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Message-ID: <38221asstr$1031458205@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Mr Slot" <dalech33@hotmail.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} Fall Of The House Of Whores 1/2 (Mr Slot) (SciFi, MFF)
Date: Sun,  8 Sep 2002 00:10:05 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Yup it's me, Mr Slot. This is a story that I wrote for Ruthie's Club but it 
never really came to pass. It's basically my attempt at writing a Sci Fi 
story and was inspired by two sources.

Number one was Shon's post about interesting story titles, one of which was 
"Fall of the House of Whores". As you can see I "borrowed" it.

Number two was from a charming young lass by the name of Souvie, someone 
who's talent I've always admired. Souvie has a taste for SciFi and wrote a 
short tale involving several ASSD authors of the time, myself included.

If all of this is unfamiliar don't worry, it happened over a year ago. This 
story has been sitting in my hopper, completed and edited (by Denny, the 
Hibachi Chef of editing) since then. It's only now that I've decided to 
release it, there's no point letting it rot away after the work I put into 
it.

This is also the longest story I've written and to be honest I found it not 
only easy to write but actually regretted ending it, the flow was that good. 
I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

A quick shout of thanks to Shon, Souvie and Denny for helping to bring this 
story to fruition. Couldn't have done it without you guys.

And now on with the show. Mr Slot proudly presents...

Fall Of The House Of Whores (SciFi MFF)

----------------------------------------------


Blake Richardson was pissed. Not in a drunk sort of way, though he had been 
drinking Fujikomo beer steadily for the last eight hours. He was pissed in 
an angry sort of way.

Blake was normally a nice guy, though it was hard to tell from his general 
appearance. At 6'4" he was a big man, and his work in the garages had 
strengthened his body, giving him an intimidating air that caused anyone to 
think twice before crossing him. His eyes were the type that looked like 
they could bore through plate steel, and his face was cracked and ravaged by 
the UV that passed through the poor shielding of the atmosphere dome. 
Despite all that he was a caring man, willing to give you the shirt off his 
back if you needed it.

Except when he was drunk.

When Blake got falling-down, puking-in-the-gutter drunk he got mean, damn 
mean. His body and mind would be enveloped by a fury that could consume a 
super nova, and right now he was in the grip of a world-class anger. The 
object of his fury was a greasy little man, dressed like an off-world dandy 
in expensive clothes and carrying a jewel- encrusted walking stick. He 
chomped on a cigar as he sat at a table surrounded by four of the most 
beautiful women Blake had ever seen. That wasn't saying too much, 
considering that Blake had been on what he lovingly called, "This 
God-forsaken shit-hole of a mining planet," for nearly ten years. He could 
barely remember what a woman was supposed to look like, let alone a 
beautiful one. All he knew was that women were never seen on the surface of 
Rydol-9, and yet here was some tosser with four of them. Blake was drunk, 
angry, and looking for trouble. It was time for a good shit kicking. He 
dragged himself to his unsteady feet and started to move towards the party 
when a familiar hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Don't do it, Blake."

Richardson slowly turned and tried to focus his eyes on the owner of the 
hand. His friend, Geoffrey "Jeff" Jacobson, looked back at him, a warning 
evident in his eyes.

"You know you wouldn't get within ten feet of him," said Jeff. "Tomlinson's 
goons would cut you down in a heartbeat."

"He's got women," replied Blake, swinging a heavily muscled arm towards 
Tomlinson and his entourage, nearly decapitating a passing barman, "and I 
want one."

"Well, you can't have one," answered Jeff, guiding Blake back to his seat.

"It's not fair. Why does he get everything he wants while we die on this 
fucking cinder of a planet?" Blake was close to tears as the injustices of 
life washed over him.

"Because Tomlinson controls the pussy," said Jeff, "and the man who controls 
the pussy controls Rydol-9."

It was true. Tomlinson owned a derelict freighter in permanent orbit around 
the remote mining planet. He had set up a casino and whorehouse on board, 
and delighted in taking money from the miners for things they could get 
nowhere else. He had supreme power and not even the company was willing to 
challenge him. As far as they were concerned he provided a valuable service, 
he kept the miners happy. And the money they got leasing the orbit to him 
didn't hurt. So Tomlinson acted with impunity, watering the alcohol in his 
bars, rigging the games in his casino, and charging a fortune for the women 
in his stable. This was the first time he had brought any of his women down 
to the planet though, and Blake wasn't the only one to notice.

