hatchette

HATCHETTE
by
Molly Prude
(writing as A.E. Ducheau)
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2010 by Molly Prude
email the author at molly.prude@gmail.com
Author's note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older

Chapter 1
Dick and Jane
Roku was late for class again. Her heels echoed as they clicked down the cavernous
corridors, from St. Juliet's central Cloister all the way out to the Social Studies classrooms.
She should be running, Roku knew, but she'd twist an ankle if she attempted it. Stupid
fucking shoes! The five inch heels served no purpose but to stick her ass out from under the
ridiculously short pleated skirt – her school 'uniform'. What a joke. She couldn't reach for as
much as a dropped stylus without flashing her panties at the whole world.
But then Roku guessed that was the whole point – the tight cotton shirt hugging snuggly to
her breasts, the white knee-high socks contrasting into the black of her Mary Janes – the
Matrons were a bunch of fucking perverts, all the way up the Order. Even whatever
bureaucrat, hidden away in some small office somewhere in the Sentinel Building, must have
been masturbating frantically as she'd conceived of the school dress code. Just the thought of
every pubescent girl in the world showing off their tight little ass – you could just see her,
fingers buried up to the second knuckle, deep in the wet warmth of her jane.
Thinking like that wasn't getting Roku to class any faster.
She took the next corner far too quickly, and her feet gave out underneath her. An ankle
buckled and her arms shot out for balance. Her history textbook went flying, along with her
leather folio. Shit! She cursed to herself. She needed to be careful. The folio contained her
tablet and stylus, as one might expect, but it also doubled as a secret holster for her burner –
the small plasma handgun she'd, as a Hatchette, been issued. If that thing went off at
school... well, her cover would be well and truly blown. Teenage girls weren't supposed to
carry around energy weapons, and certainly shouldn't bring them to school. Her mission

would be over before it had even begun if anyone found out about the weapon – discovered
that Roku was secretly a Hatchette.
Gathering up her things, she hopped the last few meters to the door of her History Class.
She sucked in a deep breath and turned the handle of the door. She wasn't one step into the
room before the Matron sent the black, heavy battery pack flying. This was the normal
punishment for tardiness: a spare battery pack for a tablet thrown, full force, by the Matron
at the tardy student's head. There'd be more punishment later, of course, but the blow to the
head instantly punctuated the Matron's displeasure.
Roku could have caught the battery pack. Even taken by surprise, the door still only half
open, she could have reached out and caught the black block in the air – all Hatchettes'
reflexes were artificially enhanced and augmented – but she went ahead and let the battery
smack her in the left temple. A Hatchette could have caught the battery pack in the air
without thinking, but not a normal schoolgirl. And that was what Roku was pretending to be.
Roku would have to take her lumps and like it.
“Late again, Roku?” the Matron asked, not expecting and answer. The other girls, already in
their seats, tittered like the schoolgirls they were.
“Sorry, Matron,” Roku replied, trying to sound contrite. Roku held her hand to her head in
an pantomime of pain. The blow hadn't hurt her. Her body registered the injury, that was all.
Pain was irrelevant to Roku.
“Pick it up,” the Matron ordered, and Roku knew that the second part of her punishment
had arrived. She bent forward and reached out to where the battery had landed. She had the
top three buttons of her shirt undone, as all the girls did; it was the style and an unofficial
part of the dress code. She knew the Matron would get a good solid look down her cleavage –
the smooth flesh of her C-cup breasts pushing out of her shirt. Roku looked up to see the
Matron smiling. The pervert! A hint of a tongue emerged and licked the bright scarlet of the
Matron's lips. Roku stood up and walked the short distance across the classroom to the
Matron, letting her heels click on the stone.

“See me after class, Roku,” the Matron said, taking the battery pack. Roku turned and
skulked away, but could feel the Matron's eyes burning into her rear. She found a seat in the
front row.
The Matrons were supposed to be chaste – they belonged to an ascetic order – but they
treated the school as little more than their own personal harem. Punishments, as Roku knew,
were usually sexual in nature– pain and pleasure all wrapped in one.
All the Matrons were insane, Roku thought, draped from shoulder-to-toe in their long block
robes, a tight corset worn on the outside to give their middle-aged frames shape. They
applied white, pancake makeup generously to their faces, giving them all the appearance of
crazed kabuki actresses. They were rapers of teenage girls, pure and simple, using the
Order’s purity to give their acts an air of godliness.
But the Hatchettes had not been created to punish the Matrons. No, purging the Order if its
perverts was not Roku’s mission, as much as it would have pleased her to do so. The
Hatchettes had been created to hunt down and destroy a much more dangerous predator
than the holy Order of Matrons. The most evil predator of all:
Men.
“As I was saying before I was interrupted,” the Matron continued, shooting Roku a glance
that was half disapproval, half lust. “The Dick and Jane Wars were the seminal event in the
birth of our Great Society, and for the rest of this semester we will be studying each of the
wars in detail.”
Roku pulled her tablet out of her folio and turned it on. The Matron's lecture notes
appeared on the screen.
“As strange as it may seem to a room full of young girls,” she said young with a tone that
only a middle-aged deviant could obtain. “There used to be two sexes of humankind: male
and female. But by the end of the last century, after countless generations of subjugation, the
female sex rebelled.
“There were six wars in all – but that is misleading... though we distinguish between the
separate wars, they were all part of the same struggle: the struggle to liberate womankind,

end of male hegemony and give birth to our Great Society,” the Matron paused to let her
rhetoric settle in the ears and impressionable minds of her pupils. “Now, if you'll navigate
your tablets to entry fifty-six, we can begin this lecture with a discussion of how
technological advancements in ex-utero fertilization led to...”
Roku switched off her brain.
The Matron blathered on, describing how the creation of the birthing banks had given
womankind the ability to control its own fertilization without relying on the male of the
species for genetic material; how men had used this detail of human biology for centuries to
oppress the female; how, with the biological link between the sexes broken, relations
between men and women quickly degraded into open warfare.
Those were the Dick and Jane Wars. Roku had studied it all in Hatchette training. The real
history, though, not the propaganda bullshit the Matron's peddled straight from the
Commissariat.
The Janes eventually won their struggle, driving the last of the male species off the planet.
They still existed, of course: the men, on other planets in the solar system – colonies and
moon bases and so on. But on Earth, for a hundred years, the Dicks had been banished. It
was a golden age, the birth of a Great Society.
Freedom for all Janes. The end of male oppression. But the Dicks had not taken their defeat
lightly. No, banished from paradise, they became more determined than ever to return from
the cold blackness of space and retake their place, once again, as the self-appointed masters
of the Earth.
All that stood between womankind and a return to subjugation was the collective will of all
women – the collective will, expressed through the Commissariat...
And, of course, the Hatchettes.
The Men had many times assaulted the orbital defenses, but always they had been sent back
into the blackness, defeated. Frustrated, they had turned to other methods, attempting to
assault the Earth from within. They sent spies. Terrorists. Male terrorists, yes, but converted.

Pumped full of estrogen, breasts augmented, they came to the earth as transsexuals, able to
hide amongst the Janes and move around freely.
The early spies had been easy to catch – poor imitations of women – but over the years their
techniques had become more refined. The Dicks had, of late, succeeded in pulling off a
number of high profile attacks; attacks on government installations. The threat had begun to
panic the population.
This was the genesis of the Hatchette Project – recruiting young girls into its ranks. Spies for
the spies. Counter spies. Sleeper agents all over the planet, seeking out the Dicks wherever
they dared show themselves. Waiting. Watching.
The bell signaled the end of the hour.
As the classroom began to clear of girls, Roku contemplated slipping quietly out, but she
knew if she skirted her punishment this time, it’d just be worse the next. Now was as good a
time as any to take her lumps. The Matron had another class soon. What heights of
perversion could the Matron reach in the ten minutes between classes? Roku shuddered to
think.
But Roku's next class was Calisthenics, and she hated to be late for that. Calisthenics was
hell, but meant the showers afterward. And showers meant the Mosh. Roku detested the idea
of being late for the Mosh... but now was as good a time as any, she kept telling herself; the
Matron had another class on its way.
Roku skulked up to the front desk, behind which the Matron sat, tapping at a tablet.
“Late again, Roku?” the Matron said, not looking up from the tablet.
“Yes, Matron. I'm sorry, Matron. I fell. In the hall, and twisted-”
“You're getting to be quite a pretty girl, Roku,” the Matron interrupted. Roku clutched her
folio closer to her breast. Oh, if only the Matron was a Dick... if only... Roku could pull out her
burner and this would all be over...
“Yes-yes Matron,” Roku said weakly, but the Matron was right, the last year had treated
Roku very well. The Hatchette genetic augmentation had packed muscle onto Roku's frame,

and she was now a good five centimeters taller than she had been at seventeen. Her breasts
were round and full and needed no support to stand up against her shirt. She had taken to
cropping her straight black hair off at the shoulder and her pretty girlish features had turned
womanly. Yes, she was starting to become quite a pretty girl, as the Matron said, but she was
also extremely deadly. The Matron didn't know this about Roku, though Roku ached to show
her just exactly how deadly she could be...
“So many, many, pretty, naughty girls...” the Matron looked up from her tablet and smiled a
lizard smile. The caked, white face makeup made her look ancient. Ancient and evil. “Three
lashes,” she added, suddenly stern.
“But-” Roku began to protest, but knew she'd just make things worse. The Matron was
already rising from her seat and pulling out the leather strap from a desk drawer. Roku knew
the drill, she put her books down on the Matron's desk and leaned forward, pushing her firm
buttocks out from under her short skirt.
“Will you be late for class again?” the Matron asked, circling the desk. She pulled Roku's
skirt up and slipped a hand down the back of Roku's white, cotton panties. The Matron's
hand squeezed each cheek of Roku's ass, then explored down the back of her thighs.
“No, Matron...” Roku allowed, trying to sound afraid. She was hanging on with her fingers to
the edge of the Matron's desk, her head hanging down between her arms. She knew she
wouldn't feel the spanking, her training had taught her to ignore pain, but she needed to
sound scared – humiliated. The Matron had to get her pleasure out of this, or she might get
suspicious.
The Matron pulled Roku's panties down to her ankles, dropping to her knees as she did so.
She brought her face within inches of Roku's bare behind. The Matron lingered there,
holding the panties down, looking up into the black hair of Roku's jane. Roku arched her
back slightly and bent a little in the knees. That should give her a good look, Roku thought.
Roku couldn't see, but she suspected the Matron was positively lapping at her lips, looking
up into the pinkness of Roku's labia.

Roku began to feel a warmness growing inside herself... maybe this wouldn't be so bad after
all. It was a turn-on to have that old pervert looking up and sniffing at her ass. If nothing else,
it'd get her fired up for the Mosh, later.
Then the first lash came: sharp and searing across her rump. Roku hadn't seen the Matron
rise to her feet. The power of the blow buckled Roku at the knees. Roku faked a whimper of
pain and stayed squatted down beside the desk – all the better for the Matron's pleasure.
“Up! Get up!” the Matron ordered. A hand came down and pulled Roku up by the thigh,
back into the spanking position. The second lash came, but now Roku had her knees locked.
“Will you be late for class again?” the Matron asked one more time. You could almost hear
the glee in her voice.
“No, no Matron! I promise,” Roku laid it on good and thick. “No more, please! I've learned
my lesson, I swear!” You had to beg – that was all part of it for the Matron's. They had to
know you'd do anything they wanted. Anything to put an end to the lashings.
“That's a good girl...” the Matron hissed. A hand caressed the welts on Roku's ass. It
explored the firmness of her cheeks, then sneaked down between her legs. A finger slipped
between the lips of Roku's jane, into her wetness. It found her clitoris and circled it. Oh, that
felt good... an old, disgusting pervert the Matron might be, but who knew their way around a
jane better than an old pervert? The finger dug its way deeper inside Roku, to be met with a
friend and pushed hard against the vagina wall.
Oh... just when Roku thought she could cum, the fingers were quickly removed and the
strap came down across Roku's buttocks with full force. Bitch! Roku, thought. The Bitch
knew exactly what she was doing. Pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain. If there had been
time – no other class – the Matron would have had Roku eating out her jane just for a chance
to cum. Roku would be begging for it... and she'd do it, too: eat out that old, desiccated cunt
just to have those fingers back inside her for a few more seconds....
...Just think about the Mosh, Roku told herself. The Mosh was less than an hour away...

“I hope you'll think about this the next time you dawdle before class...” the Matron said,
composing herself. More students would be arriving any second. She couldn't enjoy herself
violating Roku for much longer.
Roku felt sorry for whatever girl made the tiniest of errors in the Matron's next class. The
Matron had blatantly only whetted her appetite, and the next class was the last class of the
day. The Matron would have all the time in the world to release her tensions on the next girl
in need punishment. Yes, she'd be getting it good and proper from the Matron... a lot more
than three lashes across the ass.
Roku pulled up her panties and picked up her books. Without a word, she headed for the
door. She knew she was supposed to feel humiliated – that was what the Matron wanted to
see, so Roku played the role. But she didn't feel humiliated. The Matron had only managed to
turn her on.
Maybe Roku didn't feel sorry for the next girl... maybe Roku wanted to come back after the
next class and force that old bitch to make her climax? But that was no good. That was the
Hatchette training talking. Roku wasn't humiliated because she couldn't be humiliated. She
was a Hatchette now. She'd do whatever, fuck whoever was required to complete her mission
– to maintain her cover. She was above simple humiliation – she was a weapon of the Great
Society.
But she wasn't above sex. The bottom line: she'd liked it. The Matron had played with her
cunt and she wanted to cum. But she couldn't do so without acting in a way that no eighteen
year old girl should ever do. She'd have to swallow her pride, look like a sad puppy, and slink
out of the door.
Oh well, Roku would just have to take care of herself in the Mosh. After all, that was what the
Mosh was for. She'd have to run her ten kilometers; but then it'd be back to the locker room,
and into the showers. And the showers meant the Mosh.
And the Mosh was positively, absolutely the best fucking thing in the world...

Chapter 2
The Mosh
Roku was only two minutes late for Calisthenics. In the locker room, she shed her uniform
and underwear and pulled on her gray flannel shorts and shirt. She made it out to the edge of
the school grounds before the Gym Matron had finished giving the other girls their
instructions. But the laces of her running shoes were still untied, and she was squatting down
tying them when the Gym Matron gave the order to go.
Roku was a hundred meters behind the last girl by the time she got going. It didn't matter.
Today, it was a ten kilometer run across the low country beyond the school grounds. Roku
had twice the stamina, and three times the strength of any other girl. It was more an effort to
not come in first than to not come in last. They had fifty minutes to cover ten kilometers. By
the end, the other girls would be devastated, soaked in sweat and good for nothing but the
Mosh, but Roku would be just warming up.
Fucking Matron, Roku thought, her mind beginning to wander as she found her stride. Now
that the warmness had died down inside her, the tepid spanking and the perfunctory
molestation began to anger her again. How dare she think that Roku was just something that
could be played with like a toy – prey for a Matron's pent-up desires? The worst of it was that
the girls were supposed to look up to the Matron's as examples: as pure females, married to
the State. As high-minded martyrs who'd sacrificed their sexual needs for the betterment of
all.
It was hypocritical bullshit!
The Matron's were hardly even teachers. They regurgitated the propaganda of the
Commissariat like it was fact. And then to indulge their every carnal desire with the young
bodies entrusted to their care. Roku again wished the Hatchettes were tasked with cleaning

up the Order of Matrons – now that would be something. To have those bitches on their
knees, skirts up, with their asses in the air, a leather lash in Roku's hand...
Roku was in the middle of the pack now. Other girls were beginning to lag, the sweat
outlining their nipples through their shirts. Roku had to throttle herself back, resist the urge
to push out ahead of the pack. Running a two minute kilometer would definitely draw
attention.
The Gym Matron was less of a fool that the other Matron's. Roku almost had a soft spot for
her. She was a big, butch wall of a woman, almost shaped like the images of men from the
vidcasts. When Roku had been younger, and first learned of the male threat, she had worried
that the Gym Matron was actually one of those men. But Roku had seen her in the showers a
number of times. No penis, nothing of the sort.
She was a normal Jane under her clothes, and she seemed less inclined than the other
Matron's to think of the students as her property. She watched the girls change, yes, and
Roku had met her a time or two in the Mosh, but there was nothing wrong with that – that
was consensual. It was the forcing sex on young girls that Roku despised.
Roku was at the halfway mark: a large oak tree that marked the border between St. Juliet's
and the Obar Estate. If it wasn't for the Mosh, it'd hardly be worth turning around. Roku
would have to be back on the Estate within the hour. She had a position as a maid in the
Manor, and her shift started promptly after school. The job wasn't her idea, but it was normal
for the girls from the school to take part-time jobs for extra money on the nearby estates. The
job had been Lt. Zee's idea. Lt. Zee was Roku's handler – her direct superior. She’d ordered
Roku to take a job on the Obar Estate. To keep her eyes open.
What Lt. Zee suspected, she hadn't elaborated on, but Roku had done as she was ordered.
There could only be one reason to place a Hatchette on the maid staff of the Estate – only one
reason the Commissariat would need an agent on the inside: Men. Roku had worked there
just over a month and found no incriminating evidence, but it was still early days. If there
were Dicks in the Obar Mansion, Roku would find them. Find them and burn them out.
Passing click five, Roku began to sweat. She was all on her own now, all the other girls
having fallen behind. There’d be no way not to return first, unless Roku faked some sort of

injury, and Roku was in no mood for that. She let her feet fly underneath her – really pouring
on the speed. It felt good to get an actual workout – really work her muscles. Her time
wouldn't be that amazing, the Gym Matron wouldn't suspect.
She crested the low hill that was the last climb of the course, and sprint the five hundred
meters back to the school. She paused before the door of the Gymnasium and let herself
catch her breath. She looked down and could see her breasts clinging to her shirt through the
sweat. That was a good workout, Roku thought, but she could see that her nipples were hard
and erect underneath the thin gray shirt. Not good enough, Roku told herself. The run had
done nothing to satisfy the fire the Matron had light inside her. She just wanted to get out of
her sweaty clothes and into the showers. But where were the other girls?
“How long have you been here?” the Gym Matron said, stepping outside. She had her tablet,
and was looking through her shorts pocket for her stylus. She was obviously surprised that
Roku had beaten her back to the Gym.
“Just arrived,” Roku replied, pretending to be out of breath.
“That makes...” the Gym Matron said, looking at the clock on her tablet. “Thirty eight
minutes...” she wrote this down.
Yeah, thirty eight minutes, Roku thought, minus the five I'd just spent there waiting. Roku
pulled her sticky shirt up and off, over her head, exposing her moist breasts, and stepped
towards the door.
“Good hustle, Roku,” the Gym Matron said, and slapped Roku firmly on the ass. The slap
made Roku's bare breasts jiggle. Roku gave the Gym Matron a look of surprise, and the Gym
Matron gave Roku a sly grin.
I guess the Matron's aren't all that different, Roku mussed. It was just the two of them
standing in the afternoon air; none of the other girls were even within sight of the
Gymnasium, so Roku slipped off her shorts, and walked the rest of the way into the Gym
wearing nothing but her running shoes. She knew the Gym Matron would be watching her
slippery, red bottom with interest. After all, she had always sort of liked the Gym Matron –
the big, butch, beefy Jane...

In the locker room, Roku took off her running shoes and lay down on a bench. It was no
good getting into the showers before the other girls came.
The Mosh had rules, though Roku had never really figured out why – it was a totally
prohibited tradition. The Matron's constantly harped-on about the sin of sexual contact
between students. That the Mosh was tolerated at all had more to do with reducing sex in the
dormitories than anything else: let them play with their janes in the showers, and they
wouldn't be playing with each other in the night. That must have been the thinking.
But there were rules and guidelines that the girls had made up for themselves: you couldn't
touch anyone else's jane in the Mosh. Not with your hand, not with your mouth. That was
strictly prohibited. Perhaps that meant it wasn't actually sex? Whatever... but you could grab
all the tits and ass you liked, and a soapy thigh between the legs was more than welcome.
Kissing was okay – encouraged, and it was bad form not make out with anyone who wanted
to make out with you – but mostly it was about rubbing your clit, and watching other girls do
the same. It was one massive circle rub, with the hot showers running, and the soap all over
your body, and the smell of the other girl's cum mixing in with yours...
It was bliss! Fucking bliss, and Roku had to rub her jane, just a little, laying there on the
bench, even with the Mosh was just moments away. That was bad form too: taking the Mosh
outside the showers or starting it before you were in the showers, but Roku didn't care. She
ran the middle finger of her right hand down the length of her trim, curly black jane, and
squeezed her left nipple with her other hand. She could cum right there and then, on the
bench all alone...
Hell, Roku had run out of patience. She stood up and grabbed a towel. Might as well have a
Mosh of one, she thought, heading into the showers.
She turned on the water at each shower-head as she passed, but kept moving until she was
all the way at the very back of the white tiled, T-shaped shower. The steam began to build
around her, and soon she could see no more than a meter.
She put her body under a running spigot, letting the scalding hot water wash down her
front. She could feel the tension in her muscles beginning to unknit as she rubbed soap the

full length of her long, porcelain white limbs. She ducked her head under the running water
and let it blind her. She wet her hair and ran her soapy hands through it.
With her eyes closed, she explored the curves of her own body until her fingers came to the
tips of her nipples. She pulled on them, squeezing, pinching, and let them stand out erect.
She could feel her clitoris hard between her legs, and she explored down her body with her
hands to find it. She pinched it between her index fingers and moved it in a slow circle. She
let out a soft moan as images of the other girls danced in her mind. They were on their knees
in front of Roku, lapping hungrily at Roku's jane.
A hand reached out and cupped Roku's left breast. Roku jumped in surprise. She opened
her eyes, rubbed the water away with the back of her hand, and saw the blurry figure of a
redhead standing in the steam beside her. It was Pelli, Roku's bunkmate in the dormitory.
Roku's best – only friend.
Pelli was rake thin, pale as a sheet, with a head of long curly red hair that matched the bush
of her jane. She had small breasts, almost none at all, but her nipples were large and erect.
They were fully extended as Pelli leaned forward to take Roku's right breast into her mouth,
fully devouring it. Her tongue made three circles, then she sucked on the nipple hungrily.
Her other hand still cupped Roku's left breast, squeezing.
“Started early?” Pelli whispered after she pulled free of Roku's right nipple with a slurp. She
leaned in to lock onto Roku's lips, with her tongue already pushing out of her pink, soft
mouth. Roku let Pelli kiss her, letting her tongue search restlessly around in her mouth. Roku
embraced the smaller girl, reaching around and cupping Pelli's petite ass. She thrust a leg
between Pelli's, and lifted her up onto her thigh. As they kissed, Pelli wiggled there, rubbing
her jane against the soapy slickness of Roku's leg.
Roku was dimly aware that they had company. Roku broke off the kiss and looked to see
three girls showering themselves nearby, watching. That was doubly exhilarating: to be
watched. The other girls were cleaning their tanned bodies as Pelli was putting love bits
down the length of Roku's neck.
Her tongue licked along the length of one of Roku's collar bones, and she again began to
suck lovingly on Roku's large, firm breasts. The other girls closed in, watching it all with

interest. Roku's fingers were down in her jane now, rubbing frantically. Pelli began to push
Roku's breasts together and lick at both nipples simultaneously, as the three girls formed a
circle around her.
They were playing with their janes now, too, but still watching Pelli intently.
Surrounded by girls, with Roku up against the shower wall, Pelli dropped to her knees.
Down there in the steam, Roku could see Pelli's hand slip between her own legs; but her face
was now inches from Roku's masturbation. Oh, if she could just kiss me there, Roku thought,
but that was against the rules. Stupid fucking rules! What point was there to them?
Roku doubled the rate of her masturbation. Pelli was watching it intently, fingering herself,
Roku's jane just inches from her face – Roku wide open and inviting. The other girls
tightened the circle, bringing their janes in close. Pelli looked around in excitement. All their
fingers were frigging away at their clits. She let out a high pitched squeal, and Roku knew she
was cumming; her fiery red cunt bouncing up and down on her own fingers.
Another girl climaxed too, and when she had finished, Pelli pulled away the girl's hand to
suck on the offending fingers, hungrily. That sight was too much for Roku. The orgasm began
to ripple through her body. Deep and intense, enough to buckle her knees. The other two
girls were only seconds behind, and when they were all done, they offered up their fingers to
Pelli, who devoured them each in turn – gleefully licking and sucking them clean.
This was why the Mosh was so fucking amazing, Roku thought, sliding down the shower
wall in exhaustion, coming to rest on the slick floor – dirty little girls like Pelli. Pelli snuggled
into Roku, and kissed her lips gently. The warm water washed over them as the lay there
intertwined.
The other girls returned to washing their bodies at the shower-heads around them. Roku
looked around at their hard, tanned asses. She looked down at Pelli in her arms, who
inexplicably still had the energy to play with one of Roku's breasts.
The Mosh was absolutely, positively the best fucking thing in the world, Roku thought,
kissing Pelli on the forehead, gently.

Chapter 3
Kissing the Lily
“Are you heading back to the dorm?” Pelli asked later when they were back in the locker
room. She was drying her hair. Life was back to normal. Outside the shower, no one
discussed what happened in the Mosh. You could cum as many times as you wanted, with as
many girls as you wanted, but once you left the showers – it was like it had never happened.
Pelli and Roku were friends again, not lovers.
It was the end of the day. Calisthenics was Roku's last class. All the other girls would be
heading back to the dormitories for dinner and to watch the vidcasts. But not Roku.
“No, I have to work,” Roku said, despondently. She was pulling on her panties.
“Quit,” Pelli said without hesitation. “Why do you want to clean someone else's toilet?” She
made a good point.
“I can't,” Roku said, pulling on her shirt, “I need the money,” she lied.
Pelli shrugged. She was standing naked in front of Roku. She turned to pick up her clothes,
and Roku looked longingly at her tiny, cream colored bottom. She wondered if Pelli could
still taste the cum on her lips – she wanted to taste Pelli's. Roku shook herself and reached for
her skirt. There was the Mosh and there was the real world. She told herself to get a grip.
“I'll see you at lights-out,” Roku said after slipping into her skirt and putting on her heels.
Pelli didn't answer, she was adjusting the padded bra she always wore. You don't need to
wear that, Roku almost said out loud, your tits are just perfect, she thought. But that was the
Mosh talking again, not reality. Pelli didn't want Roku's opinion about her breasts.

Roku did stop off at the dormitory just long enough to change her clothes. She took off her
preposterous school uniform and slipped into her only slightly less preposterous maid's
uniform.
The maid's uniform, at least, completely covered Roku's ass. It was a simple black outfit,
with lace at the cuffs of the short sleeves and around the neckline. A lace petticoat and black
stockings were worn underneath; and a simple, practical white cotton apron on the outside.
Altogether relatively normal...
Except for the neckline. It was ridiculous. It plunged so low as to expose a great expanse of
cleavage. If Roku leaned far enough forward you could easily see her bellybutton. Again, like
the school uniform, the wardrobe was a mark of sexual submission; impractical except to
humiliate the wearer. Separate and above their menial duties, the maids of Ober Manor were
there to be ogled. Roku had to squash down the anger that built up inside her every time she
put on the uniform. She had to remember her mission – it was always about the mission.
Fearing she might miss her trolley, Roku bolted out of the dormitory. Out through the
Cloister, across the Grand Hall, and out the main doors, she was soon crunching across the
gravel of the St. Juliet's long driveway.
Where the driveway met the main road was the trolley stop, and Roku wasn't a moment too
early. If she missed that trolley, it'd be an hour 'til the next. It was pulling away as Roku
cleared the driveway. She sprinted to catch up and leapt onto the open back. She must have
been quiet the sight: sprinting in high heels and shear black stockinged legs, her full bosom
almost bouncing free of her cleavage. But she caught her trolley and found a free seat, to the
admiring, lusty glances of the old ladies already aboard.
Oh shit, Roku needed to pee.
She hadn't thought to do it after the Mosh, and cumming always made her need to pee.
There hadn't been time in the dormitory, and it was a twenty minute ride to the gates of the
Ober Manor. Oh well, she'd just have to hold it...
She crossed her legs as best she could in the uniform. She had brought her folio. She
wouldn't need her tablet, but she was always supposed to be armed. There hadn't been time

to transfer her burner to a concealed holster – not that there was really anywhere under her
uniform to conceal a gun. Just like there had been no time to pee. Roku was beginning to
regret both decisions: Not going to the bathroom, and not hiding her gun away under her
skirt. The folio looked out of place with the maid's costume.
Roku really needed to think about these things. It was the little things that made a cover, Lt.
Zee always said – forgetting the little details was how you got yourself killed. Roku might be a
highly trained, genetically engineered, elite Hatchette, but she was supposed to be an
average, everyday eighteen year old girl. She had to think like an eighteen year old girl, not
like a secret agent.
Now, she really needed to pee...
Think of something else, Roku told herself. The trolley was stopping at its next stop, letting
off an old lady. She was taking her own sweet time getting down the stairs. Come on, you old
bitch! Roku gritted her teeth. She uncrossed her legs and crossed them the other way. It
would be fifteen more minutes before she arrived at the Ober Mansion. Maybe she should
just get off the trolley here and pee behind a bush. But then she'd have to wait an hour for the
next trolley. She could just run cross the open country. Fuck, she could run faster than this
damn trolley. No, that was the Hatchette training thinking again, Roku told herself. Normal
girls don't just run five kilometers in heels, dressed as a maid. She'd just have to sit there and
grin and bear the pressure. That's what a normal eighteen year old girl would do.
Eighteen year old girls were fucking idiots...
The Ober Wives were the oldest line marriage on the planet – that's right, think about your
mission, that'll take your mind off your bladder – the first line marriage, it is said, the trail
blazers. There were currently sixteen wives, ranging in age from twenty-five to fifty-nine, all
residing at the Ober Manor. The Ober Wives were a political dynasty. All the wives held high
positions within the Commissariat. Lady Erel – former First Commissar – was the oldest, but
Lady Aru was universally regarded as the senior wife. She was forty-one, politically
ambitious, with designs on becoming the second Ober Wife to serve as First Commissar.
The mission made no sense to Roku – the Ober Wives were squeaky clean, beyond reproach.
The first Ober Wives had been instrumental in the banishment of the male sex from the

planet; to suggest that they were somehow involved in Dick Terrorism... well, it was just plain
insane. But it wasn't Roku's place to question her orders. Lt. Zee had assigned her to take a
servant's position in the Ober household, to keep her eyes open, and – should the
opportunity present itself – ingratiate herself sexually with one of the Ober Wives. Did the
Hatchette Command expect her to check each Ober Wife for a penis? It made no sense; no
sense at all.
When the trolley finally rolled to a halt in front of the imposing steel gates of the Ober
Estate, Roku wasn't worried. It was just be a quick check at security, and she could hurry up
the drive, in through the servant's entrance, and she'd be in the Scullery where there was a
bathroom. But the guard at the gate – clad head-to-toe in black leather, eyes hidden behind
dark glasses – took her sweet time looking over Roku's identification.
She looked down at the card, up at Roku, and down at the identification again. Roku was
practically dancing in pain – keeping her thighs pinned tightly together. It was an old ID,
from before Roku had undergone her genetic treatments, so the picture didn't look much like
her. The guard was right to give it a second look, but today of all days...
Roku just couldn't catch a break. Late for class and now late for work. But the Housekeeper
wouldn't paddle Roku's behind. No, she'd just fire Roku, and then Roku would have failed in
her mission. The guard finally handed back Roku's ID and triggered the lock on the small
pedestrian gate. Roku didn't waste a second. She yelled an abrupt 'thank you' and scuttled
off toward the Scullery. She had to run now, even in her heels, or she'd wet herself right there
on the Ober's driveway.
Roku made it into the Scullery without any accidents. She pushed her Folio up onto a shelf
where the maids stored their personal belongings, and turned toward the small water closet
beside the doorway.
“Roku!” the Housekeeper yelled across the room. Roku's hand was reaching out for the
bathroom door, she contemplated pretending she hadn't heard the Housekeeper, but before
she could stop herself, she had turned. “Come with me,” the Housekeeper ordered. The
Housekeeper was a gray-haired, gray-faced lady. She stood bolt upright like her spine was
fused at the joints, in what Roku could only assume passed for dignity in her particular

profession. Roku opened her mouth to protest, but the Housekeeper thrust up a stern finger.
“You're late,” she scolded. “Come with me,” the Housekeeper repeated, and spun on her
heels.
Fuck her, Roku said to herself, but instantly knew she was going to follow. She didn't have to
remind herself about her cover. Lt. Zee had told Roku not to make any mistakes within the
Ober household. That if a government agent was discovered spying on them, they would
react aggressively – violently. It was doubly important that Roku do everything she was told.
Roku might have been thinking: fuck her, but the cover demanded that Roku fall in lockstep
behind the Housekeeper; full bladder or no.
Perhaps the scalding would be quick, but the Housekeeper didn't lead Roku to her office.
They left the Scullery, took the servant's stairs, and emerged on the third floor. Roku had
never been on the third floor before.
The Ober Estate was the home of the Ober Wives, but in the month that Roku had worked
there, she had never actually set eyes on any of them. The Manor was always abuzz with
guests and hangers-on. It was more hotel than family home. The maid staff was mostly kept
busy tending to the needs of the politically connected guests. Only a small number of senior
maids actually waited on the Ober Wives.
The third floor, Roku assumed, was the private suites of the many wives. The upper floors
were for the guests, with seniority and political clout diminishing the higher you climbed, so
Roku assumed the third floor was ground zero... And here she was, for the first time on the
third floor...
Roku followed the Housekeeper down the immaculately decorated neoclassical corridors
until they came to a group of maids lined up along one wall. There were perhaps half a dozen
maids already waiting there. The Housekeeper shot her stern finger to an empty place at the
end of the line where Roku was meant to take up her position. She'd be the farthest maid
away from the large, ornate double doors that sat at the end of the corridor. We all must be
waiting to be called inside, Roku assumed as she took her space in line.
“Ma'am-” Roku began to speak as the Housekeeper turned to leave. Surely it'd be okay if
Roku went to the bathroom.

“No talking!” the Housekeeper barked at Roku. “No talking in line!” she yelled more
generally to the whole group. “When Lady Aru rings, you will enter. Until then, be still!” the
Housekeeper said again directly at Roku. Roku was dancing a little, trying to take the
pressure off her bladder. “Be quiet and be still! You are not paid to make noise!” the
Housekeeper finished, and stormed off down the hall.
They all stood there in silence, listening to the Housekeeper's footsteps recede. Ten seconds
of silence turned into thirty. Thirty turned into a whole minute, and that minute turned into
two. Oh, Roku began to double over in pain... Stupid fucking Housekeeper – fucking Ober
Wives, Roku cursed under her breath. Oh, Roku was going to pee all over the five hundred
year old Persian rug that covered the oak floor of the halfway. She really was! She just
couldn't hold it anymore! Damn standing in line! Damn her cover! She had to pee. Roku
looked around for relief. There was a door just a meter away. Roku stepped out of line and
tried the handle.
“Hay, where are you going?” one of the other maids whispered after Roku. Roku didn't
answer.
The door was mercifully open, and – oh, thank the Holy Matron! – was a bathroom. A big
bathroom... A large sunken tub, more like a swimming pool, sat in the center of the room;
and a shower as big as the Mosh took up a whole corner of the room.
But Roku was paying no attention to such details.
There was a toilet up against the wall to the right wall, a door just beyond it. Roku moved
urgently over; she hitched up her skirt and her petticoat, and pulled down her panties; this
upset the whole length of her dress, and her boobs came loose from the neckline as she
squatted down. Roku didn't care, she let loose with a long, warm stream of pee before she
was even seated. The pressure on her bladder gave way, and she relaxed her whole body
down onto the cold seat.
She let her head bob down between her knees with relief – all the better to squeeze out every
last bit inside her. She audibly groaned with pleasure as the last of the urine left her body.
She left her head hanging there, hands on the floor, enjoying the peace like the calm after a
storm.

