Old 07-01-2015, 06:12 PM   #1
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Arrow New Mytilini

NEW MYTILINI
Lesbian Science Fiction

Prologue






PLEASE READ:
300 years ago, a group of interstellar colonists crash-landed on a lush planet far from our own solar system. Only a handful of scientists — all women — survived. What did they do to preserve their colony for later generations, and what were the ramifications of those choices?

To begin to find out, read "NEW MYTILINI: The Setting for Our Story."

Now, this distant colony is celebrating its Tricentennial. It will be the turning point in its history. A repressed Underground movement plans to make it the year in which the Caste System which has heretofore controlled their society comes to a revolutionary end. The Government, on the other hand, is fully confident that under the leadership of its resolute Speaker, it will stamp out all significant dissent once and for all, and usher in a true Golden Age.

Join in our story to determine which of them is right!


If You Are NOT Currently Writing in this “New Mytilini” Thread
This thread is not open to everyone, but it is not necessarily closed to anyone.

Please do not post in this thread unless you have permission from me, the Empress Josephine.

Read the first post or two to get a feeling for the style and quality of writing to decide if you would fit in.

Writers of any gender are welcome, although all characters will be female.

If you would like to write in New Mytilini, then please contact me here. I look forward to receiving your messages.

If you simply want to comment on this story for all to see, you may do so on the OOC for New Mytilini (Lesbian Science-Fiction).



If You ARE Currently Writing in this “New Mytilini” Thread

Here are some etiquette guidelines for our role-playing:
1. Respect character autonomy. It is a basic courtesy in interactive role-play writing that you do not put significant words, if any, in another writer's character's mouth, and you do not assume another writer's character makes decisions or takes significant action without that other writer's permission.

2. Be consistent. Make sure you know what is going on in the other writers' posts well enough that you do not post some action or event that contradicts what another writer has already established happened.

3. Note the Details. I have supplied an extensive backgound for our story at OOC for New Mytilini. As you contribute to the story, make sure your actions and descriptions follow the information provided by those resources.

4. Be literate. It makes it easier and more enjoyable for everyone if writers follow the conventions of English spelling and grammar.

5. Proofread! See 4, above.

I think these five make a good start. If anyone wants to propose any further etiquette guidelines for our role-play, please do so at OOC for New Mytilini.







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Active role-playing stories: Dominion: A Tale of Wealth & Power; Because Big Sister Says So!; Natural Law; Winter's Sisterhood: A Tale of Divine Love.

Inactive role-playing stories (expecting co-authors to return): The Heiress and the Janitor; Underhand Serve.

Moth-balled role-playing stories (looking for new co-authors to revitalize): The Affairs of Kaitain: A Role-Play of Dune; New Mytilini.

Archived role-playing stories (not expecting co-authors to return): Find them here.

Completed role-playing stories: Mother of the Groom.


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Old 07-01-2015, 06:14 PM   #2
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Old 07-01-2015, 06:35 PM   #3
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Title Page





Dramatis Personae




Table of Contents

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Old 07-01-2015, 06:45 PM   #4
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CHAPTER ONE: “Tricentennial”

Emma J. Wilmut, Speaker of the Legislative Assembly and High Priestess of the Order of Demeter and Astarte, walked through the dark, secret passages far below Government House in New Mytilini, the capital city of the planet bearing the same name. Because tonight she would preside over the first of several public rituals leading up to the colony’s Tricentennial celebrations next month, she wore the traditional raiment of her position as High Priestess.


Tonight’s ceremony was scheduled to begin in just over a quarter hour, in the huge new public courtyard thirty meters above this subterranean labyrinth. That gave Speaker Wilmut just enough time to take care of some important business.

The prisoner was in a chamber that did not appear on any blueprint, and was known only to a select few members of the “Hetairoi,” the elite guard that reported directly to the Speaker, charged with security at all government facilities. Two Hetairoi soldiers saluted Emma, their Commander-in-Chief, as she stepped up to the chamber. One slid the barred door open. Neither accompanied her inside. There was no chance the prisoner posed any threat.

Emma stood for a moment, studying the prisoner.



“I trust you realize your situation is hopeless,” Emma finally said, her universally known voice cold and smooth as an icicle. “Every bit as hopeless as the rebellion planned by your pathetic little Breeder Underground. Yes, we know all about it. Don’t even begin to think the threat of terrorism will disrupt our glorious Tricentennial celebration. My troops will be all over your rebel friends before they can plant their first bomb.”

Emma took a step closer. “You could make it easier on everyone, especially yourself and your compatriots, if you just tell us what we ask. If not, you will remain down here for the rest of your life, in daily torment, until sheer insanity causes you to scream out every secret you know. We have gotten quite skilled at extracting information from the most resistant of subjects. Thanks to the mistakes of your incompetent Underground, we have had plenty of prisoners on whom to practice!”

Emma reached up with her right hand and savagely squeezed the prisoner’s left breast, mercilessly twisting it until the prisoner could not help but whimper through her gag.

“In fact, I’d stay and interrogate you myself, but I must now preside over the Opening Ceremonies for our new Tricentennial Plaza. And don’t get your hopes up. The ritual will provide no opportunity for your friends. If they try to disrupt it, they will be falling right into our trap. Nor will it allow any succor for you. The Inquisitrix who will now come for you is far less merciful than I.”

