Star Marine!

by John Bowers

  "Boyd, how are we doing with the coolers?" she asked without preamble. Boyd looked flustered.

  "Why, they're almost all installed. We only have a couple hundred to go."

  "How many of the serfs requested them?"

  "All of them." He grimaced. "I could not believe it. Every one of them wanted one. No doubt they are tryin' to keep up with the Joneses. Can't let one serf have somethin' without all the rest wantin' it, too."

  "And they agreed to pay for them?"

  "Yes. They did not even hesitate."

  "The remainin' coolers will be installed before Sirian Summer gets here, won't they?"

  "Yes. In fact, the last shipment arrived this mornin'. They should all be put in next week."

  "And how much did they all cost?"

  "One point two million sirios. I found that by purchasin' in bulk we got a nice discount. Saved nearly four hundred thousand."

  "And they are quality coolers? Guaranteed not to break down?"

  "Of course. Wallace Farms always buys quality, even if it is for the serfs."

  "Good. Now, if any of these units fails, I want your assurance that they will be replaced or repaired, and quickly. Do I have it?"

  He looked harried, but nodded.

  "Scarlett, you have my word. Once I recognized your passion for this project, I went all out to make sure it gets done the way you want it. We have about fifty spare units, and I put our best serf mechanic in charge of it. He's a niggo, but he's a good worker. We can depend on him. He always responds to emergencies in a timely manner."

  Scarlett favored her cousin with a dazzling smile.

  "Thank you, Boyd. I was certain I could count on you!"

  He managed a relieved grin.

  "Of course you can." He waited a moment. "Was there somethin' else? I was preparin' to head back to the city. Got business there in the mornin'."

  Her smile didn't diminish. If anything, she turned it on even wider.

  "Cousin Boyd, I was thinkin'. Martin is not goin' to make it this weekend, and I am growin' quite bored. Perhaps it is time for me to visit Wallace Shippin'. I know next to nothin' about the operation, and I have never in my life seen any of it. I would like to go back with you, and you can give me a guided tour."

  Boyd was startled. He fidgeted.

  "Cousin Scarlett … "

  "Surely you don't mind, do you?"

  "Well — actually, I have a very busy weekend ahead. Meetin's with gover'ment officials all day tomorrow, and on Sunday … "

  "What about Monday? Or Tuesday?"

  "The work is quite intense. I am kept scramblin' to oversee both operations as I do, and — I'm afraid I simply won't have the time to show you around."

  "I understand, Boyd. But Wallace Shippin' is a large company, isn't it? Surely you must have some underling who is qualified to take me on a tour. Someone who can explain things, even if he isn't a highly paid employee."

  "I-I suppose." Boyd still looked troubled.

  "Boyd … there isn't anything there that you don't want me to see, is there?" Her clear green eyes bored into him.

  "Well — actually, Scarlett — yes. I mean … "

  "I'm listenin', Boyd."

  He gestured helplessly, his expression tortured.

  "Scarlett, your daddy never took you there for a very good reason. It ain't somethin' a proper lady should see!"

  "Why, whatever do you mean, Boyd?"

  "We are transportin' slaves!" he whispered, as if that explained it all. She sat silent for a moment, her eyes never leaving his face.

  "I see," she said finally. "I believe I understand."

  "Good." He looked tremendously relieved.

  "Nevertheless, I am still the owner of the company. I am an adult now, and I am a married woman. I believe I have a right to inspect the operation that I own. Don't you agree, Boyd?"

  "Well, of course I agree, but …"

  "But you don't believe a proper lady should see such things?"

  "Exactly!"

  "That's very chivalrous of you. Still, I want to go. We are in the middle of a war, and proper ladies are havin' to do and see things they never did before. I insist that you take me with you."

  Boyd glanced at Davenport, but knew he'd get no help there. The SE officer simply gazed coldly back at him. Boyd turned back to his lovely cousin and spread his hands in defeat.

  "Don't ever tell me that I did not warn you."