Hank Philips was a big man, even bigger than Blake, and if it was at all 
possible he was also a lot drunker. He got up from the bar and staggered 
towards Tomlinson. "Hey you, faggot," he drawled, "You got too many women 
there. I think I'll take one off your hands." &&& Hmm. Is he saying "Hey, 
you faggot" or "Hey you, faggot"? Seems like the first might be more likely.

"You think so, do you?" asked Tomlinson, not the least bit intimidated by 
the big miner.

"Yeah, I think so," responded Hank, slurring his words and reaching for a 
platinum blonde.

Tomlinson didn't move but a man on his right did. The distinctive flash of a 
laser knife erupted from his hand and Hank's fingers pattered onto the table 
in front of the blonde. She gasped and turned her face away as Hank 
screamed, clutching the ruin of his hand.

"I suggest you get a doctor to look at that," said Tomlinson, barely 
stifling a giggle.

Blake and Jeff looked on, Blake plainly shocked, Jeff knowing all too well 
that this was the reason Tomlinson had come planet-side. He was playing a 
game, showing everyone his power and delighting in it. The pair watched as 
Tomlinson and the four women got up and exited the bar, closely followed by 
the mysterious man who had maimed Hank Philips.

"That bastard," proclaimed Blake as he slammed his beer mug onto the table, 
"he set that whole thing up. Hank never stood a chance."

"You're just now figuring that out, huh?" asked Jeff. "Tomlinson doesn't do 
anything without planning it out first."

"I don't care," said Blake, "that bastard has to pay."

"Don't worry, he will," replied Jeff, a sly smile growing on his face.

Blake stared at his friend, his beer fogged mind trying hard to focus. 
"You're planning something yourself, aren't you?"

"Maybe," answered Jeff as he sipped his beer.

"I want in," demanded Blake.

"Are you sure?" warned Jeff. "It could get dangerous."

"I don't give a flying Venusian fuck, I want in. I want to see that bastard 
get his."

"All right then," said Jeff as he got to his feet, "let's go."

"Go where?" asked Blake.

"To see Poppa Doc."

***

No one was sure how Poppa Doc got his name, or what his real name was, for 
that matter. What they did know was that Doc knew how to get things done. If 
you had a problem, he was the one you went to see. Jeff and Blake made their 
way down the crowded hallways of Little Kobe, the main settlement of 
Rydol-9. Doc's apartment was on one of the upper levels, away from the waste 
and dirty air that the giant carbon air scrubbers could never clean. How he 
managed to wrangle an apartment up here was as big a mystery as everything 
else about Doc. The pair came to a halt outside a non-descript door where 
Jeff pressed a doorbell. From inside the apartment came the sound of a dog 
barking.

"Yes, yes, I heard the doorbell, Bluey," came a voice from behind the door. 
The barking did not abate. "Shut the hell up you bloody mongrel, I told you 
I heard." The sounds of barking were cut off just as the door swung open.

"Hi, Doc," said Jeff.

"Oh, hello, Jeff," said Poppa Doc, a tall grey-haired man with piercing blue 
eyes. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Blake Richardson. Blake, this is Poppa Doc," said Jeff. "Can we 
come in?"

"Yeah, sure," replied Doc, standing aside to let them in.

The two men entered the apartment to find it was cosy and well kept. Blake 
noticed a cyber- hound sitting in a corner, obviously the cause of the 
barking they had heard. It was a Cyberdyne K-9 model, a mechanical replica 
of an Australian cattle dog. Blake had heard stories of Old Earth being pure 
and clean, where animals like this had been able to survive without fear of 
choking smog and sweeping acid rains. Now the closest men got to a canine 
friend were the ones they created themselves. They sat down on a comfortable 
couch while Doc took a lounge chair directly opposite.

"So what can I do for you?" he asked.

