The Joy Division
Version 2.4 Copyright DeadGuyKai – 2000-2004. This is fanfic. I don't own any of these characters, save the ones I made up, or anything else having to do with 'Farscape'... Pity.
Give me feedback!!
Rated R: violence, profanity, strong sexual content
Setting: Between "A Bug's Life" and "Nerve"
Notes: The Joy Divisions were part of concentration camp life in Nazi Germany. The basic idea for this story came to me after watching one of the last episodes of "Crusade." Part of one scene in this story has been borrowed from it (sorry JMS).
Never listened to Joy Division? Go get "Closer," "Unknown Pleasures" or "Heart and Soul" then. After more than 20 years I still miss you Ian. "Love will tear us apart... again"
Do not repost this file to the Internet without my written permission.
"Through the wire screen the eyes of those standing outside looked
in on her,
As if into the cage of some rare creature in a zoo.
In the
hands of one of the assistants she saw the same instrument
which they had that
morning inserted deep into her body.
She shuddered instinctively.
"No life at all in the House of Dolls."
- Joy Division "No Love Lost," adapted from the novel "The House of Dolls" by Karol Cetinsky
The sudden bright light hurt her eyes. For a moment she couldn't remember where she was. Then the realization came and the white-hot terror gripped her anew.
"Get up ladies!" a voice sounded. "Today's the big day."
She looked out from over the edge of the large planks she and several other women had shared for the night. On either side were two rows of bunks like the one she was in, three tiers tall. In the hazy atmosphere she could just make out some of the faces of the others. They all shared her dazed, fearful expression.
Several large, brutish forms moved among the bunks, pulling out the occupants and pushing them through a door at one end of the room. She couldn't tell what they were. Maybe Tavleks or Sheyangs, she thought to herself. Certainly nothing she could possibly overcome in a struggle.
Maybe getting fried would be for the best, she thought as she considered the likely outcome of wrestling with a Sheyang
Instead, she decided to try to hunker down in her bunk, thinking that maybe being on the top tier would help her escape notice. Presently the guards came and began yanking down the women in the bunk beside her. She tried to press herself as far down and back as she could. A large hand reached up and felt around in front of her, searching. A brief moment of hope flared as it retreated. Then the hand returned holding a long, thin metal cylinder with a point at the far end. The hand jabbed the point into her shoulder.
The pain that shot through her was excruciating. All the muscles in her body felt like they were seizing up at once. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move.
"Come on down from there or I'll give you another shot with the prod," a deep croaking voice called out. "You want that?"
"N-no. No," she finally managed to say. "I'll come down." She reached out her hand for the edge of the bunk. The moment she touched it two hands grabbed her and threw her forcefully to the ground.
This time he jabbed her in the stomach with the prod.
"That's what you get for trying to hide," the guard yelled at her. "See that, ladies?" it continued, "That's what happens when you don't do as you're told. Just be glad we're not using the whips. But then, we wouldn't want to leave any marks on you now, would we?" it laughed as it picked her up and shoved her towards the door.
Once through the door the women were all herded into a small shower room. "Get cleaned up, cunts!" a guard bellowed. "And hurry up about it! Time's wasting. We've got to get you all down to the Taranga!"
She stripped off what was left of her clothes, still feeling the dull aches left by the prod and tasting the blood from the lip she had split when she hit the floor.
The showers were ice cold. Still shivering, wet and naked they were shoved into small vans for transport. Hundreds of eyes ogled them as they were taken through the dark streets.
Finally they arrived at a large windowless structure that reminded her of a warehouse. "Everybody out!" the guard yelled. Into the building they went. More eyes. Hands reaching out to touch her as she went by. Stroking her. Pinching her. Voices calling to her, laughing at her.
Then they'd arrived at the 'waiting room.'
"Ow!" complained Aeryn Sun, clutching her right side. "Stop helping me. I can do it myself!"
"Aeryn, Zhaan said you shouldn't be exerting yourself at all yet."
"I'd exert myself less if you stopped trying to help me, Crichton."
"O.k., o.k.," John responded, holding up his hands and backing away. "You win."
"Good. That's more like it."
Aeryn eased herself off her bed and into the makeshift wheelchair John had built for her.
"Are you sure you'll be alright up here alone with Pilot while we're gone?"
"Right now I think I'd rather be with Pilot than any of you."
"Gee, thanks."
"I'm sorry, John. It's just that if I was on a command carrier I'd have been better by now," she said, her expression taking on a wistful look as it so often had over the last few days. "I've had worse wounds than this in my life, but I'm not used to having to recover under such circumstances. I'm frustrated at being so helpless for so long."
And besides, Aeryn thought, there is no way I'm telling you that I'm feeling much worse today for some reason.
John was surprised by what he saw as Aeryn's unusual candor. Maybe she's finally learning that hiding the pain isn't necessarily the sign of strength she was taught it was - that it takes courage to admit you're vulnerable.
"D'Argo, Zhaan and you have been hovering around me like nursery techs since I got stabbed. Pilot hasn't," she added.
"Are you so sure about that?" he asked, pointing to the six DRDs that formed the base of her chair.
Aeryn smiled. "Maybe you're right."
"Can I wheel you up to Command?"