  Saturday, 10 April, 0230 (PCC) - New Birmingham, Missibama, Sirius 1

  New Birmingham was the capital of the Confederacy, a sprawling city renowned for its political history. From the day the first settlers arrived on the planet, it had been the center of influence on the new frontier. The first shuttleport had been built nearby, and all North American settlers had passed through it. Its original name had been Mining One.

  As the frontier expanded, the industrial and social needs of the people changed rapidly. Politics became a major influence, and several social philosophies vied for dominance. But those who controlled the settlement were white supremacists, and their views had prevailed, thanks in no small part to their willingness to employ violence and intimidation.

  In those days, Mining One had been the center of culture, but as new industries sprang up across the continent, other cities also grew in power and influence. The continent subdivided into states, most named after combinations of North American states. The region controlled by Mining One had become Missibama, the city changing its name to New Birmingham. Other states had been called Tennetucky, Texiana, Christiana, Arklahoma, Florilina, and Georginia. When Lucius Clay rose to power as President of Missibama, his political genius allied the other states into the Sirian Confederacy, all except Christiana, which was later subdued by military force.

  New Birmingham had been named the capital of the Confederacy, and ultimately led the entire planet in a crusade of conquest, eventually leading to the present conflict.

  Scarlett had been to New Birmingham several times, but not since the war began. She was impressed with its bustle and energy; how could any power in the universe prevail against such a dynamic civilization?

  Boyd had called ahead and arranged an elegant suite for his cousin. The rocket from New Angeles arrived well after midnight local time. Scarlett and her SE escort were shown to their quarters in time for only a few hours of restless sleep before Sirius B brightened the windows on Saturday morning. Boyd arrived with their breakfast, looking tired and harassed. As Scarlett and Davenport dived into stacks of hotcakes, scrambled eggs, and Sirian ham, he introduced the young man he'd brought with him.

  "This is Junior Taylor. He is goin' to give you the guided tour. Junior has been with Wallace Shippin' for three years, and he knows the nuts and bolts of the operation. He can show you anything you want to see, and answer all of your questions."

  Scarlett charmed the young man with her smile.

  "That is most generous of you, Mr. Taylor!" she exclaimed.

  Taylor blushed with pleasure. "Thank you, Mistress Vaughn. But please, you must call me Junior."

  "Why, thank you, Junior! And where will you be today, Boyd?"

  "In the House of Parli'ment. I am tryin' to convince the Space Fleet to let our transports run without destroyer escorts. Their schedules are killin' us."

  "Well, I hope you are successful, then," she said. "If you are convinced that runnin' without escorts is safe?"

  "Absolutely. The Feddies are much too busy to interfere with slave ships runnin' between here and Vega."

  He left a few minutes later, and when breakfast was complete, Scarlett dressed in her finest, then advised Junior Taylor that she was ready. The young man admired her with obvious delight, then caught the look in Davenport's eyes and blushed again. He led them to a hovercar on the roof.

  In the car, Scarlett asked him about himself, and he answered her questions freely. He was a rising manager within the company, starting at the bottom of the executive ladder. He'd already worked in several phases of
the corporation and understood the intricacies of the entire operation. At the moment he was the most expendable, which explained why he had the time to act as tour guide.

  Junior took them to the corporate offices, which were busy even on a Saturday, and showed them through floor after floor of clerical staff, shipping clerks, computer operations, and communications equipment.

  "Everything is controlled from this building," he said proudly. "We have over two hundred starships plying between here and Vega, but every communication routes right through here."

  He launched into a tidal wave of figures, shipping schedules, cargo volumes, cost evaluations. He knew the salary ranges of merchant crews from the rank of captain on down to slave attendant; he knew the price of fuel, how much of each kind was required for a trip to Vega, the cost of insurance, food stores, and other necessities. He was a virtual encyclopedia of information, and when he didn't know something, his wrist computer provided the answers.