"Blake wants to help us with this Tomlinson thing," explained Jeff.

Doc looked at the hulking, dark haired man. "Can we trust him?" he asked 
Jeff.

"I've known him for a while," replied Jeff, "I think we can use him."

"I am in the room, you know," said Blake.

"He looks like a lush to me," said Doc, ignoring the big man.

"He's just feeling a little down is all," responded Jeff.

"Do you want me to wait outside or something?" asked Blake, quickly losing 
his patience.

"Settle down, Blake," chided Jeff.

"No, I won't fucking settle down," exploded Blake. "You drag me down here on 
some pretence of getting even with Tomlinson, and then you act like I don't 
even exist. You can take your fucking ideas, and your pretentious fucking 
attitude, and you can shove them up your fucking..."

"How would you like to own the U.S.S. Usher?" asked Doc quietly.

"Tomlinson's ship?" asked Blake suddenly attentive. "*That* U.S.S. Usher?"

"Yes, that one," said Jeff. "Doc has a plan for taking it away from 
Tomlinson."

"How?" asked Blake.

"That's not something you have to worry about for now," replied Doc. "All 
you have to do is get us up there."

"And how do I do that?"

"You work in the garage, don't you?" asked Jeff. "We need you to get us a 
shuttle. Can you do that?"

"Maybe," said Blake, "when do you want it?"

"Tomorrow," said Jeff.

"Jesus, give a guy some notice, why don't you?"

"Can you do it or not?" asked Doc. "We can always get someone else."

"I can do it," said Blake. "To see Tomlinson take one in the arse, I can do 
anything. But what happens when we get up there? They won't let just anyone 
dock, you know."

"Don't worry about that," said Jeff, "we have someone on the inside. They'll 
open the docking bay doors for us."

"You have someone on the inside?" asked Blake. "Who?"

***

Rose looked at herself in the mirror. The years on this orbiting whorehouse 
had not been kind to her. She counted the wrinkles, the bags under her eyes, 
the tiredness that seemed to shadow her face. She no longer earned her 
living on her back, instead managing the girls who did. She didn't think 
that it would last though, Tomlinson was showing all the signs of getting 
ready to cast her aside. He used to treat her like a partner, asking her 
advice on business and financial matters. Now it was more like a senile old 
aunt who belonged in a home. Well she would see about that, Rose had her own 
plans for her future. "We'll see who gets rid of who, Cleveland Tomlinson." 
She started to apply her makeup, watching as the years melted away in sea of 
pancake and blush.

***

Jeff stood at the entry to the garage and wondered if he hadn't made a 
mistake getting Blake to supply the shuttle.

"It doesn't look very space-worthy, does it?" said Doc from beside him.

"What're you talking about?" said Blake, wiping his nose with a greasy rag. 
"It's in perfect condition." He felt a lot better today. His head was clear, 
and his life had a direction, the downfall of Cleveland Tomlinson. He was 
positively cheerful.

"There's things hanging off it," said Jeff, pointing to a piece of metal 
that was obviously loose.

"Oh that," replied Blake, "that's nothing." He bent down and ripped the 
hanging panel from the shuttle before tossing it into a corner. "There, all 
fixed."

"Great," muttered Jeff, "we're going to die in the black void of space and 
no one will ever notice."

"Nonsense," responded Blake, "it will get us up to the U.S.S. Usher, no 
problems at all." He chose to ignore the sound of something metallic falling 
from the shuttle and clattering onto the concrete floor of the garage.

"Oh Christ, now it's falling apart on its own," lamented Jeff. "It's a 
flying coffin, that's what it is."

"Cheer up, Jeff," said Doc, clapping him on the back. "If this plan doesn't 
work we're going to die anyway."

"Oh great," grimaced Jeff, "I feel much better now."

"Good," said Doc. "Now let's get on board. We have to be ready to dock in 
thirty-five minutes."

The trio boarded the shuttle, Blake taking the pilot's seat, Doc riding 
shotgun, and Jeff strapping himself down in one of the passenger seats. If 
he could have used two seatbelts he would have. Jeff always hated flying, 
there was something unnatural about it, and taking off in this bucket of 
bolts was not helping. As far as he was concerned if Allah had meant men to 
fly he would have called them birds.

