Dance the Ballroom ((Closed for Myself and Sivertongue217))

IC:Sierra

Refueling Depot 363B was a defunct space platform just a few thousand kilometers Solar west of the gas giant Jupiter. Forty years ago it had been a vital and bustling spot in the pipeline of material and resources flowing from the outer colonies towards Old Earth. However after the Colonial war for Independence ended the oppressive economic exploitation by the unified government in Geneva. Having freighters ship cargo all the way from the outer colonies to Old Earth ceased making dollar sense. So in the forty years after the war Refueling Depot 363B became a ghost floating dead in space.

However it didn't stay dead. It found new life as a private auction block for the interplanetary genetic slavetrade. It served as a vital waypoint for the fly by night mining outfits littering the asteroid belt notorious for high-volume needs for a constant labor force and no regard for safety regulations. Or any number of tin-pot dictators in the outersystem needed a steady supply of cheap labor to prop up their regimes.

Which was why Sierra and her team were here. She and the six others of her Team One were in unpowered surplus military skinsuits with only the magsoles of their boots and gloves activated so they could crawl along the outside of the refueling depot like spiders the two hundred and thirty meters from where their Freighter, The Spartacus, was docked and the airlock at the end of the central corridor of the station.

They had to keep their suits unpowered because even though the station had scanners that were forty years old there was too much of a chance even sensors that out of date would pick up on their skinsuits' power sources. Unfortunately that meant no heaters or air-circulation for the seven of them. So they had twelve minutes to get from their ship to the airlock before they started suffering hypothermia.

Fortunately they reached it after only seven minutes. Sierra then took the risk of activating her minicamp on her wrist. It booted up her hacksaw program she had designed specifically for this mission. Against the depot's forty year old OS it took all of six seconds for the program to slice through the firewalls and own every gigobite of the station's central computer. From there it was childsplay to close all the blastdoors between where the mercenaries providing security for the auction and central communal area where the auction was set to take place.

Her and the six members of Team One powered up their suits' systems safe in the knowledge that the mercs in the depots operations center had no clue of their presence. Once all her suit's systems booted up she activated the radio. "Team One first objective clear."

The other teams reported in immediately. Team Two had reached the first Silo containing one thousand of their fellow slaves packed in like sardines in a can, and once the station's OS was spoofed they had commenced defusing the explosive charge placed by the mercs on the exterior of the silo. If they didn't get that bomb taken care of on both silos all those people would be blown to smitherines the instant the Manpower Salesman thought they'd take all that product.

Team Three needed another minute to reach it. She gave them until her team reached the main door to the Communal area. Team Four had disembarked from the Sparty with thrusterpacks and was pulling the umbilical they'd use to safely rescue all of those fellow slaves from the silos once the bombs were rendered harmless.

Her team comprised of the best shots on her crew pulled out the cases containing the military surplus weaponry. They weren't the newer versions capable of firing in both vacuum and atmosphere. These older versions worked only in atmo-not a real problem inside a space station. At the fourteen minute mark her hacksaw program opened the door leading them into the communal area where the auctioneers were plying their trade.

On the stage stood a dumbstruck blonde girl. She looked exactly like Sierra albeit ten years younger. They were selling another Sierra model-one of her sister clones. Sierra looked at the girl as she surveyed the perverted men betting ludicrous amounts of money for her. She couldn't understand what was happening. The bastards at Manpower that made them genetically engineered her to be too stupid to comprehend it. Afterall what good was a brain in a sexslave.

Sierra herself was the only one where they're mastery of the human genotype backfired on them for she was smart, smart enough to realize what was happening to her and despise them for it.

Someone gasped as they noticed them. The Manpower Sales Rep holding the auction stopped his riff on the features genetically designed into her sister-clone to boggle at the sight of seven armed people.

Her suit's speakers carried her voice across the large room announcing the Audubon Ballroom's battlecry, "Let's Dance!"

Her fellow freedom fighters/terrorists behind her opened fire into the crowd for the favorite targets the ballroom like to shoot at behind the fucking Manpower bastards that sold genetic slaves was the fucking bastards that bought genetic slaves.

The auctioneer began to reach into his pocket either for a commlink or the detonator to the charges outside the silos. Whatever it was Sierra couldn't let him pull it out of his pocket. In a split second she had calculated the angles, the air resistance, the weight, and fired their makeshift grenade of a jury-rigged jammer. It slammed straight into the bastard's face.

She pulled down her grenade launcher and pulled out the flechette launcher spraying razor sharp discs into the business suited mercs trying to get beads on them, with their tazers-the mercs had to worry about punching holes into the hull of the spacestation and causing an explosive decompression of the entire compartment. Something military grade weaponry may actually do. Unfortunately Sierra and her team being already in skinsuits and not caring so much about whether everyone in the room died or not didn't have that worry.

The mercs on the other side of the two blastdoors to the communal area had access to military grade weapons too though, and it was only a matter of moments before they used a cutting torch to slice through those doors and swarm her team.

She kept firing the flechette gun on full auto effortlessly rending human flesh to bloody ribbons indiscriminately in a sweeping swath. Sierra and Team One was the diversion. All they needed was to keep everyone occupied for sixteen more minutes long enough to defuse the bombs, connect the umbilicals and rescue all the slaves from the silos.

They were the Audubon Ballroom, and this was their dancefloor.

Watch them waltz!

"Son nothing will get you quite in trouble like a Dame, not you, not your life choices, and not any one else"

How right he was

Aryan T Lock rose out of bed groaning as he worked the stiff muscles. The neon light cast a warped glow on the shit hole of an apartment that he had been holed up in. Lock ignored the sleeping broad on the other side of the bed and the collection of blackmarket booze scattered about the room and instead stumbled his way into the bathroom.

"Lights" He said gruffly his voice heavy with sleep. The lights flickered on and thanks to his presets the ice cold water began shooting into the sink. He beelined straight towards it ducking his head in before he could chicken out. The water was ice cold and within second he felt wide awake with no traces of sleep or hangover in his system.

He lifted his up pushing his large hands through his short wet hair as he finally looked into the mirror above the sink.

The guy who looked back at him looked like he had seen better days

Black hair with a shocking streak of gray, shockingly tan skin that had the heavy lines of some one who had a rough life, his chin was covered in rough five o clock shadow he didn't bother to shave, and his eyes, his eyes shocking and vibrant green but heavy heavy with memories most wouldn't want to take a peak at.