Emma gave the prisoner’s nipple one last dreadful pinch before walking away. In truth, she had no idea if the Underground had any plans to attack tonight’s ceremony. Other than placing as many troops around the Plaza as possible without spoiling the festive nature of the event, she had no “trap” laid. She had only said so in case a sense of hopelessness would inspire the prisoner to reveal what she knew of the Underground, in the ill-founded belief — a lie the Inquisitrix would promote — that it might help save her friends from being massacred.

Emma knew, of course, that this almost certainly would not work. The very few Underground operatives they had actually captured had proven remarkable resilient and loyal to their cause, despite the most horrendous of tortures. Emma admired that, but felt no sympathy for those victims of her regime. The citizens of New Mytilini had spent three hundred years creating what Emma honestly believed was the perfect society. She had no use for the handful of malcontents who wanted to ruin it all.

Yes. This Tricentennial would be the turning point. She knew the Underground planned to make it the year in which the Caste System which had brought order to this untamed world would end. Emma, on the other hand, was fully confident that under her leadership, the government would stamp out all significant dissent once and for all, and usher in a true Golden Age.

With that thought parting her lips in a sincere smile, she walked out onto the huge black marble rostrum of Tricentennial Plaza.







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Old 07-01-2015, 10:34 PM   #5
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Revolution

The woman known to the world only by her nom de plume, recently turned nom de guerre, “Cerise Buss,” stood looking out the window of the cheap apartment she rented in a neighborhood inhabited mostly by semi-skilled Breeder Caste industrial workers. She could just see the imposing silhouette of Government House rising ominously over the oldest section of the city.



“It’s settled then,” she said flatly to her chief operative. “We strike at the ceremony tonight.”

“It’d’ve been better if we could’ve done it the night they first opened Tricentennial Plaza, like we’d first planned,” her cohort suggested. “More symbolic.”

“Perhaps,” Cerise replied slowly. “But we weren’t ready then, and if we had failed to pull it off, the only symbolism would have been a victory for the Wilmut tyranny. There is no way we can defeat the Hippos militarily, at least not now. But if we can embarrass them, make them look ineffectual, without ever suffering a demonstrable defeat ourselves, we can win the support we need to eventually overwhelm them. Earth history is full of examples of negligible military forces beating dominant world powers by causing them embarrassments back home: The American Revolution; the Twentieth Century dissolution of the Second British Empire; the defeat of the United States and Soviet Union in Vietnam and Afghanistan; and, of course, the renowned ‘False Victory’ of the EuroAmerican Alliance over the PanArabian Confederacy in Earth’s Third World War.”

“I don’t know much about history,” the other woman conceded. “But I remember learning in school that all them ancient wars was so terrible and stupid because males ruled the Earth. That’s not supposed to ever happen here.”

“True,” Cerise nodded slowly, confirming orthodoxy while secretly doubting its validity. She had seen hints while working on her dissertation that some Earth nations were on occasion ruled by women, even at times of war, not that anything so shocking would ever find its way into a school textbook. “Which is exactly why we have needed to be so careful not to engage in any violence until we are fully prepared, to make sure we minimize the chances of killing innocent bystanders.”

“Ain’t none of them Doctor bitches ‘innocent!’” came the angry retort. “They are all our repressors. You’ve wrote that yourself.”

“True again, but if we kill or injure too many civilians — as opposed to members of Wilmut’s government and bureaucracy — what little support and sympathy we have among the Doctors will evaporate. Maybe I should go along on the raid....”

“No way!” the chief operative protested. “You’re too important to the Cause. Talk about a victory for Wilmut if they capture you. Beside, if something happened to you, I couldn’t stand....”

She cut off her words with clenched teeth. She had never hidden her feelings, but had learned to repress them after countless months of Cerise’s gentle, “nothing but business” rebuffs.

Not this time.

Cerise hadn’t planned it. It was pure impulse. Perhaps it was the woman’s honest and evident devotion. Perhaps it was Cerise’s own tension from knowing that she was sending this operative, and a dozen of her rebel band, to risk their lives and freedom for a cause Cerise advocated, but in support of which she could never openly act. Whatever it was, Cerise suddenly needed to express her esteem for her most trusted confederate in a most intimate way.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not, the woman at first resisted. But Cerise’s sudden lust was as unremitting as it was unexpected. Soon, she had her disciple on her back on the floor, pulling off her boots and fatigue pants.

Cerise wasted no time on gentle romance, but plunged face-first between the woman’s thighs, employing her tongue and fingers with a skill evidencing innumerable hours of genial practice. Strong, rough fists clutched and tore at Cerise’s hair as the object of her proficient attentions quickly succumbed to a rapid succession of orgasms unparalleled in her prior, humble experience.

The robust guerilla recovered quickly. She sat up and pulled Cerise to her, tugging her blouse off over her head with a single yank. Cerise groaned softly as the woman suckled the long nipple on her small left breast, but when her lips kissed lower, Cerise gently pushed her away.

“Not now, Darling,” Cerise insisted. “We’ll save the rest as a celebration of your successful attack on the symbols of tyranny.”

Her partner nodded obediently and sighed. “You’re right, of course. Thanks. I should get going anyways. I got to get the rest of the girls ready for tonight.” She dressed and left without another word, only a prolonged kiss drawing her own juices from Cerise’s lips.

Cerise collapsed onto a futon. For a long time simply stared at the door which had closed behind her chief operative with a foreboding finality.


Her thoughts, however, were not on the coming attack, but on what she would do when — she refused to say “if” — her new lover returned. Now was not the time for Cerise to let her guard down and open herself up to anyone. She was walking a tightrope between two worlds, and one misstep could end the needed revolution before it even began. She didn’t know which was the bigger risk, if her true identity were learned by her own Doctor Caste peers, or by the Breeder Caste partisans who considered her their political, even spiritual, leader... not knowing of her aristocratic birth.