Someone cleared her throat.
Roku shot up in complete horror. In the doorway – the other doorway, right beside where
Roku was sitting – a woman was standing looking down at Roku. She was incredibly tall, or
seemed so, standing there looking down at Roku. Roku's mouth opened and closed in terror.
The woman was completely nude except for the four inch stiletto heels on her feet.
Oh God, what had Roku done?
The woman had wide, curvy hips and improbably large breasts for her tiny wasp-like waste.
Every inch of her was muscle, like a professional athlete. Only her face betrayed any signs of
age. She had a stunning, patrician beauty about her, with a distinct, glorious look of
perfection about her features; but her eyes were not young. No, you could see they had seen
many things. But the slight smirk on her wide, full lips told Roku that the woman had never,
ever, quite seen anything like Roku.
There Roku sat, her panties around her knees, her legs wide open for all the world to see, her
jane still wet from urination and the shoulders of her dress down so her breasts fell free from
the neckline of her ridiculous uniform. It was absolutely and completely the most
embarrassing thing Roku could have imagined; but as she sat there looking up at the naked
woman in horror, there was only one thing running though Roku's head:
Who puts on their heels before their underwear?
It must have been the Hatchette training again – that total and complete inability to be
humiliated – the attention to the smallest detail even when everything else was going crazy
around you. But intellectually, Roku knew things couldn't be worse. To be caught in this
position...
“If you're quite finished,” the nude woman said. Roku couldn't look away from her
tremendous, luscious breasts. The woman didn't seem at all embarrassed – either for herself
being found naked, or sympathetically for Roku. She made no motion of hide her body. Her
hands remained slightly crossed across the tight expanse of her stomach. There were a few
bracelets around her wrists, and her fingernails were long and painted. Oh God... A sinking

feeling began to come over Roku. She scrambled frantically to pull up her underwear and
climb off the toilet. She managed both and the automatic flush engaged.
“Ma'am, I'm sorry,” Roku began, but the nude woman didn't wait for Roku to stammer out
an apology. She simple turned and walked back through the doorway, giving Roku a view of
her perfect, upturned heart-shaped ass.
“Follow me,” she commanded, and all of Roku's fears were confirmed. The noble air, the
casual authority – there was only one woman the nude could be... Suddenly Roku's brain was
able to reconcile the face she had seen so many times on the vidcast and the face that looked
back over her shoulder now at Roku.
It was none other than Lady Aru Ober herself.
Roku, of all places, had taken a giant wizz in the bathroom of the future – perhaps present,
Roku didn't keep up with politics – First Commissar of the Planet Earth. Lt. Zee had
suggested that Roku insinuate herself into the Ober family somehow, but Roku doubted she
had meant exactly like this.
But Lady Aru didn't seem upset. She seemed amused, if anything. Though the door,
following Lady Aru, Roku stepped in the Lady's bedroom – a vast room with vaulted ceilings,
all rococo columns and gold gilt. Lady Aru walked over to a full length mirror in the center of
the room and looked at her figure in it.
There was a large collection of clothes tossed absently around on the furniture. Lady Aru
was obviously in the midsts of wardrobe difficulties, Roku sympathized. Lady Aru raised her
arms to adjust her hair, looking in the mirror; allowing Roku a chance to fully appreciate the
Lady's stunning figure.
She was tall, over two meters in the heels, with curves and definition no forty one year old
woman could rightfully expect. In an instant, Roku knew the body was the product of genetic
conditioning, just like Roku's. But not for combat like Roku's. No, Lady Aru was a sculpture
in flesh. Her body was her instrument of command – of authority.
Why the members of the Commissariat maintained such a high standard of beauty, Roku
had never understood. But staring now at the immaculate perfection that was Lady's Aru's

figure – undressed, as no one else ever saw it – Roku began to comprehend. That body was
power. It spoke of absolute perfection. The voice that emerged from that body could no more
speak a falsehood, than the hips could allow a gram of fat. You instantly fell in love with Lady
Aru, the second you saw her, and that – Roku understood – was power.
“The camisole, I think,” Lady Aru said, snapping Roku back to reality. She gestured towards
the bed. There was a light, white lace camisole among the other underwear lying in a pile. It
took a moment for Roku to realize she was supposed to fetch it. Roku adjusted her cleavage
in her uniform, making sure nothing untoward was hanging out, and jogged over to the side
of the bed.
She picked up the fragile garment and held it out to Lady Aru; but the Lady had her arms
held straight up. Roku was looking directly at the Lady's large, firm breasts. She had small
nipples, centered in seas of large areolas, but the shape and cup of the breasts were perfect.
They were shaped like smaller breasts, perhaps the size and shape of Roku's, but many,
many cup sizes larger. They defied gravity, pointing out toward Roku.
After taking in the remarkable sight, Roku began to understand that she was supposed to
dress Lady Aru... but there was no way Roku could even reach the top of Lady Aru's head, no
less slip the camisole over. But there was a stool beside the bed, Lady Aru – not moving her
arms – kicked out with a foot and deftly pulled the stool over. Roku climbed up, and slid the
delicate garment down over Lady Aru's arms, over her head, and down around her breasts.
“No...” Lady Aru said, looking at herself in the mirror. She looked at her profile from the left
and the right, Roku watching every movement. Lady Aru disliked what she saw and pulled
the camisole off with a single movement. She tossed it back onto the bed.
“A corset, perhaps,” the Lady pointed at a rigid contraption of black lace and strings. Roku
picked it up and examined it. It was very similar to what the Matrons at school wore outside
their black robes. Roku opened up the circle of the device, and Lady Aru's legs, one at a time,
stepped into it.
It was a tight fit around the hips, and Roku couldn't avoid running her hands along the
lengths of Lady's Aru's curves trying to get the corset into place. Her skin was milky soft, but
firm to the touch. There was no reason for the corset – there wasn't a millimeter of Lady Aru's

shape that could be distorted. But Roku maneuvered the garment into place and stood
behind the Lady to pull the laces tight. The corset made the Lady's tiny waist seen even
smaller and the sweep of her breast even higher.
“Yes, that will do,” the Lady said, looking at herself full frontal in the mirror.
“I would like to apologize...” Roku began again, thinking the pause made for a good moment
to speak.
“Stockings,” Lady Aru interrupted. She lowered herself into a chair, holding out a leg. Roku
scrambled around on the bed, finding a pair of stocking near the pillows. She started towards
Lady Aru, but the Lady just said: “Black,” and Roku dropped the white stockings and dug
around for a black pair.
When she had located some, Roku walked over to Lady Aru. The Lady held out one of her
stiletto shoes to Roku, sitting lazily in the arm chair. Roku fiddled with the tiny buckles that
held the shoe in place, and pulled it off. She found the end of the stocking, gathered it up
until she had the toe, and slipped the stocking onto Lady Aru's long, slender leg. She pushed
it into place, all the way up the thigh. She let her hands linger for just a moment when the job
was done. Roku's fingers were a centimeter away from Lady Aru's jane and the perfectly flat,
tight stomach beyond. Roku looked up to see Lady Aru playfully biting at one of her long,
painted nails.
She was enjoying this, Roku realized. She hadn't been angry to find Roku on the toilet, she’d
been amused. The sight of Roku taking a piss must have titillated Lady Aru. Why, Roku didn't
quite fathom, but what turned on the rich and powerful was anyone's guess.
As the Matron had mentioned earlier that day, Roku had turned into quite a beautiful girl.
Perhaps finding a sexy young underling, breaking the rules – embarrassing herself – was just
the sort of thing that fired up a powerful woman; a woman who could have anyone she
wanted, anytime. Perhaps, like the Matrons, things had to be a little degrading to be any
fun... and then to have Roku dress her... yes, Roku sort of understood that. Roku would like to
have Pelli dress her sometime, she thought. That would be fun. She could see how Lady Aru
could get off on that: Roku's fingers touching the inside of her thighs...

Roku removed the other shoe, gathered up the second stocking, a slid that one into place.
This time she was more bold and caressed around the inside of Lady Aru's thigh, as if
smoothing out the top of the stocking. Lady Aru responded by opening her legs a little, giving
Roku a full view of her most private place. Lady Aru had a full bush of pubic hair at the apex
of her vulva, but her labia majora were shaved. The pinkness of her clitoral hood could just
be seen poking through, but Roku's attention was drawn away to a small tattoo on Lady Aru's
inner left thigh. It was of a small flower.
“All the wives have one,” Lady Aru volunteered, seeing where Roku was looking, “tradition
dictates that anyone who sees the flower is destined to become the next Ober wife...” Lady
Aru giggled like a schoolgirl and bit down on the end of her finger. “We call it 'kissing the
lily'.”
A cold sweat broke out on Roku's brow. Was that an invitation? Roku looked down at the
sweet deliciousness of Lady Aru's jane and very much wanted to plunge her tongue into its
warmth. But was she just teasing? Was this whole thing just one giant tease? Would missjudging
this cue be – on top of everything else – the perfect ending to an absolutely
humiliating day?
Roku looked between the tattoo, the separated legs, and up at Lady Aru's smiling face. There
were no clues there. Wasn't it her mission to establish some sort of relationship with one of
the Ober Wives? Well, the head wife – perhaps First Commissar of the Planet – had just
suggested that Roku should pleasure her. You could call that: mission accomplished. But
how could Roku spin it if she'd got the cue wrong? There was no way to spin sticking your
tongue in someone's jane – that was an act that could not be misinterpreted...
But, by the Love of the Holy Matron, Roku didn't have to make her decision. The door
opened just then – one of the large double doors – and a woman in a white suit stumbled in.
Literally stumbled. There was nothing to trip on, but she managed it. She almost landed face
first on the carpet, but was able to right herself.
She came up talking, “I need a car for the night,” she started, but saw the compromising
position Roku and Lady Aru were in and stopped. Roku instantly shot to her feet, slinking off

to take up a position on the edge of the room. Lady Aru didn't move self-consciously, she just
lowered her leg to the floor.
“What is it now, Le-En?” Lady Aru said wearily.
The woman in the white suit was Lady Le-En – the newest Ober wife. Only twenty-five. She
was a pretty woman with shoulder length blond hair. She was wearing a white jacket with
matching white slacks, underneath which was a powder blue halter top and a few simple
items of jewelry. She screamed money, but she was drunk – stinking drunk. She stared at
Roku with that penetrating gaze of incomprehension only drunks could manage.
“Hey, what's-” Le-En began.
Lady Aru was slipping her foot back into her shoe and snapped at Le-En angrily, “Is there a
reason you interrupted me?”
“I...” Lady Le-En was looking back and forth between Roku and Lady Aru. Even through the
impenetrable haze that was clouding over her mind, she could figure out what Lady Aru and
Roku had been up to. “I need a car, I'm going out,” she finally said, smirking.
“Then take a car, damn it!” Lady Aru stood up, scooped up and pulled on a silk dressing
gown around her shoulders. For the first time that evening, Roku saw that she was aware of
her nudeness.
“But you have all the security personnel on duty for your fucking party. There's no one to
drive me.”
“And this is my concern?!” Lady Aru raised her voice. She was gathering up clothes in big
handfuls. “If you can't drive yourself, take the trolley,” Lady Aru continued, calmer.
Lady Le-En just snorted. She turned and started back out of the door.
“Drunk already?” Lady Aru said before Le-En was completely gone. Le-En paused, then
turned. “I mean, really? Have some self-respect.”
Le-En stood there in the doorway for a long second, looking at Lady Aru with wide, dilated
eyes.

“Fuck you, you old witch,” she said softly, and stepped out of the door. Lady Aru flew into a
rage. She stomped at the floor and threw the clothes in her hands at the door. It wasn't a very
effective temper tantrum, but only Roku was there to witness.
When Lady Aru calmed down, she looked over at Roku; who was standing humbly by the
bathroom door.
“Send in the other maids,” Lady Aru ordered, “and don't let me catch you using my
bathroom again.”
And with that, whatever had been going on between Lady Aru and Roku, was over.
Roku trotted on her heels to the two large doors. She opened them, and waved for the other
girls to enter. After that, it was all business. Lady Aru was getting ready for some function.
She barked orders, and let the maids dress her in a hurried, detached fashion. Roku remained
in the room, doing her part, but Lady Aru didn't again directly address Roku, or even shoot
her a glance. It was like nothing had happened. Like the locker room after the Mosh – just get
dressed and go.
When Lady Aru was attired, she stormed off out of her room without a word. Roku turned
her attention to cleaning up the bathroom. After all, any mess in there was her doing. She
wiped the toilet down, but there was really no serious mess to speak of.
What a strange and unusual day, Roku thought. Had there been anything there with Lady
Aru that she could build on? Had there really been a moment between them? Well, Lady Aru
was – with no uncertain doubt – not a Dick. Roku could report back to Command that she
had checked on that detail thoroughly. The thought made Roku smile.
She was one step closer to completing her mission in the Ober Household, but she was no
closer to understanding what that mission really was. Perhaps Roku should investigate Lady
Le-En?
Though Roku had little real understanding of the term, the suit that Lady Le-En was wearing
could have been considered, at one time or another, to have been masculine.

Was that the sort of lead Roku was supposed to follow up on? Roku finished cleaning the
toilet and flushed away the disposable cloth she had been using. She pulled herself back up
to her feet, thinking about Lady Le-En, only to find the woman in question watching Roku
from the door to the hall.
“Ma'am?” Roku managed to say.
“Say, sweetheart...” Lady Le-En said drunkenly, leaning against the door post and almost
managing to miss, “you know how to drive, don't you?”

Chapter 4
Steely Dan
Of course, Roku knew how to drive; Roku knew how to drive an Atom Tank; Roku knew how
to fly an Orbital Skip Bike; but most girls living in a School Dormitory were probably ignorant
of how to handle even a simple ground car... The eighteen year old in Roku knew she should
say no, but the Hatchette in her wanted to follow up on the lead that was Le-En; and to do
that, she'd have to reveal that she did know how to operate an automobile. It was a small
thing, Roku guessed, what harm could come on it?
“Sure...” Roku said guardedly. Lady Le-En was still leaning against the door post. Roku could
smell the Res on her breath from across the bathroom.
“Great! You're hired. Come on.” Lady Le-En teetered back up onto her feet and gave Roku a
'follow me' gesture.
“But I-” Roku began to protest.
“-But nothing. Come on, let’s have some fun.” Le-En smiled cunningly. She turned and
headed off unsteadily down the hall. Roku trotted on her heels behind her, taking two
feminine steps for each one of Le-En's drunken strides.
“I'll go get a...” and Le-En's voice trailed off. She stopped, turning back to Roku, like Roku
would be able to remember what she was about to say. “I'll go get a car,” Le-En remembered,
“you...” She pointed at Roku's chest. She seemed to notice Roku's immense cleavage for the
first time. She smiled and let out a soft grunt, leaning forward – almost falling forward – to get
a better look at Roku's full, protruding bosom. “You... Pretty girl...” She groped out
drunkenly, roughly squeezing Roku's left breast through the uniform. “You meet me around

the side. The servant's entrance. You know – shit, of course you know... You're gonna drive
me into town. And there – there we're gonna have a good time, you and I...”
Lady Le-En un-sensually mashed around Roku's breast, than pulled her hand away. She
licked her lips, still looking down at the cleavage. After a second, she was able to pull her eyes
away and tuned toward the nearby stairs.
“Five minutes, max,” she yelled behind her, tripping on the third step, and almost tumbling
down the stairs. Roku, once again, realigned the neckline of her uniform. Nothing, it seemed,
could keep her breasts covered today.
She started for the servant's stairs, heading down, and arrived in the Scullery. She took a
shawl off a hook by the outside door, there specifically for maid use; and just had time to
reach up to the maid's shelf and trigger the quick release on the secret holster of her folio.
Her burner popped out and she spirited it away into the front pocket of her apron.
She was out of the door of the Scullery and standing on the gravel of the driveway when
Lady Le-En brought the low, wide Town Car around the corner from the garages. She
obviously had no experience operating the vehicle, and it spurted and stopped before it
skidded to a halt besides Roku.
The driver's door flew open, and Lady Le-En poured out, taking a header into the gravel as
she tried to clear the car. It was all made worse by the bottle of Res in her hand. She fell
forward into the dirt, pulled herself up, took a large swig off the bottle and fumbled for the
handle of the rear door.
“Fucking witch!” she cursed, and Roku assumed she was referring back to Lady Aru. Roku
stepped forward, and opened the back door. Lady Le-En fell in in one long motion,
collapsing on the plush leather of the back seat. She let out a loud cackle, and drank again
from the bottle.
Roku closed the door behind her, and slipped into the driver's seat. She put the car in gear
and started it rolling down the driveway. The leather clad guards at the gate didn't take a
second look at the shiny white Town Car. The gates opened without Roku having to slack off

on the accelerator. Finally clear of the Ober Manor and on the main road, Roku quickly had
the electric engines turned up to a hundred, heading toward the skyscrapers of downtown.
“So you're Aru's new taste?” Lady Le-En began suddenly from the back seat. She had been
silent since climbing into the car – the green countryside rolled by outside the windows.
“I'm sorry,” Roku said, looking back in the rear view mirror. She had assumed Lady Le-En
had passed out back there, all laid out across the rear seat. But Le-En sat up and took a swing
of her Res.
“I said: You're Aru's new toy, huh?” she said caustically. “I saw you two back there... The
great Commissar with her legs wide open... You are a pretty thing, I'll give her that, but how
old are you?”
“I-I-” Roku begin to explain herself, but then decided against it. “Eighteen,” she simply said.
“Finger the Holy Matron!” Lady Le-En cursed, then laughed. “Well, word of warning from
last week's play-thing, girl: That woman is a stone cold whore, I can tell you that. And don't
think that kissing the lily will make you an Ober Wife. She fucks half a dozen maids a week,
and doesn't blink an eye. Unless you've got something she wants – unless you're someone
the wives need...” Her voice trailed off as she took another drink.
“I'm sorry? I don't understand,” Roku said to the reflection in the mirror.
“Forget about it!” Lady Le-En said quickly. “How about you and me have some fun!” She
leaned forward in her seat and handed the bottle of Res over.
“I-I-I really shouldn't,” Roku said, trying to push the bottle away.
“Come on, it'll loosen you up,” Le-En insisted, pushing the bottle almost into Roku's face. It
made driving difficult. Roku took the bottle just to avoid crashing the car.
“Well... alright...” Roku took the bottle and took a long slow drink. Roku wasn't afraid of
getting drunk. Her Hatchette implants included a complete esophagual bypass – she could
drink a bottle of strychnine and feel no ill effects. But Res tasted so damn awful...

Its use had almost completely replaced alcohol consumption. It was distilled from the resin
of a type of cactus found on one of the moons of Jupiter. It had a mild hallucinogenic,
euphoric effect. But Roku could never get used to the aftertaste. Maybe she was too young.
Maybe you could cultivate a taste for the stuff with age. Oh well... Roku tilted the bottle back
and drank, silently engaging her esophagual bypass. She wanted to seem eager – to ingratiate
herself with Lady Le-En. It was all for the mission, after all...
“That's more like it!” Lady Le-En fell back into her seat and laughed. “Oh I like you! I like
you, too! Lady Aru has always had good taste, I can say that much good about her.”
Roku took another drink, just for good measure.
“Where are we going?” Roku asked, handing back the bottle. Lady Le-En took it and chugged
down the last of the Res.
“I know this place,” Le-En said when she came back up for air.
“Where?” Roku prodded.
“You'll see.”
They drove into town, amongst the skyscrapers – the impossibly kilometer-tall buildings,
arching off into the sky. They crossed the river and were in the old town, amongst the
building dating back to before the Dick and Jane War – building made by men. Cold and ugly
and unloved.
They turned onto a street that had, perhaps, once been a high street of banking. Large,
imposing, classical building lined both sides of the road. Once-upon-a-time, they might have
seemed impressive – speaking volumes about the wealth and power of their owners – but
now they just seemed sad. Old and broken. Artifacts of a forgotten age.
“You ever been to a brothel?” Lady Le-En whispered excitedly into Roku's ear. She was
leaning up against the front seats, her mouth just inches from Roku's ear, watching the
desolation roll by.
“A what?” Roku feigned ignorance. She knew what a brothel was.

Prostitution was not, technically, something that was illegal. In the Great Society there was
no conceivable reason for one woman to pay another for sex. The concept was a holdover
from the evil days of male domination. Prostitution wasn't illegal because the Commissariat
simple dictated that it didn't exist. But there were brothels where sex could be purchased,
mostly of the 'phallus palace' variety.
Unlike prostitution, dildos were very much against the law. Dildos, vibrators; anything
shaped or intended to be used like a penis... all contraband. Any image that even hinted at
that most reviled symbol of male power was the worst sort of blasphemy; and that made their
use all the more exciting... to be stimulated by such an evil item – to have another woman
wear such a device and fuck you, to humiliate you, to subjugate you. Well, woman would pay
money for that... in the darkest, dingiest parts of town.
“Right here, pull over here,” Lady Le-En called out, pointing. Roku pulled the car off the
main road and down a small alley. “Yeah, this is it,” she said with stratification. The alley was
a dead end, ending in a brick wall, but there was a side entrance to one of the imposing
buildings, with a red neon sign over the door.
“I don't think this is such a good idea...” Roku said guardedly, bringing the car to a halt. The
neon sign read 'Mai's', and a flashing curved red arrow tried to entice customers inside.
“Think is a fucking amazing idea!” Lady Le-En countered, leaping out of the car. She was
almost halfway to the door before she realized that Roku wasn't following. She came back,
opened the car door, and pulled Roku out.
“You-you just said to drive...” Roku tried to hint at a note of fear in her voice. Inside her, wild
horses couldn't stop her from going in. The Ober Wives had a connection to a south-side
brothel? This was amazing intelligence. When Lt. Zee heard this... But she had to remember
her cover: rthe scared, simple eighteen year old schoolgirl...
“Come on, you're gonna love this!” Lady Le-En said. She seemed to be altogether suddenly a
lot more sober. The anticipation must have focused her mind.
“But, I'm supposed to be-” Roku tried, but Le-En was opening the door. There was a short
flight of stairs that ended at a desk. An unpleasant smell of antiseptic hung in the air. The

lighting was florescent and harsh. An old woman was thick white makeup – like a Matron –
sat behind the desk, smoking. She looked up as Lady Le-En and Roku entered. She looked
Roku up and down, noting the maid's uniform poorly hidden beneath the dark shawl, and
smiled around her cigarette. She gave Lady Le-En a familiar nod.
“Company, this evening?” the old woman said to Lady Le-En, pulling the smoke out of her
mouth. The tone of the old woman's voice, the dismissive look she cast over Roku's body.
Roku instantly identified the old woman as a Matron – or perhaps a fallen Matron. Roku had
heard of that – that it was possible, and some woman had left the order. The clothes were
wrong, too casual, but that face... That evil, spiteful face...
“A new friend, sister.” Lady Le-En leaned drunkenly against the desk, pulling a bundle of
bank notes out of her jacket pocket.
“Then perhaps something special?” the old Matron suggested, putting out her cigarette.
“The Surgery, perhaps? The Rubber Nurses?”
Lady Le-En shook her head. She was peeling large denomination bills off the bundle.
“The Rape of Lucretia, then?” the old Matron looked hungrily at the cash. “You could easily
afford six gladiators, each with a twenty centimeter-”
“No, no,” Le-En interrupted, “just the Sento Room,” she handed a wad of money across the
desk, “and Ciki and Tol...”
“As you wish,” the Old Matron shrugged, but happily took the money. She started to count it
as Lady Le-En took Roku's arm and started to lead her towards the back rooms.
“Oh, and Steely Dan...” Le-En remembered at the last moment, turning back to the Old
Matron.
“Of course...” the Old Matron replied, curling her bright red, animal-like mouth into a
twisted grin.
The Sento Room was dominated by a large, square sunken wooden tub; with large, back-lit
rice paper screen lighting the room in an eerie warmth. A blast of humidity struck Roku as
soon as she stepped through the door.

The water in the bath was steaming hot, and condensation clinging to every surface of the
room. Two high, hardwood tables were positioned a meter from the water, with white towels
spread out on them, ready for a nude body to be laid down and massaged.
Lady Le-En strolled into the room like it was in her second home, and made a beeline for a
small bar in one corner, stocked with a half a dozen bottles of Res. She broke the plastic cap
on one and took a long, deep swig. When the bottle tipped back down, she wiped her white
sleeve across her month and turned to look at Roku.
“What do you think?” she said raising an eyebrow.
“We're going to take a bath?” Roku pulled her shawl off from around her shoulders. It was at
least forty degrees in the Sento Room. She was sweating already.
“If you like,” Lady Le-En smiled. She kicked off her shoes and took off her jacket. Her
powder blue halter top contrasted with the creamy white of her skin. Her breasts were small,
pert and unsupported, clinking to the inside of the light fabric of her top. She took another
drink from her bottle of Res, and reached a hand back and behind, under her long flowing
blond hair. She undid the strap of her top and let it fall loose, and with a tug, the top came
free of her breasts, revealing her large pink, puffy nipples.
“Lady Le-En, I don't think-” Roku tried to sound shy, but the sight of Le-En's breasts excited
her. Lady Le-En ran one hand over her breasts and tugged at her nipples while she drank her
Res with the other.
“What's wrong? Aru already fuck you dry?” she said provocatively. “One Ober Wife enough
for one day?” she reached down with her free hand and found the clasp of her pants. They
dropped free to reveal her shapely, strong legs. She wore no underwear, just the light dun of
her pubic hair, well-trimmed, at the apex of her muscular legs.
Well, one more Ober Wife thoroughly examined, Roku told herself. Verdict: not a man...
“I-I didn't-” Roku was about to explain herself – explain what she and Lady Aru had been up
to – but she was interrupted by the door swinging open and two girls walking in wearing
garish, single piece dresses. Their faces were heavily made up, with bright scarlet lips and
heavy black eyeliner.

“Lady Le-En!” one said with a genuine warmness. They were small women, perhaps no
more than one and a half meters, with waists that Roku could almost encircle with her hands.
They shuffled in on tall heels, but kicked them off as soon as they entered. One of the girls
was carrying a long shiny metal shaft, thirty centimeters long and maybe five wide, with a
rounded – almost pointed end. That must be Steely Dan, Roku thought, seeing for the first
time in her life such a loathsome, yet titillating totem.
“Who's your friend?” the other asked, and looked Roku up and down. Roku suddenly felt
self-conscious – still dressed in her maid's uniform. She felt extremely over – or under –
dressed for the occasion. “She's pretty...” the whore continued, stepped over next to Roku,
running a hand up Roku's thigh and under her petticoat. “Is she here to play, too?” And a
hand cupped Roku's ass.
“She's Aru's new taste,” Le-En said, casually walking over to one of the massage tables like
she wasn't completely naked. The two whore oo'd like that idea impressed them. “So we
should show her a good time...” Lady Le-En chuckled. She put down her Res, lifted herself up
onto the table, and reclined back on her elbow. She left her legs swing open, unthinkingly
reveling the luscious delicacy of her pink jane. Roku felt her heart leap, but neither of the
whores even batted and eye. “A really good time...” Le-En reinforced, taking another drink.
“Well, Steely Dan does not disappoint,” the girl holding the dildo said. She held it up so
everyone could get a good look at its brilliance. Even in the murky light of the Sento Room, it
shined with an almost inner light.
The whore stuck out her tongue and licked the full length of the phallus, taking it into her
mouth when she reached the end. She curved her fiery red lips around it and almost choked
as she pushed it deep into her mouth. She brought it out with a joyful slurp and gave it a
gentle kiss. “Who first?” the whore laughed, looking over at Lady Le-En.
“The taste,” she said. Her free hand was already between her legs, pinching at her clit. The
other hand remained throttling the Res bottle. The whore holding Steely Dan turned toward
Roku. Roku was transfixed by the steel dildo – transfixed in both lust and terror. Through the
show she hadn't noticed that other girl had pulled her panties down to her heels. A hand
came up and tickled at her labia, bringing Roku back to reality.

“What are you going to do with that?” Roku honestly asked; but she knew. The thought
excited her, but also horrified her. Roku. A Hatchette. A trained hunter and killer of the male
animal. A tool of the State. To be penetrated in that way... It was abominable! But oh so
delicious.... As one whore poked tenderly at Roku jane, she could feel her wetness. And the
other approached with the steel abhorrence... “Lady Le-En, please..,” Roku pleaded.
The girl kneeling beside Roku gently sat Roku down on the second massage table. Roku
didn't resist. She pulled Roku's knees apart, and brought her mouth up into position; Roku
hardly noticed, her eyes were fixed on the shiny metal of Steely Dan; but as the whore's
tongue dug deep into the depths of Roku vagina, and lapped aggressively against her clit,
Roku let out a moan of pleasure. She looked down for the first time to see the woman
between her legs, her heavily made up face expertly working away at Roku's jane. Roku
almost buckled over.
If the Mosh – as Roku expected – didn't really count as sex; then this was Roku's first real
sexual experience... Oh, that tongue up against her clit, those lips sucking on it... The other
whore stood by, watching, still holding Steely Dan. Roku looked across to the other massage
table, and Lady Le-En was frantically frigging at her blond jane. She was enjoying the show.
Roku untied her apron, and dropped it beside the table. She pulled her uniform up and off,
and let it fall away. She squeezed her own breasts as the whore ate happily away. She was
close to cumming... She let herself lay back down on the table...
“Over,” the second whore said. Roku had closed her eyes, ready for the explosion of
pleasure; but the tongue stopped. The first whore was on her feet now. They slid their hands
under Roku, and rolled her over onto her belly; hands lifted Roku's butt into the air, and
spreading her thighs apart.
“No, no, I don't...” Roku said through heavy breaths. But she really did. The two whores
were kissing at the inside of the thighs now, and her buttocks. Fingers were exploring around
inside her, pulling apart her labia. There were tongues, simultaneously at her clit and her
anus, then there was pressure. Something was pushing up and inside her, into her vagina. It
was pushing her apart. It hurt, but it felt wonderful it at same time. The tongues were still
there, working hard, as Steely Dan slid slowly inside...

“Oh God...” Roku heard Lady Le-En moan. “Fuck the little slut, fuck her!” she commanded.
And Steely Dan began to move. Back suddenly, and then hard in. Roku buried her face in the
towel by her head. Oh sweet Holy Matron! “Fuck the bitch!” Roku could hear Le-En moaning.
She was cumming. Steely Dan pumped in, once, twice, three times and Roku was cumming
too. The tongues, the slick dildo, Lady Le-En watching it all...
Roku came hard and long, biting down on the white towel. It might have been criminal, it
might have been obscene, but the pleasure filled her with no guilt. She let Steely Dan fill her,
and let her organism shake the full length of her body. As it subsided, she let herself relax,
lowering down to the table, the infernal device still between her legs.
“That your first cock, beautiful?” one of the whores asked quietly, as calm was restored;. She
stroked Roku's hair. Roku didn't answer. She kept her eyes closed and enjoyed the
aftershock.
“Who's next?” the other whore asked gaily. But there wasn't time to answer. The door to the
Sento Room was suddenly thrown violently open, and three women in black leather charged
in.
Roku was too limp to react. The leather clad women were carrying weapons – auto-burners.
One of the whores rose to her feet, managed to mutter: “What the fuck-” before the butt of a
gun came down on the side of her head. She hit the floor hard, with that rag-doll look of the
unconscious.
“Stay where you are!” one of the gun women ordered, pointer her auto-burner at the other
whore. Roku stayed prone. God, where was her burner? She'd totally lost track of it! Stupid,
stupid mistake. Think, Roku, think. Clear your head of the cum and think. In the pocket of
the apron... Which you untied when you were getting eaten out... Down the side of the
massage table... To your right... But not right now, no not now...
After the gun women had cleared the room, one spoke quietly into a communicator. The
sound of boots arose from the corridor; the march of heels. A fourth leather clad woman
stepped into the Sento Room, obviously in command. She carried no weapon and wore a
long leather overcoat with a high collar over her uniform. She took the room in with one
sweeping glance and then turned her attention to Lady Le-En. Lady Le-En was curled up in a

naked ball on her table, chuckling to herself softly; the bottle of Res still clutched in her
hands.
Roku recognized the uniforms; from the gatehouse back at the Ober Manor; that guard
who'd taken so long to examine Roku's identification; clad shoulder-to-toe in leather, with
the mirrored glasses hiding their eyes...
“My Lady,” the Guard Commander said to Lady Le-En, respectfully. Le-En just began to
cackle louder. She drank from her bottle and curled up a little tighter into her ball. The Guard
Commander studied Le-En for a moment, then snapped her fingers curtly at her
subordinates. Without further instructions, two guards had Lady Le-En up into a sitting
position and quickly began to dress her. The silence and efficiency with which they worked
indicated they'd had to do this service a number of times before.
This was Roku's chance. Two of the gun women were occupied, and the other was
distracted. If she was going to make her move for her burner, it was now. But Roku hesitated.
Waited. None of this was necessarily a bad thing – not for her mission. Lady Le-En was a Reshead.
She liked kinky sex. But Roku was under orders to infiltrate the Ober family, and well...
She was up to her neck in it... She couldn't predict how any of this was going to play out, but
Roku could foresee some possibilities...
The guards had Lady Le-En dressed – or dressed enough, and they picked her up off the
table, starting for the door. The other guard and the Commander began to follow. Roku
suddenly realized no one had even seen her – they were leaving without her. She reached
down and pulled Steely Dan out from between her legs, and jumped up from the table. She
attempted a form of modesty with one of the towels and reached out with a hand to the
departing Guard Commander.
“I'm with-” was all she managed, before the truncheon came down across her face. Roku
hadn't even noticed it under the Commander's coat; but fast as lighting, she had raised it and
smashed it down across Roku's haed. Hard. Hard enough that it would have knocked out
teeth if Roku's weren't steel-cored. Roku hit the floor next to the unconscious whore, all
attempts at modesty abandoned.

“Silence, whore!” the Commander screamed in a shrill tone. She raised her truncheon to
strike again, but decided against it. Roku's world was turning hazy, blurry. Sounds seemed
strange and distant.
And then the lights went out.
When Roku awoke, the Old Matron from the front desk was looking down at her. The two
whores were there also, one holding her head in pain.
“What do we do with her?” one whore asked, looking down at Roku with a look of distaste
on her face.
The Old Matron brought an unlit cigarette up to her lips and put it into place. She didn't
light it – she just stared down at Roku, chewing on the end of it, like she was chewing on an
idea.
“We've got enough problems,” she finally decided with a nod, “leave her for the Nanpa
Girls.”

Chapter 5
Nanpa Girls
Roku landed in the alley on her ass.
The whores hadn't given her a chance to dress. She stumbled, dirty and naked, across the
blacktop and collapsed into heap in the center of the alley. The door to Mai's Brothel
slamming shut behind her. Her head was still spinning from the truncheon crack across the
mouth. She coughed and spit out a mouthful of blood. She could feel the swelling starting,
locking up her left jaw. Roku felt around inside her mouth and checked the settings of her
teeth. Lucky, nothing seemed loose.
As the whores had physically evicted Roku from the Sento Room – each grabbing and arm
and each grabbing a leg – she had had the presence of mind to hang on to her apron and her
dress. Now that she was alone, in the filth of the alley, she pulled the dress on over her head
and down over her body.
Her underwear was long lost, along with her shoes and her shawl; a ladder ran the full
length of her left black stocking. She dug frantically through the pockets of the apron and was
rewarded with the solid heft of her burner still tucked away in the main pocket. It was little
comfort, but at least Roku was armed. It was something, at least.
The Old Matron and the whores had made there point: Roku was not wanted. Bringing
down the wrath of the Ober Security Personnel... It was trouble a place like Mai's didn't need.
The jackbooted guards had spirited away Lady Le-En, taking the white Town Car with them.
Roku was laying in the gutter of a stinking back alley, half-naked, with the shit beaten out of
her. She'd had better days, Roku thought.