"Please do. These DRDs are so slow."
"Well, they weren't designed to move such a heavy weight."
"Thanks a lot."
"Don't mention it."
John pushed the chair along the corridor for a few minutes before saying, "I know just how you feel. I broke my leg pretty badly just after I finished school and I had real trouble getting around. I hated crutches. At times then I wished I'd had a chair like this so I thought I'd make one for you."
"And I am grateful you did," she said, reaching over her shoulder to pat his hand. "I must admit that I thought about commandeering Rygel's throne. If it wasn't for him and that little tramp I wouldn't be here like this now."
"Yeah, well, I think we're all more than a little upset with them right now about that," he said as they arrived in Command.
"The silence when the doors open wide
Where people could pay to see inside
For entertainment they watch his body twist
Behind his eyes he says 'I still exist'
"This is the way, step inside
This is the way, step inside"
- Joy Division "Atrocity Exhibition"
The room was long and narrow, with a door at each end. Benches ran along each side. No one was sitting on them, though. The moment the door closed behind her a mass of bodies had flung itself against it, as if hoping to knock it down and escape.
No one went near the door at the far end. She peered through the small barred window near its top. All she could see was a dark corridor leading to some stairs, the top few of which were brightly lit. She shivered and found a corner to huddle in. Every few minutes the far door would open and several guards would grab four or five men and women and take them out. Soon after the door was again closed a short burst of loud cheering would be heard.
By now she had been joined in her corner by several men and women, all crowding together naked. To her they seemed like a single quivering mass. Occasionally a guard would come and pull a body, seemingly at random, from the group. Finally, one of them came for her. It pushed her out of the room and directed her and three men down the short hallway and up the stairs.
She found herself at one side of a small stage. A noise went up from the gathered crowd as the four of them were lined up and the call to come forward and view them was given. To sarcastic cries of "Don't damage the merchandise" she found herself being inspected by what seemed innumerable eyes and hands. Looking her over; opening her mouth; examining her eyes; squeezing her arms, her legs, her breasts; pinching her nipples; even probing her sex.
Tears flowed down her face. She felt more humiliated and degraded that she had ever imagined possible, and she knew that this was only the beginning. Two thoughts kept running through her head.
I'd do anything to get away from here. Anything.
How could this have happened to me?
"So what do we have? Another green world in another unnamed system?" asked Aeryn.
"I have no idea," Crichton replied. "Rygel's contacted some traders here, as usual, and arranged for some exchanges. A lot of what we're bartering comes from the dead Peacekeepers and some of the parts we salvaged from the pieces of the Marauder."
Aeryn shuddered slightly. Ghouls, she thought fleetingly. No, just being practical, she reminded herself. I was willing to scavenge the Zelbinion, after all.
The image of Pilot appeared in his viewer. "We are arriving at the commerce planet on our normal orbital approach vector," he announced.
"Are there any other ships in orbit?" Aeryn asked, always on the alert for trouble.
"I read only one. A Nebari commercial transport," Pilot reported as Rygel arrived in Command.
"Signal Chiana, D'Argo and Zhaan to join us, Pilot," John asked.
"I have already done so. D'Argo and Zhaan have decided to go directly to the hanger deck to finish making the necessary preparations."
"Hello, John," said Chiana smoothly as she entered, sliding a finger across his shoulder blades with her usual short laugh. He ignored her while Aeryn chose to glare at her silently. "Do I have to go down with you?" she asked with a pout, apparently unaffected by her cold reception.
"Yes," answered John sternly. "We are not leaving you alone up here with Aeryn. She's in no condition to stop you from misbehaving, so you're coming with Zhaan and me."
"Why doesn't Mother stay up here to look after us?" she asked, using her favorite nickname for Zhaan.
"Zhaan has to try to find medical supplies to replenish our stores, as they've been depleted by recent events," said Aeryn sharply.
"And D'Argo?"
"He's coming with me," said Rygel. "I didn't like the looks of some of the traders I came in contact with. We decided that a Luxan was just what we needed for dealing with probable arms smugglers."
"Well then I guess that just leaves you as my babysitter," she said to John. "I'm sure we can find lots of fun ways to spend the time," she finished, running her tongue over her lower lip.
"Drop it, Chiana," he replied coolly. "You're coming with us and that's final."
She shrugged. "What's this place called anyway?" she asked, motioning to the ruddy, desert-dominated landscape that could now be seen on the main viewer. "It looks sort of familiar."
"The planet's called Kahtann," answered Rygel. "The settlement we're going to is called Stavroll."
"Kahtann? Stavroll?" asked Chiana, her voice cracking. "Oh, no... There is no way I am going down there. Forget it."
She started to turn towards the door but John grabbed her arm to stop her from running out.
"Look - you're coming down with us whether you like it or not - even if I have to hold a pulse rifle on you," he said through clenched teeth as she struggled. "Understand?"
"No! Please!" she begged, a look of fear and dread on her face.
"That's a good act," said Aeryn, "But I don't think any of us are buying it any more." She turned towards Pilot's image. "Could you send some DRDs up here to escort this brat to the transport? And while you're at it, ask mine to bring me down to you please."
"As you wish," Pilot replied and winked out.
"Pilot won't really do it, will he?" asked Chiana, grasping at straws.