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Old 07-02-2015, 11:38 AM   #6
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Contradictory Intelligence

Emma J. Wilmut, Speaker of the Legislative Assembly and High Priestess of the Order of Demeter and Astarte, walked through the dark, secret passages far below Government House in New Mytilini, the capital city of the planet bearing the same name. Because tonight she would preside over the second of several public rituals celebrating the opening of Tricentennial Plaza, a huge public space prepared to honor the three hundredth anniversary of the colony’s establishment, she wore the traditional raiment of her position as High Priestess.


Speaker Wilmut felt more at ease with tonight’s ceremony than she had with the previous one, dedicating the new plaza. Many of her advisors had feared the rebel underground would do something to disrupt or sabotage those proceedings. There was even rumors of a bomb. That was why the government Inquisitrices had devoted so much time and effort to the interrogation of their latest prisoner, a suspected rebel operative.

In the end, it had all been in vain. There had been no attack, and the prisoner denied any knowledge of any plot, for that night, or for any of the subsequent scheduled Tricentennial festivities. The Chief Inquisitrix intended to continue trying, but had told Em that she thought the prisoner might be telling the truth about not knowing about any planned demonstrations or sabotage. Em looked in on the prisoner, where she was being prepared for her next interrogation session.


Em smiled at the sight. She hoped they could wring more information about the dissidents, especially their leadership, from this prisoner, and from her cohorts in various other chambers in this dungeon. But even if they couldn’t, Em took personal satisfaction in the thought that their ongoing torture was a modest down payment on the retribution she would someday extract from the rebels for the cloud their veiled threats of terrorism had raised over what should have been a completely joyful celebration of New Mytilini’s utopian society.







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Old 07-03-2015, 04:33 AM   #7
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Sensational





"Where the fuck have you been?!"



Elena opened her eyes to see Rosa, one of the fellow students with whom Elena shared this suite in the Frosh Dormitory, glaring down at her.

"The dance started almost three kilosecs ago," Rosa complained. "I've been waiting for you at the Union, like you said. You even turned off your phone."

"Been here," Elena purred. "Just bought this new stimu-suit... wanted to try it out... make sure it worked."

Elena pressed a red button on the remote control in her left hand. Her soft moan proved her new outfit functioned perfectly.



"I was thinking I'd wear this to the dance," Elena explained breathlessly. "Maybe leave the remote laying alone somewhere... for somebody to find... just to see what happens when they start playing with the buttons. What a kick it'll be... To be there... mingling... dancing... waiting... never knowing when someone might find the remote... pick it up... and do this...."

Elena groaned more loudly this time as her finger lingered on the red button.

"Sure," Rosa sneered. "But while you've been here getting your kicks, we've already missed half the dance!"

"Hey!" Elena gasped as Rosa snatched the remote control from her hand.

Rosa shook the device at her and growled, "My Mama may not be as rich as yours, and control half the soybean and rice production on New Mytilini, but that doesn't mean I'm some low-life Breeder you can use as you please, like you do those slaves on your Mama's plantations!"

Elena took a deep breath and sat up. Rosa was right, of course. Although Rosa's family only owned one of the colony's smaller shipping companies, her Doctor-caste lineage was impeccable. One of Rosa's ancestors was Lindy E. Franklin, Chief Assistant Biotechnician to Jane D. Wilmut herself!

"I know," Elena admitted sheepishly. "I'm sorry. It's just that this suit has that new Sensolink FX system. I showed you that article about it in Popular Technologies yesterday, remember? There are 64 contact points! It's kinda hard to resist." Most women would have blushed at that confession. Elena grinned and winked.

Rosa laughed and started to hand the remote back, but then reconsidered and decided to keep the device.

"Apology accepted," Rosa said flatly. "Besides, there is plenty of time left if we hurry over to the dance right now."

Rosa held the remote control up, well out of Elena's reach. Rosa snickered, "I'll hang on to this, though, to make up for lost time. I'll make sure it gets passed around plenty. I hope you're not planning to do much dancing. By the time everyone's done playing with this, you'll be lucky if you can walk!"

Rosa spun around and headed out the door. Elena hurried after her roommate, hoping Rosa's prediction proved true.





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Old 07-03-2015, 12:58 PM   #8
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Self-Portrait

Emma mounted the huge black marble rostrum looking out over the expanse of Tricentennial Plaza. The vast, paved courtyard was filled with thousands of citizens, the undulating sea of faces broken only by the massive granite pedestal in the middle, on which stood the giant bronze statue of Em herself.

Of course, when the Tricentennial Committee proposed the monument, Em had refused the traditional three times; but they persisted, as she knew they would. Besides, the statue wasn’t supposed to be Emma, per se, but rather a symbol of the three hundred years of enlightened leadership that had allowed their colony to overcome the greatest of obstacles to first survive, then thrive, on this alien world. Throughout that entire period, the colony had been led by the line of clones from which Em was just the current offspring. So it simply made sense for Em to be the model for the statue.

Far too predictably, there had been some grumbling from the “Breeders’ Rights” movement. Even a few of the more liberal members of the Legislative Assembly had objected softly, drawing comparisons to some of the more infamous male dictators from the history of Earth. That was the criticism that infuriated Em most. Imagine! Comparing her to a MAN! Hadn’t they all learned in school that one of the reasons New Mytilini’s society was so much superior to that of poor Mother Earth was that their colony did not suffer the rule of men?