Lock did his business in the bathroom and thankfully by the time he was finished the girl from last night was still asleep. Lock didn't do good byes and he made a point of trying to find girls that felt the same way.

He walked naked over to his duffel back his powerful shoulders rolling as he worked out his stiff muscles. His hands dived into his duffel and after rooting around for a few seconds he found his cigars. He took the time to light one taking a drag and blowing it out and watching the smirk curl in the light.

It was then he saw the time

"Shit" He growled shaking his head. He was late! He quickly got dressed ignoring his usual clothing and instead pulling out the black pants and white dinner ensemble. He got dressed in the monkey suit shaking his head several times. Even in poverty, even in this fucked up universe.

The rich still found a way to be rich

He pulled his bow tie and pinned the red rose on his lapel. He tapped it a few times checking to make sure the black market microphone and camera were working. His organization didnt have any thing like it which spoke volumes about how well they could do their jobs.

"Their Jobs? That was a joke in and of itself! The corporations ruled and even the good guys had to mind them. The system that had turned earth into the mess it was now was still out in full force here"

"And I was a part of it"

"Testing testing" Lock murmured into the rose as his eyes checked his PDA. It showed a solid signal and Lock breathed a sigh of relief. He turned once more to his duffel gently tapping his gun before zipping it up and stuffing it under the bed. With one last look at the girl he was out heading towards his assignment.

.......................

By the time he got to the party/ auction it was in full swing. He did his best to rub shoulders with the elite all while he searched for his target. He tried not to let his distate show and made a point not to look at the stage and the people being sold on top of them.

"They always tried telling us that there werent really "people", that they had done every thing to make sure they were dumb and co pliant. I suppose it made it better to some that they were little more than animals"

"But not every one"

Lock mingled, and after finding his way into the main ballroom finally found his target. He moved to engage mentally going over his planned conversation in his head to get the evidence he would need. Sure it was small potatoes in the larger scheme of things but it would mean a nice promotion for him, maybe even a chance to get a desk job of sorts.

If he was lucky that is

He was halfway there when it happened.

"Let's Dance!"

"Shit" Lock growled, he knew that battle cry. The Audubon Ballroom a rouge terrorist organization actively working against the corporations. They were agressive when it came to freeing the qoute on qoute "slaves" the corporations mass produced.

And they were aggressive with any one who got in their way to

Lock threw himself to the side, his target would have to wait and that was even if they survived! He hit the ground and grabbed the the legs of the table tipping it over and hiding behind it. His caution was rewarded as seconds later gunfire erupted and some thing began to thunk into the table.

"Mother fucker!" Lock growled shaking his head "idiots"

Lock was stuck for now without a weapon, hell without his badge he was a sitting duck! Either the terrorist would complete their objective and leave or the organization would call in the big guns and they would be ran out.

Either way it was NOT his problem

IC: Sierra

Sierra kept firing the flechette gun on full auto effortlessly rending human flesh to bloody ribbons indiscriminately in a sweeping swath. Sierra and Team One was the diversion. All they needed was to keep everyone occupied for sixteen more minutes long enough to defuse the bombs, connect the umbilicals and rescue all the slaves from the silos.

They were the Audubon Ballroom, and this was their dancefloor. The dying screams of fucking Manpower cronies were their music.

Now watch them waltz!

The Mercs to their credit took cover firing the tazers which were the only weapons they were armed with, and Sierra staggered back as one of the electrified darts hit her in her shoulder. Unfortunately the insulated layer of her skinsuit helped her just shrug off the current and firing a barrage of disks that quickly chewed through the pillar the Merc hid behind and then through him leaving scattered bloody parts no larger than her fist.

Their homemade jammer was working. The only thing she got over the suit's radio was static.

That was the last of them. The Common area was theirs until the Mercs tried to burn through the locked blastdoors. Walking over to the cowering auction-goers she reloaded her weapon with a fresh canister of flechettes.

Sierra noted how many men there were among them and her pussy clenched at the sight of them. In her current condition of being in heat the sight of men made her mind travel down the well worn path Manpower had engineered her for. Unfortunately these were all perverted soulless slave-buyers and she'd rather die from her heat derived protein deficiency than give any of them one iota of that satisfaction.

So instead she unsealed and lifted her faceplate so they all could see her face, and how very similar she looked to the young slave they all had been betting on before-obviously because they were both clones of the same donor. To drive the point home she stuck her tongue out showing them all the genetically imprinted barcode and serial number Manpower had branded her with from birth.

She pulled her tongue back inside her mouth and pulled her younger identical sister-slave before them, "Gentlemen, I believe the betting stopped at fifty-four million six thousand for this Sierra unit. Do we have a Fifty-four Seven?"

Timidly looking at the others and wondering what on earth the infamous ballroom terrorists were going with this someone raised his hand. Sierra promptly shot the hand off. The man fell to his knees clutching with wide eyes the bleeding stump that ended at his wrist shrieking in horror and agony.

She continued unrelentingly, "Fifty-four million Seven thousand going once...going twice...doesn't anyone wish to purchase a prime sexslave?"

No one was stupid enough to make another bet.

So Sierra shrugged pulling the trigger and ending the miserable slaver's life. "Sold."

She let go of the younger version of herself and tracked the muzzle of the flechette gun across them. "Next up for bidding...your own lives."

Someone panicked and got up running away. Sierra didn't hesitate gunning him down. To the rest of them she continued in her aloof and seemingly uncaring tone, "Come now, gentlemen, you were so willing to put a price upon her life." She nodded towards her sister-slave. "Seems only fair to consider the value of your lives too."

"Shall we start the bidding at Fifty-four million Six thousand like hers?" Another nod to the younger version of herself.

No one was stupid enough to make a bid again.

"You're right ofcourse," She smiled evilly her flechette gun tracking over each of them as if playing duck, duck, goose with them all, "Your lives aren't worth a damn."

Her second, Rinaldo X, grabbed her arm before she could start the very justified slaughter, "Captain, leave the cockroaches for later." He nodded to one of the blast doors where the Mercs on the other side were cutting through the blast door.

She pushed her sister slave under the podium and told her firmly in a tone of voice she knew she'd be conditioned to obey instantly, "Stay put."

With that she resealed her faceplate and threw a grenade before the crowd of slave-buyers. "That's motion activated," She told them all, "You miserable bastards so much as take too deep a breath and you all die."