"Of course he will," Aeryn replied. "He'll do it because I asked him to. He knows how I feel about protecting Moya, her baby and him. He trusts me. It goes without saying that he doesn't trust you."
Chiana turned pleadingly to John. "Hey, don't look at me," he responded. "I can't help you even if I wanted to. Aeryn's number one on Pilot's hit parade."
Aeryn stared coldly at Chiana as her chair rolled out of Command. "See if you can exchange her for her weight in food cubes or something else useful while you're down there, John," she said acidly as she left.
Chiana gasped and looked desperately at John and Rygel. "Please... Don't," she whimpered. "I'm sorry about the pod. I didn't know all that would happen. I didn't know they'd all die... Don't take me down there. I'll do anything." She fell to her knees as she clutched John's arm. "Anything."
John shook his head at her. How pathetic can you get? "You're not getting an Oscar this time, Meryl Streep. This performance has been way too over the top." He pulled her roughly to her feet. "The DRDs are here. Be a good little girl and maybe they won't zap you. Tell the others Rygel and I will be down in a minute."
As Chiana and the DRDs exited, John gave the various console readouts one last going over before leaving.
"Ready Sparky?"
Rygel harrumphed. "I need your help to get a few smaller items from my quarters, but other than that, yes, I'm ready."
"Alright, then. Let's get going. In and out, nice and quick."
"We knocked on the doors of Hell's darker chambers
Pushed to the limit, we dragged ourselves in
Watched from the wings as the scenes were replaying
We saw ourselves now as we never have seen
Portrayal of the traumas and degeneration
The sorrows we suffered and never were freed"
- Joy Division "Decades"
The bidding had gone swiftly, or at least it had seemed to after the interminable inspections. Before she knew what was happening someone grabbed her roughly by the arm and led her down another corridor, at the end of which there was a woman sitting behind a counter with bins of various sorts behind her.
"Owner?" she asked the guard.
"Dome 14, group 3," he had responded.
"Lucky girl... Most everyone else today has been going to the mines." The woman looked her over and then turned her back to retrieve items from the bins. "Here you go." The woman tossed a tan colored piece of material at her.
"Put it on," said the guard. "Now everyone will know what you are."
She slid the simple dress over her head, amazed at how glad she was to finally be getting something, anything, to wear again.
The woman handed the other item she'd retrieved to the guard.
Suddenly she felt something cold, metallic and tight being put around her neck. It was a collar. She wasn't surprised.
"Come on, slut," the guard said, grabbing her arm again. He led her down another hallway to a small room similar to the 'waiting room,' except that there was only one door this time. Inside there were just three other young women huddled together and dressed and collared exactly as she was. The guard sat her down forcefully next to them. It was only then that she noticed that the women's collars were chained together and to the wall. She sat there numbly as she was added to the string.
After what seemed like many arns a guard had entered with a man who must have been Sebacean. "Hold out your forearms," he commanded. One of the women hesitated and was rewarded with a few jabs of the guard's prod.
She held her arm out as the man pulled some sort of hypodermic device from his pocket. There was a small stab of pain as he injected something into her just above her wrist. "You have now been equipped with trackers," he announced. "At your destination these crystals will be encoded with information on your identity, owner and current movement restrictions. Hopefully none of you will ever learn what happens if you're found in violation of these restrictions." He turned and left.
The guard then unlocked the chain from the wall and led them outside to another van. "Where these going to?" the driver asked as the guard secured the chain to the van's frame.
"Dome 14, group 3," he answered. And then they were off.
"What's this?" asked John looking at what Zhaan had just handed him. "It looks sort of like a gas mask."
"It's a breather," D'Argo answered. "You'll need it to get from the transport to the pressure dome and back once we land. Don't lose it. The atmosphere is extremely toxic."
"Here," said Chiana, tossing hers back at Zhaan. "I'll do without."
"But you'll die out there without one. And don't think for a moment that we'll let you stay here alone on the transport," Zhaan told her.
"Fine. I'll die then," she answered peevishly.
"John, what is the matter with her?" Zhaan asked, looking over at Chiana huddled in a corner.
"She's just acting out because she didn't want to come. She doesn't realize that she's probably better off with us than alone with Aeryn. She'd probably kill her, wheelchair or no wheelchair."
"Given a choice between Stavroll and death, I'll take death," Chiana shot back.
Zhaan shook her head. "Petulant child."
John turned his attention to the view of the settlement that was now coming into sight through the transport windows. Stavroll was something entirely new to him - an interconnected series of enormous pressure domes and other large structures. He was actually surprised by its resemblance to depictions of such places from science fiction back on Earth. Still, he couldn't image what would possess anyone to live in such a hellish place as Kahtann was turning out to be. He could just make out huge pieces of earthmoving equipment in the large conical pits scattered around the settlement's vicinity. What sorts of treasures could be had here in quantities that would justify the costs?
"What goes on here?" he finally asked, pulling himself away from the window.
"They mine diamonds," answered Rygel. "The geology here is apparently such that vast amounts are available fairly close to the surface. The ancillary commerce that we're interested in has grown up around that."
"Ancillary commerce," Chiana quietly scoffed. "Makes it sound so harmless."