She'd come down to the brothel with Lady Le-En in hopes of seducing Lady Le-En, but she
had only managed to get herself mistaken for a common whore. The guards hadn't looked at
her twice – Lady Le-En hadn't bothered to speak up. With the amount of force that Guard
Commander had used to smash in Roku's head... Well, she wouldn’t have cared if she'd
killed Roku.
What was one more whore to her? And now Roku was left in the darkness, in her bare feet,
to make her own way back to school... And who knew what lurks around these parts of town
at night, praying on whatever happens to stumble by? The Old Matron had mentioned
'Nanpa Girls', but Roku had no idea what that meant... But something in the evil glee with
which the Old Matron had mentioned them... It made something inside Roku stomach sink.
There was nothing to do but walk.
Roku started off in her stockinged feet down the alley. She adjusted her uniform, hoping for
some semblance of modesty, but it was a lost cause. The dress was ripped. Unless she held it
up, it fell away from her left breast... And she felt sore where Steely Dan had penetrated her; a
cold breeze blowing between her legs.
Altogether, she felt seriously hard done by. She cursed Lady Le-En, and all the Ober Wives,
for their fucking self-righteous superiority. Roku might be a trained agent – a genetically
engineered killer; but for all Lady Le-En knew, she was a innocent, honest girl of eighteen. To
abandon such a creature to the terrors of the south-side at night... Simply because Lady Aru
had shown Roku some kindness...
Fuck them all, Roku thought.
Roku stepped back out onto the main street off the alley. She looked down its length, left
and right. All was quiet. All the buildings looked abandoned – their cold, neoclassical facades
showing no signs of life. The river was to the left and Roku started in that direction.
She kept her hand firmly wrapped around the grip of her burner, hidden in her apron
pocket. She methodically scanned the street as she walked, pausing to glance back over her
shoulder. The whole street was nothing but a world of dancing shadows – dark nooks that
could easily hide a thousand adversaries.

Roku told herself to get a grip. It wasn't more than a kilometer to the river and she'd be back
on the north side of town – the new town, built by, and for, the Great Society. That was the
safe part of the city where girls could walk at night without fear of assault.
Roku smiled. What could she possibly look like? How would people react when they saw
Roku wander across the river, in her torn maid's uniform, with a swelling, bruised face? How
long before the police were called? But Roku didn't fear the police, the police would mean a
ride back to school. Perhaps Roku would have to sit through a dressing down by the Head
Matron, but-
-What was that? Back, probably a half a click, Roku had heard a car cross across the main
street. There was the sound of brakes. Roku stopped in her tracks and looked back through
the dingy light of the meager streetlights. Slowly, she saw the car backing up, out of an alley,
back onto the main street.
Someone wanted a second look at Roku. There was nothing to do but keep walking. Roku
turned away and started off again in her bare feet. Behind her, Roku could hear the car's
engine revving to life. She shot a quick glance back and could see the car approaching. Roku
quickened her pace, keeping her burner firmly hidden in her apron; her offhand holding up
the neckline of her dress.
The car was closing, the powerful engine roaring away behind her. A gas burner, one of
those old petroleum fueled engines. Big and powerful and dirty. Roku looked back one last
time and the car was almost on top of her. The driver suddenly hit the brakes and slowed the
car to match Roku's walking speed – rolling behind her no more than ten meters back.
Roku kept walking. She dared not look around again. She could feel every centimeter of her
body tightening. If an attack came, she was ready. She would hear the slightest noise, turn
and fire her burner. But the car just kept rolling behind her, keeping pace, its old, angry
engine muttering slowly. Roku didn't alter her step – it'd do no good to run. She kept walking
toward the river, letting the car follow. She must have been quite the sight; whoever was in
the car was trying to figure out what exactly Roku was...
Perhaps they were a good Samaritan, Roku laughed to herself, about to offer aid. No, Roku
knew, that was a lie – she was easy prey. Too easy, perhaps. The car was sizing her up,

looking for some hidden danger. In a few moments they'd realize that there was nothing else
to Roku – she was nothing more than exactly what she looked like: A scared, lone girl lost in a
bad part of town. When the car came to that conclusion, then they'd act, Roku thought; but
for now the car was following her slowly, licking its lips in anticipation.
“Hey, sweetie...” A voice came from behind Roku, she turned. It was a big car, a massive car,
like nothing they'd built for a hundred years. There were four girls in it, dressed for the night
clubs, their faces made up and their hair in wild styles. The girl in the front passenger seat
was leaning out of the open window, calling to Roku. She was wearing a small, glittering mini
dress and she drummed on the door of the car with her long, painted nails.
Roku kept walking.
“Hey, sweetie, come here,” the girl hanging through the open car window said. Roku looked
back again. The girl was smiling, waving to Roku. “You need a lift, hon?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” Roku lied. There were two girls in the backseat who giggled. The driver was
watching Roku closely from behind the car's massive steering wheel.
“Come on, let's give you a lift. It ain't safe for a pretty girl like you to be walking all alone in
this part of town.” The girl’ voice was slightly slurred and her pupils were wide. Res. “Come
on, baby, you look like hell. Someone beat you up, huh? You get a little rough lovin'? Don't
worry about it, we'll get you home, sweetie, come one...” More giggles from the backseat.
Roku stopped and the car came to a halt. Roku turned fully around to looked the car over.
They hardly looked like a serious threat, Roku thought. Four party girls... And Roku did have
her burner.
The back door of the car opened, and a girl slipped out of the back. She had on the smallest
tube top around her chest – almost a strapless bra, pink shorts and platform shoes. Her hair
was a wild array of neon lighting and hair spray. She was chewing on gum, or something, and
held the door open for Roku.
Roku could see her reflection in the shiny finish of the massive car. For the first time she saw
the large black bruise circling her left eye, and the full extent of the swelling in her jaw. She

was a mess. Roku looked down at her bare feet and back up to the wild party girl holding the
car door for her.
Suddenly, Roku didn't care who these people were. They were transportation, that was all.
What did Roku, the Hatchette, have to fear from four tiny, drunken party girls? Nothing. Roku
wearily stepped forward and climbed into the back seat of the car. Before she knew it, the car
was moving again, and the two girls in the back were almost sitting on top of her.
“Hey, beautiful, you tear your dress?” the one on Roku's left asked, fussing with the torn
neck line.
“And look at those stockings,” the one on the right said, running a hand down Roku's left
leg. Suddenly, Roku was being pawed from every direction.
“Hey, were you live, sweetie?” the girl in the front passenger seat asked. Roku saw the driver
adjusting her rear view mirror to get a better look at Roku.
“Saint Juliet,” Roku said, mentioning the name of her school, but Roku quickly realized that
no one in the car was planning on taking her home.
“You have a rough night, baby?” the girl to Roku's left was saying. She had pulled the
neckline of Roku's dress free, and she pulled it down until Roku's left breast was exposed.
Roku grabbed frantically at the fabric of her dress and tried to pull it back into place.
“And what happen to your panties?” the girl on the right said, her hand exploring under
Roku's short dress.
“No!” Roku cried.
“Don't worry, we'll get you home, sweetie,” the girl in the front seat said, but she couldn't
hold back an evil smile. The driver let out a soft titter as the two girls in the back tore
forcefully at Roku's dress. What little fabric was left at the neckline gave way and both of
Roku's breasts were suddenly exposed.
Without a second of hesitation, the two girls had their mouths hungry at Roku's nipples,
sucking and biting. Roku struggled to free herself, but the girl from the front seat raised to
small, compact burner and pointed it at Roku. “Just relax,” she said, holding the gun.

Roku ceased in her struggling. The two girls lapped hungrily at Roku's full breasts, and
hands pulled her thighs far apart. The girl with the gun looked down at Roku's exposed jane
and smiled hungrily. Fingers were exploring, probing. Roku could feel a warmth building
inside her again.
How many times did that make it today? she thought. She had to concentrate, this was a
deadly situation. That was a real burner. She couldn't let herself get swept away with lust...
These must be the Nanpa Girls the Old Matron had spoken of, Roku realized. Yeah, a group
of cruising rapists, that was just the sort of thing that would make an Old Matron smile.
Fingers were inside Roku now, circling. Roku let out a soft moan, and instantly regretted it.
The girl to Roku's right broke off from Roku's breast and passionately kissed Roku on the
mouth. Roku didn't resist. The girl pulled down her tube top, revealing her small, firm
breasts, and started feeding them to Roku. Roku sucked on them obediently, flicking the
nipples with her tongue. The girl to Roku's left twisted in her seat, placing her mouth
between Roku's legs, and started licking. Roku couldn't help sigh with pleasure as the girl's
tongue began digging deep inside Roku.
The girls to Roku's right pulled her breast from Roku's mouth and began to fumble at her
pink short shorts. Now she's going to feed Roku her pussy, Roku thought, and she was ready.
She licked her lips in anticipation of the bitterness of the girl's taste...
“No, what are you doing?” the girl in the front seat, with the gun, asked.
“I want her to-” the topless girl in the pink shorts said. Her friend was still lost between
Roku's legs.
“Not now, you idiot!” the girl in the front said with surprising force. “When we're at the
apartment.” And the girl stopped unbuttoning her shorts; instead contenting herself to again
suck hungrily on Roku's breasts.
The car pulled to a halt. Roku felt it, but didn't see. The girl came up from between Roku's
thighs and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She was a pretty blonde with delicate
features. The second girl was pulling her tube top back into place as she opened her door.
The girl in the front kept the burner pointed at Roku. Everyone was climbing out of the car.

For a moment, Roku was left alone in the back seat, but a wave of the burner told Roku to
climb out.
Roku was naked besides her torn black stockings. She held her destroyed dress and her
apron bundled up against her breasts. Out on the cold, dirty street, she felt small and
exposed. The car had stopped in front of an old, rundown apartment building, obviously still
on the south-side of town. There wasn't another soul to be seen.
One of the girls from the back seat produced a blanket from the trunk and she wrapped it
around Roku. Two girls, on either side of Roku, took an arm and led her towards the
apartment building's main doors.
They had probably once been glass, but now they were just sheets of particle board, heavily
graffitied. The lobby smelled like urine. A few bundled figures lay here and there spread out
on the floor. These forms stirred as the Nanpa Girls entered with Roku, but the Nanpa Girls
ignored the transients and lead Roku to the stairs. They climbed, three stories, and came to a
dirty, half broken door.
Inside it was no nicer. It was an apartment, with a kitchen, but it was obvious that no one
had lived there for many years. The windows were broken and the weather was inside; the
smell of mold almost overpowering. There was a soggy, half collapsed couch in the living
room, and a bare mattress on the floor in the center of the bedroom. It was a hellhole and
Roku began to shiver; half from the cold, and half from anticipation of the reason she had
been brought there.
“Down,” someone behind Roku's back said, and pulled the blanket suddenly off Roku. She
stood there naked, her torn dress and apron in her hands. One of the girls, the one with the
gun, took her things from her and threw them up against the couch. “Down!” she repeated,
and pushed down on Roku's bare shoulder. Her knees landed in to the soggy wet mold of the
carpet and she looked up into the barrel of the small gun.
Things had suddenly taken a serious turn for the worse, Roku realized. This wasn't the sort
of place that young, naked girls ever came home from. Roku's body shivered, but inside a
calm came over her. Now was the time for violence, she understood. She would have to act,
reach for her burner; for when the Nanpa Girls were done with her...well, Roku had seen the

vidcasts of bodies pulled out of the river... All pink and bloated. In the morning, that was
going to be her.
Roku paused. Something about the situation made Roku think. Her life was in serious
danger, yes, these four girls were armed and dangerous; they planned to rape Roku and
murder her; but there was something... Something about the whole situation that Roku
sensed. She was not quite ready to act. She would bide her time for a few minutes longer. It
might mean humiliation, it might mean injury, but there was always that Hatchette coolness
about Roku; that curiosity even in the face of death. In one more minute she'd make her
move, but for now...
“Fuck!” the girl in the pink shorts cursed, pulling her top off once again. “Are we gonna do
this?” She began to pop open the buttons of her pink shorts. “Now? You fucking bitch,” She
turned to the girl with the gun, “can she suck it now?”
“Oh, yeah,” the girl with the gun said casually, lifting up her mini dress, “she can suck us all
now.” She was pulling down her panties. It took a second for Roku to realize what was
happening – what was wrong with the whole situation. When the pink shorts dropped –
when the panties under the mini dress came down – things were out of place. Erect fingers
shot out from groins and pointed at Roku. The other two girls were lifting their dresses too,
and they were the same: the fleshy members, pink and hard. A shaft that ballooned slightly at
the end with a single small opening. Each of the Nanpa Girls stroked at their appendage as
they stepped in closer to Roku.
The Nanpa Girls weren't girls, they were boys!
Roku regarded the four penises at eye level with total and complete horror. Roku was a
Hatchette, yes, tasked with hunting down and destroy men, but she'd never actually seen a
male before. The charts, the diagrams from Hatchette training were woefully inadequate.
Seconds earlier, regardless of the danger, Roku would have sworn on her life that the four
girls from the car were full blooded females. Nothing about them, in the car... The breasts,
the hands, the figures, the faces... Nothing about them had given Roku any indication that
they were male. At least, now Roku had her answer – now she understood what it was about
situation that had made her hesitate...

“Seen one of these before?” the girl/boy with the gun asked. Roku looked up from his penis
to the gun. The excited one, the Nanpa girl who'd been wearing the pink shorts, stepped
forward impatiently and thrust his penis into Roku's mouth. Roku gagged. A spasm of pain
registered in her brain from her swollen, locked jaw – it didn't hurt, but she knew it was
supposed to. With her cock in Roku's mouth, the Nanpa girl started pumping back and forth
with her hips, holding Roku's head firm. Roku didn't resist. The girl with the gun was still
holding it – both the gun and her cock. Roku would have to wait for her moment.
The penis moved back and forth in Roku's mouth, choking her as the girl thrust it down
Roku's throat. After a dozen thrusts, the Nanpa Girl pulled it out and rubbed it against Roku's
face. “Yeah, suck it, lick it,” She was muttering, playing with her tight breasts. Roku stuck out
her tongue at let the girl run her cock over it. The Nanpa Girl moaned with joy. She reached
between her legs and pulled forward the small sack that dangled from the rear of her penis.
This she pushed into Roku's mouth, telling Roku to “suck my balls, you slut...”
“I gonna cum!” She finally said, after a minute or so more, thrusting again into Roku's face.
Roku was starting to get the hang of it – to relax and let the penis slide down her throat. The
girl pulled her cock out of Roku's mouth and let it erupted in a stream of white cum across
Roku's lips and bruised cheek. Roku reflexively flinched away from the ejaculation and got
the last of the cum in her left ear – sticking to her hair. “I wanta fuck her ass...” the Nanpa Girl
continued, reaching around to grab at Roku's rear. She showed no signs that her climax had
satisfied her at all.
“You're done...” the girl with the gun said, stepping forward, “back of the line,” she gestured
back, behind the others, with the gun. She positioned himself in front of Roku and began to
feed her dick into Roku's mouth.
Roku's moment had come. As the girl with the gun positioned herself, thrusting out her
manhood, Roku came up with a fist. The blow landed solidly between the Nanpa Girl's legs.
At the same moment, Roku swung forward with her forehead, into the girl's member,
buckling it under the force of the blow.
Not unexpectedly, the Nanpa girl doubled over and fell to the floor. Roku dropped back
onto her rear and rolled. The other Nanpa Girls were dangerously close, but they had all been

completely taken by surprise by Roku's maneuver. Before they could react, Roku was
fumbling amongst the rags that had once been her maid's uniform. Her apron, the front
pocket, the burner, and she was on her feet.
The first arc of plasma hit the Nanpa Girl who'd driven the car to the apartment. She had
pendulous breasts, and the left one boiled and exploded where the plasma bolt cut into her.
“She's got a gun!” someone yelled. Roku's second target was rooted to the floor in shock, her
hand still holding her cock. There was no need for a snap shot here, Roku aimed carefully.
She pulled the trigger and the Nanpa Girl's head evaporated; the decapitated body slowly
falling back.
The girl with the gun was recovering a little from the head-butt to the balls. A shaky hand
came up and took a potshot at Roku. It would have hit home if Roku hadn't flipped back,
somersaulting over the couch. The plasma blot flew harmlessly across the room, scorching
into the wall. Roku fired before she had fully returned to her feet, and her bolt took the
Nanpa Girl's arm clean off at the elbow. The second shot hit the prone target square in the
chest.
That just left one.
Roku looked quickly around the room. The Nanpa Girl – the one who'd worn the pink
shorts, the one who'd been so eager to fuck Roku's ass – where was she? Roku could see
across the room to the front door of the apartment; it was still closed. She was still in the
apartment; there wasn't far to go.
Roku leapt gracefully over the couch, landed and rolled on the moldy floor, bringing her
burner up at the doorway to the single bedroom. Sure enough, the last Nanpa Girl was
halfway out the fire escape window.
She must have heard Roku, because she stopped in her escape, turned around and suddenly
began begging: “No, no. Please! You don't understand, I-” But Roku wasn't listening. She
fired. The shot hit the girl in the gut, making her stagger forward from the window. She was
wounded but not dead.

“Still want to fuck my ass?” Roku asked, spitting out a wad of the Nanpa Girl's cum –
enjoying for a second a moment of sadistic glee.
“I-I-Please-” and Roku fired again; this time though the neck. The plasma bolt didn't deencapsulate
and it exploded against the window beyond. The Nanpa Girl's hand came up,
grabbing at the small hole though her throat. She... He... Looked down in shocked terror,
then collapsed forward face first onto the bare mattress in the center of the room. Normally,
plasma weapons cauterize the wounds they cause, preventing bleeding, but the hole through
the Nanpa Girls neck... A pool of red began to soak into the mattress under the girl's body.
Roku pulled herself to her feet and pushed the safety on her burner.
She looked around for a long minute at the corpses that littered the apartment. By the Holy
Matron! What had she done? She suddenly felt very naked, standing there dressed only in her
ripped stockings. She found the blanket that the Nanpa Girls had brought and she pulled it
around her shoulders.
Your job, she told herself as she shivered under the blanket – you were doing your job.
You're a Hatchette, and a Hatchette's job, first and foremost, is to exterminate men. And
you've got four dead men right here. Killed with your hand. Four men who were going to face
fuck you; ass fuck you, then throw your dead body in the river. Don't have any sympathy for
them, Roku told herself. She stepped amongst the charred corpses, looking at her handy
work – looking for a phone. She found one in a small purse. She dialed the number she had
been told to dial in situations like this. The number for the cleaners – the number for Lt. Zee.
She'd done her job, Roku said to herself again, and she'd made the world safer. Four dead
Dick Terrorists. Roku sat down on the soggy couch and let the phone ring. Fuck, she'd just
killed four people, Roku realized, four men...
Roku had never killed anyone before.

Chapter 6
Lt. Zee
Lieutenant Zee held a small, purple, lace-fringed handkerchief over her mouth and nose as
she stepped into the decrepit, fifthly apartment. Three bodies – one decapitated – lay
sprawled in the fetid damp of the apartment's rotten carpet. Lt. Zee coughed and choked
back on the rising vomit in the back of her throat. She'd need a moment, she told herself, a
moment to take it all in. Roku sat on a disgusting, dank couch – naked except for a pair of
torn black stockings – a Paramedic slowing waving an anti-inflammatory wand in front of her
chin. An Evidence Tech took a sample of something out of Roku's hair with a swab.
It was a fucking blood bath.
Zee stepped back out of the apartment, into the hall, and let the retches come. She doubled
over to puke, but managed to hold her dinner down. She'd never seen a scene like that
before – not ever in the ten years she had been on the Force. No agent had ever killed three...
Oh God, she'd have to go and check... She'd have to go back inside... If any of the dead were
actually female... Zee sucked in a large lung full of air and stepped back into the apartment –
the handkerchief over her nose once again.
A quick glance and she could see that the three corpses were male – tiny, shriveled, hairless
penises between their sprawled legs. Another first for Lt. Zee: She had never seen a real male
before – never seen a penis. That was what all the fuss was about? She thought. That little
thing? The Hatchette program was in its infancy. Roku, and the other eleven girls were the
first Hatchettes the government had trained, and Roku was the first of the Hatchettes to show
results. It was a feather in Roku's – and Lt. Zee's – cap: The dead Dicks. Good news like this
would be well received high up in the Commissariat.

“Good job, Roku,” Zee said though her handkerchief and her hand. Roku looked up in
shock – surprise. Roku was on edge, still hyper-adrenal, Zee realized. Her bionics, her
conditioning, were still in control. Best not to make any sudden moves, Zee thought, or she'll
snap my neck without thinking. Hatchettes were dangerous things – combat machines built
into the body of teenage girls. The program had been controversial from the start: The use of
young girls. But to be one hundred percent effective, the conditioning had to begin before
puberty; and young minds were far easier to mold...
...But the look in Roku's eyes: The fear, the horror. What had she done? What had Lt. Zee
made her do? For a moment, Zee felt a terrible guilt building up deep inside of her. What was
Roku? Eighteen? Physically conditioned, well-armed, but still a child...
...It was a war, Zee reminded herself. It was us or them. Roku was a warrior. She had killed
the enemy. Given the chance, they would have undoubtedly killed her and gone on to do
other unspeakable acts of terrorism. Roku should be proud of her service to the Great
Society. Roku was a hero.
“Three Dicks,” Zee observed, looking down at the corpses. She took in another deep breath
and returned the handkerchief to her pocket, “all on your own.”
“Four,” Roku corrected. Zee turned and saw the body in the bedroom – lying face down on
the bright crimson, bloodstained mattress.
“Fuck. Four...” That rattled Lt. Zee just that little bit more. She took a pocket tablet and a
stylus out of her jacket and turned it on, her fingers shaking. “This have anything to do with
the Obers?”
“No.” Roku was shaking too. It was dank and cold in the room and she was naked. “I mean,
I was...”
“Yes?”
“Lady Le-En. The young wife, you know about her?”
“Yeah, the Res-head.”

“Right.” The Paramedic and the Evidence Tech were done. There was a coarse, wool blanket
on the couch next to Roku and she pulled it up around her shoulders. “She brought me
down here, to a brothel...”
“You're kidding?” Zee said, writing in shorthand on the tablet. “She know these Dicks?”
“No.” Roku shook her head. “That was later, after the Ober Guards came for Le-En.”
“What? Who came?”
“Some of the black suited guards, from the Manor. They came to the brothel and pulled
Lady Le-En out. One gave me this,” and Roku pointed to the fading bruise over her eye, “and
left me behind. That's when these...” Roku struggled for the correct gender for her noun,
“men picked me up.”
“They had nothing to do with this brothel?” Zee asked.
“No... I mean, I don't think so...” Roku gave Lt. Zee a pained, baffled look. “But then...” and
Roku's voice trailed off.
Lieutenant Zee was going to have to let in a breath of the fetid apartment. She couldn't hold
her breath forever – she was turning blue. She breathed out and sucked in a lung full. The
stench of the apartment was as bad as she had expected. The mildew mixing with the smell
of burnt flesh. Instantly, Zee felt the bile rising in her throat. She coughed and choked it
down, her eyes watering.
Lt. Zee was in her mid-thirties. She wore a dark, business-like suit with heels and a silk, wide
collared shirt. Nothing in her face gave a hint to her age, with girlish features and her dark
hair pulled back, leaving bangs almost down over her eyes. She had a full figure, trending to
fat, with full, heavy breasts and long voluptuous legs. She had once been athletic, in her
youth, but the slow pace of police work, and the long hours had taken its toll on her body.
Zee had handled Roku since she'd graduated from Hatchette training, hardly three months
before. Lt. Zee liked Roku, but the sight of Roku's tight, pert frame had always made Zee
uncomfortable. Aroused, perhaps, but also nostalgic for the figure she had once had.

Even in that apartment – even with the bodies of four dead Dicks lying around her – the
sight of Roku's legs topped by the dark, black bush of her jane caught Zee's attention. Roku
looked like hell, beaten and abused, Zee thought, but also, in a way, she had an afterglow
about her – like she'd spent the night in rough lovemaking, and was sticky with sweat from
the exertion. How close to the truth she hit, Lt. Zee didn't know, but she could sense the
musk of sexual satisfaction about Roku, and it teased her.
It made her realize how long unsatisfied her own desires had gone, and how long it'd been
since she come to a neighborhood like this one, in search of the forbidden – in search of the
lowest of the low, something to satisfy her deepest, darkest carnal desires...
“What happened at this brothel?” Zee asked.
“There were these two girls – whores... And a phallus...”
“Real girls? Not-” and Zee motioned towards a corpse.
“No, real. I mean, I think... But then I thought these were...” and Roku shuddered.
“But a fake...”
“Yes,” Roku answered quickly, “Steely Dan.” Lt. Zee felt her stomach jump. The thought of
Roku's legs spread wide, with a dildo between them... “But then the Guards came, and the
whores tossed me out, and there was nothing for me to do but walk, so I started towards the
river when these four came along in an old car. Real old, gas burner. It must still be
downstairs. They offered me a ride and I took it. Why, I'm not sure. One of them was armed
and they brought me here, where they pulled them out... That was the first I knew... That they
were... One forced his... Into my mouth and... Pulled out and...” she touched her cheek. “The
second in line was the one with the gun. She didn't get a chance and I reached for my
burner... The rest you can see...”
Lt. Zee stopped tapping at her tablet, mortified. It was inconceivable. Grotesque. She'd
never heard a story like it. She was simultaneously stimulated and horrified. To have four
men abduct and rape you... Well, people would pay top dollar to role-play that sort of thing,
in the seedier brothels, on the wrong side of the river. But this wasn't a fantasy – Roku hadn't

een sucking on anything rubber. And to cum on her face... It was the most vile thing Zee
could imagine... She licked her lips involuntarily at the very idea...
The Paramedic returned and handed Roku a set of scrubs wrapped in plastic. Roku stood
up and shuffled off the blanket, tearing open the bag of clothes. Lt. Zee suddenly felt she was
intruding and stepped away to look over the corpses, their yellowing flesh pallid in the flash
of the evidence technician's camera lights.
They wouldn't know until the lab tests came back, but they all seemed to be level 3
transsexuals – the engineered kind, with the 'Z' chromosome. Not simply men converted to
look like women, but almost a third sex: Women with male genitalia... But that was
deceiving – they were still men inside – in their hearts... Vile, predatory and murderous...
Like all men, converted or not. A threat to everything good and honest in the world.
The Dicks were growing bolder and more aggressive. This little cell, right here; these four
males, Zee thought, were operating with autonomy – preying on young girls. Was this a
renegade cell? Or was this now Dick policy? Gang rape as terrorism? Lt. Zee shuddered.
Thank the Holy Matron they stumbled on Roku – a Hatchette – and not some other young
girl. But then how many had there been before Roku? How many bodies had they pulled out
of the river?
“Come on, I'll give you a lift back to school,” Zee said when Roku was dressed in the pale
blue scrubs. Dressed, Roku seemed small and vulnerable – the victim of a crime once again,
not the aggressor. Roku followed Zee out of the apartment and up the stairs, not down. Lt.
Zee's Police VTOL was parked on the roof, waiting; its butterfly doors open like two
embracing arms.
“Tomorrow, I'll need a full debrief on the Ober situation,” Lt. Zee said, climbing into the
pilot's seat, pulling her door down and closed. Roku slipped quickly into the passenger seat,
buckling herself in.
“You think there's some connection, don't you?” Roku said as the VTOL was lifting off the
rooftop, the thunder of jets pushing away from the derelict neighborhood below them.
“I don't know what to think...” Lt. Zee replied, watching her gauges.

“But there was a reason that you placed me on the staff at the Manor, no? You suspected
something? And now these four Dicks...”
“What the Commissariat suspects or doesn't suspect is none of your concern,” Zee said
maternally. “Or mine, for that matter. If there's any connection between these Dicks and the
Ober wives... Well, reports are filed and Commissars read them. That's all I can say...”
“I just don't understand,” Roku continued, looking down at the city below. They were
amongst to the skyscrapers now, the needles of steel cutting into the air. Two more minutes
and they'd be out in the suburbs, flying over the Ober Manor and the grounds of St, Juliet’s.
“Aren't they one in the same thing – the Ober Wives and the Commissariat? Lady Aru – isn't
she First Commissar?”
“Not yet,” Zee said dryly.
“The Commissariat spies on its own members?” Roku turned and looked at the side of Lt.
Zee's face. Zee was focused on her flying, but stole a quick, comforting smile for Roku.
“Don't concern yourself with politics, Roku,” Zee said. “You'll twist yourself in a knot. What
you did today – the four Dicks – that was some good work. Remember that – focus on your
duty. Hatchettes find and bag Dicks, that's your mission. Focus on that and let the politics
work themselves out. Don't forget who the real enemy is, Roku. Out there,” Zee glanced up
at the sky, raising a finger, “they're waiting. Waiting for us to make a mistake, to drop our
guard. That's where you come in, Roku, to be our eternal, vigilant guardian – The Great
Society's protector. And you proved your worth today, Roku. You proved your worth a
thousand times over...”
Lt. Zee, and Roku, fell into silence.
The VTOL put down just outside the school's gym and Roku jumped free from the craft. A
moment later, Lt. Zee was lifting off again, kicking up a cloud of dirt around Roku. Roku
shielded her eyes and sprinted into the school's side door. All was quiet, dark. She took the
side stairs that brought her out in the dormitories. A minute later she was at her bunk,
slipping out of the hospital scrubs.

Pelli stirred on the top bunk as Roku slid, naked, into the bottom one. Roku pulled up the
sheets and laid her head down on the pillow. Despite all the action, all the horror, Roku
knew that sleep would not evade her. She was tired, body and soul. Dog tired. Too tired to
think.
“What time do you call this?” Pelli said, poking her head over the side of her bunk. Roku
didn't move, not even to open her eyes.
“Go to sleep,” Roku said.
“You're gonna pretend you were working this late?” Pelli chuckled.
“I said: Go to sleep.”
“Alright...” Pelli's head vanished, “if that's the way you want it. I just hope you had a good
time...”
Roku could feel the weariness consuming her – sleep rapidly approaching. No, she had not
had a good time, she remembered thinking just as unconsciousness started to take hold.
Not a good time at all.

Chapter 7
Damage Control
Roku was in Social Studies the next day, casually ignoring the Matron's lecture – working on
her report for Lt. Zee – when the door to the classroom swung open. It was the Head Matron
– an animal even older and more desiccated than all the other Matrons put together – who
stepped into the room and spoke quickly and quietly to Roku's teacher. The Social Studies
Matron seemed annoyed but nodded her approval. With that, the Head Matron returned
back out the door. Roku returned her attention back to her tablet.
“Roku!” the Matron yelled suddenly, making Roku jump. “In the hall!” she said firmly. Roku
could see that the classroom door had not quiet closed and the Head Matron was waiting in
it, watching.
“Yes, Matron,” Roku said, sliding her tablet away in her folio. She left it by her chair and
clicked on her heels across the floor of the classroom. At the door she stepped through, the
Head Matron waited, looking Roku over with a suspicious air.
“Roku?” she asked when the door had closed.
“Yes, Matron?” Roku tried to look humble – at the floor.
“You have a visitor,” the Head Matron announced, as if it was the height of rudeness for
Roku to dare be visited by anyone.
“A visitor?” Roku asked. It must be Lt. Zee, but she would never... She would never risk
Roku's cover...

“In the Grand Hall,” the Head Matron turned with annoyance, “follow me,” she
commanded.
Roku followed, teetering on her heels. She fiddled at the waist of her tiny skirt, attempting
to lower it just a little. She'd feel like a fool to have Lt. Zee see her in her school uniform. It
was just... Well, after yesterday – after the four Dicks. To be dressed like a Matron's sex toy...
Roku was already blushing.
But the tall figure in the bright turquoise gown, waiting in the Grand Hall, was not Lt. Zee.
Flanked by leather clad guards, Lady Aru waited in the Hall for Roku's arrival with Lady Le-
En sprawled casually on a settee beside her. Roku almost laughed in surprise. It was
absolutely the last soul Roku expected to see.
Lady Aru looked half royalty, half Martian in the long, flowing, high collared gown, with the
neckline plunging, exposing the inner curves of those breasts; with the same gravity defying
firmness that Roku had noted the evening before. She looked dressed for an evening gala, a
ball, but Roku suspected that the air of regality was all part of Lady Aru's everyday business
attire. Dress for the job you want, they say, and if you want to be Queen... Like the body
underneath, everything about Lady Aru spoke power, persuasion. Command.
If Lady Aru's clothes spoke volumes about her, what did Roku's clothes say about her?
Dressed in her Mary Janes; white socks up and over the knees; tiny plaid skirt, hardly hiding
her underwear; tight shirt knotted under her breasts to reveal her bare midriff; her hair up in
pigtails. Roku blushed, but the second Lady Aru laid eyes on her...
Whatever had happened the night before – between Lady Aru and Roku in the Lady's
bedroom – had been real, Roku realized at that moment. That look... As quick as it appeared
it vanished – Lady Aru was nothing if not in complete control of her emotions – but Roku had
seen it. Definitely seen it. There had been that fire once again. Desire. Roku respectfully
lowered her eyes – as was expected when meeting such a dignitary, but she could feel a red
warmth rising to her cheeks as she stood there under the gaze of Lady Aru.
“Thank you, Matron,” Lady Aru said with a dismissive wave. The Head Matron, visibly
biting down on her pride, gave Lady Aru a small, respectful bow and quickly scuttled from
the Grand Hall. “Roku, is it?” Lady Aru said.

“Yes, Ma'am,” Roku said with a small curtsy; a flash of cleavage; the flip of the pony tails.
“This...” and Lady Aru let out a strained laugh, searching for words. “I hardly no where to
begin... As I understand it. From my security personal and my dear wife...” she gestured to
the sprawled figure of Lady Le-En. Le-En was still dressed in white, but this time tennis t-
shirt and shorts.
By the bored, pissed-off vibe Lady Le-En was projecting, it was obvious that she had not
come to the Hall that day willingly; like a sulking child being forced to own up to some
mistake, she was throwing off a 'I don't give a shit' attitude and hoping it played as
smoldering rebellion.
“...that – err, last evening,” Lady Aru continued, “Well, it's just horrible... I don't know what
to say... That my dear wife went downtown to... Shell we say... A certain type of business...
Not alone, with less than venerable ideas...”
Lady Le-En let out a disgusted groan.
“...And that you accompanied... And when, on my orders, my bodyguards arrived... At this
place... To repatriate my lovely wife, for her own safety...” Lady Aru swallowed on her words.
“That you were mistaken for someone of ill fame and... Struck about the head and left...”
She was apologizing. It took Roku a few seconds to realize it. Apologies obviously didn't
come easily to Lady Aru. It hadn't occurred to Roku before; all the business with the Dicks
had distracted her; but the scandal... If the events of last night ever made it to the vidcasts...
Phallus Palaces, Ober Wives, under-aged girls. Oh, it was a fucking disaster. No wonder Lady
Aru had come in person to apologize to Roku. This was one hell of a mess she had to clean
up. This could cost her seat in the Commissariat... Just the whiff of scandal...
Finger the fucking Matron!
Instantly, Roku realized the hold she now had over the Ober Wives. What would they do,
what would they pay to keep this story out of the vidcasts? Insinuate yourself into the Ober
household, Lt. Zee had commanded, but this was something else! Something else, indeed.
Roku tried not to let what she was thinking show on her face, but it was hard. She looked up
and fixed Lady Aru with an attentive, obedient smile.