Too bad, those grenades weren't cheap, and they only had enough of them to fill a storage locker on the Sparty, but killing these perverted monsters would be a trade-off that was well worth the expense of one grenade.

She returned to her team behind cover facing the hole being torched through the blastdoors. She didn't know what or how many was on the other side waiting to rush through that door, but she was pretty certain that whatever it was they were certainly more heavily armed than with some measly crowd-control tazers.

"Well this has gone tits up"

Lock repeated it like a mantra as the terrorist group moved in and took control. He wasnt angry or even scared about the sudden change of events but he was annoyed. The time and energy he had spent getting here and moving to collar his target was lost. Said targets blood was pooling on the ground and it was pretty clear that he was dead.

"Idiots" Lock murmured shaking his head. With nothing better to do he pushed the table away giving him a larger view of the organization. They didnt seem to interested in killing every one more like they wanted to put on a show. The woman with the gun was clearing grandstanding moving around her hostages with glee and also deliberate actions it was almost as if......

"Decoy" Lock told himself and the pieces clicked into place. Out side some where there were even more of the slaves. The ones being sold were just the front line, there was an even larger group waiting to be bought. The rest of her team must have been trying to secure them.

Which meant all the attention needed to be on the group here

The leaders faceplate hissed and slid up and just like that another piece of the puzzle was revealed to Lock. He saw some of the others gasp at her face the face of a woman moments ago they had been betting on. Lock was surprised himself, after all from what he knew those models werent designed to think properly for themselves however it was apparent that there was intelligence in the womans eyes.

As well as hate

Her sick betting began meaning she was busy enough that he could reposition. He took his time using her betting and the overall show to make his way close to the back of the stage. In his planning he had made sure to identify all the exits public and not so public that he could use to escape if it went tits up. Near the stage there was a maintenance hatch one leading down into the piping of the station if he could reach it he could slip out and try to find a vehicle to commandeer to make his escape.

IF being the million dollar word

The woman through down a motion activated grenade and Lock used that moment to push the grate to the side. He slipped down landing on his feet and shucking his dinner jacket. He moved quickly pushing and in some cases crawling his way through the steam vents and coolant that served as the lifeblood of the station. The map firmly memorized in his head he made it to the docking area in a matter of moments.

He dropped down his clothing ripped his body sweaty and his forearms exposed. He checked to make sure the coast was clear before he started to the ships intent on finding one he could use to escape in.

IC: Sierra

She returned to her team behind cover facing the hole being torched through the blastdoors. She didn't know what or how many was on the other side waiting to rush through that door, but she was pretty certain that whatever it was they were certainly more heavily armed than with some measly crowd-control tazers.

The Mercs' cutting torch was blazing a circle through the thick titanium of the blast door. Sierra doublechecked her weapon and edging behind a pillar for cover as the circle was completed and the sound of titanium resounded throughout the chamber. She and her team immediately began firing their flechette guns into the hole in the door.

Sierra snarled as they were rewarded with the sight of the first Merc trying to climb through falling back wounded or even better dead. Their skinsuits provided some protection against her teams flechettes but only to a certain point. They had several microlayers of protective fibers to stop the razor sharp discs from shredding through the merc wearing the skinsuit, but enough fire would eventually overwhelm that. Such as taking a continuous beating from as many as six flechette guns firing at him simultaneously.

The second threw a flash/bang as he climbed over the first to get through the hole raising what looked like a machine gun right at her. She ducked back behind the trailer as it made its presence known. She was rocked as she realized the Mercenary had loaded the machine gun with explosive tipped bullets. There was a big potential for catastrophic backfiring loading something like a machine with miniaturized artillery shells, but if it worked it could devastate its opponent as what was happening to the pillar between it and her demonstrated. It looked like it had been made of paper mache being chewed to pieces by a great white shark with every bullet colliding into it.

Eventually the second fell overcome by the sustained fire from her team, but it took precious seconds longer than the first. It allowed a third and fourth to climb through the hole in the door giving the mercenaries a toehold in the room.

Sierra felt the shock as the grenade she set on the auction buyers went off. She didn't know if it was caused by one of the panicking and setting off the motion-activated grenade or a stray bullet setting it off.

Good riddance. She wouldn't shed any tears on those scumsuckers.

The Mercs were crouched down firing at them as fourth and fifth climbed through the hole, but the third was wounded. Their fire was starting to slice through those protective layers of fibers. He was reeling aiming haphazardly and firing wildly.

One wild shot happened to hit her homemade jammer.

"Abort! Abort!" Sierra winced as Shadow's voice cut through the comm silence suddenly, "Repeat abort! Abort!"

She crouched behind the pillar and quickly keyed her comm. "Team One to Sparty. Report."

"Boss," Came shadow's harrowed voice, "The bastards rigged a failsafe to the fuelcells containing the slaves. Some sort of nerve gas in a second device inside. They set it to go off the second someone approached the bombs. All of them, boss. They're all dead."

Anger wanted her to curse and spit, but Sierra considered her options dispassionately instead and stated over the comm. "Initiate House Party."

"House Party," Shadow echoed, "Right, that will show them."

With that she signaled her team to pull back. They began the ordered retreat covering each other from cover to cover firing back at the mercenaries. It wouldn't be long until the mercs had other concerns with House Party intitated.

Things were going straight to hell

Lock was acutely aware of that, he was used to a plan going tits up. However he was used to being in some form of control even if it was dealing with some wrinkle.

Terrorist were outside of his control

He felt the station shudder and cursed eyes moving along the rows of freighters and ships. His ride was off asteroid waiting for him and tucked away in a crevasse. If he could find a space suit he could try his luck exfiltrate and get the hell out of here.

That also meant being outside where explosions were

"Shit" Lock said turning looking and trying to find another option. Hacking into and taking a starship was another option however it would take precious time and energy.

Unless

There was a ship airlocked to the station. The door would be easier to hack into then getting into a ship. All he needed to do was get in and hide until he could find a station to sneak off into. Lock jogged moving to said ship and sqauting down as he studied the door.

Hacking was by no means his speciality but luckily the door didnt have a advanced lockout feature. His multi tool hacked into it easily enough and soon it was sliding open and granting him access. He ducked in closing it behind him and rushing into the main hallway.

It was then he realized his mistake

It was subtle but there the ascents the plans and the weaponry. This was said terrorists ships.