"We're coming in for landing," announced D'Argo. "I think you'll want these," he added, handing pulse rifles to John and Zhaan. "Remember - no one walks around alone, John."
Christ. You get in trouble on one commerce planet and they never let you live it down.
"Don't I get a pulse rifle too?" asked Chiana from her corner.
D'Argo merely growled at her.
"Confusion in her eyes that says it all - she's lost control
And she's clinging to the nearest passer-by - she's lost control
And she gave away the secrets of her past and said 'I've lost control again'"
- Joy Division "She's Lost Control"
The van had rolled through several domes and connecting tunnels before it had arrived at what appeared in the dim lighting to be rows of low barracks. An acrid stench hung in the air and the low sounds of machinery could be heard in the distance.
Mining. What am I doing here then? She said I hadn't been bought for that.
The van stopped in front of a run-down looking three-story building behind which she could see several small rows of tiny shanties, all of which were separated from the barracks area by wire fences. A guard came out of the building and led them inside through a set of large double doors. The room they entered was like nothing else she'd seen since she'd arrived in Stavroll. It was large, well-lit and rather gaudily decorated, with a number of ornate chairs and couches scattered throughout. It was also empty. The guard pulled them to the center of the room and had them stand in a line, just as they had on the stage at the Taranga. Then he unchained them and, much to her surprise, removed their collars.
As if we'd have anywhere to run to...
"Get undressed!" barked the guard. They quickly complied. He repositioned them back into a neat line and then, again unexpectedly, left.
The four of them looked at each other questioningly, not daring to move. She suddenly realized that in the arns she had spent with them not one of them had said a word, even as they had huddled together for comfort in the holding cell and the van.
They stood there alone for some time. Finally, a man had emerged from one of the many doors followed by two women dressed in the same sort of tan dresses they had been given. He looked them each over carefully, repeating many of the inspections they had had to endure at the auction. Then he held a device to each of their wrists, presumably programming their trackers.
When he came to her he put his finger under her chin and lifted her gaze up to meet his. "My, my - what an attractive little Nebari, and so young too," he remarked. "We haven't had one of you here in a long time. Delicate yet rugged and disease resistant..."
As he ran his hands along the curves of her breasts, she desperately fought the overwhelming desire to strike him and try to flee, knowing what the outcome would be.
"And I'm glad to see you haven't bleached all of your pretty hair," he added, lightly running a finger through her black pubic thatch before he slid it down between her labia. "It makes for an interesting contrast. We'll have to let you keep it this way."
Finally he stepped back and gave them all a final once over. "Yes, I think you will all do very nicely here. Prove yourselves of value and you'll have a long stay. Now get dressed." After they had slipped their meager garments back on he added, "These girls will show you to your room for the night. You'll have an orientation first thing tomorrow and then we'll put you straight to work."
Surprisingly, she found her voice enough to ask, "Where, exactly, are we?"
"You're part of Mining Combine B." He smiled lecherously at her. "The Joy Division, of course."
This place stinks.
John couldn't shake the thought from his head as Chiana, Zhaan and he moved through the settlement. Maybe it's because everything's inside and the air is all recirculated. It's really oppressive. But as he looked around him he began to realize that more than the odors were coloring his perceptions. It's hot. It's dark. It's dank.
They came to end of the street they had been walking down. Looking across John suddenly realized that the dome they were in had been built over a mining pit. It opened before him, at least a kilometer across and probably about half as deep. The entire surface of the pit had been built over and he could just make out people moving among the buildings on the other side.
This is like a scene out of Dante...
Suddenly Chiana was behind him, clutching him tightly.
"What do you think you're doing, Pip?"
"I can't take this anymore. Please, please, please take me back to the transport. I promise I'll behave."
"That's not an option and you know it," John responded, pulling her loose and pushing her in front of him. "It must have sunk into that head of yours by now that we don't trust you as far as we can throw you."
"But why?" she whined. "You don't treat Rygel this way. He was as much to blame for what happened with the Peacekeepers as I was."
"It's really very simple, Chiana," Zhaan interjected. "Rygel has proven his value to our little group over and over again. Without his bargaining skills we'd probably all have starved ages ago. He has demonstrated his willingness to help us and others we've come across. Therefore, when he makes a mistake we're more willing to let it pass than we are with you. So far you haven't proven you're anything but a burden to us."
"Fine. Next commerce or transport planet we come to I'll just get off."
"That's your choice, Chiana. John insisted that we not force you to leave."
"You did?" she asked looking up at him.
"Yeah, but you're really making me regret it. Maybe Aeryn's right. Maybe we should just leave you here," he replied, not even half joking.
"No!!!" Chiana shrieked, drawing looks from passers-by.
Boy, Miss Tough Chick of the Universe really has gone to pieces. Alright, time we got to the bottom of this.
But before Crichton could ask Chiana anything, a small, cloaked figure came up to him and said, "I see you are having trouble with this one. Are you taking her to the market? I'd be happy to take her off your hands, Peacekeeper."
Chiana screeched. "Get him away from me!" she yelled, cowering behind John once again.
John looked at the scaly, rather reptilian face and answered, "Piss off, buddy. Either point me to where we can get some medical supplies or get lost."