There was a reason all the Caesars, Hitlers, Stalins and Husseins of Earth’s bloody past were men. History proved that males were genetically disposed to bloodthirsty violence, while females acted from nurturing kindness. Of course, there were times where even a woman had to be harsh, like with that prisoner Em had just visited in the labyrinth below, but even the most loving mother had to sometimes discipline an unruly child.

Surely, any reasonable person recognized that the statue was not a gesture of self-aggrandizement, but rather a symbol of their utopian society. That is why it held the “Test-tube of Procreation” in its right hand, and the “Scales of Equality” in the other.

A recorded fanfare roused Em from her revery. The crowd fell silent as she walked ceremoniously up to the podium and spoke into the microphone. Her face appeared on the huge video screen overhead, just as it did on smaller screens on street corners and in living-rooms all over the colony.

“Sisters! And all of you — regardless of status, profession or caste — are equally my Sisters.”

That was easy for Em to claim, being a clone. Her practiced warm smile hid her cynical amusement at that play on words.

She began her address, on the parallel themes of “Tradition” and “Stability.” Em, with her acute political sense, could tell it was going well, being appreciated by the crowd. Of course, she reminded herself, it was naturally the most patriotic citizens who would come out for this occasion, but Em had no reason to think that their sentiments did not reflect those of the vast majority of the population.

As Em continued her speech, her mood lightened. This Tricentennial could not have come at a more opportune time. Although the information was repressed by her government, Em knew that a group of seditious Breeders had gained a dangerous vitality under their new leader, the traitor Cerise Buss. Em truly hoped and believed that the public loyalty the coming celebrations would inspire would create the political environment she would need to crush the rebels once and for all.

Yes, Em always tried to rule with “nurturing kindness”; but soon, she knew, the situation might call for a little “tough love”!
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Old 07-03-2015, 02:50 PM   #9
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Making an Impression


Aradia crossed Tricentennial Plaza knowing she would make an impression. Although trendy teenagers had sported such chainmesh dresses for years, she believed she would be the first adult ever to wear the provocative style to a formal State occasion. She could not have picked a more outrageous event at which to make this fashion statement: during a ritual dedication presided over by High Priestess Emma herself!


Aradia nonchalantly brushed the hair from her face, studiously ignoring the murmur of the crowd as she walked past. She could not have picked a better way to celebrate her liberation from the Seminary, and rejection of the religious career to which her deceased mothers had dedicated her. While their untimely death had saddened her, once she recovered from the initial shock, she realized her share of the inheritance gave her control of her own destiny for the first time in her life. She wondered if they would have drafted their wills differently if they had realized Aradia would use her sudden financial independence to leave the Sisterhood. Her departure had caused quite an uproar among New Mytilini’s social elite, and her appearance at this event, dressed this way, would surely transform it into a full blown scandal. She turned toward a sudden commotion, thinking she might be its reason.




But just then, the bomb went off.








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Old 07-04-2015, 05:56 AM   #10
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Emma Wilmut stormed down a dark, secret passage below Government House. Her Hetairoi body guard having hurried her away from the interrupted ceremony commemorating the installation of her statue in the Tricentennial Plaza, she still wore the traditional raiment of her position as High Priestess of the Order of Demeter and Astarte.


The crackle of small arms fire and thud of crowd control weapons still sporadically echoed down the corridor behind her as the Hippolyte Guard tried to capture, or at least drive off, the last of the Rebel guerillas and any Breeder spectators that had rioted in their support. With the Hetairoi and other Hippo officers insisting that she not return to the melee above, Em needed to vent her fury in another direction.

She confirmed that the prisoner had been moved. She was now even deeper in the secret facility beneath the huge new courtyard. Four soldiers saluted Emma as she approached INTERROGATION ROOM 3. They were already fully armored and more heavily armed, in efficient response to the present attack. Em knew the additional weaponry was a required, yet unnecessary, precaution.

The terrorist assault was surely never intended as a military operation. The so-called Cause hadn't the numbers nor arms to face Government forces directly. The purpose of the raid was clearly to undermine confidence in the Government by embarrassing it. From what little Em had seen before her bodyguard forced her inside, the only target was the Statue being dedicated at the time of the attack. A large explosion at its pedestal had left it leaning precariously, and Em was worried it would fall before her engineers could repair it.

Em took that personally. For all its ostensibly republican institutions, New Mytilini was nothing like a democracy. All lines of political power eventually ran to one woman: the Speaker of the Legislative Assembly, the hereditary post held by Emma and all her cloned progenitors going back to Dr. Jane Wilmut, the founder of this colony. Em was the Government, and the Rebels' intent to embarrass the Administration was equally an attempt to demean Em herself.

Em would not tolerate any such public humiliation. Someone — everyone! — would pay for this. Starting with the prisoner.

"Is the Inquisitrix inside?" Em asked the sergeant commanding the little guard detachment.

"No, Madam Speaker," the soldier replied in her loud, drill field voice. "In light of the attack, we thought it best...."

"By the Goddess!" Em cursed. "There is NO attack! A few troublemakers threw some smoke-bombs and firecrackers! Has my Hetairoi become so cowardly that it can't face a few lightly armed malcontents?!"

"No, Madam Speaker," the sergeant answered, less forcefully this time.

"Good. So get the Inquisitrix down here NOW! Then find out who was the senior intelligence officer on duty during the ceremony and tell her to report to my office in an hour. Got that?"

"Yes, Madam Speaker."