He was in the heart of Audubon Ballrooms operations

"Shit" He grumbled shaking his head. He turned eyeing the door before he decided not to go back out. The terrorist would be coming through any second and making their escape. If he wanted to leave as fast as possible this was his best option.

Plus it wouldnt hurt to get some intel

He spent the next ten minutes finding a hiding spot. He finally found one in the cargo hold a place where he would be cramped but secured. He got into position moving some heavy crates to cover his hidey hole and then waiting.

IC: Sierra

They had made it down the access tube and out of the airlock they had entered the fuel depot station earlier. Now Sierra and her team were climbing back up the exterior of the station towards the Spartacus still docked within the outer docking ring. She saw that according to the "House party" contingency plan they had put into place the Sparty's cargo bay doors were open and the hidden autocannon and torpedo launcher had emerged out and was firing upon the other ships in the docking ring and the parts of the depot it could target.

The Sparty would do more once they were aboard and it could undock and target the depot and the other ships with impunity. Of course that was easier said than done. The mercenaries had followed after them and was climbing the station in an effort to catch them.

Fortunately their machine guns weren't as effective in a vacuum as they were in atmosphere-well they could still fire-but had to set themselves or the recoil would be likely to send the careening off the station and into space. Unfortunately for them her team's flechette guns used magnetic rails to fire their flechettes rather than chemical explosives of conventional arms. Recoil was a minimal concern. They were able to fire at the mercs pursuing them freely.

The only problem was they were taking too long. At this rate climbing and stopping to return fire back at the mercs the Sparty would run out of its meager ammunition supplies before they made it halfway to it.

"Team One to Spartacus," She called over the suit's radio as she took cover over a tertiary radio antennae's outcropping and fired some covering fire so Rinaldo X could climb up the length of the station section to meet the rest of the team.

"Spartacus copies, boss," Shadow's voice sounded over the radio's receiver, "You're running late to the party though. What's up?"

"We have some party-poopers holding us up," She replied, "We're stuck on the exterior of the core's central spire. Use the autocannon to target the Mercs twenty-five meters down the spire from our position."

"The autocannon? You sure, boss?"

"Yes...Do it," She announced before turning to her team, "Take cover!"

They hugged the station as the autocannon rotated. It aimed and Sierra prayed that its forty-year old targeting system wouldn't suddenly malfunction now. It fired and she felt the shell's explosion through the skin of the station. Glancing back she saw that the cannon's aim had still proved to be true. Where the mercs were a moment ago there was now a hole streaming atmosphere.

They were free to climb up the rest of the length the station and into the emergency airlock of the Spartacus. Once inside Sierra removed her helmet and hit one of intercom panels. "We're aboard, Shadow."

"Got it, boss," The voice from the bridge came back, "Undocking now."

The Spartacus began pulling away firing torpedos and the autocannon blowing more holes in the defunct fuel depot.

It was only once they cleared the station that Lock realized how dumb his plan was.

He was on a terrorist ship! Surrounded by people who blew up things for fun! He knew the Ball Rooms bloody past he knew how dangerous they were. Sure he had gotten off the station they were blowing to hell but now they were going who knows where with him! There was no garuntee he would be able to find a place to get off or they wouldn't go right to wherever they were based out of.

"Frak it" Lock growled shaking his head and pushing away the crate "I need a new plan"

He got up pacing on the deck, saying he needed a new plan was one thing.

Making one? Harder

That girl in the front, the one who had talked to every one. Lock vaguely recalled seeing her on a list naming her as a high ranking member of the party. If he could find her and get the drop on her he might be able to force her to drop him off some where. He would have to promise her he wasnt interested in her but since he wasnt it shouldnt be a problem.

"Worth as much a plan as any thing" He said shrugging and grabbing his gun. He moved out of the cargo area peeking to make sure his coast was still clear before he began the task of finding her room.

He found it easily, the system was designed for outside intrusions and so inside he was easily able to find a computer and identify which room was hers. Getting to it was harder the crew wasnt huge on the ship but given that they just finished a mission they were moving about more freely. It took him a full hour to sneak to her room.

"Okay here we go" He said grabbing his gun and pulling it out "Just go in there hold her at gun point and demand to be taken to the nearest station"

He repeated it to himself and then narrowing his eyes and putting on his bad cop face. He pushed through opening the door and leveling his gun as he took in the scene before him.

"Freeze I-"

IC: Sierra

Sierra's team boarded the freighter and the Spartacus began the undocking procedures. pulling off where it could target the station with its preciously limited supplies of torpedoes blowing gaping wounds into the side of the refueling depot. Air streamed out of those multiple holes like blood out of a bullethole making death a certainty for anyone on board.

Once the destruction of the station was certain Sierra had the Sparty pull in its jury-rigged weapon mounts back into the cargo bays. The exterior hatches closed making the Spartacus like any other ubiquitous and completely innocuous long-haul freighter plying the spacelanes from here near Jupiter to research colonies at Mercury and all the way to the Extra-solar Destiny installations around Pluto. Then setting course for a much needed resupply stop at Whitehaven Colony over two hundred thousand kilometers away. It would be a journey that would have taken a month and a half in the earlier days of space settlement, but with the newer improvements in thruster technology of the last century the journey from the disintegrating refueling depot and Whitehaven would be only a little over a week.

Sierra made certain their expended ordinance was accounted for, food, fuel, life support...etc...etc...

Finally after an hour she left the bridge for her cabin. Once inside she stripped off her skinsuit leaving her in only a tanktop and panties that were soaking wet from sweat and other body fluids. She pulled the tanktop off revealing full breasts with nipples puckered and hard. The cool air of the cabin made goose bumps rise on her skin and shivers race down her spine to her core. She was always over-sensitive when she was like this.

Sierra units such as herself after a while without sexual contact went into what was called "heat". Where the genes that governed sexual responses forced her body into over-drive. It was a quality control measure or so the bastards at Manpower had called it. They-she needed a cock in her-bad, right now.

"Fuck!" She swore with all the venom the human race had ever known to feel. She hated being still chained up by those bastards, and she especially hated not being in control of her own body, and...and she hated how much she wanted a man to come in here and fulfill the purpose she had been genetically designed for. She was not anyone's sextoy.

