FERTS

by Grace Hudson

  Titan.

  She felt the now familiar twinge in her chest.

  Titan. Why do you never leave my mind?

  She knew it was no use. She placed the nail file in its pouch, careful not to cut herself in the process. She stood, knees aching, as she began her nightly drills. She repeated her pledge in her mind as she practised her fight moves, stretched, and ran.

  I must be flexible, agile, and swift.

  I must be flexible, agile, and swift.

  She ran until she ached, lifting her weary body on to the bed, she wrapped herself in the coverings and drifted, lulled by the steady beat of her heart.

  – 52 –

  Her bare feet were silent as she felt herself slinking down the hallway. Dressed only in her robe, 201 felt her way through the halls, impervious to the darkness. She stopped before a door, edges glowing a dull grey, the light seeping out from the cracks of the hinges. A symbol mounted the lintel, an elegantly curved Z, surrounded by the familiar FERTS lettering at the rim. 201 pushed forward, the door swinging open easily, allowing her to pass through unobstructed.

  On the other side of the door, was another door. She was facing what appeared to be the same door, a mirror image of how she had stood, just moments ago, on the other side. The door glowed in a brilliant white, light leaking in shards, framing the opening. The symbol on the lintel was much the same as the first, however the Z had become an A. She pushed through the door, stumbling through as the door swung weightlessly open. She found herself once more facing the grey door with the Z logo. She pushed again, only to find herself on the other side, facing the door. She continued to push, swinging the door, spinning, revolving as the letters swam before her eyes.

  Z

  A

  Z

  A

  Z A Z A Z A

  She felt herself spinning, twisting through the sheets without catching on them, hovering above her body, she spun, arms flinging out to stop the momentum, falling through nothing. The bland music piped above her head, muting and rising in volume as she continued to spin. She gathered her energies and pulled with all her strength, narrowing her attention on opening her eyes. After a time, her eyes opened, the spinning tapering into nothing, leaving her in stillness. The piped music filtered through her mind as she willed away the sensation of dizziness and drifted once more into sleep.

  – 53 –

  The next morning she checked her readout from the slot after an excessively scrupulous regulation shower routine. She had paid special attention to every stage of grooming until she was satisfied everything was in impeccable order.

  AR – 8.9

  Muscle mass – Within regulation limits

  Vassal Prospects – Recommend selection

  She shook her head, unable to decide whether or not this was good news. She was safe from the Games Circuit for now, and perhaps sale to a Vendee would provide her with protection from the Officers. It was only then she remembered the service duties that would be required from her as a Vassal and her shoulders slumped.

  “Line check!”

  201 shuffled out with the rest of the Omega Internees. She glanced along the line, noting that most had made an extra effort this day, hair perfectly smoothed, faces immaculately made up. Today was the most important day for an Omega Internee. Today was the day that the Internees came up for Vassal selection.

  “Internees of Omega. Prospective Vassals. We will now send our gratitude to Pinnacle Officer Wilcox and FERTS, for our daily provision and protection from those who would seek to strike against our Vassals, our Fighters and our Internees.”

  “We send our gratitude to Pinnacle Officer Wilcox and FERTS.”

  “All Vassal prospects to report to the Presentation Hall for selection. All other Internees report to ration room.”

  The Omega Internees gathered in the Presentation Hall, cooing at the pretty decorations adorning the walls. The walls were white, the floors were white, some exotic flowers dotted the corners of the room along with yet more polished FERTS logos and the coveted Vassal logo. The Vassal logo was a large V, surrounded by FERTS lettering around the rim. 201 stood tall, attempting to hide her lack of enthusiasm. Maybe she had ruined her chances by refusing to follow regulations, perhaps her failure to adhere to seduction techniques would prevent her from ascending to achieve the title of Vassal. But then she remembered, the blood, the fear she had felt, and all she had seen in her dreams. This was the only way forward, and there was no point in giving in at this late stage.

  “All prospective Vassals to the Presentation Circuit.” 201 walked tall and proud, striding confidently along with the other Omega Internees. Each Internee stepped up to the raised circular walkway in the heart of the hall, parading around in a full circle and exiting alongside the point of entry. 201 contained her fear as she stood behind 242, her auburn hair swishing irritatingly close to 201’s face each time she walked a few steps forward. Finally, 242 alighted the walkway of the Presentation Circuit, sashaying confidently around the circle, smiling at the Presentation Officers along the way. 201 waited the nominated thirty beats and stepped up to the walkway, attempting to project confidence and allure as she smiled at all the Officers, careful not to look directly into their eyes for fear of scowling. She flicked her hair to the side, swaying her hips while keeping her back neatly straightened. Her relief rose palpably as she neared the exit steps of the Presentation Circuit, gathering with her fellow Omega Internees for the next stage of selection.

  After the last Omega Internee had rounded the Circuit, the Head Presentation Officer stepped up to the platform, gesturing to the gathered Internees for silence.

  “The Presentation Circuit selections are complete. The following are chosen as Vassals, effective immediately. 244!”

  244 stepped forward, grinning at 201 with a sly wink, tossing her light blonde hair over her shoulder.