"That I cannot help you with, but visit the Taranga and I'm sure that someone there could," the figure replied before scurrying off.
"Wait!" Zhaan called out. "Where is that?"
No answer came out of the gloom.
"Great," said John. "We could hunt around in this hellhole for weeks without finding what we're looking for."
"I know where the Taranga is," said Chiana sheepishly.
"How is that?" asked Zhaan.
"You guys are so stupid. Hasn't it dawned on you yet that I've been here before?" Chiana replied, some of her usual combativeness reasserting itself. "That's why I didn't want to come down here. I know all about this place. And all I want is to be as far from it as possible."
She paused for a moment, biting her lower lip. "If I show you where the Taranga is, will you take me back to the transport?" she asked, a note of hope in her voice.
"No. D'Argo wants us all to stick together," answered John. "And the more of this place I see the wiser his advice seems. Besides, it will be quicker for all of us if we work together to get the supplies."
"That's easy for you to say. You two have got the pulse rifles."
"Just what is the Taranga?" asked John.
"It's one of the marketplaces in this dome. It's actually the largest in Stavroll. You can get just about anything there."
She led them to a huge windowless grey box a couple of tiers down into the old mine. They found themselves standing in front of a large, rather garishly lit entrance.
Looks harmless enough from the outside, anyway, John thought.
"I'm not going in," Chiana announced.
"Would you rather I left you out here alone?" John asked. "I'm not leaving Zhaan."
"You don't understand. I could get in trouble if I go inside. There might be checkpoints."
"Checkpoints? Checkpoints for what? We haven't seen anything that even remotely resembles a security force since we got here. And what did you do before that could get you in trouble now? Steal something?"
Chiana was silent, her face downcast. In a way, she thought to herself.
"Chiana?" John prompted. No response came. "So I take it you want to stay out here alone then?"
She looked about nervously, not happy with either option before her. "Alright, I'll go in," she said, desperate for John's protection. "But promise me one thing first."
"Be careful, John," advised Zhaan. "Given her behavior a promise might carry a very high price."
"Let's see what she wants first, o.k?" He tried to look Chiana in the eye. "What do you want me to promise?"
"That if I have to start lying to someone, you'll back me up."
"This is the crisis I knew had to come
Destroying the balance I'd kept
Doubting and settling and turning around
Wondering what will come next"
- Joy Division "Passover"
Many weeks had passed since her arrival at 'dome 14, group 3.' Although she had not understood at the time what the man she now knew as the Caretaker had meant by "the Joy Division," she was relearning every day.
The morning after her arrival she had been given one of the shanties behind the main building for her own use. This was where she brought her clients at all hours of the day and night. This was where they took their pleasure with her. The Joy Division was a brothel and she was a sex slave.
How could this have happened to me?
Still, she supposed, as the woman who had given her her now torn and blood & semen stained dress had said, she was lucky. Through the wire fences she was able to look into the barracks area of the mining works. Seeing the gaunt workers moving to and fro every day made it clear to her that the mines were an abattoir. At least here she was fed and minimally cared for as long as she 'proved' herself.
The threat was not an idle one. At least one of the women she had arrived with had already been resold to the mines. She had proven too combative even for the clients who liked 'resistant' women.
She had also been 'resistant' with her first clients. Then she learned the consequences of being a 'specialist,' as the Caretaker called it. She was given the more sadistic clients, the large groups of clients, the large and overpowering clients. She had become a regular visitor to the rooms in the main building catering to customers with pain or control fetishes of one sort or another.
The physical punishment had finally become too much, so she became as pliant and passive as she possibly could. This change did not please the Caretaker, who had warned her that she was not behaving properly to attract all but what he called 'the necrophilically inclined.' He had threatened her with the mines if she didn't change, and soon. "It would be a pity to lose someone as fresh and pretty as you, but there are always plenty more where you came from," he reminded her.
What he had asked of her, though, was to give up her last shreds of dignity; her last vestiges of her control over herself. But a slow death in the mines would be worse. She was sure of that.
I'd do anything to get away from here. Anything.
She was determined to survive, determined to escape somehow someday, so she became the vamp, the teaser.
And she learned to act as if the pain was pleasure.
John was surprised by the speed with which they found what they were looking for. Upon entering the Taranga they had been quickly directed to some stalls on an upper floor in a far corner of the market. Zhaan had had no trouble securing more supplies than they had expected to be able to afford.
At least this market seems well organized, he thought, thankful for small favors.
Chiana had been surprisingly well behaved once John had reluctantly agreed to her request. As they had entered she had also asked that they walk in line with her in the middle, as if they were guarding her. Her request had puzzled both Zhaan and him but if that's what she needed to feel safe at this point they were willing to do it. Her hysterics were growing too tiresome and time consuming.
It was as they were working their way out through the maze of stalls that something caught John's eye.
"What's going on over there?" he asked, pointing.
Chiana looked over. "Nothing you want to see!" she answered emphatically.
John was not convinced. "Zhaan, wait. Come this way. I want to take a look at this." They walked over to what to John had appeared to be a theater - a small stage with people sitting in rows of benches before it. The idea of a short entertainment break appealed to him after the monotony of Moya. It became clear as they got nearer, though, that what was happening was an auction. John suddenly became rooted in place as he realized what was being sold.