Sierra ripped off her panties ignoring the gush of vaginal juices dripping down from her pussy. She tried taking a shower, a cold one, as long as she could too. Alas however on a starship clean water was a carefully controlled resource. After eight minutes the computer automatically shut off the shower unit leaving Sierra dripping wet and unfulfilled. She plopped down on her bunk pulling out her last resort from drawer underneath.

Her vibrator was large and usually sufficient but after a few minutes plunging it wildly deep inside her pussy she realized the horrible truth. It wasn't enough...would never be enough. Sierra needed the real thing. She bit her pillow to muffle the sounds of her frustration as the vibrator brought her on the brink of orgasm, but it was just tantalizingly out of reach.

"Dammit!" She ground out in a litany of frustrated profanity around the pillow in her teeth, "Mother fucker...Shit....God dammit....I need a man now!"

Then the door light suddenly slid open and testifying that the universe had both a sense of mercy and a twisted sense of humor there stood a man in her doorway.

He charged gun in hand inside her cabin announcing,
"Freeze I-" He stammered realizing what it was he was seeing.

Sierra took that moment launching herself off the bunk. The crew section of this style of ship rotated to produce a form of simulated gravity but it was still less than earth-standard so she managed to sail across the cabin and into the man. One hand knocking his gun hand away and clamping her hand around that wrist to keep it controlled and pointing away from her. Her foot planted on the decksole providing ground to power to the elbow of her other arm slamming into his temple followed by her other knee driving straight up into his solar-plexis hard enough to lift him up off the floor an inch-again lesser gravity making such a thing easier to accomplish.

"Who the hell are you," She asked pulling her arm back balling her hand into a fist and swinging to collide into the man's face.

Locke expected a lot of things

For her to be in a meeting with some one, for her to be cleaning her weapon, for her to have already found out he was on board and set up a ambush for him. There were any number of ways this could go to shit... Well it was already shit but even bigger shit.

But he never expected to see the sight that greeted him

She was naked.... Naked and furiously masterbating. Even in the split second of time he had to look he could tell she was very very worked up. Her pussy was glistening with wetness and the way she was ramming it inside of her and cursing let him know he was on the brink of an orgasm.

One that didnt seem to want to come

Before he could say any thing else or recover from his surprise she was launching her self at him. He didnt have time to fire his gun or any thing before she was colliding into him. The punches to the face as well as the knee hit and her general combat skill was enough for him to shake off the surprise.

"Who the hell are you,"

She swung a fist at his face but he moved dodging it at the last minute. He had the higher ground and the weightless advantage and he quickly used it to his advantage. He grabbed her fist and used her own momentum against her pulling and flipping her into the air.

"My name is Commander Locke" Locke growled sending her flying across the room "I'm an officer in the corps! I was working under cover during your little raid and I had to sneak aboard your ship to get off the station"

He kept his arms up striking a combat stance and watching her. He was well trained in zero G combat (though it had been admittedly a few years since he last had to defend himself in zero G) and so he watched her ready for any move that said she was going to launch her self again.

IC: Sierra

"Who the hell are you," She asked pulling her arm back balling her hand into a fist and swinging to collide into the man's face.

She gasped as he deftly dodged with hands grabbing hold of her arm and using the lesser gravity and her own momentum to lift her up over in the air. So this guy knew how to fight hand to hand in null-G. Another Merc perhaps?

She didn't try to fight her flip. Instead she relaxed and went with it, her accidentally amped up brain instantly calculating her trajectory and speed and making the adjustments so she'd land on her feet cat-like on the deck before her door.

Sierra turned looking at him. Handsome mother fucker. The animalistic part of her that was in heat at the moment wanted her to jump the guy use him, his cock, to scratch that itch her vibrator couldn't quite reach.

"My name is Commander Locke," He growled to her, "I'm an officer in the corps! I was working under cover during your little raid and I had to sneak aboard your ship to get off the station."

The corps? A hundred and fifty years ago during the age of Diaspora when humanity was reaching out across the solar system building colonies and stations from Mercury to Pluto the United Earth Government established the Space Defense Corps. It sounded like a space navy, but in reality during those days it was more like the FBI or Coast Guard back on Old Earth's seas. Responsible for search and rescue, customs enforcement, immigration control, and investigating Inter-planetary smugglers and bloodthirsty pirate rings. That was before the war for Colonial Independence forced them to become more of the space navy you'd think. After losing the war peace-time cutbacks to their budget forced them to return back to their Interplanetary law-enforcement roles.

These days they were rarely seen beyond Mars. Certainly never out in the wilderness of the Outer Colonies like they were in now.

"A space-cop? Yeah right," She scoffed using the unofficial but ubiquitous pop culture moniker for them, "One problem though. You're not surgically attached behind a desk or suckling at the teats of whatever mega-corporation that has you in their pocket."

She reached back to the console beside the door behind her and pressed a red button there. Alarms began to sound and a recorded voice began to repeat. 'Intruder Alert! Intruder Alert! Captain's quarters.'

But her hand didn't stop there on the wall beside the door were storage shelves and racked on one was her Colt and Luger 8 millimeter. She drew it and leveled it at "Mister Space-Cop". "I never forget a face and I remember yours. skirting around the auction buyers at the depot. I thought you were trying to avoid getting what you deserved with the others. Not that it was going to save you from me. You chose the wrong ship to sneak aboard, Slave-buying bastard." She aimed for right between his eyes. "Your life-expectancy is pretty much the time it takes for me pull this trigger."

When she pointed the gun at Locke he felt and not for the first time the trickle of fear of death run down his spine. He was of the mindset that fear was good, fear could be used. Only idiots who didnt know better laughed in the face of danger, fear could save your life potentially.

"You really want to shoot me?" Locke growled raising his hands at the same time the alarm began to blare "What if I am telling the truth? We "Space cops" tend to get a little more motivated when its one of our own that dies..... You really want to bring that kind of heat?"

He raised an eyebrow then brought his hand down moving to his shirt "If I was just buying a slave would I have come equipped with this?"

He opened his shirt revealing the wire he had placed on his own body to get the confession "I was trying to extract a high value target" He told her pushing his shirt off to reveal his scarred chest and muscular torso "I was trying to make a large scale bust.... You interrupted that and since all of me exfil options went FUBAR I decided you were my best bet of escaping"

"I dont want any trouble" Locke repeated raising his hands back up "I dont care about you guys and your operation I just want a lift back to the nearest station shit if you want me to work for it I can even work for it" He told her speaking plainly.