Blake completed a quick pre-flight check, only half of which had actually 
checked out ok, and brought the engines to life. "Ready?" he asked.

"What about those red lights?" asked Doc. "They look important."

"What, them?" replied Blake tapping on the lights. He realised that they 
were not going to go out so he flipped down a circuit breaker box and 
flipped some switches. The lights were extinguished as their source of power 
was cut. "Don't worry about them, they always lie."

"But what if they're telling the truth?" said Doc.

"Then we'll be atomised soon after take-off, and there'll still be nothing 
to worry about," responded Blake.

"Oh," said Doc. He got up and walked back to where Jeff was sitting. "Mind 
if I sit here?" he asked. "Suddenly I don't feel safe up there."

"Oh great," cried Jeff.

"Okay," said Blake, "here we go."

"Look," said Jeff, "I've been thinking about this and..." His words were cut 
off as the shuttle accelerated out of the garage, engines screaming.

***

Rose made her way from her quarters to the bridge of the ship. The U.S.S. 
Usher ran on its own time, and right now it was the early hours of the 
morning. Most of the clients had gone back to the planet, the remaining few 
spending the night with some of the working girls. Most of the staff was 
also asleep, with only a skeleton crew looking after the basic running of 
the ship. This was as quiet as the Usher got, and Rose knew that now was the 
best time to get Jeff, Doc and Blake on board. She continued down the long 
empty hallway, her heels rapping a staccato beat as she went. Rose hadn't 
seen a soul since she left her room, so she was surprised to see someone 
sitting in the captain's chair as she entered the bridge. A pall of cigar 
smoke surrounded the figure, telling Rose all she needed to know about his 
identity.

"Hello, Cleveland," she said.

Tomlinson turned his chair to face her. "Hello, Rose," he replied, "can't 
sleep?"

"No, not really," answered Rose. "I guess I don't need much sleep these 
days."

"Don't worry about it," said Cleveland, "it happens to the best of us. We 
all get old one day."

"I'm not old," replied Rose, trying hard not to get angry. Tomlinson was 
always doing this, pointing out that she was past her prime as a working 
girl in his usual condescending tone. She knew it would do no good to get 
angry; he actually liked it when people disagreed with him. It gave him a 
chance to browbeat them into submission, even when he knew he was wrong. In 
fact he liked that it best when he could defeat people who were right; it 
showed that his power was absolute. Rose swallowed her anger and moved to 
the radar screen. She didn't know if she could get Tomlinson off the bridge 
before the shuttle got within range, and the last thing she wanted was the 
proximity alarm to go off while he was within earshot. "I hear you had some 
trouble planet-side yesterday," she said as she subtly brushed against the 
alarm switch, disabling it. Rose caught her breath as she saw a blip appear 
on the screen; she had turned off the alarm in the nick of time.

"No trouble," replied Tomlinson, "just a miner who thought he was owed 
something that didn't belong to him. He knows better now."

"Why did you take those girls down there?" asked Rose, "You know most of the 
lower level miners can't afford to come up, let alone spend time with the 
girls."

"Of course they can afford to come up here," responded Tomlinson.

"Only if they save up a year's pay," said Rose, "and that will just get them 
into the casino, where your crooked games will take everything they have. 
There's no way they could afford to spend time in your brothel. Taking the 
girls down there was just asking for trouble."

"It's ok, I had Sukori with me."

"That killer?" spat Rose in disgust. She knew all about Sukori, how he kept 
a laser knife hidden in the folds of his coat, and how he was always eager 
to use it.

"He has his uses," said Tomlinson.

"Yeah, so does a pit bull, until it starts humping your leg and eating your 
children," muttered Rose.

"What was that?" asked Tomlinson.

"Nothing," replied Rose. "So why are you up so late?"

"Just checking on a few things," answered Cleveland as he chomped on his 
cigar. "But there's nothing here that can't wait till the morning." He got 
up and started for the door, but stopped in front of the radar display. Rose 
held her breath as he slowly turned towards her. She knew that the shuttle 
would be plainly visible on the small screen. "You really should try to get 
some sleep, Rose," he said, eying her carefully. "I think you'll need it." 
He turned and walked out the door, leaving Rose alone on the bridge.