  He took them to the spaceport to show them the repair facilities. Starships never landed on the planet itself, so repairs and maintenance were performed by orbital tugs. Most shipping companies subcontracted such work, but Wallace Shipping had four tugs of its own, and he took them aboard one so they could see the complexity of the machinery, and gave them an idea of what it could do. Scarlett was properly impressed by it all, and exclaimed repeatedly.

  Junior toured them through several warehouses filled with export goods, mostly fresh produce from Wallace Farms, which would be shipped to Vega for sale. Once again, he was a fountain of numbers; from the cost of storing the goods to the final export tax paid for each shipment.

  By the time the last tour was complete, the hour was growing late. They'd missed lunch, and Junior Taylor escorted them to one of the city's finest restaurants for an early dinner. Throughout the meal he continued to regale them with facts and figures, and seemed impressed with Scarlett's ability to understand as much as she did. After the meal, he led them back to his hovercar.

  "If there is anything else that you would like to see," he offered, "or anything that I have overlooked, I would be happy to show you."

  "Thank you, Junior," Scarlett smiled, taking his arm. "Actually, there is one thing I think we missed."

  "Really? And what would that be?"

  She dazzled him with her smile.

  "We didn't see any of the slaves. Where are they kept?"

  Junior reacted with a start. He stared at her as if she were mad.

  "Mistress Vaughn, you cain't be serious!"

  "Why, of course I am serious!" She laughed gaily. "Cousin Boyd tells me that we make millions off these Vegan slave women. I simply can't wait to see one!"

  Junior looked uncomfortable, glanced at Davenport, then back to Scarlett.

  "Well," he stuttered, "actually — er — Mr. Wallace's instructions did not include that."

  "Mr. Wallace is my cousin," Scarlett told him sweetly. "He is a dear, wonderful man, and he wants to protect me from anything unpleasant." She squeezed Junior's arm for emphasis. "But Mr. Wallace works for me, Junior. And — I am sure I don't need to remind you — so do you."

  Junior's face paled.

  "What — what exactly would you like to see?" he asked.

  "Everything that Boyd specifically told you not to show me." Scarlett's smile was sweeter than ever.

  "That — that would be — well, it would take some time."

  "I'm young."

  "And — if Mr. Wallace is unhappy with me … "

  "I will forbid him to fire you. If he tries, you call me. I will see to it that you receive a promotion. Remember, Junior, no one in Wallace Shippin' has more authority than I do."

  Relieved, if not relaxed, Junior took them back to the spaceport. Over a mile from the main terminus, behind a high forcefence, sat a sprawling building that looked something like a prison. Guard towers were situated at strategic locations inside the forcefence. Unmarked hoverbuses were parked near a loading dock, and as Sirius B sank over the horizon they entered the building through a private doorway. Junior took them through the process from beginning to end, starting with the receiving area. They stood on a balcony overlooking a broad tiled floor where the slaves were first brought in from the transport shuttles. At the moment the area was empty.

  As Junior explained the process, he noted Scarlett's businesslike reaction and began to relax. Soon he was explaining with the same degree of enthusiasm he'd exhibited all day.

  "The slave ships dock at one of the orbital stations and the cargo are offloaded," he said. "They are placed on board shuttles that bring them to New Birmin'ham. From the shuttles they are transferred to the buses you saw outside, and they come to this room. At this stage they are just raw cargo. Down there is where the sorting takes place."

  "Sorting? What kind of sorting?"

  "Each slave woman has a datachip that was created at the point of origin," he said. "The chip determines whether she is a bulk item or a special order; it specifies her age, race, marital status, her height and weight, medical condition, how many children she has produced, whether she has served in the military, things like that. The chips determine where she goes when she reaches here. Women are also sorted as to physical attributes. Tall or short, eye and hair color, age category, breast size, hip size — Mistress, is this too graphic for you? I am not accustomed to discussin' such details in front of a lady."

  "You keep talkin', Junior. You are doin' just fine."

  "Yes, Ma'am. From here, they are sent in their respective categories into holding dormitories. They remain there until the processin' is complete."