IC: Sierra

She reached back to the console beside the door behind her and pressed a red button there. Alarms began to sound and a recorded voice began to repeat. 'Intruder Alert! Intruder Alert! Captain's quarters.'

But her hand didn't stop there on the wall beside the door were storage shelves and racked on one was her Colt and Luger 8 millimeter. She drew it and leveled it at "Mister Space-Cop". "I never forget a face and I remember yours. skirting around the auction buyers at the depot. I thought you were trying to avoid getting what you deserved with the others. Not that it was going to save you from me. You chose the wrong ship to sneak aboard, Slave-buying bastard." She aimed for right between his eyes. "Your life-expectancy is pretty much the time it takes for me pull this trigger."

He raised his hands in the air, "You really want to shoot me?"

She only smiled evilly at him keeping the gun level without wavering.

"What if I am telling the truth," He pressed, "We "Space cops" tend to get a little more motivated when its one of our own that dies..... You really want to bring that kind of heat?"

"Still sticking to that story," She asked with a quirked eyebrow, "You should've said something slightly more believable like you're the fucking tooth fairy or something."

He moved his hand down and Sierra almost pulled the trigger on him, but she wanted to see what he was reaching for.

"If I was just buying a slave would I have come equipped with this?" He pulled open his shirt showing the micropatch recorder on his chest.

For a brief moment Sierra's eyes focused on the bare skin revealed, roaming over the muscled contours of his pectorals. She licked her lips and breathed more heavily and not from the exertion of their fight. She could imagine the feel of that torso under her fingers, the taste of that scarred skin on her tongue.

It was over real quick though. She shook out of it real quick reminding herself. This man was a slaving bastard and she'd rather die than be in the same bed with him.

"I was trying to extract a high value target," He told her, "I was trying to make a large scale bust.... You interrupted that and since all of me exfil options went FUBAR I decided you were my best bet of escaping"

Sierra's evil smile broadened as she waggled the gun in her hand pointed at him, "Looks like its still going FUBAR for you, huh slaver?"

"I don't want any trouble" Locke repeated raising his hands back up.

"Tough," She spat, "You've got trouble."

"I don't care about you guys and your operation," He continued, "I just want a lift back to the nearest station. Shit, if you want me to work for it I can even work for it"

The door behind her slid open and a broad barrel-chested giant armed with another flecchette gun loomed into the room. Behind him was a petite thin woman with a pair of vicious knives and a Mohawk. "Looks like we got a rat that snuck aboard," She said looking over Sierra's prisoner.

"Archimedes," She ordered them, "You and Rinaldo take our slaving guest to the lower hold." She arched an eyebrow, "And I don't really care whether he falls down a few times on the way either."

Rinaldo and Archimedes forcefully shoved the fake 'space cop' out of her quarters. When he was going a little too slowly Archimedes slammed the butt end of his flechette gun into his back driving him to his knees.

The door slid closed and Sierra was alone in her room where she return back to her vibrator and the hunt for that elusive orgasm. Yet she didn't instead she growled in frustration pressing a button and saying, "Computer, database search. I want everything we have on the 'space cops' movements beyond the Mars' orbit colonies."

Well this had turned to shit

He wasnt surprised when she decided NOT to believe him and instead have them throw him in the brig. Now that reality of his situation hit him he realized how dumb he was to even get on this ship in the first place! They were all fanatics terrorist who hated slavers and any thing related to them. He was as good as a slaver to them and nothing he said was going to change their perception of that.

So he was fracked

He moved slowly his mind scrambling as he tried to figure out a way out of the situation he was in. All that earned him however was a crack to the head that sent him down to his knee. He felt his head explode with pain and he growled biting back the retort as they jerked him back to his legs.

"On your feet slaver scum" The one named Rinaldo snapped his voice speaking volumes about how he felt about the man.

"You know if you want me to go a bit faster next ask" Locke grunted putting on his best smile as they kept moving down the stair case.

"Your lucky we arent just blasting you out of the nearest air lock" Archimides growled his gun worming into Locke's shoulder blades. Locke decided not to say any thing about that and did his best to stay silent as they marched him down into the belly of the ship. Soon enough he was shoved into a dingy looking brig and locked away.

Locke sighed and turned watching them march away without another word. He thought about calling out and asking about food but wisely decided to keep his mouth shut. Instead he went over to the short metal shelf that served as his bed and flopped down. His only chance now was for them to either give him mercy or to actually do some research and find out that he was who he said he was. Either way all he could do was sit tight and hope for the best.

IC: Sierra

The next day their "guest" was escorted by Rinaldo and Archimedes to Sierra's office. She watched the image on screen as she prepared. Word had spread about their stowaway slaver and the crew had all glared at him with the cold hard hateful eyes of victims towards one of their oppressors.

By some miracle he had survived the last twenty-four hours aboard her ship. Now he was sat in the chair before her desk, his hands zip-tied behind his back. Rinaldo perched herself on the edge of Sierra's desk facing him as she passed the time juggling six or seven knives dangerously close in front of him. Archimedes leant his broad body by the door, the flechette gun propped familiarly across his arms as he watched their captive with patience, waiting for the opportunity to settle a lifetime of scores with this man.

"We should cut him up," Rinaldo told Archimedes as she balanced three knives precariously end to end on the tip of one as the other hand juggled the other three around them, "I can make them shallow so they hurt like hell but he looses only a small amount of blood. That way we get to keep cutting him and cutting him for hours and hours before he finally bleeds to death." She punctuated that with a flick of her wrist launching one knife to stick in the chair between their prisoner's legs. The razor sharp edge right up against his groin.

Rinaldo was a Lima line. Designed by Manpower as an entertainment unit like Sierra, but unlike her she was engineered with near-superhuman balance, agility, and hand-eye coordination. On the official paperwork Limas were intended to be dancers, acrobats, and jugglers. However there were not that many places that called for a circus performer, certainly not many that justified the expense of patronizing Manpower and housing and disciplining the slave. That said in reality Rinaldo and all her sister Limas were not circus-performers they were paid for by certain organizations in certain colonial and Earth governments that don't officially exist as disposable and completely deniable assasins. Unfortunately for them Rinaldo had decided that rather than the targets she was instructed to eliminate she would much rather kill manpower and her former employers.