She grabbed up a headset and keyed a switch. "Jeff, can you hear me?"

"Jeff's a little preoccupied right now," said a strange voice. "He's busy 
tossing his cookies. Can I help you?"

Rose knew the voice didn't belong to Doc, so she took a chance. "Is that 
Blake?" she asked.

"At your service, Ma'am," replied the voice. "Is there any chance you could 
open the docking bay doors? We're having a little trouble with cabin 
pressure."

"You'll have to go round to the far side of the ship, Blake," said Rose. 
"There's a disused bay around there, it's the only way I can sneak you on 
board."

"Fine with me, pretty lady, just point the way."

Rose gave Blake the coordinates and watched as he brought the shuttle in. 
She smiled as she realised that step one of their plan had been successfully 
accomplished.

***

The shuttle came to rest in the empty bay, its hull steaming as fresh 
atmosphere was pumped into the dock. The door opened and the three men 
climbed out, Doc helping a decidedly green looking Jeff.

"There you go," said Blake as he climbed down onto the floor of the docking 
bay, "all safe and sound."

"Safe and sound?" exclaimed Jeff. "You nearly killed us."

"What are you talking about?" asked an amazed Blake. He thought the journey 
had gone quite well.

"You nearly ploughed into two space freighters and an observation station," 
pointed out Jeff.

"I missed them by miles."

"Miles? How do you explain that?" asked Jeff, pointing to a large scrape 
down one flank of the shuttle.

"A tactical manoeuvre," replied Blake.

"A tactical..." Jeff had gone from green to red.

"Jeff," warned Doc, "this is getting us nowhere. We have to get to the 
rendezvous point before we're found. This plan won't work if we're caught."

"And just what is the plan?" asked Blake.

***

Blake puffed on his cigar before taking another swig of whiskey and settling 
back down in the chair. He had two blondes with him, though they were 
preoccupied with each other at the moment. He didn't know the exact details 
of the plan, Doc had flatly refused to tell him, but he definitely liked how 
it was progressing so far. He looked over at the two women in the large bed, 
remembering how he had been led to this room by Rose. She had met them in a 
storage area near the docking bay, and Blake had been struck by how 
beautiful she was. She had an air of confidence about her that appealed to 
Blake straight away.

Rose too was taken with the large man. He was big, heavily muscled with a 
face that looked like it was carved out of stone, but with a mischievous 
gleam in his eye. She thought Blake was the kind of man who would follow you 
to the ends of the earth, cracking jokes all the way. She dearly hoped that 
this plan worked out, she would like the time to get to know him better. 
Rose felt that Blake would make a very dear friend. But for now there was a 
lot of work to do, and she had details to go over with Jeff and Doc. She had 
led Blake to one of the special rooms where Ricci and Nicci were waiting.

Blake had been surprised to see the two blondes waiting for him inside. He 
had never been with a woman, having shipped to Rydol-9 on his sixteenth 
birthday, and now here he was, alone with two of them. He needn't have 
worried though, the girls were used to inexperienced men and took their time 
with him. It wasn't long before Blake got into the swing of things and 
started to get a little more adventurous with the blondes, allowing one to 
ride his cock while the other sat on his face. He soon realised he liked the 
taste of pussy and began lapping away like a seasoned professional, driving 
Ricci wild with pleasure. Blake tried his hardest to keep up with his 
companions, but after an hour or so he decided to take a break before they 
killed him. He found a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a large glass, 
then opened a small wooden box that was sitting on top of the bar. Inside 
were cigars, a luxury that Blake hadn't had for longer than he cared to 
remember. He lit one and sat down in a comfortable chair with his whiskey, 
watching as Nicci and Ricci set about pleasuring each other on the bed. 
Their fingers and tongues explored each other's bodies, tasting and touching 
everything they could.

"Yup," he said to no one in particular, "this is an excellent plan."

***

While Blake was discovering the delights of sex, Rose, Jeff and Doc were in 
Rose's quarters, discussing what their next move would be.