Chiana saw the stunned look on his face. "See, I told you you could get anything here."
"I... I... don't believe this," John stammered in response.
"By the Goddess," Zhaan gasped as several new people were brought onto the stage for inspection. Chiana noticed that one of them was a small Nebari girl, barely into puberty. Her fears suddenly gave way to blinding rage.
"We've got to do something about this. Now!"
"I'd love to," answered John, "But what could we do? We can't save them."
"How about saving just one?" Chiana asked. John and Zhaan looked at her, startled by the abrupt transformation. "Come on, we've got to hurry!" She led them down closer to the stage. "How much money have we got left?" Zhaan showed her. "Frell! That's nowhere near enough for her." She paused for a moment, thinking. "Change of plan. This way. Hurry. Stay close behind me... And John... remember your promise."
Now she led them off to one side of the stage, towards a hallway that was flanked by guards.
Shit - Sheyangs, John thought, remembering his experience on the Zelbinion all too clearly. He cringed inside as Chiana walked right up to them.
"Where do you think you're going?" one of them croaked at her as it moved to block her way.
We're toast, thought John.
All Chiana did was hold her left hand out to him, palm up. "I'm here to be resold," she told him matter-of-factly.
John and Zhaan looked at each other, dumbstruck.
The Sheyang unclipped some sort of device from his belt and held it to Chiana's wrist. "Let's see what we have here," he said, examining the readout. "Subject: 023436955, Owner: 3287, Movement: Unlimited." Then he noted something extremely unusual. "This says you're a runaway."
"Not anymore," Chiana answered, trying her best to look and sound sullen. She motioned to John and Zhaan standing behind her.
"Very well, then, we'll take her from here," it said to John.
"Umm... No, that's not what we're contracted for," John answered, thinking quickly. "We're to see the sale through to the end," he continued, leveling his pulse rifle in front of him.
The guard looked at John, his red and black leather uniform, and then at Zhaan and their pulse rifles. "Pass then, Peacekeeper."
They proceeded a short way down the dark hallway before Chiana stopped them and insisted on having Zhaan's gun. "I'm the one in front now," she said. "I need it."
"But how will we explain a... a slave with a weapon if we have to?" Zhaan responded.
"Good point. Fine. Keep it. Just don't hesitate to use it if you have to." She looked over at John who was staring through a door's barred window. It was the 'waiting room.'
"I can't imagine what it must be like to be in there," he said dryly, looking at the huddled groups of naked bodies.
"Be glad. I don't have to imagine. That was me in there once." She tore him away from the scene. "Come on!"
It became clear to John that Chiana was circling them around behind the stage. When John figured they were directly behind it Chiana called them to a halt. "We'll wait here until we're sure the next set of inspections has started. That way we'll know there won't be any guards on this side taking people to the holding cells."
"How will we be able to tell?" asked Zhaan.
"Just listen."
They stood silently for a few minutes until they heard what sounded to John like a brief burst of muffled cheers.
Chiana motioned them forward. "That's it. Let's go."
They came to an intersection where a woman sat in a booth surrounded by various bins. "Hi," Chiana said to her as she passed. "Nice to see you again."
The corridor she led them down looked to John like a cellblock. Chiana was peering into each room as they went along. "This is the one," she suddenly announced. She pulled something from her belt and started to work on the lock as John and Zhaan moved to flank the door. She surprised even herself with how quickly she got it open.
John looked inside as Zhaan and Chiana rushed in. The Nebari girl they had seen on the stage was in the room alone, her dark eyes betraying the state of shock she was in. He noted with relief that she was no longer naked but was wearing a simple tan dress. That'll make it easier to get her out. Then he notice the chain and collar that Chiana was working franticly to unlock. That won't.
Again Chiana surprised John with the speed with which she opened the lock. She had the girl stand up and take off her dress, leaving her naked again, much to his embarrassment. "This dress will never fit me," Chiana announced. "John, quick. Give me your shirt," she said as she pulled the belt from her pants.
"Why?" he asked, even as he began to pull it off.
"I was hoping to swap clothes with her, but she's just too small. They haven't given her a tracker yet so as long as she isn't wearing that slave's dress we should be alright." She looked at the girl, now wearing John's shirt and her belt. "The shirt covers all the important things. That will have to do until we can buy her some clothes at another market."
Chiana took one more look at the girl. "She's ready. Let's go."
"I've been waiting for a guide to come and take me by the hand...
I've got the spirit...
Take the shock away"
- Joy Division "Disorder"
He had been coming to see her regularly now for a few weeks. He was actually a relief in some ways. She was never in pain after he left. He was not a physical mismatch for her. He was never violent with her. He never bound her. Indeed, he treated her with something like tenderness. He left the impression that he was enjoying her, instead of just using her. She even wondered if he actually liked her.
He had started bringing her things, food mostly, but also a few other small items that made her life a little more tolerable. She found herself actually beginning to look forward to his visits in an odd sort of way.
Then, one day, the Caretaker had come to her with a collar and a new tan dress. "You're leaving us," he told her. He saw the look of shock and horror on her face. "No, my dear, you're not going to the mines. You've been sold to a private buyer."
It was him.