"Why fuck around," Archimedes argued, "Just put him in the airlock. Override the safeties. Start pumping the air out really slow so he will have lots and lots of time to panic. Then we just go and forget about him as he asphyxiates to death over a few hours."

"Oh I like that idea," Rinaldo chuckled, "But its not creative enough. We want him to suffer remember?"

Archimedes shook his head to her as if he'd brook no argument over this, "There is nothing worse than being left out in cold, black, waiting to die."

Archimedes was a Beta, a labor unit. Big and strong, loyal over and above anything else. He had once been sold to a disreputable mining consortium out in the asteroid belt. There he'd nearly broken his back mining ore twenty hours a day in structures with only minimal environmental and radiation shielding. That was until the consortium decided operating that mine was no longer a profitable endeavor and just left, venting the atmosphere to rid themselves of any technically illegal laborers. Archimedes was in a envirosuit when it happened so he survived-if you could call watching his brothers die from explosive decompression and spend two and a half weeks in that suit waiting for his turn to die too. He'd named himself after the ship-a ballroom ship-that had rescued him.

Rinaldo nodded, "Point taken, big guy." She looked into their prisoner's eyes. "Which would you rather die from, Mr. Slaver? Death by a thousand cuts or slowly being spaced in an airlock?"

"This isn't a joke," Archimedes growled, "We kill him in the worst way."

Rinaldo looked up from their prisoner to Archimedes. "What's with you? You're not usually this blood-thirsty?"

"He was in the Captain's room," His voice hard and hating as he snarled.

"I see your point. A slaver in a Sierra's room while she's suffering in Heat-" With two lightning fast flicks of her wrists two more knives joined the one landing stuck in the chair between his legs. Rinaldo balanced two knives on the point of one in her hand as the other pressed the sharp edge of the last knife to his throat. "We'll just kill this perverted piece of shit."

The door slid open and Sierra entered wearing a figure concealing ship's jumpsuit. "No one will kill him, yet."

Rinaldo pulled the knife away from his throat, "Of course, You'll want to do it yourself, Captain."

"No one will kill him yet," Sierra walked around them taking her chair behind her desk and lifting her touch-pad before them. It showed a news broadcast downloaded to the Sparty's database the last time they were in dock about the space-cops busting a child-sex slave ring on the Martian moon of Phoebos. Among the officers commended by the news story was a younger version of the man tied down to the chair opposite her.

"Holy shit," Rinaldo exclaimed, "He was telling the truth!"

"He was still in your room," Archimedes roared angrily.

"Let me worry about that," She told him with all the authority she'd learned to wield as the commander of a gang of terrorists.

"Well," She looked to the man in the chair, "Officer Locke, is it? Perhaps you'd like to repeat your story for me now that I'm in a more open-minded mood?"

If the two bothered him he didnt show it. Locke wasnt an idiot he had been in his fair share of scraps and hostile zones. Sure this was his first time dealing with a extremist group but they were no different from most criminals. The hatred burned more but the fear tactics... Well they were all the same. They wanted his fear, wanted him to beg for his life and feed off of it.

He wouldnt give them shit

So he stayed quite not flinching when the knives were thrown at him. Rationally he knew they could kill him at any moment that they might not wait until their commander came in. However she seemed like the type of person who ran a tight ship and wouldnt let that happen. Sure enough the knives sunk close but never touched him and the big guy threatened but made no move to come at him. His suspicions confirmed he continued to wait and say nothing. Even when the knife wielding woman pressed the knife to his neck he simply starred locking eyes with her and daring her to do it.

"No one will kill him, yet."

The knife disappeared like that and for the first time Locke smiled. Yet meant she wanted to hear his story, yet meant she might have found proof that he was who he said he was. Moments later his suspicions were confirmed as he was showed the picture as well as the others of one of his younger escapades. The big guy didnt seem impressed and Locke idly wondered if there was any thing going on between the commander and him to inspire such jealously. So what if he was in her room? I mean sure he had caught her.... Well doing what she was doing but its not like they actually had sex.

"Officer Locke, is it? Perhaps you'd like to repeat your story for me now that I'm in a more open-minded mood?"

He shook himself from his thoughts and cleared his throat.

"Its not changed since you last heard it" He said politely but with a hard edge to his tone "I was at the auction trying to bust a client who has been over stepping the... "laws" put into place by the corporations"

His tone spoke volumes about what he thought about those "laws". His eyes shone as well with his own anger about the current political situation.

"I got no issue with you and your group" Locke said eyeing them all "I may be a lawman but since the laws become such shit I dont take any offense with a person or group thinking they can do better.... I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and now all I want is to be dumped at the nearest habitable station or planet so I can make my own way back I am even willing to work for the trip or sell you information if your in the market for it I dont know much but I can get you a target or two you might not have found by conventional means"

IC: Sierra

"Well," She looked to the man in the chair, "Officer Locke, is it? Perhaps you'd like to repeat your story for me now that I'm in a more open-minded mood?"

"Its not changed since you last heard it" He said politely but with a hard edge to his tone.

"As you may have noticed at the time, Officer," She said patiently, "I was somewhat indisposed."

She looked him in the eyes levelly then. "Were you there at the auction to investigate our operation?"

"I was at the auction trying to bust a client who has been over stepping the... "laws" put into place by the corporations," He continued with a tone conveying the derisive tone-proclaiming just how long he'd served as a law-enforcement officer in places where profit margins of the mega-corporations that owned many of the colonies out there decided which laws were upheld and which were conveniently forgotten.

He looked to her and then Rinaldo and shot a glance back over his shoulder to Archimedes, "I got no issue with you and your group."

Sierra pressed, "Do you intend to investigate us or the operation of the Ballroom in general?"

"I may be a lawman but since the laws become such shit I don't take any offense with a person or group thinking they can do better...." He stated, "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now all I want is to be dumped at the nearest habitable station or planet so I can make my own way back. I am even willing to work for the trip or sell you information if you're in the market for it."

"Very good, officer," She nodded, "Pose a non-committal statement about how disillusioned you are with the system to put us at ease. Just what you would have been trained to do as an undercover agent."

Sierra leaned forward across her desk pinning him to his seat, "Don't be at ease. You aren't off the hook. We may just have to kill you anyway, Officer Locke, for operational security, you understand?"

She leaned back and laid the touchscreen down on her desk. "So you are going to have to give me a reason-a very good reason-to not have you killed where you sit."

