Planet of Pain (16 page)

‘Hang on,' Ruth muttered. ‘It always takes a few seconds…' Her voice tailed off as two guards came in, one tall and gangly, one short and thin. Their glances passed quickly over Jo and Ruth as they scanned the row of prisoners, apparently looking for someone in particular.

‘There she is!' the short one gleefully exclaimed. ‘Hiya, Jugs!'

They went forward, with Ruth watching them out of the corner of her eye. ‘Two's not so bad,' she muttered, ‘though the little runt's a nasty swine. Keep your eye on him.'

The two men were homing in on a plump woman with pendulous breasts, and they reached her just as the water started to flow.

Jo stepped under the showerhead and let it run over her head. The water was tepid and it wasn't soapy, and it was a pretty feeble jet, but still it felt wonderful as it trickled over her body. She rinsed her hair, then scrubbed herself with her makeshift washcloth, acutely aware that she had just thirty seconds in which to complete the task. Despite the ridiculous time pressure she still managed to spare a glance at the two guards and their hapless victim. The short one shoved his stick through the plump woman's legs, his companion grabbed the other end, and they both lifted. The woman, who was trying desperately to wash herself, found herself standing astride the thing with her heels off the floor.

‘One-two-three
hup
!' the short man cried. They raised the stick higher still and the plump woman warbled in alarm, flailing her arms for balance as her feet lifted off the floor. Then the water stopped and Ruth grabbed Jo's arm and dragged her out, past the next batch already hurrying in.

‘This way,' Ruth said, and they followed the others the whole length of the corridor, then into the tunnel beyond to the cooling ducts Jo had seen before. Everyone stood in front of these, and Jo felt the heat sucked from her flesh as the water evaporated. It was wonderful. She felt cool for the first time since arriving here.

The plump woman had made it here, Jo noticed, though her two tormentors were still in close attendance, badgering her mercilessly. The tall one grabbed her arms and pulled them behind her back, leaving his skinny companion free to manhandle her breasts, and he wasted no time, mauling and squeezing. She wailed pitifully, but he simply leered at her distress and mocked her tearful pleas for mercy.

‘Come on,' Ruth whispered, ‘let's get our clothes.'

But there was no such opportunity for the plump woman as the two men led her away, naked and sobbing.

‘What will they do with her?' Jo asked, knowing the answer already.

‘That one?' Ruth said as they retrieved their things. ‘Take her back to their billet in the hub and fuck her stupid. It's a shitty deal having big tits in this place. The beasties never give you a minute's peace.'

That was a far from happy thought for Bel, with her physical attributes, would draw guards like bees to a honeypot. They wouldn't be able to keep their hands off her.

Jo could imagine her in the showers, surrounded by men grabbing her. Bel was one of the smartest, most capable people she knew, but Jo couldn't see how she could possibly elude them. She would be no more able to defend herself in that situation than the plump woman.

With a bitter sigh she dressed, her head spinning with thoughts of Bel, tormented beyond endurance by a horde of leering men.

 

They made their way back to the dayroom, which was empty, and while they were waiting for the others to return from the showers Ruth explained about the work gangs. The official gang size was twenty, she said, though it varied due to losses and new arrivals. Right now, Ruth said, gang four numbered nineteen men and women, including the two latest recruits. She admitted she didn't know all their names, and as for the other gangs, she claimed to know three or four at most.

The others began to drift back, and Malka and Ben, arm in arm, were among the last, still seemingly oblivious to the goings-on in the rest of the world.

The food arrived soon after. Huge cans of it were wheeled in on trolleys by orderlies, prisoners who worked in the kitchens, Ruth explained, and ladled into bowls. They were given a spoon to eat with, and a thick slice of… was it supposed to be bread, Jo wondered? She took a bite, and learned it was more like a hard biscuit, tasteless and dry. Fortunately other orderlies were handing out beakers of tepid water. Strictly one beaker per prisoner, Ruth told her, although Jo saw a woman not ten feet away hold up her beaker for a refill.

‘She's fucking him,' Ruth said casually, when Jo pointed out this apparent contradiction. ‘You can always get more food or water if you're willing to spread your legs. That's Vicki. She's fucking half the orderlies in limb two. Me, I'd rather starve.'

The woman must have heard her name spoken, for she looked across at them suspiciously. Jo turned back to her ‘meal', and dipped her spoon into the bowl of grey gruel. Like the biscuit-bread it tasted of nothing much at all, but she was too hungry to care. After the meal the orderlies retrieved bowls, beakers and spoons, and carted everything away. Vicki, she noticed, went with them, presumably to pay her ‘dues', and the rest of gang four settled back to rest.

 

The eight-hour period passed incredibly slowly, and Jo struggled to keep boredom at bay. The others seemed content enough, talking quietly with their neighbour, or stretching their legs occasionally in the corridor outside. Jo did more of that than most. She deliberately rationed her conversation with Ruth, not wanting to aggravate the young woman with constant prattle, but towards the end of the period she sensed a growing unease among the females in the gang, and wondered at the cause.

‘It's called a pole ride,' Ruth said, out of the blue.

‘What is?'

‘You know… the thing the runt and his pal did to that woman in the showers. It was just a game they were playing today, but it's sometimes used as an official punishment. There's this horizontal stick, and you have to straddle it with your toes just touching the floor. It might not sound much, but after three hours you're in agony, believe me.'

‘They've done that to you?' Ruth nodded. ‘Why?' Jo asked. ‘What did you do to make them punish you?'

‘Nothing, really. You don't have to do anything; if they feel like punishing you they'll always find some excuse. In my case it was dirty clothes. The rules say you've got to keep yourself clean at all times.'

‘But that's not fair,' Jo protested. ‘How can you if they won't give you any water to wash them in?' Ruth just shrugged. ‘Do they punish people often?' Jo asked.