“You must accept my apology, Roku,” Lady Aru lay a hand on Roku's shoulder in a stilted,
comforting gesture. “If my security personal had understood the situation... They would
have never... I am so sorry you were treated so shabbily. The responsibility is all mine. Lady
Le-En should have never... And then to...” Lady Aru trailed off into silence. She had to, there
was so little that could be said. “Your safety should have been taken into consideration...” she
asked feebly.
“I made it back to school okay,” Roku lied. Did Lady Aru know about the Dicks? Roku
scanned her features for any hint of knowledge. Nothing. She was either unaware of what
fate had truly befallen Roku, or was unaware of how the situation had exactly resolved itself.
No, there was no hint in Lady Aru's expression, nothing to indicate that she knew anything
about the Nanpa Girls; but Roku would need more proof than just Lady Aru's cold, patrician
visage to lay suspicions to rest. Lady Aru was a politician, after all – a professional liar.
“Thank the Holy Matron!” Lady Aru smiled, looking around at the leather clad guards. They
smiled obediently in unison. Roku then realized that the one standing to Lady Aru's right was
the Commander from the brothel – the woman so quick with the truncheon. They'd all been
forced to come and be contrite, Roku thought, everyone who'd fucked things up so
completely last night.
“She's fine, I've got a hangover, end of fucking story,” Lady Le-En interrupted angrily, sitting
up on the settee. “Can we go now? I'm late for my lesson...”
“Damn it!” Lady Aru said out of the corner of her mouth – almost losing her composure. She
turned back to Roku and fixed her with a wide, fake grin. “You must forgive Lady Le-En... For
everything. She's headstrong and impetuous, but she means well. When she drinks she...”
She was laying it on thick, Roku smiled. She must really see a danger – in what Roku knows.
This must be almost like groveling to someone as noble as Lady Aru.
“I-I didn't presume...” Roku stuttered, trying to look and sound like someone who knew
their place.

“No, no!” Lady Aru tried to correct. “I didn't mean to imply...” Lady Aru trailed off yet again.
Roku could hear her curse under her breath. “Le-En!” Lady Aru suddenly commanded,
“apologize to the young girl!” Lady Le-En responded with a horrified glare. “I said apologize!”
“Fuck her!” Lady Le-En said, jumping to her feet.
“Damn you!” Lady Aru cursed through gritted teeth. “You'll apologize to this girl, or it’s back
to rehab!” Lady Aru threatened. By the look on Le-En's face, that has a horrible alternative.
“Apologize, now!”
After a long, sulking, bleary-eyed stare, Lady Le-En said in a monotone, “I'm sorry I took you
downtown... I'm sorry you got left behind... I'm glad you made it home okay...”
It was the sorriest excuse for an apology Roku had ever heard, but she curtsied to Lady Le-
En respectfully and let her head hang.
“There! Was that so hard?” Lady Aru asked, but Lady Le-En was already storming out of the
Hall. She had the large, oak doors open before Lady Aru could finish her sentence. With a
wave, Lady Aru sent the two guards in pursuit.
Alone now, Lady Aru stepped forward and put a hand under Roku's lowered chin. She lifted
Roku's face up and looked directly into her eyes. Roku felt her stomach tighten, looking up
into Lady Aru's unworldly beauty.
“There's a party, this evening...” Lady Aru smiled. Roku smiled back. “Nothing fancy... Just
some friends... But there's a lot we need to discuss – about your future. When school is over...
I foresee great things for you, Roku. Great things, if you can remember who your friends
are...” Lady Aru let go of Roku's chin and turned for the door. “Shall we say around eight,
then? I'll send a car...” she said, back over her shoulder. Roku didn't answer.
And like that the perfect statue that was Lady Aru was gone.
Roku was left standing in the Grand Hall, blinking... By the Holy Matron! A party? Tonight?
Roku panicked. What could she possibly wear?

Chapter 8
Bettie Page
Roku had no real clothes that fit her – nothing that even came close to evening wear. The
Hatchette genetic treatments had totally altered her physically dimensions. She was
centimeters taller than she had been the last time she'd been clothes shopping, and she now
carried at least an extra ten kilos of muscle.
With life oscillating between the uniform she wore for school and the uniform she wore for
work, there had very little reason to update her civilian attire. She'd have to go shopping –
she couldn't make a fool of herself showing up at a Commissariat Party in knee-high socks.
No, she'd need a gown. Something tasteful, but sexy. There were stores down on the riverwalk
that would have exactly what Roku needed... She would have to skip class and take the
trolley into town. The last class of the day was Calisthenics – fuck, Roku hated to miss the
Mosh, but there'd be no time to get into town and back before eight that evening, otherwise.
Oh, the sacrifices Roku made for her mission.
Roku was back in Social Studies just in time to pick up her folio and for the bell to dismiss
everyone. Now committed to skipping class, Roku had only one last issue to face: What was
she going to use for money?
Roku has a little stashed away – her wages from the Ober Manor – but nothing like the price
of the sort of dress that Roku was thinking about. She could put a call into Lt. Zee. There
were expense accounts for just this sort of thing. But the paperwork – the forms in triplicate
– it'd be next Tuesday before the funds actually came through. No, Roku didn't have that
kind of time, she needed some cash quick. She hated to do it, but she knew where Pelli kept
her bundle... It wouldn't be much, but paired with Roku's money... She might just get by.

Roku went upstairs and into the dormitory. Calisthenics was just beginning, and the long
room of bunks – usually so noisy and wild – was eerily quiet. Roku opened her locker and
looked through the clothes she did have. She found an old pair of cutoff jeans and a bright
red t-shirt. She quickly shook off her school clothes and slipped into the shorts. They were
embarrassedly tight, but they did button. In fact, looking at herself in the mirror inside her
locker, she looked pretty good; with the t-shirt on she was all curves in all the right places.
She put her feet into a pair of dirty flip-flops and she was dressed, such as it was.
She dug under her pillow and came up with her roll of cash. This she slipped into her
pocket, and she closed up her locker. Next door was Pelli's, and Roku opened it up. At the
bottom was a footlocker, where Roku knew that Pelli kept her money. Out came the box and
Roku fiddled with the latches. They had a combination, but it only took Roku five seconds to
bypass, and she had the footlocker open.
Under some old magazines Roku found the plastic container. Inside was a small roll of bills.
Roku counted it out. Two-hundred. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. With Roku's
one hundred and fifty she'd be able to get something – something that would hold Lady Aru's
attention at the Party. Less, in this case, might actually be more, Roku thought. That look in
Lady Aru's eye, Roku remembered, when Roku had stepped into the Grand Hall; Lady Aru
had liked what she'd seen.
If Roku could become Lady' Aru's lover... Well, with regard to her mission... The
opportunities for intelligence gathering alone – pillow-talk with someone as powerful as like
Lady Aru... But the idea excited Roku above and apart from her mission...
That amazing body... Just the sight of it electrified Roku. The thought of running her hands
over its firmness, spread out in all its glory before her; kissing Lady Aru's perfect mouth; her
legs apart, the sight of that lily tattoo; kissing Lady Aru between her legs, Roku sinking her
tongue deep inside her.
Never before had Roku wanted another woman – not as she wanted Lady Aru. Sex, yes, but
never such an all-consuming lust... And that Lady Aru, so obviously, wanted Roku in the
same fashion...

Well, Roku wanted to purchase the most stunning dress that any woman had even worn –
drive Lady Aru to the edge of desire just imagining Roku's body underneath it. Roku would
tease her, deny her; then later in the evening, when they were finally alone, Roku would allow
Lady Aru to remove it slowly; softly caressing Roku's body as the dress fell...
Roku was looking down into Pelli footlocker as she fantasied, when something in the locker
caught her eye – brought her back to reality. The old magazines that were in the locker –
under which the money had been hidden – Roku finally focused in on one of the covers. The
girl on it looked like Roku. For a moment, Roku thought it really was her – some computer
mocked-up image – but as she picked up the magazine and looked at it closer, she realized
that it was impossibly old. Not computer generated.
The magazine was from before the War, but the woman on the cover bore a striking
resemblance to Roku. Older, perhaps, with a different hairstyle and less – what did they used
to call it? – less oriental in her features, but the firm body and the shape of her face...
The woman was wearing stockings, a black bra. panties, tall pumps, and she was holding a
riding crop in her hands. The sultry look in her eyes – the bright red snarl of her lips. Roku
leafed through the magazine and every page was a glossy black-and-white photographs of
the woman – spanking other women; being spanked herself; topless; nude; tied up wearing
long black gloves; dressed in gowns centuries out of style.
It was disquieting experience – to see yourself in ancient photographs. It was Roku, but not
Roku. Roku imagined herself, last night, in the Sento Room, taking Steely Dan from behind,
and realized that she would not have looked out of place in the magazine she was holding.
Roku searched through the pile, looking at the next magazine and the next one. They all
contained pictures of the same woman – various publications, but she was in them all.
Where had Pelli gotten such magazines? Most publications from before the War had been
destroyed along with the last man on earth; but perhaps since the magazine only depicted
women... Roku could imagine some Commissar, somewhere, with a collection of pre-war
lesbian literature.

But for Pelli to have it? The resemblance was uncanny and Roku realized that Pelli had
quite a collection. A dozen magazines, at least. Roku felt something in her stomach tighten.
Was this all about Roku? Was this all part of some strange crush Pelli had on Roku?
Roku found a magazine at the bottom of the stack dedicated to a single lay out: The woman,
dressed in a maid's uniform not unlike Roku's, helping a large breasted woman dress – first
in a corset, and later in a long, sequined purple gown.
The feeling of deja vu sent a shiver down Roku's spine.
The sight of the woman in her laced apron, black stocking and high heels... She was Roku.
She looked exactly like Roku, a hundred years before Roku had even been born. Roku
quickly gathered together the magazines and placed them back in the footlocker, slamming
it shut. She pushed the whole thing back into Pelli's closet and closed the door with a slam.
Unable to shake the crawling creeps dancing across her skin, she sprinted down the
backstairs of the dormitory and out the school's side door. Two minutes later, she out in the
open, in front of the school's main gate, looking up the winding country lane, waiting for the
trolley.
Pelli was in love with Roku, Roku realized that now. But the weight of that truth could hardly
make it to the forefront of Roku's mind with the otherworldliness of those magazines holding
her attention. It was like some science fiction vidcast; and not a good one. Next, Roku would
teleport back in time to pre-Great Society Earth, to pose for those photographs, living out a
sad life, knowing all the horrors the future really held.
Roku laughed. That made her feel better. She'd got a scare there, that was all. The truth of it
– she realize as the trolley rumbled around the corner – wasn't that the woman in the
magazines looked like Roku, it was that Roku looked like the woman in the magazines.
Roku had been born in a test tube. Like everyone else, she had been grown from a fetus in
an ex-utero bank. She had no parents in the traditional sense – there being no males to father
children. Genetically, she was one of three million standardized and approved templates.
With the Earth's population at six billion, that meant that Roku was one of at least two
thousand women on the planet with Roku's exact face.

Roku had never met another Roku; the odds were against it, but she knew that they were out
there, somewhere on the globe. Perhaps the woman in the magazine had been one of the
original DNA donors? The timing might be right, but no way to knew – such detail having
been lost to mists of history.
Without sexual reproduction, the earth's stock of characters was static. It was foolish for
Roku to be frightened simply by seeing an image of someone with her appearance. A girl at
school was the same genetic pattern as the woman who announced the news on channel
132. It was strange, but a simple fact of life. No big deal.
But that Pelli had the collection of those magazines – now that was interesting. That
implied something. As Roku climbed aboard the trolley and paid her fare, she began to feel a
horrible regret for stealing Pelli money. If Pelli was collecting those magazines because the
woman looked like Roku... Well, suddenly all those delicious moments in the Mosh with Pelli
suddenly took on extra meaning... And here Roku was stealing money from her.
It was an awful thing to have done; if Pelli was in love with Roku or not, but Roku would pay
her back... She'd send in an expense report to Lt. Zee, and in two or three weeks, Roku could
return the money...
Roku watched the countryside roll by outside the trolley. If Pelli had feelings for Roku..
Well, Pelli wasn't keeping what happened in the Mosh strictly in the showers – she was
breaking the rules. Roku smiled. Roku knew the feeling; she was prone to break that
particular rule herself, especially about Pelli... And now Roku knew. When Pelli knew that
Roku knew, they wouldn't have to pretend anymore – they could get down to the business of
breaking the rules together...
That was going to be fun.

Chapter 9
Scene of the Crime
Roku couldn't get those old magazines out of her head.
They had more significance to Roku than just Pelli's girl's school crush. It was something
that Roku had never really thought about before: That those magazine had been
manufactured by and for men. Before the war, yes, but they were an insight into the male
psyche – that men, like women, fantasized about sex.
Roku's Hatchette training made her predisposed to think of men as animals – base creatures
that used sex as a weapon, fornicate and dominate – but the fantasies depicted in those
magazines... Well, they were so much more detailed that just female subjugation. That was
obviously a factor, yes – the woman in the magazines was often tired up, gagged, paddled on
her rear – but the intricacies of the costumes; the woman often taking a dominant posture...
It made Roku realize that the male animal was, perhaps, a lot more complicated than she'd
been led to believe – far more complex than the simple, murdering rapists that she'd
encountered herself.
You catch more flies with honey, Roku was thinking...
The trolley reached the Town Square and Roku disembarked. She walked the short distance
to the river-walk where a long line of small boutiques, galleries, bookshops and bistros faced
onto the river. Across the river was the desolation of the south-side, but north of the river, it
was all high-end.
Roku got lucky in the first boutique she tried. The young woman behind the counter was
more than helpful. Taking one look at Roku in her cutoffs and t-shirt, she vanished in the

ack of the store and returned with a shimmering, silver mini dress. Roku pulled her t-shirt
off right in the middle of the store – much to the attendant's pleasure – and slipped the dress
on.
It was perfect. It seemed strapless, but the straps were made of invisible plastic. With a
simple necklace, Roku would look like she was wearing liquid silver. It was stunning, sexy,
and only three hundred. Roku couldn't have hoped for more. She took off the dress, pulled
her t-shirt back on, and paid the attendant. She left the store with a small, wide box under
her arm; her afternoon's mission quickly accomplished.
Roku was in no hurry to get back to school, so she ambled down the river-walk and did a
little window shopping. She passed more boutiques; a coffee shop with tables spilling out
onto the sidewalk; an electronics store selling high-end, custom tablets; and an old secondhand
bookstore, specializing in pre-war literature.
The contents of the magazines in Pelli's locker came rushing back into Roku's mind. She
peered through the window at the dusty display and saw books and magazines not unlike the
one's Pelli had had in her locker. Roku stepped into the store.
A few minutes of talking to the proprietor, and Roku came to realize that trade in such prewar
collectibles was brisk. The proprietor showed Roku a display case of similar, mintcondition
magazines in the same genre as Pelli's. Nothing involving men, of course, and
nothing overtly explicit – at least not on the covers.
The old woman who ran the bookstore took relish in discussing the collectibles. 'Pre-
Esthesian Feminist Iconography' she called it – whatever that meant. There were classes at
the University you could take on the subject. Roku nodded, and listened. She wasn't
interested in the intellectualism, just the idea that these items were originally made for a
male audience. She asked what she could get for fifty credits, and the old woman sold her a
rather battered, but hard-cover pocket sized edition, full of bondage photographs.
A few moments of flipping and Roku found a picture of the woman from Pelli's locker; with
her arms tied behind her back by thick cord and a ball gag in her mouth. As the old woman
was ringing up the purchase, she remarked on the resemblance between Roku and the
picture. Roku just smiled.

Back out in the sun of the river-walk, Roku put down the box containing her dress and
examined the pocket book in detail. Page after page of images of women – in corsets and
stockings, garter belts and bras – in compromising positions; high heels shoes and bare
bottoms spanked with paddles; nipples pinched between wooden clothes pins. Preesthesian,
perhaps, but it all looked pretty painful... Roku felt she was catching a glimpse into
the mind of her prey – into the fantasies of the male animal.
If it was her profession to hunt and kill men, then it was important for her to understand
their motivations. The conquest of women, obviously, but why all the fetishism? Why all the
clothes and heels? There was something more to the male animal than the simple desire to
destroy women, Roku was beginning to understand. And it was something that, perhaps, she
could use against them. If they were particular, picky, about their victims... Perhaps Roku
could lure...
More flies with honey, Roku remembered again.
Before she realized it, she was taking the bridge across the river. It took a few minutes to get
herself oriented, having only flown over that part of town late last night in a VTOL, but soon
she was back in front of the apartment building where, a few hours before, she had killed four
men.
The blocked seemed to be abandoned. Roku had assumed the police would still be working
the crime scene, but there wasn't a soul up or down the block. Roku pulled opened the
plywood front door and stepped into the lobby. No transients were sleeping on the floor this
time. The odor was the same – of mold and urine – but the lobby showed every sign of being
cleared out.
Up the stairs, Roku found the door to the apartment she had been in last night. She tried
the handle, and the door opened. The fetid dankness of the room remained, but there was
no evidence of last night's struggle left in the apartment. The couch was gone; the
bloodstained mattress from the bedroom. No bodies, no evidence of the paramedics or the
crime scene technicians. It was now just an abandoned, derelict apartment in an abandoned
derelict building in a bad part of town.

For a moment, Roku wondered if she'd imagined all the events of last night. Once again, it
was like she was in some bad science fiction vidcast, right before she discovered that small
piece of evidence that proved the whole thing wasn't actually a dream...
Where were the police? Was this a crime scene? Did they really work this fast? It seemed
inconceivable, but the evidence was right in front of Roku. Everyone was gone, it was like
nothing had ever happened. Roku had killed four men, and the room had been swept clean.
Perhaps it was a public relations thing – that made a certain sort of sense – they didn't want
to panic the public. After all, the idea of Dick Terrorists cruising freely around the south-side
of town, picking up girls; raping and murdering them, wasn't a comforting one. Though
somehow, Roku felt deflated. Like they were minimizing her accomplishment. It was silly,
she realized, but there it was. Roku closed the door and jogged back down the stairs.
She walked through the streets, surrounded by the old buildings of the south-side for
another half an hour – this time in the bright afternoon sun. Inside, she was half hoping to
run across another carload of Dicks cruising around; but she knew the chances of such a
thing happening again in the broad daylight were slim. To herself, she was weighing her
options. Under her arm, she was still carrying the dress for the Ober Party that evening. In
her hand she had the fetish book from the bookstore.
Her orders were to investigate the Obers, but somehow that whole situation rang hollow
inside of Roku. Whatever crimes the Obers were up to – whatever reasons the Commissariat
had for spying on its own – it seemed detached and remote from Roku's real mission: Finding
and bagging Dicks – Lt. Zee had told her – that was a Hachette's duty. And here, on the southside,
Roku knew, was her hunting ground.
The Dick Terrorists wouldn't be at any Ober Soiree, drinking Res with the wives; they would
be down her in the slums, plotting their attacks, prying on young women. If Roku wanted to
kill men, she need to be down here, in the gutter, seeking them out, not listening to
propaganda lectures from sub-committee members. She needed to be where the action was
– where the men were.
Roku's feet finally brought her to the threshold of the alleyway down which the brothel from
last night lay. Roku paused. She looked at the book in her hand, flipping again through the

pages. All the factors were swimming in her head – the brothel, Steely Dan, Lady Le-En, that
old gas burning car. Roku found the photograph of the woman wearing the ball gag and gave
it a long look. If the conquest of women was what men hungered for, then who was Roku to
deny them?
Roku looked down into the shadows of the alleyway and slapped the book closed. She
started walking into the darkness, her flip-flops slapping on the stone.
“No, no, not you again!” the Old Matron said, the second Roku stepped through the door.
“Your kind of trouble we don't need!” A burning cigarette sat between her lips as she thrust a
commanding finger back toward the door.
“Just a second...” Roku began.
“No!” the Old Matron kept yelling, “those fucking thugs scared away all my trade! You want
to pay for that? All the fucking money I lost last night?”
“No, but-”
“I don't care if Le-En is a Lady now! I don't care if she's married to the fucking Holy Matron
herself! No more Obers, no more thugs. Do you hear?”
Roku stepped up to the Old Matron's counter and waited for the Matron to finish her tirade.
The Old Matron paused, realizing that Roku wasn't about to leave. She puffed at her cigarette
and fixed Roku with an angry stare.
With the Old Matron finally quiet, Roku began, “I can't pay you back for the money you lost
last night, but I have another idea.” The Old Matron gave Roku a suspicious glare. Roku
dropped the hardcover book onto the counter, opened to the page of the woman with the
ball gag. “How about I work it off?” Roku said.
The Old Matron smiled.

Chapter 10
Sentinel Tower
The wide, white Town Car arrived a few minutes early.
Roku was waiting at the threshold of the Grand Hall, the massive oak doors open, in her
liquid silver dress. She had accessorized with a silver choke chain, an over-sided ornamental
bracelet and a pair of low, kitten heels. She'd left her long legs bare, like her shoulders, and
under it all she'd skipped on the underwear – not seeing the need. Altogether, Roku was a
breathtaking sight, even if she did say so herself. Lady Aru, she hoped, would not be
disappointed.
The Town Car pulled up and a leather-clad Ober Guard stepped out and opened a
passenger door. Roku climbed in – in the back this time, not the front – and enjoyed the
luxury. With the driver back behind the wheel, they started off across the gravel of the
driveway and back out onto the country lane beyond. In less than a minute they were at the
gates of the Ober Manor, but the driver didn't slow, the car still moving, pointing towards the
skyscrapers of downtown.
“Where's this party?” Roku asked the driver, looking back at the receding Manor.
“Sentinel Tower,” the drive said matter-of-factly, not looking up from the road. Roku's
gulped. Sentinel Tower... That meant... Commissariat... Nothing fancy, just some friends,
Lady Aru had said.
Yeah, right.
Roku suddenly panicked about her wardrobe. What if she was under dressed? Or over? She
had no comprehension of what you were supposed to wear to a political function. She didn't

want to embarrass Lady Aru... But the driver hadn't reacted at all to Roku's outfit – she hadn't
even blinked an eye. That comforted Roku, after a fashion. If Roku had been dressed
inappropriately the driver would have had at least some reaction – a smirk, a smile – but
nothing. Roku relaxed back into the soft leather of the Town Car's backseat, and looked out
the window. No, her dress would be fine – perfect even – Roku reassured herself, it'd just
been a momentary panic.
The Old Matron at the brothel had jumped at Roku's offer. There was already an Art Deco
boudoir in the brothel that clients could rent – one of their packaged fantasies – with corsets
and garter belts and stockings and riding crops and a few meters of rope. A couple of the
whores would truss up any customers willing to pay for it, in a fashion similar to the woman
in Pelli's magazines. It was a popular room, seldom empty on a busy night; but with the
addition of Roku it could become something quiet special, the Old Matron had understood.
She knew her business too well not to see Roku's potential.
The two of them had quickly come to an agreement. Roku would be an independent
contractor, self-employed like the other girls, but the Old Matron would handle the money. It
was a fine setup for Roku, she didn't care at all about the cash. What sort of clientèle she
would receive was all that interested Roku – what sort of clientèle and their sex.
In Roku's gut, she knew she was making the right move. Why Roku had been wasting her
time molding away in some old boarding school, she couldn't fathom. Roku understood the
idea of deep cover – the other eleven Hatchettes, Roku remembered from training, were of a
similar age to her and probably held down similar covers – but it all seemed so senseless. If
the purpose of the Hatchettes was to hunt and kill men – to stop terrorism before it started –
what good where they doing from the dormitory of Preparatory School? No, Roku was
beginning to suspect an ulterior motive behind her assignment to Saint Juliet's and the Ober
Manor... Nothing she could put a finger on, she didn't understand the politics – didn't want
to – but for the Commissariat to be spying on its own members... It all rang hollow to Roku,
like someone, somewhere was wasting Roku's time...
No, deep down in Roku's gut she knew, if she was ever going to show any results from her
hard work, she was going to have to get creative about interpreting the scope of her orders.

Not disobey – no, of course not, Roku was a soldier, but there was no harm in approaching
her mission from a slightly different angle...
Her misson had her, that evening, in the Town Car, on her way to a party at the Sentinel
Tower; to flirt with Lady Aru and whoever else might be a good source of information; but
her mind was wandering, plotting out the complexities of her new profession as a south-side
whore. No high-end call girl, no, but a back alley slut. The lowest of the low... That was what
her mission really demanded, that was the sort of filthy rock under which Dicks would be
found – hiding, biding their time, plotting their attacks...
Roku's gut was telling her she had made a good decision and Roku was trusting in her gut.
The Town Car slowed to join a queue of cars lined up before a red carpet at the base of the
Sentinel Tower. Flash bulbs popped as dignitaries climbed out of the cars in front of Roku's.
The red carpet was a mob scene with dozens of press photographers, vidcast presenters and
various, average gawkers lined up on either side of the walkway. Roku hadn't been expecting
this. Just a few friends, nothing fancy... Roku remembered again. By the Holy Matron! What
was a Commissariat Party like when they really went all-out?
Some celebrates, whoever they were, in the car in front of Roku's had stepped out and were
waving, blowing kisses to the crowd. It was almost Roku's turn; once again the panic
returned. She'd have to navigate that gauntlet... In the dress she was wearing... She could feel
her cheeks already turning bright pink. Not exactly low profile... If one of those
photographers put her picture in a paper... What would Lt. Zee say? It was too late now to
weight the options, Roku realized, as her car pulled to a stop right at the threshold of the
gauntlet. She couldn't just stay in the car – that'd be a thousand times more embarrassing
than actually getting out.
Roku swallowed down her apprehension as her door opened. Bolder than bold, she stepped
out onto the sidewalk, trying not to show off too much thigh. There was an audible hush;
flash bulbs stopped popping; an interviewer, who was holding a microphone out to the
couple in front, turned to look directly at Roku. Roku's stomach knotted tight. The fight or
flight instinct was kicking in, she could feeling her bionics clicking on. She had to resist the

urge to turn and run away, down the sidewalk... At least duck back into the Town Car's open
door...
Then, as quickly as the crowd had fallen silent, it started making noise once again. Cameras
swung around to point at Roku. Flashes exploded in her face. People were screaming, asking
questions, trying to be heard. Who was she? Was she here alone? Who was she wearing?
Roku raised a hand to shield her eyes from the flashes, then realized that she was just
standing there, rooted to the spot. The Town Car was already pulling away behind her; she
needed to walk. Move feet, move! she commanded, red carpets are for walking on. And her
feet began to move under her, she was walking toward the impressive, ornate front doors of
the Sentinel Tower.
As Roku passed, the vidcast presenter with the microphone thrust it at Roku. She was asking
questions but Roku couldn't hear them. Roku made a dismissive gesture, and pushed by.
Before she realized it, she was inside the peace of the tower's lobby. The insanity continued
on outside, but now Roku could hear herself think. That had all been unexpected, Roku
thought, but she seemed to have been a sensation... Roku was feeling better now about her
wardrobe choice; now that the press had given it their approval...
Guests in the lobby were milling around and taking drinks from waitresses. People seemed
to be queuing up, waiting for elevators that were taking their time arriving. Of course, the
party would be two kilometers up at the very pinnacle of the Sentinel Tower... Roku was
beginning to understand how Lady Aru threw a small party.
A stern looking woman dressed in black with a tablet in hand stepped up to Roku.
“Invitation, please,” she said in a monotone.
“I'm with Lady Aru's Party,” Roku replied.
“Name?” the woman said, unimpressed.
“Roku.”
The woman tapped aggressively at her tablet. “Ah, yes,” she finally said, putting a line
through something on the screen. “If you'll follow me.” And the lady led Roku through the

milling crowd to an elevator off to one side. A leather-clad Ober guard was standing to one
side of the doors, petrified at attention. “The Commissar's express elevator,” the woman
commented, “it will bring you out in Lady Aru's office. Her party has not yet been presented
on the floor, you're just in time.”
The elevator doors opened without promoting, to reveal a shiny, chromed interior. With an
encouraging wave from the woman, Roku stepped inside. She looked around for the control
panel; wondering what floor she was supposed to push; but there were no controls inside,
just the smooth, brushed metal on all sides.
“How do I-” Roku began, but the doors were already closing, clicking softly shut. The
elevator started moving. Roku hoped it knew where it was supposed to go...
It was a two minute ride to the top of the Sentinel Tower, two kilometers in the sky. The
chrome doors opened up onto a sprawling, luxurious office with breathtaking, panoramic
views. It was everything that Roku was expecting – exactly the sort of place she had seen in
her mind's eye when she thought about the business of government being conducted.
A dozen or so women, in evening wear, milled around the open spaces of the office, drinks
in hand. Roku stepped out of the elevator to no great fanfare. Everyone seems absorbed in
their conversations. It gave Roku a second to look around – take everything in.
The view... Even after dark, it was breathtaking. The lights of the city glittering all around. A
massive – truly massive – hardwood desk took up a corner of the room, facing the view. A
high-backed leather chair behind it. That must be the seat of power, Roku thought, Lady
Aru's throne. Looking out over her domain – The Great Society.
“What are you like?” a voice said off to Roku's left. Roku turned to see Lady Le-En, ogling at
her. She was, again, all in white, this time in a long, tube-like dress, stretching from just high
enough to cover her breasts down to her ankles. “Don't you clean up nice?” she continued,
looking Roku up and down. The bleary eyes, the slight slur... Res.
“Lady Le-En,” Roku curtsied. Lady Le-En smiled, almost chuckled.
“Say...” Lady Le-En slid in a little closer – uncomfortably close – putting a hand around
Roku. She started to lead Roku away from the elevator, in amongst the people. “Sorry about

last night, I was out of my head by the time we got to Mei's... Lady Aru is such a bitch, and
that jackbooted thug of hers, Anders...” Lady Le-En leaned in to look at Roku's face,
examining it. Roku got a strong blast of her breath, stinking of Res. “Say, she hit you pretty
hard, but you're looking pretty good...”
“Anti-inflammatory wand...” Roku replied. “Paramedics...”
“Ah,” Lady nodded, “Hey, that was a good time, huh? I mean, before Anders showed up.
You looked like you were into it... Ciki and Tol... Pretty, nice huh? And old, steely...” Le-En
brought a hand to her mouth and chuckled, like they were sharing some private joke. Then
her eyes crept down and got a good look at Roku's cleavage, and her tone turned more
serious, “Say, how about you and me dump this stupid party and head on back-”
“Roku!” Lady Aru called from across the room, interrupting Le-En's proposition. Lady Aru
pulled away from a cluster of ladies, all drinking cocktails, and strode towards Roku – arms
open. “I see Le-En has already claimed you...” she said with a smile. Lady Aru put her hands
on Roku's shoulders and kissed her on the cheek like they were the best of friends. Roku was
shocked. So was the room. Heads turned to watch. Lady Aru had embraced Roku – a nobody
– as a friend. The message was clear. Roku could feel an instant chance in the room's
attitude.
“You must meet absolutely everyone,” Lady Aru continued, pulling Roku away from Lady
Le-En, leading her back toward the group of women. “We'll be out with the main party in a
moment. There's a formality to these things. Rank has its privileges, you know. But the core
party always starts in here, of course.”
Lady Aru was as breathtakingly beautiful as Roku remembered. She wore a simple, off the
shoulder black gown that reached all the way past her toes. It seemed to be made of some
impossibly light fabric, thinner and sheerer than sink, that conformed perfectly to Lady Aru's
curves. She was less dressed in the gown than draped by it. The shape of her breasts, the
curve of her hips were perfectly outlined by the gown. She seemed nude, like the moment
Roku had first seen her, but also properly dressed. Roku once again marveled at the power of
Lady Aru's body, how it could be used as a tool to command.

They had reached the clutch of women. “Ladies, this is a good friend of my wife's, Roku,”
Lady Aru beamed. Hands were extended and Roku shook them. Lady Le-En hovered in the
background, under a cloud. “I won't bore you with names and titles that you'll never
remember,” everyone chuckled at Lady Aru's little joke and Roku realized they were all yeswomen
– Lady Aru's flunkies. Who they were didn't matter. “Sub-Commissar this,
Committee Chair that... It's all terribly dull and formal and tonight is about having fun and
letting our hair down, am I right?” There were nods of agreement. Lady Aru slipped one of
her long, slender arms around Roku and gave her a playful squeeze.
Roku almost choked in surprise.
“And I'm sure you recognize Minister Olev,” Lady Aru, with her arm still around Roku's
waist, steered her towards another group of ladies. “from the vidcats. This is Roku.” Lady Aru
was introducing a middle-aged woman in a black, sequined gown.
Minister Olev's apparent age was a striking departure from the rest of the impossibly young
faces in the room. Her face had a worn, stern quality to it, as if it was unfamiliar with the act
of smiling. She still had a good figure and attractive, medium length blond hair, worn up for
the occasion; but her thighs showed the weight of her years, and the luster of her hair was
now marred by strands of gray.
She was, perhaps, in actual years, roughly the same age as Lady Aru, but it was a hard fact to
comprehend looking at the two of them side by side. Minister Olev gave Roku a quick look up
and down, focused in on the arm Lady Aru had around Roku's middle, and held out a hand.
This was no yes-woman, Roku realized.
“How do you do?” the Minister asked, not expected an answer. With the bare minimum of
pleasantries out of the way, she turned back to her conversation.
“Oh, but you don't have a drink!” Lady Aru realized. “I'm afraid I'm not much of a host...”
She waved towards a waitress, but before she could make eye contact, a woman in black
interrupted.
“If Your Excellency is ready, the main floor is ready for your entrance,” she said.

Lady Aru looked at her, annoyed, “Now? Oh, alright...” then, raising her voice to the whole
room, “They're ready to announce us. If you will all follow me.”
Dutifully, the whole party began to move towards a pair of double doors set in the far left
wall of the office. There seemed to be a formal order to be observed and various pairs of
women jostled back and forth in line to find the right position.
Roku dropped back, instinctively understanding she had no place in such an ordering; but
Lady Aru, who had quickly strolled to the front of the line, stopped and looked around for
something she'd misplaced. It was Roku. Lady Aru stepped out of line and held a hand out
towards Roku.
“You're right beside me, dear.” She said, hurrying Roku up to the front of the line. Roku was
speechless – confused. She didn't understand. Roku caught sight of Lady Le-En out of the
corner of her eye and could see her fuming with resentment.
The double doors opened and a voice began to formally present Lady Aru to the main party.
A master of ceremonies was reciting all sixty words of Lady Aru's title: Commissar of this,
Under Minster of that, Defender of the Order, Handmaiden of the Great Society, Her
Excellency Lady Aru Ober... And Lady Aru stepped forward, through the double doors, into
the main room, holding Roku's hand.