"Don't be at ease. You aren't off the hook. We may just have to kill you anyway, Officer Locke, for operational security, you understand?"

"Sure" Came his reply his tone still sure and measured "I can see where that would make sense... Like you said I could be spinning a bunch of bull shit just to get on your good side or I could investigate you guys the minute I step off this tug it might seem easier to kill me and I assure you my investigation into the guy while sanctioned was under the radar"

"In short no one will come looking for me" He said pausing to let the words sink in.

"Now this may sound like a cowards words especially given you guys are warriors who I have no doubt would kill and be killed for your cause but I really dont want to die I like life I like it a lot even in this fuck up space cowboy type world I am afraid of losing my life to and fear is a pretty strong motivator when it comes to keeping one self alive"

"Do I look like a hard edged cop?" He asked her raising an eyebrow "Do I look like some one with much loyalty to justice? Justice is a rare commodity in this world and it certainly cant be found in my corps I can help you get some justice however I do have access to information secret information and HVT's I can also work on your ship free of charge in short I am at your mercy as a prisoner and only wish for you to treat me with the same compassion as you are trying to get for your fellow brothers and sisters"

IC: Sierra

She leaned back and laid the touchscreen down on her desk. "So you are going to have to give me a reason-a very good reason-to not have you killed where you sit."

"Sure" Came his reply his tone still sure and measured "I can see where that would make sense... Like you said I could be spinning a bunch of bull shit just to get on your good side, or I could investigate you guys the minute I step off this tug. It might seem easier to kill me, and I assure you my investigation into the guy while sanctioned was under the radar"

Sierra was fixated on him now, god dammit. She watched his lips as he spoke in motion forming every syllable of every word. She couldn't stop wondering how they'd feel on her over-heated skin. She shook herself trying stubbornly to regain control of her artificially-engineered sex drive. Damn this heat.

"Now this may sound like a cowards words, especially given you guys are warriors, who I have no doubt would kill and be killed for your cause, but I really don't want to die," He continued oblivious to the train of her thoughts, "I like life. I like it a lot even in this fuck up space cowboy type world. I am afraid of losing my life too, and fear is a pretty strong motivator when it comes to keeping one self alive."

Sierra shook her head, "If we let you go what assurance could you give us that you won't turn right around and investigate us and the whole Ballroom network. We in the Audubon Ballroom are nothing but terrorists and murderers to you law-abiding types, right?"

"Do I look like a hard edged cop," He asked her with a raised eyebrow Sierra wanted to melt in her chair under that gaze-again god-dammit, "Do I look like some one with much loyalty to justice? Justice is a rare commodity in this world, and it certainly can't be found in my corps."

"No," She smirked looking to Rinaldo and Archimedes knowingly, "No one knows better than us how rare a commodity justice can be."

"I can help you get some justice however," He told her, "I do have access to information-secret information and HVT's. I can also work on your ship free of charge."

She leaned in saying, "Go on."

"In short; I am at your mercy as a prisoner," He concluded, "And only wish for you to treat me with the same compassion as you are trying to get for your fellow brothers and sisters."

She nodded. This would be far more simple if she weren't in heat and fixated upon him. Her eyes being drawn to his hands...imagining them doing any number of things to make himself useful on this ship-nothing to do with the actual maintenance or service of the Spartacus.

"Just what kind of 'secret information' are you referring to Officer."

"Just what kind of 'secret information' are you referring to Officer."

Locke grinned if only because he knew he had enticed her with his words. Now all he had to do was finish the negotiation and maybe just maybe he would make it out of this alive.

More or less at least

"No offense but I am not a fool" He told her smiling once more "I am not going to give up my once ace so to speak"

He nodded at her tablet "So lets do this if you would be so kind to uncuff me and let me borrow your tablet I will type in one set of coordinates as a gesture of good faith these coordinates will put you in an area that I think would be highly highly desirable to you and your team you drop me off or at least decide not to kill me and I give you the other half"

He leaned back turning and noticing the two members of her crew still sticking around. He noted the strong man who very MUCH looked like he didnt want to let him go and turned back to her.

"And also could we speak privately? No offense but your boy over there looks like he wants to pummel me and throw me out of the air lock.... Who would know your boy friend would be so upset about me walking in on you" He said ignoring the guys growl and smiling at her.

IC: Sierra

"Just what kind of 'secret information' are you referring to Officer."

He grinned in response to her question, "No offense, but I am not a fool. I am not going to give up my one ace so to speak."

She gave him a grin that wouldn't melt ice in the photosphere of the sun saying skeptically, "You certainly wouldn't if you had any actual information to offer."

"So lets do this. If you would be so kind as to uncuff me, and let me borrow your tablet I will type in one set of coordinates as a gesture of good faith," He said nodding towards the touchpad she was holding, "These coordinates will put you in an area that I think would be highly highly desirable to you and your team. You drop me off, or at least decide not to kill me and I will give you the other half."

"Or he gives us the coordinates and we decide not to kick him out the airlock," Archimedes growled ominously.

"And also could we speak privately? No offense but your boy over there looks like he wants to pummel me and throw me out of the air lock.... Who would know your boy friend would be so upset about me walking in on you"

"My boyfriend," Sierra blinked at him and then started laughing, "You do realize Archimedes is a Beta? They were designed to have no sex drive at all. It was an ultimately failed attempt to increase productivity. His reaction to you is based solely upon his purely platonic loyalty to me."

"He's playing you, boss," Rinaldo sneered, "He's got dog shit to offer us and he knows it. Let me cut him. I'll get him to squeal his guts out."

Sierra shook her head. "Go wait outside and let me speak with the officer alone."

"What," Archimedes snarled, "But he knows what state you're in...the pervert will take advantage of-"

She slammed her hand down ontop of her desk cutting him off midsentence. "-I am still capable of exerting some measure of self-control thank you. Now wait outside the door."

Archimedes clearly didn't like it, but he wasn't designed to deny a clear order from someone he was loyal to. So he and Rinaldo both stormed out the door to wait for her.

So now Sierra was left alone with officer Locke. It would be a lot easier if he wasn't so god-damned hot. That part of her that was still nothing but a genetically engineered sex slave wanted to jump him right there and start ripping off her too cloying and itchy jumpsuit for him. "Officer," She said with deliberate casualness, "You seem to be laboring under the impression that you are in a position to negotiate. That is not the case. You will give us those coordinates and we will not have you killed."