He took her back to his home in an adjacent dome. He expanded her duties beyond simply sharing his bed when he wanted her. She became one of his domestic servants as well as his private whore. As a result he had the movement restrictions encoded on her tracker altered. She needed to go to the markets now, after all. And, as the servant of a top executive in one of the combines, she could not be seen in public wearing the tan dress of a common slave, so she was allowed some new clothes.
The seeds of a plan began to form in her mind.
To John's amazement Chiana managed to get them out of the Taranga without attracting any more attention. 'I know how to hide; I know how to disappear,' he recalled her saying.
Once they were out on the streets again it had been a straightforward matter to get the Nebari girl new clothes and her own breather.
"They aren't much for security here, are they?" John observed.
"They don't have to be," Chiana responded. "You can't leave the domes. Where is a slave with no money going to go?"
"Speaking of which," Zhann pointed out. "Were you planning to take this little one with us on Moya?"
"No, we'll put her on the Nebari transport we saw when we arrived. They'll take her somewhere where she'll be safe and cared for. We Nebari, well, most of us, anyway, are like that. Order, security, conformity and morals above all else, right?" Chiana knelt down and looked the girl in the eye. "Is that alright with you, Selana?"
The girl only nodded, her expression still dazed.
"How did a child like this end up in that... that market?" John asked in disgust.
"My parents live in dome 7," the girl answered in a monotone. "They sold me. I guess they owed money."
"That's how it happened to me," Chiana told her, putting a reassuring arm around her. "Except it was the 'friends' I was traveling with who did it." She looked down at the little girl, her eyes shining. "You're too small for the mines. Where were you going? Were you going to be a domestic servant?"
"No. I was going to a Joy Division."
John and Zhaan could only look at each other as Chiana slumped against a wall and started sobbing.
"What's a Joy Division?" John asked the girl as he watched Chiana curl into a tight, quivering ball.
He felt like he'd been punched in the stomach at her answer.
"We would go on as though nothing was wrong
Hide from these days, we remain all alone
Staying in the same place, just staying out the time
Touching from a distance, further all the time"
- Joy Division "Transmission"
"You can come out now," John said as the transport pod pulled away from the Nebari ship.
"Were there any problems?" Chiana inquired as she emerged from behind some boxes.
"Nope. Everything went smoothly. The crew seemed very eager to help Selana."
"She didn't say anything about me, did she?" Chiana asked with a hint of trepidation.
"No. I don't think you have to worry about the Nebari discovering your whereabouts. We'll be long gone from here soon anyway."
"Selana's parents probably won't be so fortunate."
"What do you mean?" asked Zhaan.
"I imagine the Nebari Constabulary will come this way the next time there's a host vessel in the area. I'm sure they'll consider what those two did to their own daughter to be a very serious crime."
"And what will happen to them?"
"What do you think? Mental cleansing," Chiana answered with a sly grin, as everyone else exchanged uneasy glances. "And they might just bust up the entire operation here if the mood strikes them."
"I certainly hope so," John responded.
With that Chiana collapsed into the seat next to Zhaan. The Delvian could sense the waves of tension coming off the young woman as she finally relaxed somewhat from the ordeals of their short trip.
"How did you ever get out of there?" she asked as she gently kneaded some of the stiffness from Chiana's shoulders.
She hesitated before answering, casting a wary eye at her companions. "My last owner was very wealthy. I stole a little money here and there and hid it away. No one ever noticed. No one would ever have noticed. As a mining executive he also had information on all the transports coming and going from Kahtann. When a Nebari transport arrived I was able to steal enough in one lump sum to give me what I needed to buy a voucher to get on it."
"And they let you get on a transport?"
"You heard for yourself - I had an unlimited movement permit. With the clothes I was allowed to wear I could go pretty much anywhere.
"Fortunately, they figure slaves can't get their hands on much money, so they don't bother to screen the people coming and going at the spaceport for runaways," she added. "I'm lucky I'm a good thief or I'd still be there."
Or dead in the mines...
Everyone gathered as usual for the evening meal. D'Argo and Rygel excused themselves quickly, eager to get back to inventorying the results of their transactions. An uncomfortable silence descended, which was finally broken by Aeryn. "John," she said, looking at him from across the table, "Pilot told me that you need to swap out the DRDs in my chair as these six need recharging."
"O.k.," he responded morosely, "I can do it now if you'd like."
"Great, I'd hate to be without my chair... Pilot!"
"Yes, Officer Sun?"
"Maintenance bay, please!" She and her chair turned and headed out.
"That's our hero," Chiana laughed as she rose from her seat. "Always willing to help a damsel in distress." John glowered at her as she lowered her head down next to his. "I learned a lot on Kahtann," she whispered to him just loud enough for Zhaan to hear. "Come to my room later and I'll demonstrate for you, or should I say on you?" She ran her tongue lightly along the edge of his ear and turned to leave, hips swinging.
John was stunned. "How can she behave that way after what happened to her?"
"Maybe you're looking at it from too human a perspective, John," Zhaan replied. "Don't judge another species by your standards."
"I'm not judging her. I just don't understand how she can play the sex goddess after being a sex slave. I don't see how she can stand it psychologically."