Chapter 11
The Falling Gallery
Rapturous applause rose from the main party as Lady Aru and Roku stepped out onto the
main floor. Lady Aru was making her entrance and it was a good one.
The floor of the Sentinel Tower’s observation deck was packed with a good two or three
hundred ladies, all in formal wear. Glasses clinked, an orchestra played, and everyone
seemed to be enjoying themselves; but the whole party paused for Lady Aru's entrance, with
Roku by her side.
Even before Roku had stepped through the double doors she had started blushing. All this
attention... Roku really hadn't been expecting it. But what was Lady Aru playing at? Lady Le-
En was second through the door – all on her own. The MC announced her titles, but even
Roku realized that she should have been standing at Lady Aru's side. Was this her
punishment for the events of last night? Roku wondered. The sour, angry look on Lady Le-
En's face said it was.
The remainder of the pre-party were methodically and formally announced as they
emerged through the double doors – all committee members and sub-commissars. A few
ministers and military officers, but Roku couldn’t identify anyone.
Lady Aru held tight to Roku's hand. As people presented themselves to Lady Aru for
introduction, Lady Aru introduced them to Roku like she was actually somebody to know.
Roku could only smile and shake hands.
As this-and-that person of nobility stepped forward, paying their respects, Lady Aru gave
Roku a running dialog of all the juicy details about each of the respected personalities. Roku

couldn't help but giggle. This captain of industry was sleeping with that committee chair,
that's how they got the planning permission to build a shopping mall downtown; this Police
Chief was into calfing (a fetish for sucking on lactating breasts); that sub-minister just had
her gene resequenced and lost twenty kilos; another sub-minister had been arrested last year
and a phallus found in her possession – the whole thing had been hushed up, of course, for
the greater good, but not until absolutely everyone who was anyone had heard the details...
At first, Roku was entertained, but then the sudden familiarity began to concern her. Lady
Aru was dishing some dangerous details – a whole laundry list of blackmail-able offenses.
Who was Roku? Roku had no disillusions. A Hatchette, yes, but still the lowest of the low; who
was she to presume to know anything about anyone.
Was this still all about last night? It could be, Roku realized. But somehow Lady Aru seemed
to be trying just that little bit too hard. After all, if Roku did actually go to the press – an
insane possibility – who would believe her? Who would take her word over that of a Lady – an
Ober wife at that. No, there was more to Lady Aru's familiarity than just calculated
maneuvering. She was flirting with Roku, showing Roku off. Lady Aru was taking pleasure in
having a young, beautiful woman at her side; reviling at the sideways glances people were
casting at Roku's firm frame.
Was Roku some sort of trophy to be displayed? That idea nagged her. Roku cast a glance
across the room to the pouting figure of Lady Le-En drinking at the bar. Had she been the old
trophy – the pretty girl on Lady Aru's arm, now cast away? That idea nagged at Roku, too.
What was Lady Le-En? Twenty five? Roku reminded herself not to get too comfortable; her
tenure on Lady Aru's arm was probably short...
But as the evening pertained to Roku's mission, it was a Grand Slam. Her report to Lt. Zee
tomorrow would have to be multiple pages – if Roku could remember even a tenth of what
she was hearing.
“These affairs are so dull...” Lady Aru smiled casually. The receiving line had ended and
Lady Aru and Roku had sifted toward the large bay windows of the observation deck, crystal
flutes of Res laced champagne in their hands. “But the obligations of office...”

“Thank you for the invitation,” Roku said. “I have to admit, I'm finding it all quite
overwhelming.”
“Oh, don't worry, dear,” Lady Aru laughed, “you'll get used to it all. A few dozen of these
shindigs and they become like second nature. Some nights, when I get home, I can't peel the
smile off my face – the muscles have just frozen into place...”
A few dozen more parties? What was Lady Aru implying?
“I-” Roku could only blurt the single syllable before she was interrupted by the Master of
Ceremonies. Even Lady Aru turned to listen to who was been presented. The title was long –
much longer than Lady Aru's. The MC went on and on adding Chairmanships, Dames,
Guardian of this or that, Governor of here and there, until finally she announced the
entrance of the First Commissar, Lady Es.
There was thunderous applause; cheers and whistles like a rock star had stepped out onto
the stage; but there was no sign that anyone new had entered the observation deck. Roku
raised herself up on her tiptoes and surveyed the room. She couldn't understand who
everyone was cheering for. Then, slowly, out of the large double doors that lead back into
Lady Aru's office, the hunched figure of an old woman was rolled out.
Huddled in an ornate wheelchair, wrapped in a number of silken shawls, the First
Commissar rolled into the party. She seemed impossibly old, her head lolling forward,
unaware of the adulation being poured upon her. No one faltered in their applause but Roku.
Roku was shocked. That was the First Commissar? She'd no idea... No, that couldn't be
right... The First Commissar was on the vidcasts all the time. That wasn't the First
Commissar...
“Who is-” Roku began.
Lady Aru interrupted, “A dizgotic twin... The First Commissar that you see on the vidcasts...
Same genetic template as the First Commissar, just sixty years younger. She's been using a
double ever since her fifties. Back then, they didn't have the genetic therapies to hide the
aging process, and with appearances being so important in our business... Well, the First
Commissar's actual age has become something of a state secret. The public are now totally

unaware of her actual age – how elderly she's really become. If they had any idea... But no
one lives forever, not even First Commissars... It's a deception we won't have to maintain for
much longer...”
“I had no idea...” Roku said in disbelief.
“We can rely on your discretion, I hope?” Lady Aru said with a sly smile.
“Oh, of course.” Roku replied, returning the grin. “This evening has been so... educational...”
Roku added.
“And it's only just begun...” Lady Aru threated an arm around Roku's.
The Falling Gallery was something of an architectural marvel, a masterpiece of Great Society
ingenuity. Roku had read about it in books, seen pictures, but never before experienced it in
person.
Its effect was acrophobic. Below the panoramic windows of The Sentinel Tower's
observation deck, the Falling Gallery was a collection of interconnected terraces, staggered
away at intervals down and away from the side of the building. Each consecutive terrace was
lower than the last, invisible from the line-of-sight of the terrace above, lending the
impression that nothing stood between you and the two kilometer drop off the side of the
tower. Of course, the next terrace was actually below you, but only those brave enough to
stand at the very precipice could see that to be true. It was a dizzying effect, most
comfortably witnessed from the concrete benches build at the back of each terrace, safely
distant from the phantom, but immense, drop.
After the applause for the First Commissar died down, Lady Aru lead Roku by the arm away
from the party and out onto the Falling Gallery. She chatted idly as they stepped out into the
warm night. Other party goes were already out on the terraces, occupying benches. At first
Roku paid little attention to anyone, listening intently to Lady Aru tell a tale; but as they
began to climb down to a lower terrace, Roku noticed that many of the woman already out in
the Falling Gallery were engaged in passionate embraces.
Here and there, a couple or a threesome of woman were intimately making out – a cool
breeze blowing across the Gallery tousling hair and clothing. Lady Aru didn't acknowledge

the curious sight, continuing her chatter, taking Roku by the hand and stepped to the very
edge of one of the terraces.
Below, three woman, one perhaps not much older than Roku and two in their middle-age,
were passionate kissing each other in turn... But not really kissing…Roku watched for a
moment. It wasn't like any kissing Roku had even done. It was more sucking on each other's
tongues – thrusting a tongue between a partner's lips, then, perhaps, licking each other's
tongue; wrapping them together. Hems were raised and hands were exploring under evening
gowns. As Lady Aru and Roku watched, the two older women below pulled down the younger
woman's dress and began to simultaneously lick at her nipples. She let out a low groan as the
two women's hands met moving up the inside of her thighs.
It was a Mosh, Roku realized.
A Mosh for adults – power brokers, statesmen – different rules than the showers after
calisthenics, Roku understood, but a Mosh all the same. The main party was back on the
observation deck, but the real fun of the evening was out here.
Roku looked up from the passionate triple below her and into Lady Aru's eyes. She had
stepped in closer to Roku, still holding tight to Roku's hand. Lady Aru leaned in close and
placed her lips on Roku's. Roku was too stunned to respond. Lady Aru let go of Roku's hand
and slipped her palm under Roku's short dress, cupping a buttock. She broke away from the
kiss and looked Roku hungrily in the eyes. She must have seen the acquaintance she was
looking for, because she kissed Roku again, this time firmly, thrusting a tongue between
Roku's lips.
It must have been a rule of the Falling Gallery's Mosh, the tongue kissing – the lapping
hungrily at each other mouths. Roku and Lady Aru stood there at the edge of the terrace
kissing in this fashion for a long minute; Lady Aru's hands exploring under Roku's dress,
Roku raising her hands to cup Lady Aru's impossibly high, firm breasts.
What, at first, had seemed strange now seemed exciting, as Roku sucked ravenously at Lady
Aru's tongue. One of Lady Aru's hands found Roku's jane, and rubbed roughly at Roku's
clitoris. Roku broke away from the kiss to let out a moan. A firm slap came to Roku's behind

as a finger explored deeper into Roku. The finger emerged and Lady Aru brought it to her
mouth, sucking on it hungrily.
“Your Excellency,” A voice almost whispered. Lady Aru turned, her finger still in her mouth,
to see Minister Olev leading a beautiful young girl down the stairs from the terrace above.
Lady Aru didn't show a second of embarrassment. The finger remained in her mouth as
Minister Olev passed, taking the next flight of stairs down to the next terrace. Lady Aru
looked back at Roku with a glint in her eyes. She took Roku's hand and led her down after
Minister Olev; down the stairs to the next terrace, and down again to a terrace that seemed to
be unoccupied.
Minister Olev and the young, pretty woman sat down on the empty bench and, without any
fanfare, began to kiss in the fashion of the Falling Gallery. Lady Aru led Roku to the center of
the terrace, an arm around Roku, and stood there watching the Minister and the girl.
Lady Aru's hand was again under Roku's dress touching her jane, stimulating her as they
watched the two woman make out. Then Lady Aru's hands came up, and slipped off the
invisible straps from Roku's shoulders. Roku's dress fell away, leaving her standing naked in
the cold breeze of the night. Roku motioned to cover herself, but Lady Aru pushed her hands
down.
“Stand here,” Lady Aru said – commanded – and she started toward the bench. She sat
down next to the Minister who had broken away from her embrace to watch Roku. The three
women looked approvingly at Roku, who felt cold and exposed in the chill of the evening.
“Touch yourself,” Lady Aru ordered.
Hesitantly, Roku complied, slightly spreading her legs and reaching a hand between them.
She began to rub slowly at her jane, getting little enjoyment from the exhibitionism. Lady Aru
began to touch her own jane through the fabric of her gown.
She leaned over and extended a tongue at Minister Olev's still lips. She was distracted
watching Roku, but as Lady Aru leaned in, the Minister took the offered tongue into her
mouth, kissing Lady Aru passionately. Lady Aru pulled away from the kiss and took the
tongue of the young woman, who was offering it. The three continued to kiss

interchangeably as Roku stood there, frigging at herself. The warmth between her legs was
starting to overpower the cold breeze. She msoaned.
“Turn around,” Lady Aru ordered and Roku complied, spreading her legs wider, not
interrupting her masturbation. She arched her back and leaned a little forward, letting
everyone get a good view. “Down,” Lady Aru continued to order, “all fours. Ass up.” Roku
dropped down onto her knees and elbows, keeping her fingers between her legs.
Now everyone would get a perfect view. She lowered herself and rested her face on the cold
concrete; using her off hand to spread the lips of her jane, still circling her clit with a single
finger. Oh, she was going to cum...
She looked back through her spread legs and could see that the other three women were
now masturbating, also. They were watching Roku's raised ass intently, rapidly rubbing their
janes. Roku could feel her orgasm rising, slipping two fingers of her left hand into her vagina,
not letting off on her clit. She came hard, rapidly thrusting the two fingers in and out of
herself. She moaned into the concrete slob beside her face; its cold hardness soothing to her
overheated face.
Behind her, by the intensity of the groans, it sounded like the young girl was also almost
there. Roku looked back to see that Minister Olev had taken over the masturbation duties for
the girl, rubbing at her clit with one hand and jabbing a finger inside her with the other. Lady
Aru had her feet tucked up under her now, her gown furled up, showing off the neat trim of
her jane. Her eyes were transfixed by Roku's upturned rear, circling her clit with a single
finger. Roku took her hands away from her jane, but remained in position, taking a buttock
in each hand and spreading herself. Lady Aru evidently approached this, as she doubled the
rate of her masturbation.
The Minster quickly got her partner off, and the young girl bucked and moaned under the
Minster's hands. When the girl's climax had subsided, she dropped to her knees on the floor
of the terrace and shuffled around to the front of the Minister. The Minister spread her legs
apart as the young girl leaned forward, raising the Minister's black sequined gown. Minister
Olev let out a soft, satisfied groan as the young girl started in on her jane with her tongue.

“Come here,” Lady Aru ordered softly. Roku shifted her weight back and started to stand.
“No,” Lady Aru interrupted, “come here. Crawl.”
Roku complied, dropped back onto her palms and turned around to face Lady Aru. She
took her time, crawling across the cold concrete, not taking the arch out of her back. She
moved like a cat, slow and sultry.
Her instincts were good, Lady Aru took her hand away from her jane, but left her legs apart
ready for Roku. Roku crawled up with a wide smile, stuck out her tongue and licked Lady
Aru's jane in one long motion. Lady Aru groaned, pulling the fabric away from her breasts
and pinching at her nipples.
Roku dug her tongue into Lady Aru's lips and flicked mercilessly at her clit. Lady Aru bucked
her hips; she wouldn't last more than ten seconds. Roku buried her face deep into Lady Aru's
softness, lapping away. The orgasm rocked all of Lady Aru's body, picking her up off the
bench and setting her back down. Beside here, the Minister was also climaxing, rubbing her
jane roughly into the face of the young woman.
With Roku's job done, she pulled from between Lady Aru's thighs, giving the small lily tattoo
a peck as she passed. Lady Aru looked down and smiled at Roku, sweat dripping from her
perfect features. She pulled Roku up and they kissed – a real kiss, with minimal tongue – and
they held each other there on the exposed bench.
Roku didn't feel cold, she felt warm all over, the warmth of Lady Aru's perfect body next to
her. She lay there, her head on Lady Aru's breasts and closed her eyes. Happy – happy in a
way that Roku had never realized she could be.

Chapter 12
The Art Deco Boudoir
Roku adjusted the long, black gloves over her elbows and looked down at Minster Olev; all
tied up to the four poster bed. Roku was wearing a black bra and matching panties; a garter
belt holding up sheer, black stocking; tall heels and the long gloves; every bit the woman
from Pelli's magazines. Minster Olev was naked on the bed except for the ball gag in her
mouth, the knee-high riding boots and the black ropes crisscrossing her pale, soft flesh.
Roku picked up a riding crop from the foot of the bed and brought it down across the back
of Minster Olev's thighs – her feet we tired up above her to the crossbar between the posts of
the bed. She let out a yelp through the confines of the gag. Roku ran a gloved hand the full
length of one of the Minister's legs, and down through the exposed, open, roan softness of
her jane. Pulling the lips apart with two fingers, Roku slapped gently at the Minister's clit
with the end of the crop, receiving muffled moans in gratitude.
Roku dropped the crop at the end of the bed and took her time stepping into the harness of
the stap-on. She could fell the Minister watching her as she tightened the buckles; the
Minister's eyes spoke volumes about expectation in their tiny movements. Roku fastened the
straps tight, letting the large phallus jut up and away from her groin. It wasn't a massive dildo
– nothing like Steely Dan – but its shape and detail more closely modeled that of a real penis.
Why bother? Roku didn't fully understand, how many woman had even actually seen a real
penis? Apart from Roku, that is, and she'd much rather forget. But as forbidden, contraband,
illegal items went, Roku's strap-on must have topped the list. Hard rubber, black, but
detailed enough that you could see imitation veins running the length of the shaft.

Part of Roku was always disgusted to wear it, some of her was always titillated, depending
on her mood. All of her clients, at some point, demanded it... Eventually... The ropes and the
stockings and the gags and the riding crops were great, but it in end, what they all really
wanted – what they were paying for – was a serious, hard fucking. Roku was happy to oblige;
even willing to take one herself if the client was so inclined, but very few ever were.
Roku climbed up onto the bed and straddled across Minister Olev's naked body. She placed
the hard, black dildo between the Minister's breasts, and pushed them together around the
member. She rubbed her jane, through the fabric of her panties, back and forth a little across
the Minister's stomach, letting the dildo move back and forth between her tits; letting the
black tip emerge just a little with every thrust. The Minister mumbled under her gag, and
Roku reached back behind her head and slipped the gag loose.
“I-I-” Minister Olev stared to speak, but Roku didn't wait for her to finish. She leaned
forward, taking her weight on one hand, and guiding the stap-on between the Minister's red,
open lips. Roku thrust from her hips and forced the phallus deep into the Minister's mouth,
almost gagging her on it. She pulled it out slightly, then thrust it in again. She pulled it free
and slapped it playfully against the Minister's lips. The Minister obediently licked at the
rubber, then took the head of the dildo back into her mouth, raising her head off the pillow to
swallow in as much as possible.
Roku jumped free of the bed and pulled on a single knot that freed, in one act, both Minister
Olev's hands and feet. The Minister collapsed back, grateful as the ropes played free, taking
the weight off her extremities. But Roku didn't give her time to relax. Roku put a hand on the
Minister's hips and pushed her over, rolling the Minister onto her front.
Without being asked, Minister Olev pulled her knees up underneath her and thrust her ass
up into the air. Roku hopped up onto the bed and took up position behind the Minister,
grabbing a hip in each hand. She guided the dildo, hands free, towards the Minister's blond
jane, pausing as the tip touched her pink lips.
“Fuck yeah... Yeah...” the Minister moaned. Roku pushed forward slightly with her hips,
pushing the dildo in a little deeper, playing with the pussy. “Yeah, fuck it... fuck it...” the
Minister appealed.

The first skill Roku had learned as a whore was when to speak and when to keep quiet. Some
clients liked it dirty, liked to be called names, liked to have Roku describe in detail exactly
what she was doing. Others were all business, preferring no talk, sometimes not even asking
Roku's name. Minister Olev was a talker. She liked to be reminded exactly how horrible the
acts she was committing actually were.
“Fucking slut!” Roku muttered angrily, taking the stap-on in one hand and grinding it
against the Minister's clit. “Cock slut! Fucking whore... You like to swallow dicks, don't you?
Get fucked like a dog?”
“Oh yeah, fuck me...” the Minister replied, dreamily.
Roku took the stap-on and slipped it a few centimeters into the Minister's jane. She
moaned in approval.
“Bitch!” Roku pulled out the phallus and bent down to lick at the Minister's upturned cunt.
She thrust her tongue deep into the Minister's vagina and rubbed roughly at the Minister's
clit. The anticipation was beginning to drive Minister Olev crazy; she squealed like she was
about to start begging.
That was Roku's cue.
She pulled herself back up and thrust the stap-on into Minister Olev with one cruel stoke.
She buried it to the hilt, grabbing the Minister's hips, not letting her retreat from it. The
Minister screamed it both pain and pleasure. Roku didn't pause, thrusting in and out with
the stap-on. The Minister buried her face into the pillows of the bed, muffling her moans.
“Fucking bitch!” Roku said as she slammed the dildo hard into the Minister's jane. “Who's
my bitch? I'll make you my fucking bitch, you little cock slut!” Roku kept up the dialog as she
worked. “You like that? You like a hard dick? Slut!”
Roku kept thrusting away at the Minister's punished pussy; pumping in and out like the
body wasn't connected to any person. Having worked at Mei's now for over a month, Roku
had come to realized that this was what women came and paid for. Sex they could get. In a
Mosh or a Falling Gallery or from a wife or lover. No, women paid whores to treat them like
shit; like whores themselves; like how men were reported to have treated women. There was

something in a woman's psyche that needed that, Roku guessed, once in awhile... To be
dominated – to be fucked stupid, by a hard dick... Anomalously.
Roku could understand; even sympathize. She even enjoyed the sex; but the whole month
had been one long frustrating experience for her. She thought an insight into the male
psyche had led her to Mei's, but the only lessons that prostitution had been able to teach her
were on the subject of female psychology. Of course, she hadn't expected Dick Terrorists to
just wander in off the street and demand a blow job, but she had half expected at least a hint
that males even existed. As it was, Roku was spending her time servicing the very kind of
clientèle she had attempted to distance herself from: Ladies, Ministers and Commissariat
lackeys.
That nigh,t during the party at the top of the Sentinel Tower – after they had all returned to
the observation deck from the Falling Gallery – Minister Olev had cornered Roku alone and
subtlety implied that she'd be interested in meeting Roku again, later, alone. Roku had
hesitated in mentioning Mei's, concerned it'd reflect badly on Lady Aru, but she'd taken the
chance and Roku's instincts had turned out correct. Minister Olev seemed aroused by the
idea. Less than a week later, the Minister had shown up, down that dark back alley, asking
after Roku.
She must have spread the word, around the corridors of power, because a steady stream of
well connected, middle-aged woman began to pass through the doors of Mei's brothel. The
Old Matron at the front desk was ecstatic. She'd known Roku would bring in business, but
nothing so high-end, and never so many... The Old Matron was quick to double, triple the
usual hourly rates, and the women who came to see Roku happily paid it.
If Lady Aru knew about Roku's new career, she never mentioned it. Once or twice a week
she sent for Roku – a white Town Car appearing unannounced in front of the school.
Sometimes they'd make love, just to two of them, sometimes it was group thing with a couple
of the other Ober Wives. Sometimes Lady Aru was entertaining and Roku was obliged to
service the powerful and well connected guests. Lady Aru liked to watch those evening, as
Roku would hungrily lap a grateful jane until orgasm...

During school hours, however, Roku tried to maintain her cover the best she could. She was
doing well in class, not letting her grades slip; and despite intermittent and capricious
punishment from the Matrons, was mostly well behaved. Her only act of conscious
disobedience was with Pelli. Pelli and Roku had begun to carry on their physical relationship
outside of the gym showers, as expressly forbidden by the school rules.
At first, the money Roku had stolen had been an issue. Roku had readily admitted her theft,
and Pelli had been understandably upset; but Roku made in her first night working at Mei's,
enough to payback Pelli tenfold. She'd done so after algebra class and pulled Pelli aside, into
an empty classroom to give her the interest.
With Pelli on her back sprawled out across a Matron's desk, Roku had lifted Pelli's skirt and
pulled down her white, cotton panties. She'd licked at Pelli's strawberry red jane until she
came hard, rocking and twisting on the desk. It'd made them both late for their next class
and they'd both had to suffer through a paddling, but it been worth every stroke. Roku could
almost ignore a Matron's lascivious fingering while the taste of Pelli's cum was still on her
lips.
They'd begun to sneak every stolen moment they could together. Sex in the dormitories was
out, and they were restricted to mutual masturbation in the Mosh, but once or twice a day
they were able to get five minutes here or there where they could be alone together. Pelli's
body was always ready and Pelli was eager to please Roku in any fashion Roku desired.
But with Pelli, Roku liked to keep things simple. Roku was, on the average, having sex five to
six times a day. Between Mei's, Lady Aru and Pelli... Not always for the purpose of her own
pleasure, perhaps, but it was a hectic pace, all the same.
Mei's might have been for money, Lady Aru might have been for the mission, but Pelli...
Pelli was all for Roku. She was Roku's precious little moment, her break in the day, her selfish
desire that was all her own...
“Ride it, whore,” Roku commanded, pulled out and dropping down beside Minister Olev on
the bed. Roku rolled onto her back and the Minister happily straddled across Roku's groin,
lowering herself tentatively down onto the stap-on. Soon, she was bucking up and down and

Roku grabbed a breast firmly in each hand. The Minister sighed and began to cum – twisting
her hips around on the dildo, her breath shortening to a gasp.
Eventually, all spent, the Minister collapsed forward on top of Roku, panting. She kissed
Roku tenderly, and they lay there for a few minutes, the stap-on still thrust inside the
Minister. Roku caressed the Minister's ample ass and down her soft thighs.
“Six hundred enough?” the Minister asked. She'd dressed and had pulled a roll of cash out
of her slacks. Roku remained reclined on the bed, the black dildo still pointing out from her
groin.
“You know, for you, it's always on the house,” Roku answered, smiling.
“You're so sweet...” Minster Olev counted off a wad of bills and dropped them on the end of
the bed next to the riding crop.
“Business is business,” Roku said sleepily, “I've been getting a lot of visits from the Sentinel
Tower. I suspect I have you to thank...”
Minister Olev smiled, putting the final adjustments to her wardrobe, “No, not me. Lady Aru
recommends you to just about everyone. She's so proud of her sweet little whore...”
“Lady Aru?” Roku said, surprised, sitting up.
“Oh yes, you're all she can talk about. Her perfect little plaything. I think she's proud of her
discovery.” The Minister started toward the door.
Discovery?
“Next week, then?” the Minister said back over her shoulder, at the door, “should I make an
appointment?” she chuckled.
“The door is always open, Minister,” Roku lay back down on the bed, smiled kittenishly and
hugging at a pillow in her arms.
With the Minister gone, Roku had no other clients waiting; she removed her gloves, her
heels and the stap-on, wrapped a dressing gown around herself and made her way
downstairs; down a back staircase to a small room the girls used as a break-room.

There was a small kitchenette in the corner with a refrigerator and an old couch up against a
wall, facing a vidscreen. Ciki sat, also in a dressing gown, at a small plastic dinette set,
reading a reactive newspaper – the gossip section. She glanced up with a smile as Roku
entered the room, then returned to her paper.
Ven, the heavy-set, large breasted whore, was sitting on the couch, with a breast pump to
each of her exposed nipples. She was transfixed by the vidscreen, showing some ultraviolent
Dick and Jane War movie, letting the pumps suck lazily away at her breasts.
Ven was a specialty service, for the fetishists – the calfers. For a fee, you could suck milk
directly from her breasts. High rent stuff, but it took an awful lot of stimulation to keep Ven's
milk flowing. When she wasn't working, she always kept the pumps attached to her nipples.
How anyone could find that erotic, Roku didn't understand – looking at Ven sitting there
with the machine pumping away at her breasts, but it wasn't for Roku to comprehend.
At Ven's feet, on the floor, also watching the vid, sat Luci and Lessi, the dizgotic wives. They
were still dressed in their matching rubber nurses' outfits, both smoking cigarettes and
sharing an ashtray resting on the floor between them. They were another specialty service:
two woman of an identical genetic template that you could rent for a threesome.
It was uncommon in day-to-day life to run into anyone else sharing your genetic template;
even more uncommon for two women of identical genes to meet up and marry, but it wasn't
totally unheard of. Luci and Lessi were such a pair, and the allure of the fantasy was obvious.
It was a fetish Roku could more easily grasp, but in the harsh white light of the break-room's
florescent bulb, there was nothing alluring about the chafed, red flesh hiding under the
rubber costumes. They looked sweaty and pale in the light and Roku was glad her customers
preferred lace... It breathed much better.
Roku made herself an instant coffee at the counter, then sat down at the dinette next to Ciki.
For a few seconds she watched the movie that had Ven, Luci and Lessi so transfixed. There
was a space battle going on. Dick pilots were bombing earthbound targets. Heroic Jane pilots
were flying out to intercept them.
The special effects weren't very good. The computer animated space fighters looked dinky,
and the cutaways to the pilots were obviously on a sound stage. Still, the Janes were winning,

valiantly fighting off wave after wave of snarling, vicious men. The women playing the guy
parts looked stupid in their glued on beards, with their breasts taped down. Roku thought
about that night with the Nanpa Girls and shuddered. If people only knew how hard it was to
actually spot a male...
“The Minister again?” Ciki asked out of the blue, not looking up from her paper.
“What?” Roku turned away from the movie. “Oh, yes. Twice this week.”
“What's the old bitch charging those government types, anyway?” Ciki tapped her
newspaper with a finger and it scrolled to the next page.
“Six hundred, today,” Roku tried reading Ciki's newspaper upside down, got three words
into it, then gave up.
“Fuck!” Ciki looked up. “For one trick?”
“Yep.” Roku sipped at her coffee.
“You've got to start getting some threesomes going. It takes me all night to make that
much.”
“They all just want to get dicked,” Roku said over her cup, “no one's asked to get it in two
holes at once.”
“Maybe you should start suggesting it?” Ciki said hopefully.
“Maybe...” Roku shrugged, then asked, “Business not so brisk?”
“Business is fine,” Ciki returned to her paper, “but six hundred a trick... Nice work if you can
get it,” Ciki sighed.
“Or give it,” Roku replied, “as the case may be.”

Chapter 13
Cabaret
Roku's life remained very much in this holding pattern for two more months: Days at
school, nights either at Mei's or with Lady Aru; stolen moments in empty classrooms or
storage closets with Pelli; daily reports to Lt. Zee that Roku sensed no one bothered to read.
All without a hint of the Dick threat Roku was convinced hid just beneath the surface of the
Great Society's dark underbelly.
This all changed the evening that Lady Le-En came to Mei's to call on Roku.
It was a sweltering evening, at the height of the summer heat, and the old south-side
building that the brothel occupied was mercilessly non air-conditioned. It was far too hot for
sex and business was slow. All the girls were crammed together in the small break-room
around a small portable air-conditioning unit, stripped to their skin, just trying to fend off
the heat. The door opened, letting in a blast of hot air, and a murmur of unhappy groans rose
from the room.
“Roku...” the Old Matron pushed her head around the door.
“What?” Roku was spread eagle on the floor, her head beside the vidscreen, her legs draped
over Ciki's naked stomach.
“A trick,” the Old Matron said without editorial comment.
Roku raised her head, “What? In this heat?”
“Paid in advance, or I won't have bothered you...” the Old Matron's head vanished, then
reappeared through the door. “She's an old friend...”

That made Roku curious. She stood up and found her dressing gown. She carefully stepped
through the minefield of bodies spread across the floor of the break-room and made her way
up the backstairs to her room.
Lady Le-En was waiting for Roku, sitting on the bed, testing the tensile strength of a length
of rope, when Roku stepped in. She was, as always, in white. This time a short dress with
matching shiny, white pumps. She looked up from her rope and gave Roku a warm smile.
“My, haven't we stepped up in the world...” Lady Le-En said, holding her grin, showing Roku
the rope.
“I'll just be a second...” Roku held the dressing gown tight around her, looking around for
her costume. She was a mess... Sweaty, no makeup... She would need a shower and...
“No, no, I'm not here for any of that,” Lady Le-En said, gesturing at the stocking Roku had
picked up. “Get dressed... Properly dressed, we're going out.”
“I-” Roku opened her mouth, then closed it. She hadn't seen Lady Le-En since that night at
the Sentinel Tower, when Roku had assumed Lady Le-En's rightful place at Lady Aru's side.
The word was that Lady Le-En had been in hospital – rehab – after an overdose of Res. If it
was true, she looked in phenomenal shape, sitting on Roku's bed. The platinum blond of her
hair shined in the dim lights of the Art Deco Boudoir; her skin a soft silkiness to it. “I-I'm
working,” Roku finished.
“Yes you are,” Le-En said, standing up, dropping the rope. “For me. I have you for the
evening. Paid in full. We're celebrating.” She said with a laugh. At least she seemed sober.
“Last time we celebrated, I got a crack across the mouth...” Roku reminded, still holding her
dressing gown tight around her.
“Oh...” Lady Le-En gave a dismissive gesture. “But until then, you were having a good time...
I think, a very good time... To find you working here. When did that start?”
Roku didn't answer. Lady Le-En didn't wait for one.
“I've been away, you know...” She began to pace around the room, looking at the Art Deco
props. “Too much of the sweet stuff. Hospital, then rehab, then Lady Aru sent me to a clinic

in Geneva... They do a new type of genetic resequancing... For addicts... Did you know they
can give you allergies now, as well as cure them? Yes, it's true. Lady Aru had them resequance
my DNA to give me a fatal allergy to Res. If I ever drink again, I'll die...” She laughed at this,
but there was no mirth in her cackle. “Can you believe that? That's my loving, dear wife for
you...”
“I'm sorry,” was all Roku could think to say, but she wasn't. It actually sounded like a good
idea.
“So I'm celebrating!” Le-En said with a theatric whirl. “Life without Res. Lady Aru is letting
me out for the evening and told me you were working here. Suggested I come down and
have some fun.” She said 'fun' like she meant anything but. “So, here I am, and fun we will be
having...”
“But not here?”
“No,” Le-En said, fanning her face, “it's too fucking hot for fucking. And, besides...” She
looked Roku up and down, standing there with the dressing gown around her. “the bud is off
the rose, if you know what I mean...”
Roku knew what she meant.
Roku got dressed in a simple, black Art Deco dress from the wardrobe of her room. It was a
costume, centuries out of style, but funky enough for Roku to pull off in a chic, hipster sort of
fashion. Pumps, a handbag for her burner and Roku was ready to go.
She followed Lady Le-En up to street level, where a ubiquitous white Town Car was waiting.
Roku recognized the leather clad driver – she was beginning to call the Ober Guards by their
first names. The Town Car pulled away and started out the long, dark alley, turning left into
the abandoned, quiet streets of the south-side.
“Dare I ask where we're going?” Roku asked when the car was moving, a small compact out,
applying lipstick.
“You don't trust me?” Lady Le-En smiled.
“No.”

“What do you do when you can't drink and it's too hot to fuck?” she asked.
“What?” Roku was finished with her makeup and put it away.
“Go to the Cabaret...”
Roku waited for the punchline. There wasn't one.
“Seriously?” she asked.
“Seriously.” Le-En replied.
Roku couldn't help but smile.
The Town Car pulled to a halt a few minutes later in front of a massive, but decapitated old
marquee. 'Pantages' the sign advertised, but the old theatre looked abandoned. The neon
was dead, and one of the a's of the sign was completely missing. The Town Car driver
stepped out and opened the rear door for Lady Le-En and Roku.
“Here?” Roku said, looking up at the dark sign.
“Here,” Le-En said, stepping out onto the sidewalk.
“What sort of Cabaret do they have down here?” Roku asked, now out of the car, too.
“Oh, only the very best...” Le-En smiled.
Roku felt a tingle down the back of her spine. The last time her mission had born fruit was
the night Lady Le-En had taken her, for the first time, to Mei's... All the time Roku had since
wasted sitting on the faces of Sub-Commissars, spanking the asses of Vice Committee
Chairs... She'd seen nothing of the seamier side of the Great Society. But ten minutes in the
company of Lady Le-En and Roku had already stumbled on an illicit, south-side club...
Those last ten minutes were worth more to Roku than three months of her own
investigations... Roku couldn't help feel more than a little foolish...
They walked down the side of the old theatre, coming to a stage door need the back of the
building. There was a small line of well dressed women milling around, waiting by the door;

ut Lady Le-En blew right past them, speaking momentarily with the door-woman, then
taking Roku's hand and stepping inside.
At least it was air-conditioned; the dry coldness hitting Roku the second she stepped
through the door.
Everything was dark, but as Roku's eyes adjusted, she became aware of the diameter and
width of the room she had entered. A cluster of twenty or so tables sat before a small stage. It
was a small venue, lit only by the hollow candles that cast shadows across the faces of the
other patrons. But it seemed busy. Most of the tables were already occupied. Lady Le-En
strode confidently up to a table directly in front of the stage.
The show was already starting. Flood light came up and momentarily blinding Roku. When
her eyes had adjusted again, a woman was on the stage starting to sing a number. She had
short, black hair and was dressed in a pinstriped suit. She had a black mustache painted
under her nose and sang her song in a low, droning tone.
It was a drag show.
The singer's song was an old ballad, something about a woman not loving him and how he
might die from loneliness. A subdued titter of laughter came up from the audience, but it
didn't seem to phase the performer. She carried on with her song undaunted, perhaps
exaggerating her male impression even more. When the song was finished, the audience
exploded into thunderous applause. The singer took her bow, obviously happy with her
performance. Roku clapped as loud as she could, letting herself whistle in appreciation. It
was all, obviously, in good fun. Roku was going to enjoy the evening.
When the lights faded, a waitresses came by for drink orders, but Lady Le-En quickly waved
her away. A minute later and the lights were come back up onto a full set, made up to look
like some sort of store.
It was a comedy skit that soon had the whole room howling with laugher. One woman
played the part of the shopkeeper; another was a government official, investigating
allegations that the store was selling contraband items. The shopkeeper acting innocent, not
understanding what she sold that could possibly be interpreted as illegal. The investigator

started reading a list of items, each more ridiculous than the next, that could, after a fashion,
be interpreted as a phallus. Bananas, turkey basters, compact umbrellas... All produced for
comic effect by the shopkeeper and shown to be perfectly harmless – the umbrella being
suddenly opened after a long discussion about where such a shaped item might practically
be shoved. It was enough to make your eyes water...
The skit ended with one final item that the shopkeeper couldn't satisfactorily explain an
innocent purpose for; ending with the punch line 'no, it's not for putting in your jane, it's for
shoving up your ass...' The room exploded into applause and laughter... Well, perhaps you
had to be there, but Roku couldn’t help but enjoy the show. The pair had perfect comic
timing and the risky subject matter... The audience was having a great time, too. As the lights
dimmed, the waitresses were again moving amongst the tables. Roku was having so much
fun, she ordered a drink. It arrived just as the lights were coming up on the next act.
This act was a stripper in feathered boas and a long dress. Roku didn't see how it fit with the
theme of the other acts, but the crowd was enjoying the spectacle. As the clothes came off,
the audience hooted their approval. The dress dropped to reveal the strippers figure and full
breasts, which she jiggled hypnotically. Roku had never seen a real stripper. She understood
the concept, had heard girls talking about it in the brothel, but the real thing was far more
compelling than she'd realized. She was considering adding something like it to her own
repertoire, when the stripper reached the climax of her act: Her panties went down and
revealed...
The audience went wild – applause and screams of approval. Roku was stunned, sitting not
two meters away. The stripper was a he. His penis stood up erect, as the applause washed
over it – hairless and pink in the warm stage lights. Roku looked over to see Lady Le-En
laughing and clapping. Roku realized she was the only person in the room shocked by the
sight. She recovered and started to applaud. Right there, right in front of her, was a man
blatantly exhibiting his gender.
Roku looked at the hard, swollen penis with wide eyes. The stripper curtsied slightly to the
crowd, blew a few kisses, and curtsied off stage.