‘It varies. Sometimes blue shift will go a couple of weeks without a single punishment, then you might get a dozen in one day. There's no logic to it. It's different with low-weight reprimands. At least you can see the reasoning behind that.'

‘What are low-weight reprimands?'

‘It's to do with the mine. I'll explain it all tomorrow. We need to settle down and be quiet now; the packs will be coming around soon.'

‘Packs?' Jo echoed, thinking of wild animals and wondering what new horror was about to be sprung on her.

‘Beasties,' Ruth explained. ‘Guards, to you. They come hunting just before the dorms open. They're after a woman for the night. Even the Harpies only take women.'

‘Who are the Harpies?'

‘An all female pack; three of them. You'll meet them soon enough. They're always on the lookout for pretty ones like you.'

On that ominous note she stretched out of the floor, and Jo lay down next to her, making herself as comfortable as she could. She thought of taking off her coveralls and wadding them for a pillow, but suspected they might be missing in the morning if she did. In such a place decent clothes were probably more precious than gold.

 

The first pack came by just minutes later. Jo heard their footsteps in the corridor; heard them enter the other dayrooms one by one. Their voices, a faint mumble at first, grew louder and more distinct the closer they got. Then they were right outside, coming in – five men who looked this way and that as they moved among the resting prisoners. A breathless stillness fell upon the women, each of whom knew she was a potential victim. Their fear was contagious and Jo found herself trembling. She saw Ruth try her best to become invisible as the men approached, holding herself utterly still, her face an empty mask. Jo mimicked her as best she could, though she had never felt less inconspicuous in her life. For one thing, she thought the men must surely hear her heart hammering against her ribs.

They came right up to her. A terrible sense of purpose seemed to emanate from them, pressing down on her like a physical weight. She kept her head lowered, barely able to breathe.

‘Is this her, Pete?' she heard one of them ask. ‘New clothes, so she hasn't been here long.'

‘No, she's one of the five the fleet sent,' another said. ‘I noticed her when Gaskin's lot brought them in earlier. The one we're after is younger.' There was quiet authority in his voice. Some sort of squad leader, Jo guessed: maybe a sergeant.

‘She's tasty enough, mind,' the first said. ‘What say we take her instead?'

‘Not tonight,' Pete said. ‘Tonight I want a virgin.'

‘Maybe it's a wind-up,' a third voice suggested. ‘What if there is no virgin, have you thought about that?'

‘There is if you believe Radcliffe,' Pete said, ‘and I
almost
trust the little weasel, I think. She came in less than an hour ago with a bunch of refugees from delta sector. Young, he said, with long black hair in a ponytail and the cutest little titties and ass. Almost drooling over the titties and ass, he was.'

‘So why didn't you ask him where she's been assigned and save us the fucking hassle?'

‘Oh I asked him, believe me. The bastard wanted fifty for that piece of information. Who the hell has that sort of dough, for fuck's sake? Do you have fifty?'

‘Me? I don't even have five!'

‘Exactly. So we keep looking till we find her, right? Because if we don't some other fuckers will. She won't be a virgin this time tomorrow, you can bet your life.'

They left the room and headed for gang five, hunting the rumoured virgin… and finally Jo could breathe.

But her relief was short-lived. Others came almost immediately, their boots ringing on the corridor's steel floor, quick and confident. They passed right by the other rooms and came straight into gang four's, as though they knew who it was they were after and precisely where they would find her. Three men, who stopped in front of Malka and Ben, lying in each other's arms.

‘What is this, the bloody honeymoon suite?'

Jo sneaked a look, and saw that the one speaking had a single stripe on his collar: a corporal. None of them were carrying sticks, but she didn't know whether or not that was significant.

‘Mind if we borrow your wife, Vesely?' the corporal said. ‘Boss-man has a yen to see her perform, if you know what I mean.'

He adopted a half-squat and bobbed up and down, flapping his hands in front of his chest to mimic bouncing breasts. Laughing, one of his companions grabbed Malka's arm and dragged her to her feet. Ben Vesely lunged at him and the other two clubbed him down with their fists, knocking him back to the floor. The corporal swung his foot and kicked Ben first in the ribs, then in the face. Malka screamed, struggling in the guard's grip. The corporal raised his boot above Ben's head, as though intending to crush his skull.

‘No!' came Malka's anguished cry. ‘Don't hurt him, please! I'll go with you!'

The corporal's foot remained raised. He turned to look at her, balanced precariously on one leg.

‘I'll go with you,' she sobbed. ‘I'll do anything you want. Just leave him alone.'

‘Anything?' he said. ‘That covers a lot of ground, lady. A
lot
of ground.'

‘Anything, I mean it. Just leave him alone. Please!'

‘Okay, you got yourself a deal.' He stepped back and Jo realised he'd achieved his objective, which was Malka, quiet and compliant, willing to suffer whatever indignities they had planned for her.

‘Don't worry, Vesely,' the guard who held her said to Ben, ‘we'll take real good care of her.'

They took her away, one on either side and the corporal in front, the guard on Malka's left molesting her buttocks as they went.

Quiet descended once more, broken only by pitiful groans from Ben Vesely. Jo thought she should go and help him, but felt overwhelmed by the situation and sickened by the casual brutality. All she really wanted was to curl into a ball and let prowling packs and the rest of the world pass by and leave her in peace. ‘God,' she murmured, to herself as much as anyone else, ‘please tell me that's it for tonight.'

Amazingly Ruth laughed, though it was a laugh utterly devoid of humour. ‘I doubt it. Wouldn't surprise me to see the Harpies; they haven't graced us with their presence in a while.'

‘Shut up, Ruth!' an anonymous female whispered fearfully. ‘You'll jinx us!'