  “212! 261! 271! 237! 284! 242! 256!” They all turned to look at 201, uniform smirks on their faces, save for 244, who looked a little bemused.

  “And 201! All other Omega Internees return to your chambers, you will not be up for selection again until the six monthly repeat Presentation Assessments.”

  201 breathed out through her smiling teeth and stepped forward with the other Vassals.

  A Presentation Officer worked his way down the line of newly promoted Vassals, awarding each with their very own necklace of gold, the Vassal logo hanging proudly from the lowest point in the chain.

  Squeals and cries of joy rang out, amongst hearty congratulations.

  The Head Presentation Officer stepped forward to speak.

  “You have now ascended to the coveted position of Vassal. You have reached the ultimate point in your development. You have made Pinnacle Officer Wilcox and all of FERTS swell with pride. You must now fulfil the duty that you were made to perform. Once you are sold to a Vendee, you will be bestowed with the greatest adulation. Now, go, Vassals, and fulfil your duties.”

  Now I am a Vassal. It is every Internee’s dream to be a Vassal. Why do I feel nothing?

  244 leaned over and poked 201 in the ribs. “Congratulations.” 201 smiled back, eager to convey her enthusiasm at her selection as Vassal.

  All the Vassals were bundled into the atrium area, where they waited for the cart to arrive. As it arrived, the Vassals filed into the cart’s cage door, guarded by a Supervising Officer on each side. The Vassals giggled and chatted, excited to be going outside to a real township to meet the Resident Citizens, the prospective Vendees.

  “Oh, I hope I get chosen by someone powerful! Can you imagine? What luxury!”

  “I hope I get a handsome one.”

  “Oh, yes! Me too!”

  201 leaned her head against the wooden bars of the cage and wondered how easily they might snap with the right amount of force. She ignored the chatter of her fellow Vassals and watched with narrowed eyes, mapping every turn, listening to the hoofbeats of the four horses drawing the cage along the winding road, pebbles flying
up from the ground as the cart made slow progress through the rocky plains of the suspension zone.

  – 54 –

  They passed streams and rocky outcrops, dense bushland and vast conifer forests. Occasionally, she caught a glint of long, rusted metal lines running side by side, partially hidden by the undergrowth. 201 spotted what looked like the remnants of dwellings, stripped of resources, leaving only the frames standing. Nestled in between the frames were rusted carts, made from metals and covered over at the top. The wheels were made from some kind of black substance, not the usual wood that 201 would have expected to see. Inside these carts were more wheels, also black. The carts were covered in moss, creepers and dirt, holes poking through where the metal should be. 201 wondered why such transports were abandoned, and the whereabouts of the Resident Citizens who used them. The lands were deserted, not a single Resident Citizen to be found. Some parts of the journey became difficult, as the trail was obscured by fallen branches or small trees. The Township Liaison Officers had to climb down from their perch at the head of the cart to move the obstructions in order to continue. 201 tried to estimate in her head each landmark, attempting to calculate the distance between FERTS and their destination. It was difficult, however, because many of the rocks and surrounding bushland appeared infuriatingly identical.

  “201.” 244 poked her from across the other side of the cage.

  “You’ve been scowling like that for hours. If you’re not careful, you’ll stay looking like that and no Vendee will want to choose you.”

  “I’m thinking,” 201 mumbled, losing track of the last distance calculation and chastising herself for such an oversight.

  “I know, me too. It’s so exciting, I can’t wait to be chosen. I just know the most prestigious of the Resident Citizens will take one look at me and select me immediately.”

  “I’m sure they will,” 201 replied absently, studying a smooth rock formation that resembled a face in profile.

  244 smiled contentedly, leaning back in her seat, absorbing the compliment.

  201 returned to her calculations. Two and a half days so far. Rocky plains, then bushland, then forests, then bushland again, then the rock formation shaped like a face.

  The path opened out over the ridge to survey the valley below. 201 could see the faint wisps of smoke from the township rising in the distance. Oaklance. This was Oaklance. It appeared that the township was still a couple of hours away, judging by the mountainous terrain. 201 tapped her fingers on the wooden bench beneath her, pitching between excitement at the prospect of seeing the township for the first time, and the sinking feeling of being chosen by a Vendee and having to perform the duties expected of her as a Vassal. The very idea made her nauseous. She swallowed down the fear rising up within her throat as the cart rolled steadily down the rocky path.

  – 55 –

  Late that afternoon, the cart rolled into the township of Oaklance. There were few inhabitants, a small gathering of Resident Citizens slouched and milled about informally for the arrival of the Vassal cart. 201 calculated the chances of being chosen and found that there were perhaps more Vassals than potential Vendees. 201 studied their faces, trying to ascertain which would be the least unappealing prospect. Looking over at her fellow Vassals she was yet again reminded that she would not be the one doing the choosing.

  “Vassals, out!” the Liaison Officer shouted, as the other Officer swung open the door to the cage. The Vassals filed out on to a crude wooden platform and stood, neatly arranged in a straight line, smiling brightly. 201 caught herself frowning again and attempted a large smile, sucking in a breath.