“By the Holy Matron...” Roku whispered to Lady Le-En. The lights went down, and the
waitresses were doing their job.
“Fucking crazy shit, huh?” Lady Le-En said, unthinkingly reaching out for Roku's glass. She
had it halfway to her lips before she realized what she was doing and put it back down on the
table.
“That-” Roku started to say too loud, “that was a man...”
“Yeah, fucking crazy!” Le-En was still smiling, “I didn't see that coming!”
“But... That was a man...” Roku emphasized.
“Yes.” Lady Le-En punctuated, reminding Roku she was becoming a bore. “I know.”
Roku left it alone.
She was flabbergasted. The Nanpa Girls had been one thing; they'd been predictors, but this
was a Dick waving his... Well, dick around like it was something he didn't need to hide.
Alright, the whole evening was illegal. The drag show, the jokes about Commissariat official;
any of that stuff would get you thrown in prison for more years than you could count. But a
man...
He had to be backstage as Roku was sitting there, taking to the other performers, discussing
how the show was going. They must be treating him like a human being – like a woman.
Roku felt faint. A burning feeling rose inside her like she'd just been slapped in the face. It
was insulting, it was disgusting, it was vile. Roku resisted the urge to get up and storm out,
though she knew she should.
But what would that accomplish?
She reached down and found her purse. Her hand slipped inside and made sure her burner
was there. Sure enough, the compact burner was there; the one that Lt. Zee had given her to
replace the one taken into evidence after the killings in that apartment. She could go
backstage and put a bolt though that stripper right now and she'd probably get a medal, but
what would that too accomplish?

Roku took a sip of her drink. She let herself calm down. As her brain began to work again,
she began to realize the potential of the situation she had found herself in. Men moving
freely amongst women. She'd found the exposed underbelly of the Great Society she'd been
looking for – she'd found the place where men and women intermingled; the Dick Terrorist
and their sympathizers.
Her anger began to give way to excitement. If she could just keep her head and not act like a
fool and start shooting too soon, she could potentially bust open the whole sleeper cell;
uncover the whole nest of Dick Terrorists and the treasonous collaborators that Roku was
just now seeing the periphery of. If she could just keep her head and not start shooting,
things could turn out very well...
“You want to see more?” Lady Le-En leaned over and asked, bringing Roku out of her
musings. “I'm hungry...”
“I want to meet the stripper...” Roku replied, finishing the last of her drink.
“You want to-” Lady Le-En gave Roku a quizzical look. “No, let’s go get some dinner...”
“I want to meet that stripper,” Roku insisted. “You said we were going to have some fun. I
want to talk to that man. I've never talked to one before.”
“I said we were celebrating,” Le-En reminded, “talking to a Dick doesn't sound like
celebrating.”
“Fine, I'll go talk to him myself.” Roku started to stand.
“Hey, I paid for the whole evening,” Le-En said, grabbing Roku's arm.
“You can have a refund,” Roku pulled her arm away.
“Okay, okay...” Le-En said quickly, realizing Roku was serious. “If that's what you want to
do, let's go talk to the Dick.” Lady Le-En stood and began to follow Roku. “Finger the fucking
Matron!” Lady Le-En added as they were walking to the door beside the stage. “I liked it
better when you were shining my shoes...”
Roku smiled, “It didn't cost you five grand, then...”

Lady Le-En didn't argue.
Le-En stepped first through the door to the back stage, Roku following behind. Le-En had a
quick word with a stage manager, who nodded knowingly, and pointed back to the rear of
the wings. Taking Roku's hand, Lady Le-En led her back until they came to a line of small
dressing rooms. At the farthest door from the stage, Lady Le-En stopped and knocked.
“Come in!” a voice said from inside.
Inside the stripper was still half naked. Her panties covered up her groin, but she was
toweling off her large, full boobs – the nipples small and hard.
“Good evening...” Lady Le-En said, stepping into the dressing room. Roku held her purse in
her hands and stood silently beside Le-En, staring.
“Are you enjoying the show?” The stripper asked. Her voice was high and pitch perfect,
nothing like the low groan of the drag act. Apart from the slight bulge in her panties, there
was nothing about the stripper that give Roku any clue that she was anything less than a
perfect woman. The breasts, the hips, the thighs...
Lady Le-En elbowed Roku.
“Yes, thank you,” Roku blurted out. She had said she wanted to talk to the stripper. “Your act
is full of surprises...”
The stripper smiled, slyly, “Nobody ever sees it coming...” she winked.
“You don't-” Roku started then stopped.
“Look like the men in the movies?” The stripper was done with the towel and tossed it aside,
she sat down at the makeup table and started to pull off her fake eyelashes. “No, we don't
anymore, sweetie. That was generations ago.”
“But, in school, they say there's only men...” Roku played the ignorant schoolgirl.
“In space?” the stripper looked up from the mirror, only one eyelash on. “Do they really still
say that?”

Lady Le-En stifled a giggle. Roku gave her a curious look. Roku knew she was playing
stupid, but she still didn't understand what she said that was funny...
“No, honey, men live right here on earth with all-you-all women, just like it's always been,
but we're different now, see?” She held forward her large breasts as if that explained
something. “We're like you but not like you... You understand?”
“Not really...” Roku admitted.
“Well, don't worry your pretty little head about it,” the stripper said, returning her attention
to the makeup mirror. “We ain't terrorists or guerrillas or any sort of shit like that. We're just
people living our lives, there ain't nothing nobody needs to fear from us...”
Yeah right, Roku thought, ever meet any Nanpa Girls? But she didn't say anything.
“Come on,” Lady Le-En said, taking Roku's arm, “I'm hungry.”

Chapter 14
Moll Flanders
Roku passed the rest of the evening with Lady Le-En. They ate and talked and laughed and
at about midnight, took the Town Car back out of town. With the heat and the lack of Res,
Lady Le-En was in no mood for romance and dropped Roku back on campus, with a terse
goodbye.
It'd been a pleasant enough evening, but try as she might, Roku couldn't get that Dick
stripper out of her mind. The causal, almost lazy way the Dick had explained away her
presence on earth. It was like Roku should expect to see transsexual Dicks wandering the
streets everyday... Perhaps she did, and that thought worried Roku. She had, once again, seen
a male up close and personal and been unable to tell one apart from a real female. They were
perfect facsimiles. Half the population of the Planet Earth could be male and Roku would
have been none the wiser.
Roku's mission was clear.
Roku was a Hatchette. Hatchettes killed men. There were no parameters or limitations to
her mission – no factors that needed to be taken into account. That she'd had a conversation
with a male and he'd seemed very reasonable and personable; that the men had looked and
sounded almost exactly like women; that women as powerful and well connected as Lady Le-
En seemed to be collaborating with the enemy; all of this was no concern of Roku's. It was
Roku's duty to seek out and destroy, exterminate men, and Roku had no intention of failing
in her mission.
The next day, Roku requisitioned a ground car from Lt. Zee. There were a number of
vehicles set aside for Hatchette use. The Cabaret was over for the week, but the next
performance would be that coming Friday. Roku spent her time in preparation – when not

in school or called to the service of Lady Aru, she asked around at the Cabaret and got names
and numbers of many of those connected to the show. She called or visited some, asking
discreetly about the stripper.
But they were a closed mouth lot; as could be understood. They knew what they were doing
was illegal and anyone asking around, even a young girl, arose suspicion. Roku didn't learn
much, just that the stripper's real name was Tro.
Frustrated, Roku resigned herself to waiting – waiting for the next Cabaret performance –
when she could follow the male, Tro home. Roku planned to kill the stripper, as her ordered
demanded, but she wanted all the intelligence she could gather first. Roku was curious:
Exactly how big a warren of males had she stumbled upon? Who exactly were they and where
did they live? What were they planning? What has their next target? All this she felt could be
learned if should could uncover the group.
The Hatchette car came equipped with a standard issue weapons package in the trunk:
Auto-burner, hydro armor, a dozen plasma grenades. On the Thursday before the Cabaret,
Roku drove out deep into the woods and checked the weapons over.
They seemed dusty and unused and assembled by hands that were unfamiliar with their
function. Roku field stripped everything and reassembled them in the way she'd been taught
in Hatchette training. Satisfied with her workmanship, she'd fired off a few rounds from the
auto-burner into the tree, found everything in working order and packed the weapons back
into the car.
If, by chance, Tro lead Roku back to a sleeper cell of Dick terrorists, Roku wanted to be
ready. After the Nanpa Girls and that humiliating experience, Roku was itching for a rematch.
This time, no one would be catching Roku off guard, on her knees, naked with a dick in her
mouth...
The next night, Roku drove herself to the south-side and parked a few blocks away from the
Pantages. She'd dressed in black capri pants for the occasion, with a black t-shirt and a pair
of heavy combat boots. It was hot – too damn hot to be waiting outside in a car – but Roku
settled down behind the wheel and rolled down all the windows. She should have just worn
her cutoffs, she was realizing, as the black t-shirt began to stick to her chest...

Guests were arriving and vanished down the side alley, just as Lady Le-En and Roku had
done the week before. Roku stayed in her car. She couldn't risk going down into the Cabaret
herself, she knew, after asking all those questions... Even if its air-conditioning would have
been a welcome thing...
It was a long, dull wait in the sweltering heat of the summer night.
Minutes turned into hours, and hours stacked up on top of each other. The audience
emerged around midnight, but the performers didn't ascend until one.
The singer, the comedians and then finally Tro appeared out of the alley in the company of
a number of the chorus line girls. They stood talking at the mouth of the alley for over fifteen
minutes before parting way with hugs and kisses. The girls headed west as Tro headed east.
She was on foot. Roku realized her car would do her no good. Tro clicked off in her heels
down the street as Roku watched her. She took a corner a block or so down and Roku opened
her door and sprinted after.
Arriving at the corner, pressed flat against the stone wall, Roku stole a quick glance around.
She could see Tro a hundred meters down the block, illuminated in the yellow light of an old
style street lamp. She was turning another corner, freeing Roku to sprint the distance
between the two corners in her heavy combat boots.
At the new corner, Roku peeped around, watching as Tro took the steps up the front of an
old, dirty brownstone building, searching around in her purse. She pulled out a set of keys
and put one into the lock of the brownstone's front door. Without looking back, unaware that
she was being followed, Tro stepped inside.
Three block from the theatre... Roku could have kicked herself. She looked up and studied
the street sign above her head, letting out a short laugh. She was less than a quarter mile
from the alley down which Mei's lay... All these months, all the plotting, all the schemes, all
the lures to attract males... If she'd just walked the neighborhood and knock on doors, she'd
have found her quarry in an afternoon...
Live and learn, Roku told herself, stepping out openly into the street. Tro was now inside
and Roku no longer needed to hide.

She walked slowly, as casually as she could muster, down the street towards the
brownstone. There was a small neon sign beside the front steps, with an arrow pointing
down, advertising some sort of bar or restaurant in the basement. Tro had gone up, into the
building proper, not down, but Roku was curious... She paused on the sidewalk in front of
the brownstone, looking up at the door though which Tro had stepped, and then down at the
basement bar.
The place was a Pub, and Irish Pub called Moll Flanders. Roku hesitated. She should go back
to her car and pop the trunk, pull out the auto-burner that she’d hidden there and come
back armed. But instead, she took the steps down towards the basement bar, tucking her
hands into the pockets of her black capri pants.
The bar was small, smoky and loud. It was dominated by a large, traditional bar, set against
the back wall, with bottle after bottle of liquor stacked behind it. The expected taps for beer
were positioned at the expected places at the bar, but no one in the Pub seemed to be
drinking it. The dozen women who sat on stools, or at small tables up against the walls, were
drinking Res from small shot glasses and smoking cigarettes. All eyes turned to look at Roku
the moment she stepped through the door.
Roku wasn't welcome there.
She could feel the vibe the second the door closed behind her. There were no smiles – no
one suggestively looked Roku up and down. The two dozen or so eyes simply glared at Roku,
telling her this wasn't the sort of bar she should stop for a drink in.
Roku knew she had found what she was looking for.
Taking her hands out of her pockets, Roku walked up to the bar and smiled at the barmaid.
She was a heavyset, thick necked woman with red, permed hair. She frowned back at Roku,
drying a glass with a dish towel in her hands.
“Good evening-” Roku began to say to no one in particular.
“You got any ID?” the barmaid interrupted, “you don't look old enough to drink here.” she
accused.

“I'm eighteen,” Roku replied, now on the defensive.
“The hell you are!” the barmaid let out an indigent grunt. She raised a chubby fingered and
pointed back at the door. “How about you comeback in a year or so, sweetheart...”
“But, I'm meeting a friend here...” Roku lied. She looked around at the faces of the women
sitting at the bar. They were all looking over at Roku, looking her over through the cigarette
smoke. None of them could have been under forty – everyone in the bar seemed to be in their
middle-age. Was that their objection to Roku? Or was it something else...
“Oh yeah, who?” the barmaid said, putting down her dry glass and picking up a wet one.
“Tro. Doesn't she live upstairs?” Roku replied. The barmaid looked up from her drying –
Roku had caught her attention.
“Tro?” the barmaid parroted, giving Roku a sideways glance. “She's meeting you in here?”
“That's what she said...” Roku played it dumb, with a shrug of her shoulders. “So, can I get a
drink while I'm waiting?”
“Why don't I give Tro a call?” the barmaid said suspiciously, putting down her glass and
towel.
“Great, can I still get that drink?” Roku leaned forward, elbows on the bar, she looked over at
the woman to her immediate left and smiled. “How you doing?” she said conversationally.
The barmaid reached under the bar and came up with the handset to an old style, wired
phone. She didn't dial any number, just raised the earpiece and listened. Roku waited with a
stupid grid on her face, looking distractedly around the bar; playing the innocent she hoped
everyone believed her to be. The barmaid listened at the phone, nodded her head silently in
reply to something, then returned the handset back under the bar. Roku noticed her hand
didn't reemerge...
“She ain't ever heard of you...” the barmaid said tersely.
“I didn't even tell you my name...” Roku protested.

“Well... She still ain't ever heard of you. She ain't expecting any visitors. Not tonight, not
ever. Why don't you get along, little lady...” The barmaid stood still behind the bar, her hand
still out of sight.
“No drink?” Roku protested and laughed at her own joke. She looked around as if she
expected the other patrons to think she was funny. They didn't.
“Why don't you go drink somewhere else,” the woman to Roku's right offered, “before
there's trouble.”
“Trouble?” Roku raised her voice, incredulously. “Who said anything about trouble? I just
want a fucking drink. This is a bar, isn't it?”
“We don't serve underage kids,” the barmaid said flatly.
“I said I was eighteen,” Roku protested, putting her hands palm down on the bar and
leaning forward, aggressively. “I want to be served, damn it!”
“And I said get out,” the barmaid replied, calmly. The woman to Roku's left and right
decided this was the moment to get up off their stools. They might have known what was
coming next, or they might have been maneuvering to flank Roku. Luckily, Roku could keep
an eye on them in the reflections off the various liquor bottles behind the bar.
“What kind of bar is this?” Roku said loudly, so she could be heard by the whole room. “I
come in here, say I'm meeting a friend, and I get treated like a criminal! You know what I
think? I think maybe you guys are the criminals. Yeah, I think, maybe, I should just give the
cops a call...” Roku paused to make sure everything was listening. She looked around into
the stony gazes of the silent patrons. “How about that, huh? Get the police asking around
down here? Turning over a few stones? Maybe looking into exactly what it is you're serving
behind that bar?”
The Pub was deathly quiet. Everyone waited for the barmaid's reaction.
“Okay, okay kid,” the barmaid said contritely, still not raising her hand from under the bar.
“Maybe one drink. There's no need for any bad blood. Maybe you're eighteen, maybe you're
seventeen. What do I care?”

The barmaid's free hand went under the bar and came out with a glass. She reached down
again and came back with a bottle. She poured Roku a full shot of Res, never once moving the
hidden hand from beneath the bar.
“Here,” she said, with a gesture at the full glass, “drink up and let’s be friends.” Her lips
curled like she was trying to smile – like it was a physical act of torture to get her face to
assume that position.
Roku picked up her glass and raised it under her nose. She took a long sniff, then held it still,
in front of her lips, like she was contemplating what was to come.
“There,” she said, affecting an air of smug satisfaction, “was that so hard?” She was moving
the glass of Res towards her lips...
She was painfully aware of how intently the whole bar was watching her take that drink. She
could feel the seconds as they crawled passed, the glass of Res making slow progress to her
lips. Automatically, her bionics clicking on. The battle sub-processor in her brain – the
computer that occupied not an insignificant portion of her left frontal lobe – was suddenly
piping her combat data: Extrapolated positions of potential targets, both in view and out of
the field of vision; relative suitability as improved weapons of various items easily within
arm's reach; blood pressure, oxygen and adrenal levels; potential escape and evasion preplotted
routes. Everything that Roku was about to need.
That hand, under the bar – Roku knew the barmaid was holding onto a weapon. The battle
sub-processor gave it an eighty-two percent chance of being a plasma weapon.
And the woman to Roku's right, the one who'd suggested it was time for Roku to leave, Roku
could see in the reflection of a bottle of vodka that she had a hand under her blouse,
searching for some sort of weapon.
That woman and the woman to Roku's left were each exactly one hundred and twenty
degrees behind her, in a perfectly executed ambush maneuver. They'd strike simultaneously
with the barmaid, Roku knew, for maximum effect...
...But they were unaware they were fighting a Hatchette.

Three against one – well, twelve against one, when you got right down to it – everyone but
the barmaid standing behind their target. But Roku still had the element of surprise.
Roku made a motion, like she was about to knock back her glass of Res – all in one, with a
gulp; with the smug, idiotic superiority Roku was attempting to display. That was their
queue, they all moved to attack at once. The barmaid came up with the burner in her hand;
the woman to Roku's right pulled a blade from under her blouse and the woman to Roku's
left leapt forward with both hands for Roku's throat.
But Roku drink didn't touch her lips – she didn't tilt her head back as they expected,
enjoying everything milliliter of the tick, syrupy Res. No, as the barmaid's burner came up,
Roku thrust the glass forward, tossing its contents at the rising gun. Before the barmaid could
level her weapon, it was already soaked in slick Res.
There's something about plasma weapons everything should probably know – it's the first
thing they teach you in weapon's training – you have to be really careful never to get them
wet.
A plasma bolt de-encapsulates when it enters the body of its target. That's how it kills – all
that energy, instantly released when the magnetic field holding the bolt together breaks
down. It's the water in the human body that does this – de-magnetices the plasma bolt – the
specific heat of water is too great for the energy bolt; it can't heat it up fast enough for the
plasma bolt to pass through it, like air.
So it explodes. Brilliantly, with a spectacular amount of damage. But any water in the path
of the bolt will make it de-encapsulate. That's how a hydro vest works, it's simply bags of
water that cause the bolt to explode on the outside of the wearer instead of the inside. Get a
burner wet and, well... If the bolt explodes while it's still in the barrel...
The barmaid fired her gun and her burner exploded taking her hand and most of her
forearm with it. She crashed back up against the bar, smashing into the odd assortment of
liquor bottles stacked there. The alcohol, added to the barmaid's already superheated flesh,
mixed to engulf her in an impressive fireball – the barmaid let out a blood curdling scream as
she self-immolated.

The woman to Roku's right came at her with the knife. Roku extended her leg and caught
the woman solidly in the stomach. She crumpled back, the wind taken out of her, and Roku
spun on her left leg, throwing a punch into the face of the woman attacking from the left.
That woman took the punch squarely in the nose and staggered back with a stream of blood
from her nostrils. Roku came around, three sixty and threw a second punch at the winded
woman to the right. Roku caught her in the chin and sent her collapsing to the floor. Roku
planted her feet firmly on the ground just in time for the second wave of attackers to hit her.
The rest of the bar was up on its feet now, charging towards Roku; but the lay of the tables
and chairs on the floor meant they could only practically attack Roku in a single file. Roku
met each one in turn as they attacked her with an assortment of weapons: knives, blackjacks,
a couple old model burners. Roku made quick work of each one in order, disarming them
and delivering a knockout blow. The fight was over in under a minute, leaving Roku standing
amongst a pile of prone bodies.
The fire behind the bar, the one started by the fat of the barmaid, was really starting to burn.
Smoke was filling the Pub. Roku would have to work fast. She picked up, off the floor, the pair
of old model burners two of her attackers had been carrying. She checked the pulse of one of
the unconscious women. Still beating, she found – but the smoke would soon take care of
that. Roku groped at the woman's chest: Full, normal breasts. Then Roku felt down between
the woman's legs. There it was, even through the fabric of the woman's pants, Roku could
feel it. Just to be sure, she slipped her hand down inside the waistband. Sure enough, the
flesh of a small, flaccid penis was hiding down there, between the legs of an otherwise
normal looking middle-aged woman.
Roku didn't have to check the others, she knew what'd she'd find. The ferocity with which
they had attacked Roku, their coordinated assault. This wasn't just a den of criminals, these
were trained and hardened Dick Terrorists. Moll Flanders was a Dick bar. And with Tro living
upstairs... The whole building must be lousy with them...
The smoke was beginning to choke Roku. She cut across to her internal oxygen supply, with
the carbon dioxide scrubber. It was an emergency backup implant, but it allowed Roku to go
almost twenty minutes without breathing. However, it did nothing to stop the smoke
stinging at Roku's eyes and she moved quickly towards the exit.

That's when she first heard the alarm.
Not a fire alarm – no, that would have been a loud klaxon, designed to get everyone's
attention – this was an almost imperceptible ringing in some far off room, deep inside the
build above. It was at the very limit of Roku's enhanced hearing, but it was definitely there.
One of her attackers must have had time to push a panic button, setting off an alarm higher
up in the brownstone. Roku's battle sub-processor was already computing the implications.
It was throwing up potential ambush choke points – it was giving a ninety percent chance
that they'd be armed assailants waiting for Roku at the top of the front steps of the
brownstone. With the height advantage and full coverage of the street for hundreds of meters
in both directions, the computer was giving Roku less than three percent chance of
successfully escaping.
But Roku wasn’t planning on escaping. She'd stay and fight. There'd be backstairs, Roku
concluded, and turned away from the exit. She stepped deeper into the choking smoke,
navigating by touch. She could feel the heat of the inferno that was behind the bar and
skirted to its right. She dropped to her knees and crawled as the smoke thickened. She came
to doors that seemed to lead to a bathroom, then a back door with stairs beyond.
That was what she was looking for. She jumped to her feet and took the stairs up. One flight,
and she put her shoulder into the door, dumping her out into the brownstone's lobby.
Sure enough, the battle sub-processor's predictions were correct, two woman stood at the
front door of the building, looking down at the street. They were dressed in their underwear,
obviously sleeping when the alarm roused them.
Their backs were to Roku, but they turned as Roku piled through the stairwell door. Their
auto-burners came swinging around, but Roku was already firing. A plasma bolt from each
handgun hit each woman dead center in the chest before they could snap off a shot.
Roku didn't have time to see them fall. From behind her, someone was firing a burner. The
door to the stairwell hadn't completely closed and a plasma bolt exploded against it. Roku
leapt forward and rolled. She came up shooting, blind down the dark corridor. Two, three,
four shots. As the bolts exploded, she could see the silhouette of a figure flailing wildly.

Roku's roll had brought her to the base of the brownstone's main stairs. The sound of feet
moving above could be heard – moving down the stairs towards her. Roku raised her
burners, thrusting them out in front of her, akimbo.
She started up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time – almost sprinting. From doors and
around corners figures were appearing. Roku fired, pumping at the triggers. She crested the
first flight of stairs, circled the landing, and started up the next flight; all the while throwing
plasma bolts at any target that presented itself.
Her aim was true, she didn't waste a shot. Bodies were falling out of doorways, torn apart
horribly by the energy weapons. Plasma bolts exploded around Roku, but none of those
found their mark. The residents of the Dick brownstone were panicking and shooting wildly
– attempting to escape and fight simultaneously.
Up the next flight, and Roku was at the top of the building. Here a few targets presented
themselves, but Roku dispatched them without consideration.
Her left burner was empty and she tossed it aside. The burner in her right hand was also
low on ammunition.
Roku considered searching each of the rooms that faced onto the landing, but the smoke
from the fire in the basement bar was already wafting up the stairwell. It wouldn't be long
before the whole brownstone was engulfed in flames.
Roku would let the fire do its work.
She turned and started back down the stairs. No one accosted her on her way down. Anyone
in the building that had been interested in fighting, she had already killed.
Flames were licking out of the basement windows of Moll Flanders as Roku trotted down
the front steps of the brownstone. The street was silent, the sound of gunfire had attracted
no attention. Looking left then right, Roku attempted to calm herself. Her bionic were still
running, and the instinct to kill was hard to abruptly end.
With no one in sight, Roku tossed the last burner aside and started down the street, back
towards her car. As she turned the first corner, the sound of sirens could be heard in the

distance. At the car, Roku looked back and could just make out the faint glow against the
clouds of the burning brownstone behind the rooftops.
Fuck them all, Roku thought, as climbing behind the wheel.

Chapter 15
H-Hour
Roku stopped at a pay phone north of the river, calling the number for the Hatchette
cleaners. This time, she didn't wait around for the paramedics or the evidence technicians.
She drove back to St. Juliet's and slipped through a back door into the dormitories. She
collapsed, still fully clothed, into her bunk and fell rapidly asleep.
She expected, the next day, for Lt. Zee to call or visit for a debrief; but the day passed like
any other. There was nothing on the vidcast news about the fire or the gun battle; nothing in
the reactive papers, but that was to be expected. The Commissariat wouldn't want to panic
the public. But Roku still expected a debrief; if nothing else, a pat on the back and an
acknowledgement of a job well done.
But no call came, Lt. Zee's VTOL never showed up over the sports fields beside the school.
Roku kept filing her reports daily and perusing whatever leads she could muster on more
Dick activity, but no more orders came down from Command.
In fact, it wasn't until the news broke that First Commissar Es had died, that Roku heard
from Lt. Zee.
It was three weeks after Roku's battle at Moll Flanders. The solemn face of the news anchor
on channel 132 had broken in to the regularly scheduled program, informing the world that
First Commissar Es had passed away, peacefully, in her sleep. Roku had been in the dorms
when she first heard the news – the girls gathered around the vidscreen. The news seemed to
hit everyone but Roku very hard. Many girls broke down into tears. Perhaps because Roku
was aware of Lady Es' true age, the news didn't hit her quite as severely. She had to remind
herself that most of the public thought of Lady Es as a young woman. Still, it was tragic news.

The mother of the Great Society had died. Who would replace her? Who could possible ever
fill the shoes of Lady Es?
Roku knew.
That night, Roku had taken the trolley to the brothel, as usual. She was planning to give it up
– the whoring – since the work had completely failed in every aspect to smoke out any sex
starved males; but she had a small list of powerful, regular customers that she needed to keep
serving, and she didn't want to raise suspicions by simply hanging them out to dry.
It'd be a quiet night, she knew, what with the horrible news. She could imagine the whole
universe had been turned upside down for the occupants of Sentinel Tower. They'd have
little time to sneak off to the south-side for a little jane.
Roku had just arrived in her room, and was just beginning to change her clothes, when Lt.
Zee stepped in to the room.
Roku was bare chested when she turned to face Lt. Zee. Roku began to speak, but the look of
pained consternation on Lt. Zee's face made her pause. Lt. Zee stepped forward and roughly
planted a kiss on Roku's lips. Her arms wrapped around Roku's middle and pulled her in
close. Her tongue thrust between Roku's lips before Roku realized what was happening. She
uncomfortably began to return Lt. Zee's kiss, welcoming the advance, but still shocked and
surprised by it.
Lt. Zee broken her mouth away and pushed Roku hard down onto the bed. Her eyes burned
with lust, looking over the length of Roku's lithe body. She fumbled frantically at the buttons
of her dress blouse, untucking it from her skirt.
They were going to fuck, Roku realized, shocked. Where was this coming from? Lt. Zee had
her blouse open now, relieving her large, soft breasts packed up inside her bra. Roku
unbuttoned her cutoffs and slipped them down her legs, kicking them off the bed. She was
totally naked now and lay back with her knees up, legs wide. Lt. Zee looked down at Roku's
jane as she unsnapped her bra. She pulled it off and her breasts swung free.
Topless, Lt. Zee dropped forward and planned her mouth squarely in the center of Roku's
jane. Her tongue circled then thrust inside. She pushed Roku's thighs further apart and

lapped ravenously. Roku moaned as teeth found her clitoris and playfully bit at it. Fingers
were probing and Roku ran her hands through Zee's long, dark hair.
Suddenly, Lt. Zee was up, kissing Roku's lips again. Frantic hands were pulling at her skirt.
Roku bit at Zee's lower lip and helped her off with her clothes – skirt and panties. Then Zee
was crawling up over Roku, her knees by Roku's ears. She lowered the pinkness of her jane's
lips down onto Roku's mouth, and Roku licked them dutifully. Lt. Zee squirmed back and
forth, side to side on Roku's moving tongue. Her breath began to labor as she was
approaching a climax.
Just before the moment of truth, she climbed free of Roku's tongue and scissored herself
between Roku's legs. Jane to jane, she began to grind her hips into Roku. Clits rubbing
against clits. They tribbed like that for less than a minute before Lt. Zee's orgasm erupted.
She fell back onto the bed, keeping their legs scissored together, holding them there. Roku
bucked her hips a little, she was still a long way off from being done, but Lt. Zee didn't
respond.
And then, as frantically as she'd gotten undressed, Lt. Zee was up putting her clothes back
on again.
“I-” Roku said, still lying back on the bed. She slid her hand between her legs, showing the
Lieutenant that she still needed her. Lt. Zee didn't bother with her underwear. She had her
skirt back on, shoes, and she finished buttoning up her blouse. She didn't look at Roku, she
just gathered up her bra and panties and was out the door.
Roku was left there all alone.
That should have, at least, cost her one hundred and fifty, Roku smiled. Well, there was
nothing else for Roku to do... She circled her clit with her fingers and lay there frigging at her
own jane. Lt. Zee's taste was still on her lips and it didn't take many minutes before Roku was
done.
She lay there naked, not bothering to get up, looking at the door Lt. Zee had come in and
gone out of. What the hell was that about? Roku wondered. Something about the whole thing

sat heavy in Roku's chest. Somehow, she got the feeling she was never going to seeing Lt. Zee
again...

Chapter 16
The Holy Matron
The next day, Pelli and Roku stole a few minutes together between Algebra and Geometry.
They found an empty Social Studies classroom and sneaked in without drawing too much
attention. Pelli instantly locked to Roku's lips the second they stepped through the door.
They had so few of these moments together, alone... They dared not fool around in the
dormitories, and the Mosh... Well, the Mosh was the Mosh....
“I want to eat your jane on the Matron's desk,” Roku said to Pelli through their locked lips.
Pelli let out a small squeal of excitement, and they move as a duo across the classroom floor.
At the desk, Roku lifted Pelli up and sat her down. She reached under Pelli's short, plaid skirt
and pulled down her white panties, exposing the fiery redness of her jane. Roku put two
fingers in Pelli's mouth and let her suck on them; then, pulling them out, she massaged
Pelli's clit with them, circling.
“I love you,” Pelli said, with a satisfied moan.
“I love you, too,” Roku replied as she crouched before her. It'd only been the last few weeks
that they'd started to say that to each other. If it was true or not, Roku didn't care, it added
that little extra bit of something to the sex. Roku buried her face heedlessly into Pelli's warm,
wet pussy, flicking her tongue.
Then the handle of the door turned.
Roku's Hatchette hearing heard it first, but she was still only able to rise to her feet before
the door swung open. Pelli didn't have time to fully close her legs, and as the Matron stepped
into the classroom, she must have gotten a good solid flash of pubic hair.
There was no hiding what they'd been up to.

The Matron closed the door behind her, acting like nothing was out of the ordinary – not
even indicating that she'd seen the two girls. She had a tablet in her hand, and as she crossed
the classroom towards her desk, she tapped at its screen. She stepped up to Roku and Pelli,
dropped the tablet on the desk behind Pelli's rear, and looked at them for the first time.
“Having fun, ladies?” she said with a lizard grin.
“We were just-” Pelli started, but the Matron reached out with her hands; one to each of
Pelli's knees, and pulled her legs apart. The Matron looked down approvingly at Pelli's
exposed jane.
“Oh, I know what you two were just doing...” the Matron reached out with a finger and
slipped it gently inside Pelli. Pelli gasped and wiggled uncomfortably on the desk. The finger
was joined by another and a thumb pushed hard up against Pelli's clitoris. “Do you like that?”
the Matron asked. Pelli moaned and nodded. Then to Roku, “Do you like to watch – watch
me finger her?”
Roku didn't answer, just watched the fingers work.
“Let me see yours,” the Matron commanded. Roku knew better than to argue. She reached
under her skirt and pulled down her panties. They fell to the floor and she held the front of
her skirt up so the Matron could see the black hair of her jane.
The fingers came out of Pelli and came up to Roku's mouth, slipping between her lips. Roku
sucked on them, fixing her stare squarely at the Matron. The Matron was loving it, Roku
could see, but there was something else in her expression behind that pancake makeup – a
wild abandon.
The Matron's were perverts, sure, molesting bitches; but there was always a certain selfrestraint
behind their actions. They always acted to hide their indiscretions. They were, at
least on some level, ashamed of what they did. But that look in this Matron's face... It told
Roku that, right then, all bets were off. Something inside the Matron had changed.
“Tasty?” the Matron asked, and Roku nodded. The Matron pulled out her fingers and
reached down to the hem of her own dress. “Lets try this one...” she said, pulling up the folds
of her black gown. White, aged thighs appeared and a pair of cleanly shaved pussy lips. With

one hand holding the dress up, the Matron began fingering her own jane, spreading her legs
slightly to ease access.
She masturbated herself for almost a minute, thrusting fingers deep into her vagina, wetting
them the best she could. Pelli and Roku watched on in silence. It was quite a show. When the
fingers emerged they came up to Roku's mouth and the Matron fed them to her. Roku
sucked. They tasted bitter, like all cum.
“You naughty little sluts!” the Matron suddenly scolded. She dropped her dress, pulled her
fingers from Roku's mouth and slapped Roku's cheek with the same hand. She struck Roku
again, and a third time, then slapped Pelli across the mouth. Roku didn't flinch by Pelli cried
in pain.
“Fucking sluts!” The Matron almost screamed. She pulled Pelli off of the desk and spun her
around, bending her forward over the desk. She grabbed Roku by the hair and pushed her
into position next to Pelli. Then the Matron was searching through her desk, finding her
strap.
She's had a psychotic break, Roku fretted. It had only been one day since the death of Lady
Es... Was this how the Matron's – only half sane on a good day – were handling the news?
Roku worried. If she was unhinged, there was no telling how far she would go. If Roku had to
break the Matron's neck to save Pelli from a savage beating – well, that'd do her cover no end
of good...
The strap came down across Roku's exposed buttocks; but in a way that wasn't sensual;
there was no pleasure behind the blow. This was a real spanking. Half a dozen lashes and
then she struck at Pelli. Pelli only took two and collapsed at the knees, sobbing in pain. The
Matron picked Pelli up and gave her two more. Pelli was balling and turning a bright shade of
red.
The Matron returned to Roku and struck her a few more times. Unsatisfied, she pulled Roku
up by the hair, and tore open her shirt, sending buttons bouncing off across the classroom
floor. The strap came down hard across Roku's exposed breasts, leaving long red welts. Roku
didn't flinch. Two, three more, one right across the tip of her nipples.