Zhaan considered this for a moment. "Perhaps to her what happened was not about sex. Perhaps to her it was more about power and control... Behaving as she does may just be part of her way of reestablishing her control over herself and her sexuality - just like her actions today." Zhaan paused. "It is also clearly a way she has found to control and influence others."
"Tell me about it."
"I believe I just did."
"No, what I meant was - no kidding she uses it to try to 'control and influence others.'"
"Especially you, it would seem at present."
"It would seem," he answered dejectedly.
"But you have demonstrated a strong resistance to her charms. I sometimes wonder why she still bothers."
"I guess she feels she has to keep in practice."
"It could also be that she is trying to express some genuine feelings for you, John. You are, after all, her protector on this ship."
"Please stop reminding me."
John found Aeryn already tinkering with the new DRDs for her chair. She looked up from her seat at the workbench and smiled at him as he watched her.
"I'm proud of you," he said.
"Why?" she asked with a hint of surprise in her voice.
"Half a cycle ago you wouldn't have known how to even start a little project like this one and now look at you go."
"Pilot and you have taught me a lot." I like that I am becoming more, John. Someday, when I can, I'll have to tell you how much it means to me.
"You know, it's funny. You're the one who got stabbed last weekan and right now I think you're the most cheerful person on this ship."
"Was Stavroll really that bad?"
"Oooohhhhh, yeah."
"Slavery," she said, shaking her head. "I've heard about it, but I've never really seen it. Not like you did today. I can't imagine that. It doesn't exist in my culture. We're Sebaceans, not property."
"Really? What about what the Peacekeepers did to Skykar? They enslaved an entire planet just to make chakan oil!" He leaned over the workbench, looking her in the eyes. "And just how much were you paid for your work in a job you weren't allowed to quit?"
"It's not the same, John," she responded, turning away from his gaze.
"Maybe not, but it's more like it than anything we had on Earth." Aeryn shot him a withering look so he changed subjects. "Sort of puts Chiana in a whole new light, though, doesn't it?"
"No. Why would you think that? She's a lying, manipulative little thief. She may have killed Salis. What's happened to her in the past is no excuse. It was probably her own fault anyway."
Whoa. That was harsh, even by Aeryn standards.
"Maybe what I meant was that it puts our attitude towards her in a different light."
"I still don't follow you."
"Just think of how badly we treated her today."
"If she was trustworthy it wouldn't have been a problem. She could have stayed up here. It's her own fault." Aeryn noted that the look on John's face was still pained. "Besides, it's not like she gave us the slightest inkling what was the matter."
"Would you have?"
Aeryn was taken aback. "No, I guess not." That would get you labeled 'irreversibly contaminated,' she thought painfully. Now it was her turn to change subjects.
"I'm proud of you, too, John. What you did down there today was very brave and noble."
"Yeah, well, that little girl deserved better. Now she has a chance to be much more than what they were offering her."
Just like me and the Peacekeepers, Aeryn thought.
"Don't walk away - in silence - don't walk away"
- Joy Division "Atmosphere"
Her room was dark. She was not asleep, however, as John could hear her crying softly. He paused at her door for a moment, considering the wisdom of the various options before him. He knocked lightly.
"Chiana, it's John."
"John?" she asked, turning on a light. "John! You did come!" she said, sitting up in her bed, clutching a sheet to her chest.
"Yeah, well, I had some things I wanted to say to you," he answered as he stepped into her room.
"Is that all?"
Always the tease.
"Yes, Chiana, that's all," he responded, the irritation creeping back into his voice. He couldn't decide if the hurt expression she gave him was real or simply more posturing. That, of course, is part of the problem.
"I just wanted to say I'm sorry about how I treated you today," he continued. "It was very wrong. I had no idea the kind of pain I was inflicting on you."
She wiped a last tear from her eye. "Thank you. I can't remember the last time anyone apologized to me for anything."
"I also think you need to get some help."
"Help? What do you mean?"
"Back on Earth, when people are subjected to a major trauma, it's felt that it's important for them to get what we call counseling to help them cope."
"And you want to 'counsel' me?"
"No, I don't have anything like the tools necessary for the job. I think you should talk to Zhaan."
"Mother? Are you crazy?"
"Zhaan's not usually as judgmental as you've experienced her to be - as you've caused her to be. That's one of the things about yourself and your experiences I think you need to address. I think you'd find her insights very helpful."
Chiana scoffed. "Yeah, right."
"Just think about it," he said as he turned to go.
"John, wait." He turned back towards her. "I really meant what I said at dinner. You're welcome to stay with me tonight if you want," she told him, letting the sheet covering her slide down ever so slightly.
John was struck by the pleading tone that had returned to her voice. "I appreciate the offer, Chiana, but..."
"Is it because of what happened to me in Stavroll? That I was a... a prostitute?"
"It has nothing to do with that. Honest."
"You don't find me repulsive like Rygel does, do you?"
"No," he smiled. "I find you just the opposite."
"Then why?"
"What you're asking - it's just not the way I operate." He turned to leave again.
After he was gone Chiana sat in her bed thinking. He cares about me; he really does. Right now, that's all that matters. Someone somewhere cares about me. And someone somewhere cared about Selana today.
She fell asleep feeling happier than she had in a long, long time.