so Quantrill gestured to the banner in the window.

  “Oh, our Complete Skin Makeover is very popular,” she enthused. “It’s one thousand credits for the full treatment.” Quantrill gasped. He thought his heart might have stopped. One thousand credits? Being beautiful was going to make him broke!

  “Of course you don’t need that!” Antimony clucked and looked Quantrill up and down with a critical eye. “Your skin is beautiful! Like a newborn baby.”

  “Uh. Thanks,” Quantrill said awkwardly. He supposed that was accurate though. He’d just used PinkVector, so a lot of his skin really was less than a few hours old. Of course, he didn’t want to go around telling people that.

  “But if you’d like to jazz up your look perhaps a manicure? A set of gel extensions?”

  “I don’t know,” Quantrill frowned. He wasn’t even sure what she was talking about. Maybe he should ask for a menu or something.

  “Perhaps if you tell me what you’d like to accomplish,�
�� the woman encouraged. “We have many services that can assist you on your beauty journey.”

  “Okay. I just want to … you know … be more … umm … beautiful, I guess. Of course, I can’t spend too much money,” Quantrill explained. Then he realized he was supposed to be one of the rich snobs who stayed in hotels like this all the time. “I left most of my cash in … uhhh … my suitcase,” he added quickly.

  “Oh, we can charge to your room,” the woman told him. Quantrill smiled. Would Hardaway be angry if he charged spa treatments to the room? He did tell Quantrill to charge whatever he wanted. “So tell me – what is beautiful to you? What do you want to accentuate?”

  “Uhh,” Quantrill mumbled. What was that all about? He didn’t realize there was going to be a quiz. “I just want to impress my … err … husband.”

  “Oh, dearie,” she came closer and adjusted the plunging v-neck of Quantrill’s dress over his protruding breasts. “If he isn’t impressed with you he needs to have his head examined.”

  “But I’d like to do something special for him,” Quantrill insisted. “Really blow his socks off. Can you help me?”

  “Yes. Yes, I see,” the attendant said thoughtfully. “Well, one thing comes to mind immediately. I know you have a unique and distinctive style – and I respect that, I really do – but have you considered that your husband might find longer hair attractive? Something flirty and feminine?”

  “He’s going to get here tonight,” Quantrill said with a self-conscious hand on his short, brushy regulation Marine haircut. “I really don’t have time to grow my hair.”

  “Oh, of course not,” she laughed. “I was referring to extensions. We have a Givenchy Robotic Hair System – one of only three on New Caledonia, you know.”

  “Robotic hair?” Quantrill asked doubtfully.

  “Oh, yes,” Antimony insisted. “It’s an amazing system. It uses tiny nano-robots to bond threads of synthetic keratin – in a wide array of designer shades – onto your own hair strand by strand.”