Pelli lay beside the Matron's desk, sobbing into her hands. Roku fixed the Matron was a
steady stare. Furious now, the Matron brought back the strap and lashed Roku square across
the face. Roku's head recoiled from the power of the blow, but she quickly brought her face
back, unemotional.
The Matron threw the strap angrily onto the desk. She reached down and roughly pulled
Pelli up off the floor. With her other hand on Roku's shoulder, she lead them both towards
the door.
“To the Head Matron with you two,” she said, seething through clenched teeth.
She lad Pelli and Roku through the halls, making no attempt to hide exposed breasts or bare
asses poking out from under skirts. Pelli balled all the way. Roku was silent.
At the door of the Head Matron's officer, the Matron pushed Roku and Pelli in, not
bothering to knock. The Head Matron was sitting behind her desk, working away at a tablet.
She looked up with only slight curiosity as the other Matron pushed Roku and Pelli, half
naked, down into the two chairs set in front of her desk.
“Two students for disciplinary action,” the Matron said, breathing heavy.
“The offense?” the Head Matron asked, not looking up from the tablet.
“Inappropriate physical contact,” The Matron answered, standing behind Pelli and Roku, a
hand on a shoulder of each one.
“Oh, dear...” the Head Matron looked disappointedly up from her screen; looking at Roku
over the top of her eye glasses. “Just now?” she asked the Matron.
“Yes, in my classroom,” the Matron seethed.
“Roku, isn't it?” the Head Matron asked, putting the tablet down.
“Yes, ma'am,” Roku answered, keeping her eyes lowered.
“And this girl,” the Head Matron turned to examine Pelli, “I don't know you...”
“Pelli, ma'am,” answered Pelli through intermittent sobs.

“Yes, I don't know you...” the Head Matron repeated. “You, Roku... We'll start with you,” she
said, standing. She opened a drawer in her desk and rummaged around for something. Great,
my lashes, Roku thought.
The Matron behind Roku grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her up out of the chair.
Roku didn't resist, she leaned forward, putting her elbows on the desk, and presenting her
posterior for punishment. The Matron pulled up the short skirt and slapped a buttock with
her palm. The Head Matron circled around the desk.
“There we are,” she said, but no strap landed. Instead, there was a small sting to Roku's left
buttock. A lash she could have taken, but this... Roku pushed up off the desk and spun to face
the Head Matron. In an instant, Roku's worst fears were confirmed.
The Head Matron had not been searching around in her desk for a strap. No, she'd taken a
hypodermic out of the drawer. She stood there holding the needle up, examining it. It was
empty.
Roku attempted to step forward; wrap her hands around the neck of the Head Matron and
throttle her; but whatever she'd been injected with began to take effect. Roku's legs buckled
under her, and if the Matron hadn't caught her, she'd have collapsed to the floor.
The Matron dropped Roku heavily into a chair. Roku's body was rapidly going numb. From
head to toe, all the feeling was draining out of her. The Matron let go of Roku and Roku
began to slouch sideways, falling out of the chair. Again, the Matron picked up Roku and set
her down, balancing her on the chair.
Pelli sat rooted in her seat. She'd stopped crying and could do nothing but look on in
horror.
“This is the one the Commissar wanted?” the Matron asked the Head Matron, looking into
Roku's sleepy eyes. Roku's head was getting fuzzy, it sounded like they were a long way off,
talking in a tunnel.
“Yes. Roku,” the Head Matron confirmed.
“And the other one?” the Matron indicated Pelli.

“She'll have to stay here,” the Head Matron said, she was circling back around her desk,
dropping the hypodermic back in the drawer.
“You mean return her to class?” the Matron asked in surprise.
“Oh no, she'll have to stay with us – with the Order of Matrons...” the Head Matron replied.
Roku's vision was beginning to blur, she could only half make out the moving figures. “She'll
be our newest novice...” the Head Matron continued.
The other Matron let out low cackle.
“Should we begin initiating her now?” The Head Matron said and joined the cackling.
Roku was losing consciousness. She was just aware of the Matron grabbing Pelli by the hair
and throwing her forward across the Head Matron's desk. Then hands were tearing at Pelli's
clothes – dozens it seemed, hundreds. Hands, forcefully gabbing at Pelli's small breasts,
pulling her legs apart, fingering...
Roku's ears were filled with nothing but the long, sustained, piecing sound of Pelli's pained
scream. Then the world went black.

Chapter 17
Shibari
Roku awoke upside down, the blood rushing to her head. Her arms were somehow
restrained behind her and there was an agonizing ache in her shoulders. Roku tried
desperately to get a sense of which way was up, but wherever she was, it was pitch black. She
tried to move her legs, lift her hips, but they seemed to be as equity immobile as Roku's arms.
Perhaps it was still the drugs – whatever the Head Matron had injected Roku with. Oh, by
the Holy Matron, Pelli! Roku's body spasmed in panic. No, she had full use of her body again,
should could move her hands, she was somehow tied down. Hogtied. As her eyes began to
adjust to the darkness around her, she started to make out the stone walls that were the
confines of the room. Then she began to realize that she was wrong...
...She wasn't tied down, she was tied up.
She was suspended in the air, facing the floor, her arms behind her, with her weight held up
by them. If she hadn't been a Hatchette, if her muscles weren't artificially enhanced, the load
would have been excruciating. As it was, it was still no picnic.
Roku moved her head to examine the ropes that crisscrossed her body – an intricate pattern
of laced white cord, stretching all the way down to her feet. She was still wearing her kneehigh
socks and her small, schoolgirl skirt, but her shirt was gone. The ropes wrapped around
her breasts, squeezing them into upright, uncomfortable knots. She was aware of a ball gag
in her mouth. She bit down on it, sinking her metal-cored teeth into the rubber. She tried to
lift herself solely by her shoulders – to level herself...
Even for a girl of Roku's strength, that was not going to happen.

Roku collapsed forward, letting out a soft grunt. It was then that Roku became aware of the
presence in the room. She turned her head and vaguely identified a dark figure sitting off
some distance.
A light flicked on.
A single exposed florescent lamp sitting on a small wooden table. In the chair next to it sat
the Ober Guard Commander Roku had first met back in the Sento Room. Anders, Roku
remember Lady Le-En saying her name was; the woman so quick with the truncheon.
She was dressed in her leather uniform, with the leather great coat, and the mirrored shades
still on, despite the darkness. The light illuminated the bleakness of the room around them.
A dungeon – there was no other word for it. Stone, masoned walls; stone, masoned floors;
and a large steel, angry looking door locking Roku and the Guard Commander in the room
together. Anders sat crossed-legged in her chair. Roku suspended, almost naked, from the
ceiling.
Without a word, Anders rose to her feet. She slid the leather great coat off her shoulders and
draped it over the back of the chair. A weapons belt, with a holder for a burner, she removed
and placed by the lamp on the table. The leather top to her uniform,s she unzipped and
pulled off. Underneath she wore a sleeveless white shirt that showed the bulge of her
muscles. She dropped the jacket on the seat and stepped towards Roku. She flexed her
fingers and made them crack at the knuckles.
She punched Roku powerfully in the side of the face.
This sent Roku spinning on her axis, away from Anders. Anders placed a hand on the ropes
and pulled Roku back into position. A second blow came down on the bridge of Roku's nose
and the room echoed with the crack of the bone. A steam of blood gushed out over the ball
gag and slopped onto the floor.
Anders swung a third punch, but it was a timid one, to the right eye socket; enough to swell
the eye shut. The pugilism seemed to suddenly bore Anders and she stepped away, walking
in her jackboots across the stones to a rack of implements that had, until that moment,

escaped Roku's attention. Anders chose a cat o nine tails off the rack, and felt its weight in
her hand.
From bad to worse, Roku thought as Anders stepped back across the cell. Anders vanished
back out of Roku's sighed and Roku could feel the back of her skirt come up away from her
buttocks. There was a crack of a whip and the cat o nine tails came down across Roku's ass.
Roku's body shook with the might of the blow. Again the flailed whip came down and Roku
twisted her head the best she could to see. All she could catch a glimpse of was Anders'
boots. And the whip came down again.
Anders' feet shuffled impatiently. Obviously, Roku was meant to be screaming in pain. The
lashings hurt, assuredly, but Roku had been conditioned to block out such impulses. Roku
hated to think what a bloody mess her backside was being turned into, but she could take the
lashing as long as Anders had the strength to hand them out. Anders stepped forward and
whipped the cat o nine tails up against Roku's dangling breasts. Again, Roku's body spasmed
from the blow, but she did not yell out.
Anders muttered some unintelligible curses under her breath. Frustrated, she turned the
whip around in her hand. A free hand grabbed at Roku's helpless, tortured ass and pulled
apart her ass checks. Roku couldn't see but there was a sudden, violent pressure against her
anus. The thick hilt of the whip's handle began to force its way into Roku's ass...
At that moment, there was the sound of grinding in the lock of the large steel door. Roku
was facing the wrong way, she lowered her head and could just make out the door's base. It
creaked open like a steel trap, and feet entered: More jackboots and a pair of high heeled,
mustered colored pumps with diamond encrusted T-straps.
“That will do,” a voice said with command, “for now.”
Lady Aru! Irrationally and only for a split second, Roku's heart jumped. She almost let
herself believe that Lady Aru was there to save her. But then Roku remembered what had
happened at St. Juliet's and what the Matron's had said when they'd thought she was
unconscious...

The pressure against Roku's ass vanished and Anders tossed the whips aside, onto the table
with the single bulb. An Ober Guard came around into Roku's field of vision and cleared
Anders clothes off the chair, picked it up and placed it squarely in front of Roku's dangling
face. Lady Aru then appeared, dressed in a strapless, flowing, mustered colored chiffon
gown. She paused at the pool of blood Roku's broken nose had produced, tentatively
stepping around it, to place herself in the chair.
“Hatchette,” she said when she'd made herself comfortable. Roku didn't know if it was a
question or a statement. Roku's teeth were still biting a full centimeter into the rubber ball
gag. She just stared at Lady Aru. “The Hatchette Project,” Lady Aru continued, “twelve
genetically enhanced professional assassins. All chosen from a stock of girls aged twelve to
fifteen; the project being five years old, making the oldest Hatchette potentially no older than
twenty...”
She paused. Blood was dripping down from Roku's nose and out around the ball gag. Lady
Aru looked Roku over in disgust. She made a motion with a hand to a Guard, and the gag was
unbuckled from behind Roku's head. It came free with a torrent of blood and saliva that
Roku spit on the floor. Lady Aru's feet jumped back, tucking up under herself, trying to keep
the shoes clean.
“Where's Pelli?” Roku asked though bloody teeth – coughing and spitting.
Lady Aru continued, “Twelve assassins, now aged seventeen to twenty, placed close to
prominent Commissariat dignitaries, ready to be activated upon the death of the First
Commissar...”
“Fuck you!” Roku spat, “Hatchettes hunt and kill Dicks, we're not assassins...”
“Yes,” Lady Aru stood up and pushed her chair a little back, letting herself sit more
comfortably out of the range of Roku's fluids. “I understand that's what you were all told.
Perhaps, even those who told you believed it – I just became aware of this all yesterday, you
understand... I don't yet have all the details... Before, I didn't have clearance, you see...
“But to clear the budget,” Lady Aru went on, “To explain your existence to the Commissariat
at large – the Hatchettes were presented as an elite Anti-terrorist unit. Sleeper agents to hunt

down and destroy all those sleeper cells of transsexual men that were setting off bombs all
over the planet...” Lady Aru snorted, “but all of that was just a ruse... That the Hatchettes
themselves didn't know the truth, I'm not at all surprised. We maintain the fiction of Dick
Terrorism well into highest echelons of the Commissariat. I can't accuse anyone of being
hopelessly naive... You were lied to, Roku, that can hardly be considered your fault...
“But it is all a lie, my sweet little Roku...” Lady Aru spoking with what sounded like genuine
affection. Roku could do nothing but hang there and listen. “A very damaging lie that you so
seriously believed... No one actually expected you to find any men, Roku, no less find a whole
harem and exterminate them. But that's what you did, wasn't it Roku? Sweet, sweet Roku... It
was you that murdered everyone in Moll Flanders, was it not?”
“Yes,” Roku said, not understanding, “They were Dicks. Terrorists. It was my duty to destroy
them...”
“I believe you Roku,” Lady Aru continued, “That you genuinely believe that to be your duty,
I mean... But it's not true. It's all a lie, Roku, you have to understand that... There are no Dick
Terrorists...”
Roku shook her head, “Fuck you!” Roku's neck was getting tired. She let it loll forward.
“Roku,” Lady Aru said calmly, then commanded, “Roku! Look at me!”
Roku raised her head. Slowly, wearily.
“There are no Dick Terrorists because there are no Dicks.” Aru said slowly, like she was
talking to a child. “We killed them all – all the men – in the war.”
“No, no...” Roku shook her head. “On the earth, perhaps, but on other planets – asteroid
bases – they've survived...”
“Like in the vidcasts?” Lady Aru smiled, but her eyes still looked at Roku sadly, “That's all
that is, Roku, the stuff of Saturday afternoon vidcasts... A fiction... But a convenient fiction.
That the Great Society has enemies – that it’s constantly under attack – that the
Commissariat is the bulwark between civilization and male aggression... It made the
populous more pliable – more willing to accept the necessary austerity measures, with the

shift to a command economy... But it's only a lie, Roku. There's no more colonies on the
outer planets or asteroids. Not since the Dick and Jane Wars. All those colonies required
water from earth to sustain them and no tanker rockets have left earth for over a hundred
years. There all dead, Roku, all of them... Every last motherfucking male...”
But... Moll Flanders... The Nanpa Girls...” Roku protested, panicked, terrified by what she
was hearing.
“Those weren't men...” Lady Aru leaned back in her chair, resting a bare arm over the back.
“Not really. That's the other great secret, Roku, that the Commissariat tells no one: The exutero
banks are insufficient to sustain the Earth's population.”
“I-I-” Roku's head was spinning, “I don't understand...”
“When ex-utero fertilization was perfected, women felt they had finally freed themselves
from the bonds of male domination. It was one of the seminal events of the Great Society.
With the three million standardized templates, we were ready for the future. With so much
genetic material, there'd be no more need for sexual reproduction... But after the war, the
Commissariat began to realize that they'd made a mistake in their calculations...
“We're clones, Roku. Basically. You and I. And every new life that's born in an ex-utero bank
is a clone. Sometimes a clone of a clone. And that's where the system begins to break down.
There's a degenerative effect – cloning a clone. Nothing showed up for the first few
generations, but it quickly became apparent that the stock of genetic material we had
amassed would be insufficient to sustain the female population indefinitely. We'd need to
infuse the templates with new genetic sources... That was the biological problem the scientist
could never solve: the creation of life. We could stop life in its earliest stages, clone it, direct
it, produce the product we most desired, but we'd never learned how to create life outside of
sexual reproduction. For that, womankind would need men.
“But we'd worked so hard to irradiate that disease... Did we want to go back to the bad old
days under male oppression? No, we had all fought too hard and for too long for our
liberation to let that happen. We couldn't let all we'd worked for be destroyed by an accident
of biology...

“So, we recreated the male species... It’s an easy enough trick to control the final sex of a
fetus in the early stages – we do it all the time to assure a female. So why not create a man?
But not totally a man... A source of sperm, yes, but with all the aggression and violence bread
out of it. Made them more like women, civilized... And our scientist stumbled upon the Z
chromosome... The shemale... And that's who you've been hunting, Roku, not Dicks. Those
people you murder were not men, but the product of our own ex-utero banks, spawned as a
source of genetic material; not terrorisst from some outer space male empire...
“I have to say they're a headstrong lot – still more man than women. We're still working on
it – it's a work in progress... But if the general public ever found out, there'd be a panic... So,
the Commissariat keeps them away in harems, away from good, honest women... But there's
some mixing, for those in the know... As you discovered...”
“Why are you bothering to lie to me?” Roku asked, swinging gently in her ropes. “Why not
just kill me?”
“I want you to understand now what you should have known back then. What you would
have known if the purpose of the Hatchettes had actually been to hunt and kill males. I think
I owe you that. After everything... But that was never your purpose, Roku. You were created
as a highly trained, weapon of political assassination. Twelve assassins for twelve High
Commissariat Officials and Ministers. And you were my assassin, Roku, assigned to murder
me.”
Roku looked up into the eyes of Lady Aru. The sincerity there told Roku she believed what
she was saying... But Roku couldn't... She could have never killed Lady Aru, even if she'd
been ordered to. Lady Aru must understand that.
“It was a power play, by the First Commissar herself!” Lady Aru said with disgust. “To assure
succession – to make sure the people she favored acquired power after her death and
continued her programs and policies. It seems that the First Commissar – the Holy Matron
protect her soul – felt that I was unfit for office... I was on her list of those Commissars who,
upon her death, were to be quietly disposed of,” Lady Aru spit the words out. “Of the twelve
Hatchettes, eleven were activated. Seven succeeded in their mission. Four were killed
attempting to eliminate their target. That just leaves you, Roku. Why you weren't activated, I

don't entirely understand, but thank the Holy Matron that you weren't. It's been a hairy
twenty four hours, and the last thing I needed was you trying to kill me. But, in the end, I
succeeded; ascending to my rightful place as First Commissar of the Great Society of Earth...
” Lady Aru paused for affect. “Feel free to congratulate me...”
Roku remembered the visit she'd received, yesterday, from Lt. Zee – that look of terror in her
eyes. She must have come to give Roku her orders. But her nerve had failed her... Instead of
sending Roku off to her death, she’d fucked Roku instead... Now Roku was captured and
Lady Aru was First Commissar...
Roku's shoulders ached.
Lady Aru climbed to her feet and brushed off her mustard, chiffon gown. She stepped
gingerly around the blood pool underneath Roku and took a few steps for the door.
“I'm so sorry for this, Roku,” she said, pausing, “If there was any way things could have
turned out different...” She held out a hand and touched Roku's bruised, bloodied cheek.
“But First Commissars have an image to maintain...” Roku said snidely, trying to pull her
cheek away from Lady Aru's touch.
“Always young, always infallible,” Lady Aru shrugged, “if it ever got out that an assassin had
gotten so close...” The soft touch of Lady Aru's hand spoke simultaneously of true affection
and total, cold sadism. Lady Aru pulled back her hand and started quickly for the door.
“What about Pelli?” Roku ask after, yelling at the wall.
“The girl?” Lady Aru paused again. “The Matron's will keep her, make her one of their own.
It's a harsh initiation of sexual humiliation and physically torture that the Matron's subject
acolytes to... It's true what everyone says, they're all totally insane... But your friend won't be
a danger to me, not once the Matron's are through with her.”
Again, Roku's body spasmed with anger. If she could just get free... She could hear the door
closing behind her and she knew that Lady Aru was gone. The jackboots on the floor told her
that Anders was still in the room; ready for fun and games to begin again...

Chapter 18
Anders
Anders picked the cat o nine tails up off the table and came around to the front of Roku. She
held the flails in one hand and the hilt of the whip in the other. It was like she was weighting
it, deciding which end to strike Roku with. Eventually she decided, lowering the whip to her
side and striking Roku in the face with a balled fist.
The blow sent Roku rocking. With all her might Roku strained again with her shoulders, this
time not against the ropes, but with them – forcing her arms in, back farther behind her. The
ropes slackened. If she could only apply enough force...
The sound of popping, ripping tendons filled the room. Anders stepped back from Roku,
unsure of what was happening. Roku had simultaneously dislocated both of her shoulders.
The ropes hung loose around her arms. With a couple of excruciating shrugs, a loop of the
rope fell away from her hands. This now gave her plenty of slack. She bent at the hips and
shifted her weight back. With all her strength she shrugged her shoulders forward and let
them snap loudly back into their sockets.
Anders was watching, horrified, stupefied by what she saw. But she didn't pause long. All at
once, she realized what Roku had accompanied. Roku’s arms were almost free. Anders
jumped forward and struck Roku hard against the left ear. This sent Roku spinning wildly,
bringing her bound legs around, smashing into Anders. Roku worked fast. Anders pushed
hard on Roku's feet, to bring her head back around; but by the time Roku was facing back
towards Anders, her arms were free of the ropes.
With the momentum of the swing, and all the strength in Roku's arm, she slammed her fist
in to Anders' stomach. Anders let out a low grunt and staggered back a couple paces.
Remembering the cat o nine tails still in her left hand, Anders whipped out with it, trying to

catch Roku in the face. But Roku was away, spinning with the reaction of her punch. The
flails of the whip snapped against Roku's side, tangling up in the vertical ropes. Roku
grabbed at the tails of the whip and hung on.
Anders kept hold of the handle and Roku was able to pull her off her feet. They were both
suddenly grappling for the whip, Anders hanging from the still suspended Roku – spinning
together around and around. Fists flew and teeth bit as they wrestled over the cat o nine
tails. Roku had Anders hanging under her, she reached back and coiled up a length of free
rope. Before Anders could react, Roku had the rope around Anders' neck and began pulling.
Suddenly, Anders had forgotten about the whip and her fingers shot to her throat.
Anders' feet dropped to the floor and she pushed herself up to vertical, picking Roku up on
her back. Roku was steadily increasing the pressure on the loop of cord she had around
Anders' neck. Anders' fingers dug desperately at the garrote. Roku was still bond for her toes
to her tits, but she hung on tight. A few more seconds and...
One of Anders' hands came away from her neck. She'd seen something and she started to
reach for it. Right away, Roku eyes landed on the burner still in its holder on the small
wooden table where Anders had put it down. Anders began to walk with Roku on her back,
reaching out for the handgun. Falling ten centimeters short of her goal, the ropes holding
Roku to the ceiling pulling tight. Roku was lifted off Anders' back, the loop still around her
throat.
But Anders kept reaching, narrowing the distance. Roku kept a tight grip on the rope
around Anders' neck. They were both straining, Anders' fingers inching towards the gun.
Roku pulled back harder, Anders reached out towards the table...
And suddenly Roku relaxed her grip. Anders fell forward, scrambling for the gun. She came
up with it and pointed it blindly behind her. But Roku had not relaxed her grip for no reason:
With the slack she'd gained, she shifted her weight and brought her bound feet down and
around under her. Roku crouched down pointing her toes at the hump of Anders' back and
pulled back again hard on the cord around Guard Commander's neck.
This time, with the leverage of her feet planted firmly on Anders' back, Roku picked Anders
up bodily off the floor. The burner was still pointing wildly, and a shot fired though the meat

of Roku's thigh; but Roku pulled back with all the might her Hatchette conditioning gave her.
The sound of snapping vertebra filled the stone dungeon. Anders' feet thrashed frantically,
trying to find the floor.
Then Anders let out the slightest hint of a grunt and went limp, her arms falling down to her
sides, the burner clattering to the floor. She tumbled forward and Roku came down after her;
the shot from the burner had cut through the last of the ropes holding Roku suspended.
Roku climbed to her feet, shaking off the cord still wrapped around her. She looked at the
wound to her leg. The burn was blistering and blood was running down her leg, but it wasn't
too bad. The bolt had obviously not de-encapsulated, exploding instead on the stone ceiling
above her. Roku looked down at Anders' body, the rope still tight around her neck. Her
tongue jutted oddly out the side of her mouth and one arm was twisted strangely underneath
her, but the mirrored sunglasses still sat undisturbed on her face. Even in death, Roku
couldn't see her eyes.
Roku leaned down and scooped up the burner, turning to cover the steel door. She waited
an impatient second for a guard to come storming into the room, but there was nothing.
Roku looked around. Crumpled in a corner she caught sight of her shirt and she limped over
and scooped it up; but she didn't put it on; she tore off long strips and bandaged the burn on
her leg. Satisfied with the field dressing, she hobbled back to the small table, and picked up
Anders leather, great coat. She pulled it over her shoulders and buttoned a single large
button to hide her bare breasts.
She started limping toward the large steel door, but stopped as an idea came to her. She
reached down and pulled the sunglasses off of Anders' dead face. She put them on and
walked up to the steel door, keeping her face close to it. The door had a hatch, at about eye
level, so the guard outside could see into the cell. Roku rapped the butt of the burner against
the door.
The hatch slid open. Roku's eyes, wearing the sunglasses, were no more than an inch from
it.
“Open the door,” Roku said in a low voice.

The hatch slammed shut and there was a jiggling of keys. The locked turned and the door
began to open with the same steel trap creak. Roku didn't wait for the door to completely
open, she leaned on her bad leg and give the door a kick with a good one. There was thud as
the door swung on its hinges and Roku jumped through, the burner ready in her hand.
An Ober Guard had been knocked across the corridor by the force of the door. She was
stunned, but not down. Roku fired a single shot from her burner and caught the guard in the
chest. She collapsed back with a smoking hole where the bolt had hit her. The guard's autoburner
was resting uselessly up against a chair beside the door. Roku scooped this up as she
passed, attempting to run on her bad leg.
She would have to settle for a slow jog...

Chapter 19
The Ax
Roku met no more resistance as she climbed out of the dungeon. She emerged up a
backstair into the kitchens of the Ober Manor. This was a surprise to Roku. She hadn't any
idea where she was – where she'd thought she come out to, but the Ober Manor was one of
the last places she had expected.
She paused at the top of the stairs to tuck her handgun into the pocket of the great coat. She
slung the auto-burner over her back by its strap, and buttoned up a few more buttons on the
coat. She'd pass as a Guard, she though, and stepped out into the kitchen. No maids or cooks
even gave her a second glance. She was quickly out of the servant's entrance and outside the
Manor. It was dark – late, Roku could tell by the stars. She must have been unconscious half
a day.
She pointed her nose towards the school campus, not bothering with the roads, cutting a
path straight across the open ground – across the open ground she run over many times for
calisthenics. She wished she could run now, Pelli would still be at the school and Pelli was in
danger. Roku's own stupidity had gotten Pelli into all of this, and Roku planned to get her out
of it. Roku's own stupidity... There was no other way to say it.
Lady Aru's speech, down there in the dungeon, rattled around in Roku's head. It was all
impossible to believe, but Roku was beginning to comprehend it – as it began to sort itself
out in her head, things began to fall into place: Roku's odd orders to spy on the Obers; the
conversation with Tro; Lady Le-En's almost banal dismissal of the presence of Dicks; Lt Zee's
odd behavior. But none of it mattered to Roku – if all of her life turned out to be a lie, she
didn't care. All that mattered right then was rescuing Pelli from the lascivious hands of the
Order of Matrons. After that, Roku would have time to think. Let it percolate for awhile.
Maybe then she could make some sense out of it all...

Roku passed the oak tree that marked the border between the Ober Estates and the school
campus. She doubled her pace, but still couldn't manage a real sprint. The auto-burner
slapped carelessly against her back; she was still wearing the mirrored shades, despite the
darkness. Now Roku understood why the Ober Guards never took the things off, they allowed
the wearer to see into the infrared range. From behind the glasses, the dark sports fields of St.
Juliet’s seemed lit by the noonday sun. Roku could see the school itself in the distance. She
was less than ten minutes away.
Roku was going to burn the school to the ground.
Roku was shocked by the contradictions inside herself. She hated the Matrons so hotly, yet
she couldn't even muster a passing apathy for Lady Aru and the Obers. Lady Aru, who and
had left Roku in the hands of that sadist, Anders... Lady Aru, who would have had Roku
tortured and killed to protect little more than her own personal reputation... And what
crimes could Roku accuse the Matrons of? Following orders from the Commissariat? Being
the sick, twisted hypocritical perverts that everyone understood them for? It didn't matter,
Roku had more than enough rage inside to spread around. Pelli was what was important –
Roku need to climb one mountain at a time. There'd be time later for the Obers... Time later
for Lady Aru.
Roku came upon St. Juliet's by the gym door. The corridors of the school were dark and
quiet as Roku stepped inside. Her heels clicked on the stone floors as she made her way by a
back corridor to a small room that was always kept locked. Roku had never been inside, but
she knew from the school plans that it was the fire suppression control room. She kicked the
wood paneled door hard with her good leg and sent it splintering open.
The room was little more than a closet, with a panel of flashing lights up against the far wall.
Fire suits, portable fire extinguishers and axes were stored off to the right. Roku quickly
studied the panel. Triggering the fire alarm would be easy enough, but the alarm had a habit
of going off twice a month and no one ever bothered to evacuate when they heard the siren,
especially in the middle of the night. No, Roku would need something a little more
persuasive if she was going to rouse the whole school. She found the controls for the halon
fire suppressors... That'd get everyone's attention... Roku activated all zones and triggered

the system. Instantly the fire klaxon started sounding and the streams of fire suppressant gas
started pumping into the halls.
Roku turned and left the fire control room, reaching over and pulling a fire axe off its hook
as she did. She was making her way to the Grand Hall. Already, girls were pilling down the
main stairs, dressed in pajamas, coughing from the Bromotrifluoromethane gas. Roku took
the corridor that led towards the school's Cloister, off of which was the Head Matron's office.
The fire alarms buzzed loudly in Roku's ears as she walked, ax in hand. A group of girls ran
past Roku, shooting her panicked glances. She must have made quite a sight: Still dressed in
her short plaid skirt, heels and knee-high socks – the right now soaked in blood; Anders long,
leather great coat buttoned across her breasts; the mirrored shades; the rest of her face
beaten to a pulp; the assault rifle slung across her back and the heavy, red ax in her hand. She
felt like an avenging angel – she hoped she looked like one. She looked like hell, at least... Hell
would be enough.
Roku turned off the Cloister down the hall to the administrative offices. The halon was thick
here and Roku switched over to her internal oxygen. Roku could see a light from under the
door to the Head Matron's office. She turned the handle of the door and swung it open.
The Head Matron was standing at her desk, in a night gown, talking into a phone – yelling.
She didn't look up when the door opened, intent on telling whoever was on the other end of
the line that there was no fire, that the fire suppression system was malfunctioning, and that
she had a school full of young girls standing out in the cold. Roku let the door swing closed
behind her. She stood in the center of the room – stood there and waited, on the spot where
she had waited so many times; waiting for the Head Matron to acknowledge her presence;
waiting for the Matron to hand down some punishment. Roku could wait there as long as she
had to, there was no rush. Punishment would come.
“I said I don't need fire engines I need an engineer to turn off the fucking-” the Head
Matron's eyes met Roku's shoes. Her gaze traced up, over Roku's bloodied sock, past her
skirt and the axe, over the coat to Roku's calm, beaten face.
“Where's Pelli?” Roku asked, not making a move.

The phone receiver came slowly away from the Head Matron's ear. She was looking at Roku
in shock. The high pitched chatter of a voice on the other end of the phone could still be
heard talking.
“Roku, I-” the Head Matron started.
“Where's Pelli?” Roku interrupted forcefully.
The Head Matron stood there staring at Roku, her mouth slightly open, the phone receiver
still in her had. Then, almost imperceptibly, her eyes glanced towards the bookcase to the
right of Roku. Roku turned to look. Through her sunglasses she could just see the slight heat
differential between the center bookcase and the ones on either side. There was a hidden
door.
The Head Matron took that moment to make her move. She dropped the phone and came
sprinting around the desk. She'd have to get by Roku to get out of the door; but for her age,
she was still light on her feet. Roku didn't hesitate, she brought up the ax; and as the Matron
came sprinting around the desk, Roku brought the ax down. Putting all her weight into the
swing, Roku caught the Head Matron between her left shoulder and her neck.
The ax didn't stop until it'd cut her heart in two.
Roku had no time or inclination to search for whatever control open the secret panel. She
brought her bloodied ax up and hacked a quick hole in the back of the bookcase. Through
this she reached and found a lever that swung the bookcase into the room. Beyond was a
dark spiral staircase, heading down.
My, the Great Society has a need for a lot of dungeons, Roku thought to herself as she
descended the stairs. Like the Ober Manor, Roku had found St. Juliet's secret dungeon. At the
bottom of the steps, corridors branched off back into the foundations of the school. A short
corridor was directly in front of Roku, with two doors on either side and a single door at the
far end. There was a faint light through a small barred window in that single door.
It was eerily quiet down there – the ceiling above too thick to hear the fire klaxon. Roku
could make out the sound of soft muffles and groans from the end of the hall. She moved as
quietly as she could up to the far door and looked in through the bars.

The room was a pleasure palace similar to the one Roku had woken up in. No ropes from
the ceiling here, though. A large wooden vertical X of a rack dominated the room. Pelli was
strapped to this, naked except for a dog collar and a gag. The Matron – Roku's Social Science
instructor – stood inches behind her. She was thrusting up into Pelli rhythmically with her
hips, whispering into Pelli's ear as she did so. Pelli's head was hanging forward out of sight,
but her back showed fresh marks from a lash.
Roku pulled the door open and was in the room in one smooth motion. The Matron turned
her head idly, then did a double take at Roku. She just had time to step back away from Pelli,
pulling out the twelve inch dildo she had strapped to her groin, before Roku was on her. The
ax came around, there was a muffled cry, and the Matron's head came off her shoulders.
Pelli fought against her bonds, trying to pull herself free. She craned her head around trying
to see what was happening. Roku came up behind her and unbuckled the gag from behind
her head.
“Roku!” Pelli screamed the second the gag was out of her mouth. “The Matron...”
“She's dead,” Roku replied, dropping the ax and starting on the shackles at Pelli's wrists.
Pelli twisted to look at the Matron's beheaded corpse. “Don't look,” Roku commanded,
pushing her head around.
“You killed her?” Pelli asked with a wrist free, working on her other arm.
“I'm going to kill them all,” Roku said without emotion. She bent down and started on the
shackles on Pelli's ankles.
“I-I-I don't understand...” Pelli said as she stepped down off the rack. Roku looked around
but couldn't find anything like clothing for Pelli. She bent over the body of the Matron and
took a handful of her long, black gown. Tearing it free, she wrapped the length of fabric
around Pelli.
“There's nothing to understand,” Roku said, putting her arms around Pelli. “None of this
has anything to do with you. They wanted me, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong
time.”