"So how many of the crew can we rely on?" asked Doc.

"I would say about fifty percent at this stage," replied Rose. "Once things 
get rolling I think we'll get more support. Tomlinson hasn't made many 
friends up here."

"What about the girls?" enquired Jeff.

"Don't worry about them," said Rose, "they'll do what they're told."

"Good," replied Jeff. "Now all we need to do is decide on a time to do 
this."

"It should be in the early hours of the morning," replied Rose. "We can take 
them by surprise then. We'll take a small group of crew and storm 
Tomlinson's quarters. Once we have him under detention the rest of the crew 
should fall into line. The only possible problem is Sukori. He needs to be 
neutralised."

"Could we get one of the girls to slip something into his drink?" asked Doc.

"No, they would never get close enough to him. Sukori doesn't trust any of 
the girls," said Rose. "The only person I've seen him pay any attention to 
is Tomlinson."

"I guess there is only one thing we can do about him then," replied Jeff. 
"Can you get the keys to the armoury?" It was common knowledge that there 
were weapons on board the U.S.S. Usher. Drunken miners can get unruly 
sometimes and Tomlinson had a reputation for coming down hard on any 
troublemakers.

"I can get them," said Rose. "Why? What are you planning to do with Sukori?"

"I'm going to kill him."

***

Blake was dozing in bed, feeling very satisfied indeed. He had only been 
able to watch Nicci and Ricci having fun with each other for a short while 
before joining in again. He was really beginning to like this whole sex 
thing. When this whole affair was over he was planning on asking Rose if he 
could be in charge of quality control. Make sure that everything was up to 
scratch, so to speak.

"Are you ready to go again?" asked a voice from beside him.

Blake looked over to see four bright blue eyes staring expectantly at him. 
"You haven't had enough yet?" he asked.

"Nope," replied Nicci. "We can never get enough, especially from someone 
like you."

"And I suppose you always get what you want," said Blake.

"Always," grinned Ricci.

"Oh well, why should I be any different?" said Blake as he reached for a 
convenient breast. He was stopped by a knock on the door. "Shit!" he swore, 
"somebody better be dead or dying." He threw back the sheet and swung his 
legs to the floor.

***

"Kill him?" exclaimed Rose. "I don't think so, no one said anything about 
any killing. This is supposed to be a bloodless coup."

"Rose, we really don't have any choice," explained Jeff. "If we don't kill 
Sukori he will certainly kill us. He's just too dangerous."

"No, I'm sorry but I won't be a party to murder," said Rose. She turned to 
Doc. "Tell him we can't do this."

"Actually," replied Doc, "I'm with Jeff on this. Sukori is a dangerous man, 
and he wouldn't hesitate to kill any of us, even you, Rose."

"No, I won't do it," said Rose stubbornly. She had her own set of morals, 
and murder was not part of it.

"Rose..."

"Don't 'Rose' me, Jeff," she said, cutting him off. "I won't do it and you 
can forget about trying to talk me into it. My mind is made up about this."

"It has to be done, Rose," said Doc.

"Oh really," responded Rose, whirling on him. "And who is going to do it? 
You? Jeff?"

"No, Blake will," said Doc.

"Uh-huh, and what does Blake think about this?" asked Rose.

"We haven't told him yet," said Doc. "But I'm sure he has some idea, he's 
not totally stupid. He's probably all ready figured out that we didn't 
really need him to fly us up here. I could have quite easily done the 
piloting. Hell, we could have come up on the regular shuttle if we wanted 
to."

"So the only reason you brought Blake into this was so you wouldn't have to 
get blood on your hands?" asked Rose. "Is that it? Blake's your hired 
killer, is he?"

"You don't have to be so crude about it," said Jeff.

"Oh yes I do, Jeff," replied Rose. She had her hackles up now. "Blake's 
going to be your Sukori, isn't he?"

"Rose, it isn't like that," explained Doc.

"It's exactly like that," hissed Rose. "That poor man has come with you, 
thinking he's helping you to right a wrong, and you're going to thrust a gun 
in his hand and tell him who to kill. And what about after? Are you going to 
set Blake on anyone you feel threatens your new power?"