  The meagre group of Resident Citizens strode back and forth, poking and prodding the Vassals. 201 had thought there would be more of them, perhaps to defend against the mercenaries so widely reviled throughout the territories.

  Is this it? Is this all there is?

  A sharp jab in her calf muscle startled her and she scowled at the Resident Citizen below her, forgetting herself. He had an arrogant manner and a fluffy beard that looked incongruous hanging off his young face.

  “This one looks a bit too feisty for me,” he remarked to his fellow Resident Citizen. “I like them to have a bit of fight but… maybe not that much.” The other Resident Citizen chuckled, poking 201 for good measure. He had small, mean eyes and 201 disliked him immediately. 201 glared down at him, narrowing her eyes, boring her gaze into his.

  “Yeah, maybe not that one. Too much trouble. Oh, hold on, what’s this?” He looked over at 242, leering appreciatively. 242 smiled back, smoothing her auburn hair and looking to the side, showing submission to her potential Vendee.

  “Yeah, that one. I’ll get the redhead. But I’m going first.” The other Resident Citizen shot him a look.

  “You always go first. Why do I have to get her afterwards?”

  “Because I pay, that’s why.” He handed over two bags of wool, nodding at the Liaison Officer.

  “We at FERTS thank you,” the Liaison Officer recited blandly. “Please wait until the sales are completed before taking possession of your Vassal.”

  A few more Resident Citizens made their Vassal purchases, handing over cider, bags of soybeans, oil and a couple of well crafted swords, courtesy of the township’s blacksmith.

  A Resident Citizen strode into view as the others parted to allow him access. 201 immediately recognized that he was an important figure in the township of Oaklance.

  “Resident Citizen Garron. It is a great privilege to serve you. Do you care for the selection this time?”

  Garron fixed his eyes on 201.

  “Yes, yes I do.”

  201 gasped, stumbling back a step. She righted herself before falling over, glaring angrily around. She looked back at Resident Citizen Garron. His hair was black, with flecks of white, and his eyebrows peaked above his eyes in a point on each side. His mouth fashioned itself into a wide, fleshy smirk, wet with spittle. His clothing was immaculate, warm cloth trousers, well-made leather boots and a warm covering tunic, interspersed with leather and what appeared to be gold metal fastenings at the shoulders. 201 could not hide her disgust. She did not want to be sold to this Vendee, this Garron. She momentarily lost concern for her appearance and allowed her true feelings to show through. Her face morphed into a fearful snarl, head bowed, eyes sharp and alert to simulate regulation Fighter pose.

  Garron laughed, gently touching the fabric of her jumpsuit as she flinched, pulling her leg away from his wandering hands.

  “I like this one.” The Liaison Officer moved to push 201 towards her potential Vendee but Garron stopped him with a wave of his hand.

  “But not this time. I should like to see her again, perhaps when she has calmed a little.”

  The Liaison Officer glared at 201 at the prospect of losing a sale to Resident Citizen Garron.

  “Wait,” Garron called, witnessing the exchange. He looked up at 244.

  “I want the blonde one. Here.” He gestured in 244’s direction. 244 smiled at Garron, turning her body to the side and looking over her shoulder at him, lashes lowered.

  “Yes, the blonde one. Lovely. Come.” He motioned to the two Resident Citizens behind him as they scurried to fetch his payment for his Vassal. They returned with bags of tobacco leaves and home-brewed whisky. The Liaison Officer seemed pleased with the haul and moved to speak to the gathering.

  “Resident Citizens. Those of you who have purchased a Vassal, the Vassal is now yours to do with as you will. Returns can always be made for the reason of dissatisfaction, or if the Vassal reaches the 26Y over limit stage. Should a Vassal displease you and you would prefer not to make a return, as I said before, you have the lawful right, and may do with your Vassal as you wish.”

  201 stiffened, understanding creeping through her bones. 261 stood next to her, smiling petulantly at not being chosen on this visit. 271, 284 and 237 were pensive, faces tilted towards the ground. They had not been chosen this time. It was the worst kind of insult to a Vassal to be
rejected for sale to a Vendee. They stood, deep in thought, running through their seduction techniques, the possible steps that could have gone wrong. 271 nervously fidgeted with her immaculate auburn hair, wondering why 242, the other redhead, had been chosen and she had been overlooked. 237 pondered why 244 was the blonde who had caught Garron’s eye. What could she do next time to make herself more desirable? She had much to do, much to consider. The Liaison Officer continued, addressing the small group with fierce sincerity, eyes bright with pride.

  “Resident Citizens. FERTS thanks you for your patronage. Your purchase of your Vassal should bring you much pleasure, enjoyment and servitude. Each Vassal has been specially schooled in seduction techniques to please each of you, the privileged Vendee. An important safety observance. Should your Vassal try to escape from your property, you have been instructed to use the freshly installed Township Restoration Beacon. Please accept the most sincere of apologies from all of us at FERTS for the unfortunate incident in recent months. Pinnacle Officer Wilcox has sent his regards, a payment tribute for the township and the complimentary beacon now placed at your disposal. This will guarantee the speedy recovery of your property. Any further issues will be dealt with on the next visit. Proceed.”