The sergeant hurried off to complete these orders. Em just pointed and a corporal opened the soundproofed cell door to INTERROGATION ROOM 3. Again, none of the guards accompanied Em inside. The prisoner still posed no threat.

Emma took some small satisfaction at the way the prisoner flinched as Em walked across the room to take a seat facing the bench on which the captured Rebel was secured. The prisoner probably thought the Inquisitrix had returned to continue her interrogation. Em observed immediately that the woman had been effectively immobilized, and depilatoried from the neck down, to enhance the effectiveness of the Inquisitrix' devices.



"The Inquisitrix will return shortly," Emma said coldly. "She is having a busy night. Your Breeder Underground has tried to attack Government House. We crushed them, of course. Those who didn't die were all captured."

Em wondered if the prisoner would believe her lies. She had no basis to dispute the claims. It would depend on how much confidence the prisoner retained in the Rebel leaders.

Em knew she would have to be much more subtle in how she "spun" the story for the public. There were thousands of witnesses, both Doctors and Breeders. Emma would count on the Information Ministry to keep things under control tonight. She could then sleep on it, get a feel for public attitude, and make an official proclamation tomorrow night after the evening newscast.

But what she said for public consumption was a secondary concern. A more pressing problem was to find the Rebels, then root them out and exterminate them like the vermin they were. They would start by squeezing from this prisoner everything she knew.

Of course, it wasn't really necessary for Em to remain and watch the interrogation. But she liked to think that her political savvy would catch something the Inquisitrix might miss. Besides, Em was still stinging from the humiliation of the assault on the Plaza — especially the vandalism of her statue — and could take some personal satisfaction in watching the Inquisitrix employ the esoteric tools of her unique trade upon this bound and helpless prisoner.






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Old 07-04-2015, 09:13 AM   #11
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The woman known to the world only by her nom de plume, recently turned nom de guerre, “Cerise Buss,” had spent the night in the cheap apartment she rented in a neighborhood inhabited mostly by semi-skilled Breeder Caste industrial workers. She had gone to bed almost completely unenlightened as to the results of the attack on Tricentennial Plaza. By prior agreement, she would have no contact with anyone directly involved in the raid for at least ten days, although she did expect some accounts soon from various observers planted in the crowd.

The late News had mentioned a disturbance during the ceremony, and made a vague reference to vandalism "possibly by an individual believed to be mentally ill." The only video was a stock clip of the Plaza, and of the new statue taken days earlier. Cerise surmised from this that the attack had gained some substantial results. The Government controlled the colony's only NewsNet, and the fact that it reported anything at all meant that enough of the public audience at the ceremony had seen the raid, or its effects, so that the regime felt compelled to explain it as something other than the work of the Cause. Also, the failure to show any live shots of Tricentennial Plaza suggested that Cerise's guerillas had done some kind of obvious damage.

Cerise jumped when the phone rang... actually rang, instead of the melodious chirping of the vidcells in her luxurious penthouse across town. In contrast to its fashionable decor, this little apartment was furnished in the "PreColonial Modern" style — emulating designs from Earth's Twentieth Century — commonly preferred among the Breeder Caste. She lifted the phone with her right hand while deftly using her left to dispense a cup from her bedside coffee maker.

"Yes?" Cerise answered in as neutral a voice as she could muster. She listened silently to the report.



Hoping her voice hid her emotions, she finally replied. "Well, everyone knew that was a risk when they went in. From what I can gather, the results justify the loss. We will proceed as planned."

Nothing more was said at either end. Cerise hung up the phone and tried to take a sip of coffee. Her hand now trembled so much, however, that she managed only to spill the scalding liquid, burning herself and spreading dark stains on her once pristine sheets.




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Old 07-06-2015, 08:58 AM   #12
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Secrets


“What we are about to discuss must never be repeated outside the walls of this room,” Emma J. Wilmut, Speaker of the Legislative Assembly and de facto hereditary ruler of New Mytilini, stated without preamble. “Any breach of the confidence we are placing in you would have the most... unpleasant repercussions. Do you understand that, Captain?”

Captain Faye Dane’s solemn nod was sufficient for Speaker Wilmut. Like her mothers before her, she was an officer of the elite palace guard, an exclusive Hippolyte corps called the “Hetairoi.” Emma herself, when still the teenaged Grand Acolyte of the Order of Demeter and Astarte, next in line to her mother, the then Speaker Ella J. Wilmut, had presided over the newborn Faye’s Baptism.

Emma glanced at the two earnest officers sitting at her side, then cleared her throat and continued. “The terrorists who survived the raid on Tricentennial Plaza the other night escaped the city by sea. They did not simply melt back into the general population. Before we realized it, their boat was out of the range of coastal radar which, after all, is set up for navigation, not military use.”

Emma noticed the soldier’s eyes widen with surprise. The Media had uniformly reported that the “pranksters” who had vandalized the Speaker’s statue in Tricentennial Plaza had all been arrested. Of course, despite the official story, Faye must have known that the incident had involved more than some childish practical joke. It was she, after all, who commanded the squad of Hetairoi that had surrounded the Speaker at the first sound of gunfire, and insisted that she leave the podium for the secure tunnels beneath Government House. On the other hand, as a mid-grade officer in the Hippolyte Guard, even one serving among the Speaker’s own Hetairoi, she would have had no reason to suspect until now that any of the criminals had escaped.

“Madam Speaker,” Captain Dane’ began formally, then swallowed against her dry throat. “Please allow me to humbly offer a modest observation.”