"No," replied Doc. "That won't be possible."

"Oh really?" asked Rose. "And why won't it?" The look on Doc's face, and the 
way Jeff wouldn't meet her gaze gave her the answer. "Oh my God, you're 
going to kill him. You are, aren't you? You're going to kill him once he's 
served his purpose." She stared at the both of them. "Tell me I'm wrong, I 
dare you to."

"You're not wrong," admitted Doc, no longer able to hold her gaze.

"It looks like that old saying is true after all," said Rose. "Meet the new 
boss, same as the old boss."

"Well said, Rose," came a voice from behind them. They turned to see 
Tomlinson standing in the now open doorway, a militia of heavily armed 
guards behind him.

"Cleveland!" gasped Rose.

"In the flesh, my dear," he replied, bowing slightly.

"How long have you been there?" asked Rose.

"Long enough to hear you defend the life of poor Sukori," said Tomlinson 
with mock compassion. "But don't worry dear, right now he's taking care of 
Blake. I can assure you that Sukori has no problem with killing."

"You bastard!" spat Rose.

"And then some," admitted Tomlinson.

***

"Wait, let me."

Blake felt a staying hand on his shoulder and looked around.

"You stay here with Ricci," said Nicci, "she needs some more attention." She 
dropped him a wink and slipped lithely out of bed, before padding over to 
the door. Blake admired her arse as she went, and felt himself stirring.

"Hurry back," said Blake, "I have a feeling that I'm going to need both of 
you again."

Nicci turned to him and smiled, a big radiant smile that lit up her face. 
"Be right there lover," she said. She turned back to the door and opened it, 
swinging it wide to reveal a shadowy figure outside. "Yes?"

The figure lunged at her, driving his hand towards her belly. A light glowed 
from his fingertips and before Nicci could react Sukori drove the laser 
knife deep into her stomach.

"No," she gasped, and then slowly slid to the floor.

Sukori stepped over her body and moved toward the couple on the bed. 
"Tomlinson sends his regards," he said in a low, almost lilting voice. He 
brought the knife up to his face, the light from the laser casting deep 
shadows over his features.

Blake looked from the killer to Nicci's body, and back to Sukori. "You 
prick," he spat, "I'm going to kill you for that."

"I don't think so," replied Sukori, smiling broadly. "It's you that shall 
die, then I shall take my time with your friend here." He started to giggle, 
but was cut off as a half empty bottle of whiskey flew towards his head. 
Sukori swung his knife at the bottle, cutting it in half and showering the 
room and his face with the strong brown liquid. The cheaply made alcohol 
stung his eyes, momentarily blinding him.

Blake saw his chance and leapt out of bed. He was deceptively fast for a big 
man and closed the gap between himself and the assassin in the blink of an 
eye. He hit him low, slamming his shoulder into Sukori's midriff and pushing 
him into the wall behind him. The plastic of the wall buckled but held, 
allowing Blake to pin his opponent. He brought his knee up, driving it into 
Sukori's stomach. The smaller man gasped and tried to push Blake back, but 
he was fighting a madman. Again and again Blake drove his knee up, 
pummelling the breath from Sukori's body. The killer knew he was in trouble.

Then he remembered the knife.

Though his arm was being held he had enough movement in his wrist to drive 
the blade deep into Blake's forearm. Blake yelled and backed away, clutching 
his bleeding arm. The knife was still embedded in his flesh; he had twisted 
the weapon from Sukori's grasp when he had let go of his arm. Blake took 
hold of the knife and tried to pull it free but it was futile, the blade had 
become lodged in bone.

Sukori looked at the struggling Blake and smiled. He was now unarmed, but no 
less dangerous. Sukori pushed off the wall and drove the heel of his boot up 
into Blake's face, smashing his nose.

Blake groaned and fell to his knees, his vision clouded by the pain of a 
broken nose.

"I guess it's true what they say," said Sukori, looking down at Blake. "The 
bigger they are, the harder they fall." He swung his foot, catching the big 
man under the chin and knocking him onto his back. "Ooh, I bet that hurt," 
he smirked. Sukori placed his foot on Blake's neck and started to press 
down, smiling as his victim started to gasp. "Say goodnight, loser," he 
chuckled.

