CHAPTER ONE

END OF BREAK

I open my eyes... head thumping uncontrollably... dry mouth... what a night. It seems to take all my strength just to sit up. Looking to my left I see the hooker that I spent the night with. She ain't worth spit. Funny, last night I would have killed for her lips on mine and her breasts pushing themselves against my chest. But now she's just a naked hooker. Her golden hair no longer has that pure look of beauty about it, it's all scruffy and untidy. Her perfectly smooth skin has lost it's appeal entirely. She's no longer a angel... just a naked hooker.

The cold, clear water is welcome in my dry, hard mouth. I spit back into the basin. Now the water is dirty and sluggishly making it's way down the drain. Showers in the morning... best way to wake yourself up. The cold water pummels my body and beats out all the aches and pains. I even forget my headache for a while. As soon as I get out the shower though, they all return. Ah well...

The hooker's gone, I find out as I enter the bedroom... do I care? She's taken the money owed to her from my wallet. Four thousand... it was a good night, I guess.

"You're a fucking loser."

I hear this but I don't feel it. It's not meant harshly anyway, Jacob's just as much of a loser as I am. The bar's empty, apart from other tired and poor losers like me and Jacob.

"What the hell did you do last night?" I ask... I lost him after that hooker caught me in her trance.

"Took a young girl into the steam room."

"Young?"

"She was in her twenties. I'm not totally sick."

Twenties? Fuck, that is young. Here me and Jacob are, in our forties. We're uglier than horse shit. We smell worse than fat man armpits. Scars populate our bodies. And he got a girl in her twenties to go with him.

"How much did she cost?" I can't help asking him.

"Ten."

"Thousand?"

Jacob nods.

"Was she good?"

"Better."

The bar tender hands us small glasses of whisky. He doesn't even have to ask. I take the drink and hold it to my lips, jerking my head back. The liquid runs down my throat... acid. It feels so good.

"Reema's going to be pissed," Jacob points out, "We're meant to be at the rendezvous now."

"Fuck Reema."

"No thanks, I don't do ice bitches."

That's a lie, Jacob's done just about everything, women and machine. I done women, not machine... got to draw the line somewhere, even if Jacob hasn't bothered.

The air rushes into my mouth, down my throat and into my lungs. Can't help it, wouldn't want to even if I could. I can feel the wind beat my body, trying to shove me off my own hover bike. It pointlessly hits me and then whistles past.

I'm going fast... too fast and I should probably slow down. The motorway ends soon and I'll have to make my way into the spaceport through the forest of cars and traffic jams. It's been almost a thousand years since the car was invented... and still we got traffic jams. The only real difference as far as I can see is that our cars now hover a few inches above the ground. Apparently it's safer and more fuel efficient.

Just a few miles left... got to slow down. A few more seconds won't hurt. I try to get all the pleasure I can from the wind rushing past in those few seconds. Then I ease down on the throttle.

Traffic's a living nightmare. Horns sounding off everywhere, cars stuck in the middle of several lanes trying to push their way out and there is always that twat that decides to get out of his car and start shouting at everyone else. What do I care? I got a hover bike. Through the narrow corridor of space that is made between the lanes I go, leaving the shouts and curses of jealous car drivers behind. You never know, I might just make it to the spaceport on time.

I don't. Ten minutes late, but only because I was hungry and got a burger. Reema's pissed but it's not too bad, she's still waiting for Jacob. Half an hour later he turns up, to add insult to injury he's brought that young hooker he was with last night. The shouting starts and seems endless.

"What are you doing Jacob!?... Leave that tart here!... This is your job not a fucking loser's bar!"

Reema's right, she's always right. God bless her... and at the same time... rot in hell. Reema keeps us loser's in track, stops us from screwing our lives up even more. That's what she's good at, being the bitch. After she's finished with Jacob, she turns back to the group. There's about a dozen of us, surrounded by half a dozen security and Reema stands on the bottom step... towering herself above us all. I still think it's great that bums like us are briefed in one of the many halls in this spaceport. Just metres away ordinary families walk pass, trying to ignore us. We're the bottom, the very bottom. We are the losers of society and we are to be punished.

"Now, listen up," Reema projects her voice, "You'll be serving on Orion IV, it's a small mining colony. It's a hot planet, and the only water comes on supply ships so be prepared for some thirsty nights. You will be briefed in further detail about the planet and the actual mining when you get there. It's a fifteen hour journey from here, Earth, to Orion IV and you will be in a Type II frigate."

We all groan. Type II frigates, fucking tubs fired into space.

"Sorry, but that's the best I could do. As you all know, this is a twelve month service and at the end you'll be given a month's leave. Of course, you will all be tagged."

Tagged. I look down at mine. It's disguised as a watch but I know what it really is. It monitors everything going on in your body. If you do something you shouldn't be doing, it knows... and then it fills you with 10,000 volts. Keeps us criminals in check I suppose, and who cares if it gets it wrong and fries some poor guy who got too excited or was trying to get away from a brawl. After all, we are the scum of the universe.