Speaker Wilmut nodded and Faye continued. “The raiders had obviously done a lot of preparation and training before this attack. They must have a base or camp somewhere. They couldn’t have prepared in a settled area. It would have been noticed.”

“Excellent, Captain,” Emma replied with a tone like that of a patient teacher whose slowest student unexpectedly mastered a difficult lesson. “Well done! My intelligence officers reached the same conclusion. The dissident group calling itself ‘The Cause’ is much larger than most in my Government and — thank the Goddess — most citizens realize. Wherever their base is, it would be hard to hide. It certainly isn’t anywhere on the Gulf of Kaloni, or we’d have spotted it long ago. We doubt it is on the back side of the Continent, either. There are too many pioneers and homesteaders moving into the Outback. The Cause couldn’t risk one of them stumbling upon their camp and reporting it to us.

“The Cause’s headquarters and other facilities must be on one of the islands. That is the only place they could hide their operations. My experts from the Science Directorate tell me there are literally thousands of islands on this planet — covered with rainforests and riddled with caves — on which even a huge community could hide. We might be able to find them by systematically searching the Sea, but it would take years!

“The only realistic way to find the rebel base is to infiltrate their organization with one or more spies. I want you, Captain, to run that operation...”

Speaker Wilmut held up her hand, squelching Captain Dane’s objection even as she opened her mouth to speak.

“I know we set up the External Security Regiment primarily to patrol the islands. I’m the one who signed that Executive Directive. And I will order them to start a search for the Cause’s headquarters. Who knows? They might get lucky. But mostly it will be a diversion for the real operation... Your operation.

“That’s one reason I picked you for this job, Captain. Since the islands are totally outside your official jurisdiction, no one would expect you to be in charge of looking for enemy forces there. But, the fact is, your position within the Hetairoi’s Internal Security Battalion makes you perfectly suited for running an infiltration of the Cause... Your Battalion is even more familiar than the Gendarme Corps with those marginal elements of our society from which promising spies might be recruited. You might start by searching for potential recruits among your own files.”

Emma Wilmut’s eyes blazed with anger when she thought Captain Dane might again protest.

“And I don’t want to hear any sperm about the Constitutional Charter’s Fourth Guarantee. We are at war, Captain! The first war this planet has ever seen. I plan to make it the last. If we have to ignore a few citizens’ Fourth Guarantee rights to do that, it’s a price I’m willing to pay for the greater good!”

Speaker Wilmut decided not to mention the prisoners already held without official charge or public notice in the dungeons of this complex. There was no reason for Faye to know, not yet at least, of those blatant violations of the Third Guarantee as well.

“At first,” Emma resumed, her voice again low and calm. “Only the four of us in this room will know of your mission. Meanwhile, you will have to carry out all of your normal and official duties, to maintain your cover. To whatever extent you need military resources to do your job, do NOT use your own squad, or even any material from within the Security Battalion. You can get what you need through one of these two officers... but be discreet about it. Just tell them what you need, not why. All information shared among the three of you will be on a ‘need to know’ basis only.

“Instead, you will report directly to me, and come to me for approval of any operations. Of course, we will need to explain why a mere Captain is occasionally having prolonged private contact with the Speaker of the Legislative Assembly....”

Speaker Wilmut smiled conspiratorially. “In a day or two, a couple of the more notorious tabloid publications will mention ‘scandalous rumors’ of an ‘inappropriate romance’ between the Speaker and a certain Hippolyte officer serving under her. That should be enough. After that, if anyone happens to see you visiting me in my office or apartments, they will assume it is for something other than official business... which, in a sense, it will be, but not for the sorts of ‘unofficial’ activities they will have in mind.”

The Speaker gazed deeply into Captain Dane’s eyes, trying to touch the patriotic adventurer she knew lurked in Faye’s heart. Emma liked the fact that Faye met her stare without flinching. Nonetheless, the young soldier’s face betrayed her concern with the mission’s likelihood of violating several long established laws regarding the few, precious rights of the colony’s citizenry, despite the fact that, ultimately, the law of New Mytilini was whatever her boss, Emma J. Wilmut, decreed.

Speaker Wilmut smiled coldly. “Because of the... um, ‘extra-constitutional’ aspects of this mission, we cannot order you to do it, Captain. But I believe it is the greatest service you can give New Mytilini, and I believe you are the sort of woman who always wants to do her best, for herself and her people....

“So... do we have an agreement?”
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Old 07-06-2015, 11:52 AM   #13
KaseE
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It's no big deal escapin` from a state factory camp — well, except for that supermax prison at Eastend, but I ain't never been in there, and would never wanna be, not with what I've heard the Screws do to the girls in there, when the girls ain't doin` it to each other. But a regular factory camp, that's a whole `nother story. Sure, girls go missin' sometimes, but if it's only for a day or two, it's usually no big deal, so long as they bring back a present for the Screws, or do somethin` else extra special for‘em.

Other times some girl never comes back. The Screws always say every Runner gets caught and sent to Eastend... but I've always wondered. I mean, how would we know one way or the other?

And sure, I snuck out now and then, but NOT like most girls who'd nick some Scrip and go on a pisser. I always went to the beach, all by myself. I love to swim, and there ain't no chance to swim in the camps. I always feel so free when I swim; I suppose the Wardens don't want us girls rememberin` what it's like to feel free.

I was never gone more than a few hours. Mostly, the Screws never even knew I'd been gone. On the other times, I was usually able do somethin` for a Screw to convince her not to report me. As for those other times, well... even a day or two on the Rack was worth it to have a few hours away in the Sea.