Blake was rapidly losing consciousness. If he didn't do something quickly he 
was done for. His body was rapidly going numb as his brain starved for 
oxygen; the only part of his body he could feel was the glowing ember of 
pain residing in his injured arm. It was just what he needed. He lifted his 
hand, trying not to scream as the knife handle brushed against Sukori's leg. 
Higher and higher he raised it, until his fingers brushed against his 
target. Blake took hold of Sukori's balls and squeezed as hard as he could. 
He was rewarded by a scream of pure agony.

Sukori tried to pull free but Blake held on, strengthening his grip with 
every new breath. Sukori was desperate, the pain between his legs was 
exquisite and he was seeing stars before his eyes. His hands flailed around, 
looking for a weapon, until his fingers closed over the handle of his knife 
that was still implanted in Blake's arm. He grabbed it and twisted with all 
his might.

Blake screamed in agony and let go of Sukori's balls before clutching his 
wounded arm.

Sukori grabbed hold of a chair then raised it over the kneeling Blake. "Time 
to end this shit," he muttered. But before he could bring it down on his 
adversary Ricci attacked him. She threw herself at him, scratching at his 
eyes with her fingernails. Sukori was surprised, but not injured. He 
backhanded her, flinging her across the room. "I'll deal with you in a 
minute, bitch," he snarled, and then turned back to Blake.

The big man had not wasted the brief amount of time he had been given by 
Ricci. He had grabbed the knife that had been loosened by Sukori, and pulled 
it from his flesh. "Time for you to die, fucker," he said through a mask of 
blood. He pressed the switch on the handle of the knife, firing its laser, 
then brought it up in an arc. The laser knife cut through Sukori's flesh 
effortlessly, slicing him open from groin to throat, effectively 
eviscerating him. Sukori looked down in horror, watching his intestines 
spill free onto the floor. He desperately grabbed at them, trying to push 
them back inside his body as Blake got to his feet.

"I always thought you had no guts," said Blake, and then swung the knife 
again, decapitating the dying man. He watched as Sukori's lifeless body 
sagged to the floor, and then walked over to Ricci, helping her up. "Are you 
ok?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm okay, but Nicci..."

Blake moved over to the fallen girl and rolled her over onto her back. He 
looked down at her wound, and what he saw surprised him. "What the fuck?"

***

The U.S.S. Usher was starting to come to life. An announcement had been made 
throughout the mining colony about a special show that would be on for one 
night only. The shuttles to the old freighter were packed with men trying to 
get a glimpse of an event they could tell their grandchildren about, if they 
lived that long.

Young Tommy Haas stood in the loading bay of Little Kobe. He had just 
arrived on the planet to begin his twenty-year stint as a carbon-scrubber 
maintenance technician, and he was amazed at the number of men trying to get 
onto the shuttles. He stopped someone who looked close to his age.

"Hey," asked Tommy, "what's going on?"

"Didn't you hear?" replied the young man.

"Hear what?" responded Tommy. "I just got here and it looks like everyone is 
trying to leave. Is the mining finished or something?"

"No, everyone's trying to get up to the casino," came the reply.

"How come?"

"Because there's going to be a triple execution," said the man.

"What?" asked Tommy. He had grown up on a farming planet and had never heard 
of such a thing. "Why are three people being executed?"

"Because they tried to hijack the Usher, and now they're going to be 
decompressed."

"Decompressed?" asked Tommy.

"Yeah, decompressed. They get thrown into an airlock and jettisoned into 
space, all without benefit of a space suit. Their bodies swell up and 
explode, and then all their innards go flying out all over the place. It's 
really gross."

"You've seen this sort of thing before?" enquired Haas.

"Yeah, sure," said the young man. "Haven't you?"

"No, I haven't," replied Tommy.

"Then what are you waiting for?" said the miner. He grabbed Tommy's hand and 
dragged him towards a shuttle that had just arrived.

Tommy thought about resisting. "What the hell," he thought to himself, "I 
might as well enjoy myself before I start work." He raced towards the open 
doors of the shuttle.

End of Part I





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