  He led them down a maze of corridors to the holding dormitories. Guards checked his ID, eyed Davenport nervously, and accepted the word of both men that Mrs. Vaughn was who she said she was. The dorms were hidden behind locked doors, and Junior said they couldn't enter.

  "But I want to see what a Vegan slave looks like!" Scarlett insisted.

  "We will see some, but not here."

  He took them to the next stop, an area that resembled a clinic.

  "The women live in the dorms while the processin' takes place," he said. "The first step in processin' is the medical exam. They are checked for any sign of ill health, any lingerin' disease, injuries, or other unforeseen problems. Virgins are checked to ensure they have not been violated —"

  "Violated?" she gasped. "Junior, do you mean to tell me that some of these women have been violated?"

  "Why — why, yes," he stammered. "I — that is —"

  "Most of them have been," Davenport said, speaking for the first time. "Except for those who are being sold in virgin condition, every woman shipped from Vega is routinely raped before she leaves the planet."

  Scarlett's eyes were wide with horror.

  "My stars! Why, that is simply barbaric! What is the purpose of that?"

  "Virginity in a slave sells at a premium rate," Davenport said, eyeing Junior and daring him to contradict. "The younger the slave, the more likely she is a virgin, and virgin prices are three to four times higher than non-virgins. None of the merchants wants to sell a virgin at less than prime market rate, so every slave not catalogued as virgin is raped to make sure that doesn't happen."

  "But — surely, the married women … "

  "The practice was established by the SE," Davenport said. "The shipping companies are not to blame."

  "Those shipped as virgins are examined before they leave Vega," Junior said hastily, "and again here after they arrive. If any of them fail the examination on this end, it means someone aboard ship is responsible. The seller loses a good deal of money, and the loss is charged back to the captain of the ship. It is his responsibility to deal with his crew. It doesn't happen very often."

  "How many slaves are sold as virgins?" Scarlett asked.

  "Fewer than five percent. Most people can't afford them."

  "What about the other ninety-five percent? Are they violated while they are on board our ships?"

  Ju
nior looked positively distressed. He looked at Davenport, silently imploring him for help on this one, but the SE officer remained silent.

  "Well, yes, I suppose some of them are," Junior hedged. "Mistress Vaughn, I am certain you are aware of the distances between star systems. Our crewmen are only human."

  Scarlett's eyes had turned icy. She glared at him without reply, and he hastily moved the tour along.

  The next stop was cosmetology, and here they encountered their first slave women. About forty women of various ages were seated in the salon, with nearly a hundred operators working on them. Junior led them through the salon and Scarlett gazed in awe at the women who sat in the chairs. Even without cosmetics, they were gorgeous. Amazingly, most appeared to be in their forties, some even older.

  "The Vegan woman," Junior was saying, "is without qualification the most beautiful woman in the galaxy. Vega implemented genetic cosmological engineering four centuries ago, and the result is the most exotic race of women that anyone has ever seen — as you can see for yourself. But the Sirian slave owner is paying good money to own one of these beauties, and we enhance them even more to ensure that he is completely satisfied. We use only Vegan cosmetics and scents, which is the best there is."

  Scarlett was hardly listening. She stood watching two cosmetologists working on a woman in a chair a few feet away. The woman seemed unperturbed, almost somnolent, as if she'd taken a tranquilizer. She was slender and brunette, with an incredible figure. She looked to be in her late thirties.

  "Junior, have these women been drugged?" she asked.

  "No, Ma'am. We use no drugs at all, nothin' to endanger the physical health of the slave." He pointed to the woman Scarlett was watching. "Her lack of emotional response is the result of hypno-security. They are all hypno-secured before they leave Vega. This prevents all sorts of problems. The women don't become hysterical, they don't try to fight back, or escape. They have a switch set in their minds that prevents resistance. It not only makes our job easier, it is safer for them."

  "So she is aware of what is goin' on around her?"

  "Of course. She is aware of everything. She simply cannot respond to it right now."