And I probably would never have done worse than that if it weren't for my last name....

I don't know how I got my last name. I never knew my Moms too good, but weren't neither of ‘em named Junius.

Ashalina Russel, a teacher I had in grade school, told me that Junius was the name of a family back on ancient Earth that always fought against kings and tyrants. I guess kings and tyrants were some of those terrible thing males invented, like war and democracy and all those other evil Earth things we learned `bout in history class, but which don't plague New Mytilini `cuz of the wisdom of the Progenitrices.

Anyways, Sister Russel told me `bout this Junius family on old Earth who killed kings and tyrants, but she made me promise not to ever let anyone else know she had told me `bout that, `cuz she said it might be considered subversive. I couldn't see how come, `cuz it sounded like kings and tyrants was always males, but I never did get how teachers think.

She never mentioned it again, and the last time I saw her was when I was fourteen and graduated from school. She handed me my Technician's Diploma. I unrolled it when I got home and there was a little scrap of paper inside with some funny words on it.



I didn't pay it no attention. School was over and I was anxious to get on with life `cuz I had a spot waitin` for me in a real good factory. But that all changed when I lost that job and was made a slave of the state. If it hadn't been for that....

But that's a whole `nother story; one I don't like to tell.

Through it all, though, I always kept that piece of paper. When I got to the camp, I hid it in my legal papers that even the Screws ain't supposed to touch. Every chance I got, when I was feelin` low and couldn't sneak out to go swim, I would pull it out and stare at it.

Honest, I don't think I'd've made the break if it weren't for that note. All that day I'd been lookin` forward to sneakin` out for a swim. I'd pulled double shifts on both of the two days before and was lookin` forward to feelin` the warm surf poundin` my body. But the shop steward said I had to work late again, `cuz too many girls had been pulled off second shift to help with clean up duties at Government House, where there'd been some kind of explosion a few nights before. All the unskilled labor had been sent, so those of us with some background in the trades had to work extra hours, fillin' in spots in the line.

I complained. There's supposed to be a rule against too many double shifts, but the chief Screw on the production floor said she couldn't do anything. I wasn't surprised. She'd had a bug up her ass for me ever since I kicked the shit outta her favorite bitch after Chapel one day. The only thing that kept me outta the Rack for that one was that I'm the best CNC driver they've got, and they'd barely been makin` quota lately as it was.

I finished out the extra shift, of course. If I'd left early, they'd've noticed. By then, it was rainin` and too cold to swim. I took out Sister Russel's note and stared at it for a long time in the dim light of the long Billet Shed.



Makin` up my mind, I stuffed it in my pocket.

I leaned over and kissed my dozin` bunkmate goodbye.

"I'm slippin` out, Sweety," I whispered. "Cover for me, okay?"

"Mm... Hmm," she agreed sleepily. She'd expect me back before dawn, like so many times before. I hoped she wouldn't take any heat when they found me gone at Roll Call. She was a good kid; a bit dim, but nice. Best of all, she didn't snore.

As usual, I slipped out by the loadin' and receivin' docks. Instead of takin` the dirt road to the coast, I headed toward town. It's not easy to find someone when you don't have a usable credit code. Fone terminals won't even give you the time of day without your code, much less anythin` else.

I went to a library for the first time since I was in school. I fed a line of crap to one of the brainy little Breeders workin' there — when the boss Doctor bitch weren't lookin` — and she used her code to get me Sister Russel's address. I had to walk the rest of the night to get here.



I know it don't make sense. I know Sister Russel will probably call the Cops and I'll end up at Eastend. But it'll be worth it... it'll be worth it if she'll just tell me the meanin' of them words on that note!




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Old 07-07-2015, 10:19 AM   #14
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Breeder on a Half-Shell


Natasza Michelle Autumn, known to all her many friends and acquaintances by her call-sign, “Shell,” paused halfway through her morning run along the beach below New Mytilini’s capitol city. Having none of the advantageous genetic enhancements common among the “Doctor” caste she admired, Shell had to exercise daily and push herself hard to maintain her figure. The sea breeze and her own sweat passed through the thin, porous fabric of her omnisuit as if it wasn’t there, cooling her as though she was naked. But the morning was exceptionally hot, so even that wasn’t enough.

Besides, she had gotten very little sleep last night. First she had needed to work late. The rescheduling of rites, receptions and ceremonies following the horrid prank some malcontents had perpetrated during the Dedication Ceremony for the grand statue in the new Tricentennial Plaza had thrown transport scheduling into chaos. It seemed like every visiting dignitary had demanded an unscheduled return to her home, no matter where on the Continent she lived. Shell had wasted a lot of time over the past few days idling on the landing pad while the poor dispatchers had sorted through issues of status and rank. The thermos of tea she had consumed to remain alert during last night’s extended shift had left her too caffeinated to sleep afterward.

So after dropping off the last Legislator of the evening, Shell had returned the official limousine to the governmental garage and ridden her scooter to a favorite little tavern called Atthis’ Lyre. The “Doctor” couple she had met there — whom she had first attracted by letting slip her role in helping evacuate Tricentennial Plaza after the explosion earlier that week — had proven to be an energetic pair of passionate, enthusiastic and relentless lovers. They absolutely wore Shell out.

Shell usually preferred going home with couples. It meant at least twice the fun, of course. But better still, the love the couple shared sometimes spilled over into what little affection they might show Shell. That took some of the sting out of her knowing that to them, she was nothing more than an “Easy Breeder,” a mere one night stand.