“They wouldn't stop...” Pelli began, the tears welling up now. “They kept... They took turns
– shifts...”
“Come on,” Roku began to lead Pelli out of the cell.
Back up in Head Matron's office, the sight of the Head Matron's cleavered body made Pelli
scream. Out in the hall, the fire sirens were still sounding, but the halon was beginning to
disperse. Roku and Pelli started towards the Cloister, when a Matron came around the curve.
She noticed Rolu and Pelli, reacted to the sight the two made, then turned on her heels. Roku
was quick, pulling the burner out of the pocket of the great coat, and she hit the Matron in
the back with a plasma bolt. Pelli screamed and the Matron fell forward, sliding on her face a
meter across the stone of the Cloister. She didn't move again.
Roku took Pelli by the hand and started walking again.
“No!” Pelli said, pulling her hand out of Roku's grip.
“It's okay, she's dead,” Roku said, holding her hand out.
“No!” Pelli said again, looking at Roku. “Who are you?” she asked, terrified.
“Pelli,” Roku said impatiently, “it's me, Roku...”
“No...” Pelli shook her head, she couldn't believe it.
Roku took of the mirrored shades and threw them aside, “Pelli, come on, we don't have a lot
of time.” She grabbed at Pelli's wrist. Pelli struggled.
“Ow, you're hurting me!” Pelli cried, trying to pull her wrist free.
Roku let go of her wrist, letting out heavy sigh.
“Okay, you want to know who I am? You what to know what's going on? I'll tell you,” Roku
started impatiently, “I'm Roku, I'm a Hachette. A professional assassin, tasked with the
murder of Lady Aru Ober. But I failed in that mission and now, Lady Aru is First Commissar
of the Planet Earth and she wants me dead; all the Hatchettes dead, anyone who had any
connection to any Hatchette – dead. That's you. There's not much time before they realize
what's happened, that I've escaped from their torture chamber and that you have too. But

when they do, they'll come after us with all they've got. We need to be a thousand – a million
miles away from anywhere like here in the next few hours or we're dead. Do you understand?
People will be coming to kill us. You have to come with me. On your own you won't last a
day, but together...”
Roku paused. Pelli had stopped crying. The speech was working, but Roku began to hear the
sound of something flying above them. Thruster jets. Roku stepped out into the open air of
the Cloister and looked up. Sure enough, VTOL's were approaching, circling and descending.
“Who are they?” Pelli asked, looking up into the air beside Roku.
“It's already too late...” Roku said soberly.

Chapter 20
Hatchette
Seven VTOLs. Roku could count seven. How many Hatchettes did Lady Aru say were left
alive? Seven? Eight, counting Roku. Yeah, the symmetry of it all made sense. It was just like
Lady Aru...
Roku led Pelli by the hand though the dark corridors of the school to the Grand Hall. There
were still schoolgirls in pajamas milling around out front of the hall, and firefighters and their
trucks. Roku kissed Pelli quickly and told her to leave with the others. Pelli didn't argue, she
trotted out of the Grand Hall and was met by paramedics. They'd be evacuating all the girls
now, with the school full of halon gas. The buses must be being organized. Pelli would be
safe in the crowd, wherever they took them for the rest of the night. Roku wouldn't have to
worry about her.
Roku could start worrying about herself.
Through the door, Roku could see the VTOL's setting down in the sports fields. They landed
momentarily, a small black figure disembarking and the VTOL's were in the air again.
Standard operating procedure. Roku had done the touchdown drill a thousand times. Seven
Hatchettes against Roku... Not Ober guards, not Dick Terrorists, but Hatchettes – just like
Roku... And Roku was tired and wounded and the other girls would be fresh. Yeah, the whole
situation had Lady Aru written all over it. She was not the type for half measures. Roku took
the auto-burner off her back and checked its plasma bottle. It was full.
Roku only advantage was that she knew who she was fighting – knew them better than they
knew themselves. It was possible – probable – that the other Hatchettes were unaware that
Roku was their intended target. Would their handlers have been able to convince them to

come here if they knew? Roku doubted it. The Hatchettes, during training, had been close. To
attack one of their own?
But who knows what lies they'd been told... If the other Hatchettes still believed in the
existence of the Dick threat... Roku could be a collaborator... Yeah, they'd come here and kill
Roku if they believed that. Roku would have. It wasn't going to be any use discussing the
situation. Roku was going to have to fight for her life. Maybe her one advantage wasn't really
an advantage after all...
Roku took the stairs up to the gallery and crouched there. How will they attack? She asked
herself. How would Roku attack? Roku did have the home-field advantage, this was her
school. Not through the front door, guns blazing, Roku could assume; but perhaps through
open windows or across the roof. It was going to be an up close and personal fight, that was
the only certainty. Roku should have kept a hold of that ax.
Roku moved slowly into the dormitories, keeping her eyes open, the auto-burner swinging
in a slow arc in front of her. She was halfway through the second year dormitory when the
fire klaxon cut out and the emergency lights went off. Timer? Could be, or the fire
department. Roku couldn't be assured that she and the Hatchettes were alone in St. Juliet's,
she'd have to check her targets. It'd be horrible for a firefighter or a stray schoolgirl to get
burned.
Roku was passing the senior lounge when a vidscreen turned itself on. Roku spun on her
heels and covered it with the auto-burner. There was nothing on the screen but static, but
there was audio.
“Roku...” a tiny voice said over the interference. “Roku, if you can hear me, you should put
your weapons down and surrender.” Roku could just recognize the voice as Lt. Zee's.
“There's no way out of the building, Roku. If I have to send the Hatchettes in... Well, it'd be
best for everyone if you surrender, Roku. Come out the front doors with your hands above
your head... Roku...”
It was a recording, it began to cycle again. It wasn't Lt. Zee, it was a computer aggregation.
Lt. Zee would be dead by now, Roku realized. It was her who failed to activate Roku. While
this might have save Lady Aru's life, it was still an act of insubordination. The First

Commissar couldn't let Lt. Zee live any more than she could let Roku. Once subordinates
began to question their orders...
Roku was downstairs again, moving silently through the Dining Hall, when she heard a
crash far off, somewhere above. It sounded like breaking glass. Sloppy, Roku scolded in her
head whoever was making the racket.
The far end of the Dining Hall faced out onto the Cloister, a set of double doors opening
onto it, half closed. The Cloister was the center of the school, with the most tangents of
attack, but also the most routes of escape. It was both the smartest and stupidest place to
hold up and wait for the Hatchettes – almost exactly the opposite of what her training had
told her. That was how Roku needed to think, exactly the opposite of her the training. The
other Hatchettes had the same training as her, they'd be thinking like her. Roku had to stop
thinking like Roku – think like someone else. Only that would come as a surprise to the other
Hatchettes.
She paused in the shadow cast by the double doors and looked out silently into the Cloister.
The covered walkways where cloaked in darkness, but the open air courtyard was
illuminated by the moonlit night. It was all ambush potentials and half obstructed firing
angles – Roku's battle computer was going haywire. She subconsciously sent it the command
to shut itself down. If her battle computer was useless in place like that, then so would the
other Hatchettes'. Roku smiled.
She kicked off her heels and stepped in her socks, as quietly as possible, out into the
Cloister. She pressed herself up against a column, hidden in the shadows, and waited,
watching. There was little to see but shadows. Damn, why had she taken off Anders'
sunglasses? Oh yes, now Roku remembered. It sure would have been helpful to be able to see
into the infrared range...
Something moved on the far side of the Cloister.
Roku held her breath, not daring to make even the slightest sound. The Hatchettes would
have broken into three groups of two, Roku predicted, and divided the search duties. The
only question was: would they have kept the extra seventh girl to make a team of three, or let
her wander off alone?

Roku thought about the different personalities she had gotten to know back in Hatchette
training. Unfortunately, she was unaware of precisely which seven Hatchettes had survived...
Roku lacked sufficient evidence to make a prediction, but there seemed to be only a single
pair of feet moving almost silently across the far side of the Cloister. The second member of
the fire team could be close by, covering, but eventually Roku would have to chance it. They
couldn't play cat and mouse forever. Eventually this would have to become a shooting war.
The Hatchette Roku could more feel than see on the far side of the Cloister was almost at the
turn off to the administrative offices. Roku remembered the dead Matron she had left there.
If Roku timed it just right... The Hatchette would have to pause there and determine the
identity of the victim. Part of their orders would be to assure the safe extraction of the
missing Matrons, Roku knew, and that few seconds the Hatchette would spend turning over
the body would be a few seconds that the Hatchette would be distracted. Roku could use that
to her advantage. She lowered herself slowly, silently down to the floor beside the column
and leaned out to bring her auto-burner around the column. The faint light from the Head
Matron's office cast a shadow down the corridor and out into the Cloister. Roku could see the
lump where the dead Matron lay. She raised her burner, waiting.
Almost imperceptibly, a shadow to the left of the dead Matron began to move, taking
tentative steps out into the open. Roku held her fire; it took all her willpower to do so. The
fire team partner could still be waiting somewhere, just like Roku, waiting for Roku to give
away her position. The shadow was moving toward the dead Matron, reached out a hand,
turning the body over. The hand came back, to the shadow's ear, reporting in. It was now or
never...
Roku let loose with a single bolt from the auto-burner – momentarily jerking the trigger. The
bolt arced across the Cloister and exploded against the shadow. Roku didn't wait to see the
results, she was up and moving. And it saved her life.
From another column, to the left of Roku's position an auto-burner went full automatic,
raining down plasma on Roku’s last position. The concussion of the explosions and Roku
stockinged feet on the slippery stone sent her sprawling. She righted herself and fired back
with her gun at full auto. The Cloister was ablaze with superheated gas. Shrapnel of marble
rained down all around.

Roku dived, slid on her belly, and tumbled down the corridor the led to the Social Sciences
wing. Roku got up on her feet and ran, slipping around a corner – slipping around the corner
where she had taken her tumble all those months before, making her late for her history
class; that fateful day she had met the Nanpa Girls.
There were no books to gather up this time, she climbed quickly to her feet and moved
backward down the corridor. A figure poked a head around the far end, looking down after
Roku; and Roku let loose with a stream of plasma bolts. The entire mouth of the corridor
exploded in on itself. Roku turned and ran. No auto-burner fire followed her, but a soft
metallic clink on stone could just be heard. Roku doubled her sprint, disregarding the
soreness in her thigh.
The grenade exploded knocking Roku on her face. She scrambled to roll over, bringing the
auto-burner up, but the grenade had brought the whole roof of the corridor down behind
her. Roku got to her feet and took a corner, another, then another, then ran upstairs into the
dormitories. She was moving too fast, running without thinking, and she ran right into a pair
of them. They were running across the dormitory, potentially to flank Roku. The only thing
that saved Roku's life was that the two black hooded Hatchettes seemed to be as surprised by
Roku as Roku was surprised by then.
Auto-burners came up, Roku's first, sending a chain of plasma bolts into the lead Hatchette.
Her hydro vest exploded with a plume of water, but the third or fourth bolt found its mark
and erupted in her chest.
The second Hatchette fired as Roku dropped to her knees, sending her bolts over Roku's
head. Roku let the natural concussion of her gun fire the plasma bolts higher and higher until
she was intentionally firing into the ceiling. She emptied the last of her plasma bottle there,
bring large blocks of the slate roof down. The avalanche sent the Hatchette scrambling and
Roku turned on her heels. She tossed her empty auto-burner aside, reaching for the handgun
in the pocket of her coat.
A massive chunk of roof slate came crashing down, though a set of bunks and through the
floor beneath. Roku was back out the door she had come in by, into the dormitory across the
hall. As she sprinted, she could hear the sound of boots on the stairs behind her. At the door

at the far end of the dormitory she turned and let off a few shorts from the hand burner.
Hatchettes were just cresting the doorway as she did and the shots sent them scuffling back.
She was in another common room. The vidscreen here was showing snow, too, with the
disembodied voice of Lt. Zee pleading for Roku's acquiescence. Roku didn't pause, she took
the stairs behind the common room and came out beside the gym. She doubled under the
stairs and took the staff corridor that went by the kitchens. A doorway, and she was out into
the Grand Hall. She'd come full circle...
Something moved in the gallery and Roku snapped fired. Her aim was true, a splash of water
from a hydro vest sprayed over the ledge. Roku bolted across the Grand Hall with a string of
plasma bolts tracking after her. Through another door and she was again in amongst
classrooms. Math, Science. She glanced down at the readout on the plasma bottle of her
handgun. She had ammo for three, maybe four more shots. And then...
Roku was tired of running. Physically tired and mentally. She opened a door to a classroom
and closed it quietly. She hobbled across the classroom floor in her stocking feet and sat
down heavily behind a Matron's large, wooden desk. She dropped the burner down next to
the tablet that sat on the table, and let herself relax.
She was in the first year calculus class, she realized, looking at the differential equations on
the board. She'd got a B in this class... Roku smiled.
There was the sound of booted feet in the hallway. Roku reached out and put her hand on
the gun, but the boots kept moving by. It wouldn't fool them for long, Roku knew, once the
flanking fire team met up with the advance. She let herself relax again.
Perhaps if she'd brought more guns and didn't still have sedatives floating around in her
system... If she'd been fresh and on the top of her game... No, that would still have been no
good. At her best, she could have taken three, maybe four other Hatchettes. She'd always
been the best, back in training. The fastest, the smartest, the best shot. She'd have happily
pitted her skills against three or four of the other girls, but seven... No, there was just no way.
No one was that fast, no one was that strong. It just couldn't be done. Not by anyone.

It was all well and good to make excuses, Roku thought, but she still had a mission to
accomplish. Alright, the mission she had always though was her mission had turned out to
be a lie. She understood that now, after saying it, out loud, to Pelli, Roku realized that she'd
come to accept that fact. There were no Dick Terrorist for her to kill. All the Dicks, all the men
she had killed were innocent – at least innocent of the crimes she'd killed them for. The
rapists, they deserved to die, but all those men in the brownstone...
And her real mission, she'd failed at, also. Lady Aru still lived, she was First Commissar; the
very outcome that Lady Es had created the Hatchettes to avoid. But Roku couldn't blame
herself for that failure. If she'd known... But still, Roku held no hatred toward Lady Aru. In a
sick way, she loved her. Not, perhaps, as a lover – in the way Roku loved Pelli – but after a
fashion... She would have never succeeded in her mission, even if Lt. Zee had activated her.
She would not have been able to murder Lady Aru...
No, Roku's mission now was Pelli. Pelli was an innocent in the whole thing. The
Commissariat would have her killed, for what she knew, but none of that was the fault of
Pelli. It was all Roku. If she'd just left well enough alone. If she hadn't let her feelings for Pelli
distract her from her mission – but then that mission had been a lie, and her real mission she
could never have succeed at...
Fuck it! Roku cursed, rubbing her eyes, she was thinking in circles.
No... Pelli had always been Roku's mission, from the very beginning. She was the only true,
real thing in this whole mess – the only constant. Roku had to focus on that.
Pelli had to survive.
Roku had to survive. Because if she died, Pelli would die, too...
Roku pulled herself up to her feet and picked up her burner. She wouldn't last five more
minutes inside the school, Roku knew. She looked out the window at the dark playing fields.
She wouldn't last thirty seconds out there, she concluded. There had to be a third option...
Roku hobbled back to the classroom door, opening it a fraction, peering out.
Then it came to her.

The coast seemed clear and Roku stepped out of the classroom, now with a goal. It'd take a
minor miracle for her to make it back to the Cloister, with only three bolts left in her gun, but
it was her best and only hope. She moved quickly through the mathematics wing and then
science. She cut through the auditorium that backed out onto the Cloister. She paused before
stepping out fulling into the open.
Where were the Hatchettes? Roku scanned the shadows of the Cloister, searching for the
slightest movement. There was no way she could have made it the whole distance without
alerting someone...
Then there came the sound of thruster jets above her, and Roku understood. The Hatchettes
had taken the pause in the action to medivac their wounded comrade, a VTOL was coming in
for a pickup. Roku had gotten her miracle.
However many Hatchettes were left – at least five, four if one was obviously wounded –
would be distracted covering the pickup. Roku stepped boldly out into the open air of the
Cloister, confident she had time on her side.
Roku stumbled upon the body of the Matron she had killed and the headless body of a
Hatchette laying next to it. Roku's aimed shot across the Cloister had hit its mark, dropping
her target with one shot. The Hatchettes weapons were missing – auto-burner, side-arm –
but there were plasma bottles in her pouches. Roku quickly reloaded her handgun and
dropped a couple extra bottles into the left pocket of her great coat.
She then spent precious moments, standing out in the open, an easy target, searching the
floor for Anders' damn sunglasses. She'd been a fool to take them off, a mistake that had
almost gotten her killed, but she'd need them now if she expected to have even a fighting
chance.
There they were, up against a wall. Roku picked them up and thanked the Holy Matron that
they hadn't been damaged... Her second miracle for the day... She put them on over her eyes
and the darkness became day. She could see the thermal plumbs of the VTOL, red and
flowing, arcing up over the school. The Hatchettes would be returning, their medivac
completed. Roku would have to move.

Back down the Administrative corridor, into the Head Matron's office once again, and down
the hidden stairs. She came back into the room where she had found Pelli and picked up the
fire ax from beside the headless Matron -- something else she should have never put down,
she realized. She slipped her burner into her pocked and grasped the ax with both hands.
She moved quickly, out of the cell and into the maze of tunnels that stretched into the
foundations of the school. She had no idea where she was heading – until a few minutes
before she'd had no idea that these tunnels even existed. But she suspected that her
adversaries would be equally ignorant. If the Commissariat hadn't bothered to tell Roku that
there was a maze of tunnels deep in the bowels of the building where Roku was assigned, it
had to be because the Commissariat didn't know. There was no logic to keeping such
information from Roku.
She suspected that these tunnels were built to the specifications of the Order of Matrons; for
they're sick little rites and ceremonies. The Matrons were a secretive organization that
existed, only semi-amicably, alongside the government. Of course they'd have their secrets.
Was there any faction in the Great Society that trusted anyone? Roku was beginning to doubt
it. Great Society, indeed...
Roku's underground wandering brought her to stairs leading up, she took them and came to
the back of another secret door. She put her ear against it and listened for a long minute.
Nothing. She rested her ax head on a stone step and adjusted the sensitivity of her infrared
sunglasses. When she hit the sweet spot the room beyond, the senior dorm, popped into
view – the hots and colds of furniture and windows contrasting clearly. This was exactly
where Roku wanted to be. She reached out and silently slid open the bolt that was keeping
the secret door closed. But she didn't open it, just left it unlatched. She'd wait there, hidden
in the walls, wait there and watch...
It was only, perhaps, five minutes before a pair of Hatchettes came into view. They were
moving slowly, making sure of the silence of each footfall; their guns out in front of them,
scanning. They came down the center aisle of the dorm, looking left then right. Roku held her
breath as an auto-burner pointed direct at her – at the locker she must have been hiding
behind – and then continued its sweep away.

When the two Hatchettes had passed, Roku pushed gently on the back of the secret
entrance, knowing the slightest noise would mean her death. The locker, fortuitously, on
whatever hinges it rotated, seemed well greased. Without making a sound, Roku was out in
her stockings moving quickly up behind the Hatchettes, her ax raised above her head.
The ax came down in the center of the rear Hachette's back, rupturing the hydro vest and
easily snapping her spine. With a grunt, Roku had the ax out of her victim and swinging back
as the lead Hatchette, who was bringing her weapon around. Roku brought the ae down. At
the last moment, the Hatchette rose her auto-burner in an attempt to parry Roku's falling
blow. The assault rifle and the axe collided with a great arc of electricity and the rifle fell to
the floor.
The Hatchette reached for her side-arm, but the back of Roku's hand came up and struck
her across the face. She reeled back from the blow and Roku brought the ax up for a quick
thrust. She caught the Hatchette in the gut, doubling her over. Roku kicked up and her foot
caught the Hatchette in the face. She flipped back, crashing, spread-eagle on the floor.
Roku brought the ax up for a coup de grace, but hesitated at the apex of her swing. The face
of the Hatchette at her feet was covered by a mask and goggles, but Roku could tell that she
was unconscious. Roku let the ax fall harmlessly, heavily to the floor, reaching down and
picking up the burner from the fallen Hatchette's hand. This she tucked into the waistband
of her tiny, schoolgirl skirt, and she quickly pulled a pair of plasma grenades out of the
pouches on the Hatchette's vest. These she dropped into the pockets of her coat. She picked
up an auto-burner, the one that still seemed to function, and slung it on her back.
Alright, now she had some guns...
And only two more Hatchettes, if her calculations were correct... Roku slipped behind the
secret door out of which she had emerged, latching the locker closed behind her. She could
wait her for the next group of Hatchettes to come – attack them while they were seeing to
their buddies. For that matter, Roku could have activated a grenade and hidden under the
body of that dead girl. After all, wasn't Roku fighting for her life here? Her life and Pelli's? But
something in Roku couldn't bring herself to commit such a dirty trick. No, there were only

two Hatchettes left. The odds were evening out. Once upon a time, these people had been
friends of Roku's, she owed them as fair a fight as she could possible afford to give them.
Roku was moving back down the hidden stone stairs when her ears registered something – a
sound down the tunnel in front of her. She froze, listening. Nothing... Then there it was
again. Roku let herself panic just for a moment. Had the Hatchettes discovered the secret
tunnels? There was no way... Then Roku noticed something on the steps, something that
only vaguely showed up via the infrared. She raised her glasses and crouched quietly down.
She touched a finger to the stone and it came back with blood. Roku looked down at her
blood soaked right sock, sodden by her thigh wound. She'd been leaving a trail, ever since
she'd taken off her heels. The Hatchettes must have followed it, into the Head Matron's
office, and down behind the bookcase.
Roku silently began to move back up the stone stairs. Balancing herself on her hands, she
almost crab crawled back, not daring to look away from the dark tunnel. Back at the secret
door behind the locker, she reached into her coat and pulled out a plasma grenade. She
unlatched the door and again waited; activating the grenade, but not letting loose on the
safety.
It took a little more adjusting of her sunglasses, but she got the thermal outline of the two
Hatchettes against the cold earth under the school. They seemed to be down a side corridor,
perhaps following Roku's trail into the pleasure cell; but they were coming around, back
towards Roku. Slowly they moved, often crouching down, examining the trail, but closer they
came. Closer and closer, rifles at the ready.
It wasn't very sporting, Roku thought, feeling the weight of the grenade in her hand; but
she'd only told herself that she'd give them what fairness she could afford. And to end the
fight right here and there...
She let the grenade fall, letting it skipped down the stairs, pinging as it bounced. Roku
jumped to her feet and pushed open the secret door. She was in the center of the dormitory
when the grenade went off, blowing the locker clean off the secret entrance.
The concussion knocked Roku to the ground. She fell on her back, the auto-burner jamming
uncomfortably into her spine. She lay there for a second and breathed in hard.

That had to be it, she thought to herself, who could she have missed? The one by the
Matron; the one in the dorm; the medivac; two here in this room and two down there in the
tunnel. That made seven. It had to make seven...
Roku listened to the sound of her breath and looked up at the slate of the dorm's roof. She
was alive. By the Holy Matron, she was alive! She pulled herself up to a sitting position and
rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands.
There was a moan. The Hatchette, the one Roku had simply knocked unconscious, was
coming to. Roku jumped to her feet and pulled the burner from her skirt. She walked over
and knelt down beside the girl, pulling off the goggles, pulling off the mask.
Exsi. Her named came instantly to Roku mind. As her eyes began to flutter open, Roku
leveled the burner at her nose. Exsi awoke to the sight of the business end of the burner; her
eyes suddenly grew very large.
“The recall code,” Roku said, looking down the barrel of her gun.
“I-I-” Exsi said, terror in her eyes.
“They're all dead. All of them. It's just you. You and me. The last of the Hatchettes,” Roku
spoke calmly, to the point. “You can die with the others or you can give me the recall code. I
don't want to be the last of my kind, Exsi, but you came here to kill me. And I will kill you...”
“Traitor...” The Hatchette said, halfheartedly.
“No,” Roku corrected, not moving the gun, “no, whatever they told you, it was a lie. It's all a
lie. Everything. There's no Dicks, no Terrorist threat. They were using us – using us all. They
used you to kill me and me to kill you. But it ends now. I'm going to put an end to the whole
thing, but I need that recall code, Exsi – I need a VTOL.”
Exsi's eyes looked from the gun to Roku's face. If she believed Roku or not, it was hard to
tell, but she believed the gun pointed at her – believed that Roku would kill. Roku could see
in her eyes that she was contemplating her chances – consulting her battle computer – of
fighting it out with Roku. The look of terror still floating there told Roku that the chances
weren't good.

“Aquamarine,” Exsi said with no elaboration.
Roku pulled herself to her feet, not lowering the gun. She pulled a radio off the Exsi's belt
and held it up to her lips.
“Aquamarine,” Roku said in the handset and dropped the radio on the floor. “Run, Exsi,”
Roku said as she began to back away, “Run. Run and hide, never come up for air. If you
return to Command they'll kill you. If anyone ever finds out what you are, you're dead. Run,
Exsi, as far and as fast as you can.”
Then Roku took her own advice, spinning around and sprinting out of the dorm.

Chapter 21
The Commissar
A VTOL was coming in for the pickup as Roku jogged out onto the sports field. The door
came up and the pilot looked at Roku in confused bewilderment.
“Hey, you-” was all she managed before Roku shot her, covering the pilot's door with a mist
of red.
Roku hopped into the craft, reached across and unlatching the pilot's door. She pushed out
the corpse and climbed over into the pilot's seat. The thrust of the takeoff jets brought the
cockpit doors closed, and Roku arced the craft up and around, pointing towards the city.
It'd just take two more impossible tasks before the day was done.
The Sentinel Tower came into view and Roku thrust the VTOL higher and higher, climbing
up into the clouds. The Sentinel Tower had no landing pad on the roof. The wind shear that
high in the sky was brutal, and landing any craft on the roof on the Sentinel Tower was a next
to impossible task... But it was exactly what Roku planned to do...
The pinnacle of the building came into view and Roku circled it twice, assessing her options.
There was no flat top to the tower; its roof was a spire of communication equipment. That
only left Roku one option. She brought her craft in close to the Falling Gallery. The
turbulence was immense. Twice she tried to hover in, only to be buffeted back. A third time
she almost crashed into the massive windows of the observation deck. Finally, she simply
brought the VTOL in above the Gallery and cut the engines. She dropped like a stone,
crashing hard down onto a lower terrace. The VTOL would never fly again, but Roku leapt
free on the wreckage.

Up the terraces she ran, the auto-burner still strapped to her back. She took a plasma
grenade from the pocket of the great coat and activated it. She shifted it to her left hand and
set the delay for instantaneous. Now for the second impossible task, she thought...
She came into the observation desk just as the elevators doors across the room opened.
Ober Guards poured out, with weapons at the ready. Roku held up her left hand, showing
everyone the grenade. Guards took knees and leveled auto-burners; guards talked frantically
into radios. Roku didn't pause. If they were going to shoot they would shoot. She took the
steps up and came to the double doors of Lady Aru's office. Backing up to it, she made sure
everyone on the observation deck could see the grenade. She fumbled with the handle to the
door behind her back and got it open. She stepped inside.
Lady Aru and three guards were waiting at the door to the private elevator as Roku stepped
into the room. The Guards drew their side-arms, but Roku held out the grenade.
She had caught them all off guard. Their contingency plans, their evacuation routes for the
dignitaries, never took into account a landing on the Falling Gallery. The elevators were at
the base of the tower when they'd come to comprehend exactly what Roku was planning. It'd
take two minutes for the private elevator to arrive and whisk Lady Aru to safety. Plenty of
time for Roku to come in and kill every last fucking one of them; if that had been her plan.
“Send them away,” Roku told Lady Aru, waving the grenade.
“Roku-” Lady Aru began. She still wore her yellow chiffon gown, but had added a mink stole
to it and a purse. Roku just held out the grenade and Lady Aru fell silent.
“If I'd wanted you dead, I'd have just thrown this through the door,” Roku added.
Lady Aru looked at Roku and then at her guards. She bit at her lower lip and patted a guard
on her shoulder. Without a word the guards re-holstered their weapons.
On cue, the private elevator dinged and the doors opened. The guards silently stepped into
it, leaving Lady Aru behind.
“Sit down,” Roku commanded, after the elevator doors closed. Lady Aru circled around her
massive desk and sat down gently into the high backed chair. Roku pulled the auto-burner

off her back, leaned it up against the desk and took a chair across the desk, her back to the
breathtaking view. She rested the grenade on the arm of the chair.
“Oh, Roku, you are magnificent...” Lady Aru said with a combination of admiration and lust.
Roku leaned back in her chair and let herself relax. What was so fucking magnificent? Roku
thought. She crossed her bloodied right leg over her left and could glimpse herself in her own
mind's eye. The schoolgirl skirt with nothing on underneath; her bare breasts poking out
from under the leather great coat; the expanse of hard, flat stomach between them. The
broken nose and bloodstained teeth. The mirrored sunglasses behind her black bangs,
hiding the weary, bloodshot eyes. If she was magnificent, it was only because she was still
alive. Perhaps, today that was all you need for magnificence.
“You understand that I could never have gone through with it,” Roku said calmly, “if they'd
given me the order...”
“Yes,” Lady Aru replied, averting her eyes. “I had hoped...”
“But still, you leave me for Anders... Send my friends, compatriots to kill me...”
“You don't get to sit behind this desk, Roku,” Lady Aru began, sternly. Whatever weak
moment she had experienced was over. “by being sentimental. I hoped – I knew – that there
was more between us that simply your mission. But could I count on that? This... This place,
Roku,” she waved a hand, “is rotten to the foundations. Every day, a palace coup. The
Hatchettes – you, Roku – were just one more attempt to grab power. And if I wish to hold
onto power, for more than a day, there could be no projects like the Hatchettes that escape
my attention – no projects like that, that I have not explicitly authorized.”
“They're all dead now,” Roku said, “except for me.”
Lady Aru shifted in her seat. She began to stand than decided against it. She shuffled a few
tablets on her desk.
“I've read the file,” Lady Aru indicated a pile of tablets on her desk, “all the reports... You
were always the best, Roku, their brightest star. It was foolish of me to think that you could
simply be done away with – swept under the rug. You're nothing if not the perfect killing

machine, Roku. You've proved that today. Those Nanpa Girls, Moll Flanders, Anders... But,
oh so such a beautiful thing, too... It wasn't just foolish of me, Roku, but a waste...”
Lady Aru made like she was about to rise from her chair, but Roku held up the grenade. She
dropped back down.
“This is the finish, the end to your game,” Roku said, “Of all the lies and deceit. Your political
intrigues and power plays. It's just you and me now, and this,” Roku gestured with the
grenade. “No exits.”
“No,” Lady Aru scolded, “don't talk like that. The end? Are you insane? This is just the
beginning Roku. Alright, there's what I've done and there's what you've done. Sins aplenty –
sins to stack up as high as this tower – but think, Roku, think. That's all behind us now, we're
the winners here, you and I, and to the winners come the rewards.
“Everything I've done was to assure that it would be me sitting behind this desk, at the end
of the day; and that's everything Roku! Don't you understand? Everything! Of course, we
make the noise that the purpose of the Great Society is to secure the life and liberty of the
people, but come on... Face facts, even a blind woman can see that there are winners and
losers here: The haves and have nots. Does anyone succeed in this Great Society without
connections? Hardly. It's all about power, Roku, the acquisition of power. That's everything –
all that matters. Period.
“And we have it all Roku, you and I. I, I'm sitting here, and you, Roku, should be by my side.
The Hatchettes... The Hatchettes were a brilliant idea. I'll grant my predecessor that much. A
brilliant idea used for the wrong purpose, but you and I could chance that. You, Roku, you
can build the Hatchettes anew. From the ground up with full knowledge, this time, of their
purpose: To assure that the correct people stay in power, Roku; that the right person is sitting
behind this desk. That was always the purpose of the Hatchettes, and the right people are
now in power, Roku – you and I. We need to be protected.”
Roku's left hand was growing tired, gripping onto the grenade, and she had heard enough.
She pulled the infrared glasses from her eyes and tossed them onto the desk, tentatively
prodding at the break in her nose.

“If it's about that girl-” Lady Aru began.
“She's safe,” Roku interrupted, looking at Lady Aru with weary eyes.
“Yes, but for how long...” Lady Aru said knowingly.
In a blur, Roku's right hand was up pointing a burner across the desk.
“You're in no position to make threats!” Roku announced.
“No, no,” Lady Aru leaned back in her chair, holding up her hands, contritely, “you
misunderstand me. You can kill me, you can burn down this building, but how long will that
keep the girl safe?” Lady Aru paused, letting her words sink in. Roku's hand holding the
burner wavered. “The only way – the only real way – to assure her safety, Roku, is from
behind this desk.”
Tentatively, Roku's burner returned to the pocket of her coat.
“We take care of our friends, Roku, our wives, our loved ones. That is the purpose of power –
in its entirety – to protect those we love from those that mean them harm. Weapons are all
well and good, from that burner up to atomic missile, but there are always casualties in war.
There is only one way to assure that those that we love will be safe, only one way you can
guarantee it with absolute certainty: The subjugation of your opposition. Nothing less will
do.
“Look at the males: Once our masters, enslavers on womankind, now nothing more than
lapdogs... Pets, playthings... That is power, Roku, that is how we assure our survival. You
can't simply destroy your enemies, Roku, that is no enough. There will always be more. The
next day, or the day after. You have to crush them. That sends a message to them all. And
there is only one true power that can crush completely, Roku, the power of the State. And the
State is right here, Roku, behind this desk, sitting in this chair.
“If this girl means anything to you; if you maintain any hope of protecting her from the
horrible events that you, yourself have made her part of. You need to be on this side of the
desk, Roku. Here, by my side. There's no other way – no other option. It may offend your

principles, might conflict with your sense of right and wrong, but remember what's
important Roku, and you'll understand what I'm saying is true.”
Roku felt a tightness in her chest and she gasped to breathe. Lady Aru smiled, she knew
what she was saying what getting through to Roku.
Was Roku really considering this? It was insane! There was no way Roku could really trust
her. Not Lady Aru. She'd tried, twice today, to have Roku killed, and at the first opportunity –
as sure as the sun rises in the morning – she'd try and have Roku killed again. But everything
she said was true. What would Lady Aru's death gain Roku? Nothing, if the cost was Roku's
own life. Without Roku, Pelli would be easy pickings for whoever next filled the First
Commissar's chair... And they'd have to get her, with all she now knew... It was all Roku's
fault, if she'd just kept Pelli out of it...
What if Roku simply got up now and walked away, leaving Lady Aru alive? Roku and Pelli
would be hounded by the Commissariat for the rest of their days. Roku wouldn't be young
forever, her implants would require routine maintenance. Eventually, they'd be someone
who'd get the better of her – a new breed of Hatchettes; faster, more powerful; not
encumbered by the Dick Terrorist lie. No, Roku's options were quickly dwindling down to
one.
If she could recruit a whole new crop of Hatchettes – train and equipment them herself –
that would be something... If those Hatchettes were loyal to each other, loyal to Roku, that'd
be a hedge to any power plays of Lady Aru might attempt. Roku would just have to stay alive
long enough to train twelve more like her – teach them everything she'd learned. And she'd
learned so much in the last few months, so much more than simple combat...
Roku deactivated the grenade in her hand, rendering it inert, and tossed it up over the desk.
“Catch,” she said, and Lady Aru clumsily reached out for it. She had it in her hands, then it
was loose again, then she finally had a grip on it. She breathed a sigh of relief, looking at the
grenade, realizing it hadn't exploded. She looked up and smiled at Roku, her full, perfect lips
curling.

Roku pulled herself heavily out of the chair and limped her way around the desk. She put a
hand on Lady Aru's shoulder and Lady Aru slipped a hand under Roku's leather great coat,
under the skirt and touched Roku's firm, bare ass.
Roku looked down at Lady Aru and Lady Aru looked up at Roku. They both knew, from here
on out, they would never take their eyes off each other – not even for a second.
It was a match made in heaven, by the Holy Matron herself.