Sometimes it was a bit more than that, a whole weekend, maybe two. Occasionally, some “Doctor” would take a special interest in her and invite her back home several times over the course of a few weeks. But eventually, because they could, they would move on to someone else.

No law, nor even overtly recognized tradition, forbade “Doctors” from dating or marrying “Breeders.” It just never happened. Except of course in underground literature, the kind passed around as badly bound stacks of xeroxed sheets, because no publisher, bookseller or library would have anything to do with such ridiculous and “trashy” stories.

A painful smile fluttered across Shell’s lips as she remembered how, as a young girl, she would imagine one day marrying a “Doctor.” She had invented myriad strategies to make this possible, everything from counterfeiting a new identity, to performing some heroic deed that saved the Colony and being rewarded by being the first “Breeder” ever elevated to the higher caste. But the realities of her world had transformed those childish dreams into the very adult fantasies she privately permitted herself during her after-bar sojourns to some “Doctor’s” bed.

Like last night, when one of her hostesses had dozed off, and Shell had the other all to herself. The beautiful “Doctor” had responded so passionately to Shell’s well practiced fingers, lips and tongue that Shell found it easy to imagine that the “Doctor’s” impassioned moans were acclamations of love, not just lust. But then the “Doctor’s” cries of orgasm had awoken her spouse, relegating Shell back to her true status as just another impersonal toy for the loving “Doctor” couple to share.

Shell sighed. She knew that one day she would have to settle down and find some nice “Breeder” with whom she could build a life. Shell did want to have children someday, and was, deep down, still enough of an old-fashioned romantic to think that any proper family required two mothers. But right now, at barely 20 years old, such an ordinary, mundane lifestyle did not appeal at all.

While Shell knew she would never be important, at least she now got to be around and sometimes even share a bit in the lives of rich and influential people. She enjoyed “rubbing elbows” with the powerful women she chauffeured to and from Government House. And the fact that she occasionally got to rub everything else with some “Doctor” at night simply enhanced her fantasies of being part of their privileged and exciting world.

With a satisfied, if not entirely happy, smile, Shell turned and started jogging back toward her tiny, empty apartment.



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Old 07-07-2015, 12:13 PM   #15
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Elena couldn't believe college was turning out to be such a drag. Her Mom had said they'd be the best years of her life. Now, with less than a semester at University behind her, Elena was already getting sick of it!

It didn't help that she'd been fighting more and more with her roommates. All they ever seemed to want to do was study, at least on weeknights. Even Rosa, the most fun of the three, would sometimes go three or four days without going out to a bar, party or dance.

She and Rosa had just had another big row. It had started simply enough. Over dinner Rosa began talking about that day's lecture in her History of Science elective. "Professor Rand was saying today how too few members of the Doctor Caste are still scientists or medical specialists. Nowadays, she was saying, most so-called ‘Doctors' simply hold positions of political or economic power, or, as is becoming increasingly common, simply lead hedonistic lives maintaining themselves with the wealth accumulated by their mothers and grandmothers before them."

Thinking back, Elena wasn't sure if Rosa had been directing the comment at her or not. But at the time, Elena took it very personally. Elena was the only one of the four girls in her dorm suite majoring in Business Administration. The other three were each studying some branch of science or engineering.

Elena's mother was also by far the richest, and could have bought and sold the other three girls' families with little effort. Elena still resented the fact that her Mom hadn't used her influence to get the University to waive for Elena the general requirement that all students spend their first year living in the Frosh Dormitory.

"It will do you good to spend some time around some new girls," Mom had insisted. "I lived in the dorm my first year of college and made a lot of good friends there. If you want, starting Sophomore year you can get a place alone off campus, but I bet you'll decide to do what I did and live in whatever Sorority you end up pledging. It's much nicer going through school with a group of girls your own age."

However, having just stormed out of her dorm after a huge argument with her roommates about privilege and civic responsibility, Elena couldn't believe she would ever want to live with anyone again. She got on her scooter, and drove as fast as she could off campus. Elena ignored most of the lessons her mother had tried to impart to her growing up. But one of her mother's habits that Elena emulated was to visit the spa whenever feeling overly stressed.

She pulled up in front of the exclusive club to which her mother belonged, and in which Elena consequently had full membership privileges. A cute little Breeder valet helped her off her scooter and wheeled it away to a covered parking slot while Elena ascended the red carpeted stairs to the huge lobby. Elena ignored the swimming pool, squash courts, and other athletic facilities her mother usually used to work off her own tension.

Instead, Elena headed straight for an unmarked and inconspicuously guarded door that led to an area of the complex reserved for only the wealthiest and most discreet of the spa's clientele. Mom had shown it to Elena the day after her sixteenth birthday. They had never spoken of it since, although Mom surely knew from the monthly invoices how frequently Elena made use of its uniquely specialized equipment.

Accompanied by a technician, Elena made her way to her favorite machine. It took the technician and an attendant very little time to make the necessary connections. Knowing from experience the size of the tip Elena would bestow if they did as she asked, they set the device to run through two complete cycles, even though both club rules and manufacturer recommendations proscribed such repetition.

Once sure everything was set, the technician activated the device and moved away, although she quietly returned every few minutes to ensure all was in order. Elena, of course, was by then totally unaware of her surroundings. For a very long time, Elena knew nothing, thought nothing and sensed nothing but complete and overwhelming ecstacy.




Several hours later, Elena rode her scooter back to campus. Still feeling a bit lightheaded, she drove much more slowly now. Besides, she now was thoroughly relaxed.




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