Beyond the Rim

Below the ship ran a wasteland of reddish dunes, like the remnants of a petrified ocean. Whirlwinds whipped across the land, obscuring the series of low dry hills up ahead. Then, a green oasis spread out beneath us, uninvaded by winds. A red compound rose out of the ground, a sprawling building with multiple domes. Right at the edge of the desert stood a landing pad and a hangar. A pod was taxiing to the other end as we landed.

The guard beside me said, “Well, slave, here we are. Rimworld 1528, otherwise known as Zodiak Prime. Nice place, but I wouldn’t want to live here.” He chuckled. “Seriously, the senator is a good master; we’ve done a lot of business with him. His daughter now, from what I’ve heard, she’s a bit of a loose cannon, so I don’t know what you can expect from her. Could want you for anything from a guard to a customix. Wouldn’t want to be in your shoes with the last one—never know how those unapproved genhancements can backfire.”

They undid my restraints and pulled me out of the chair. Then we stepped out onto the landing pad. The leather of my uniform creaked as I walked, my boots scrunching on the springy surface.

At the huge arched entranceway, a man and a woman in blue strode up to us, both tall and well-built with sleek sidearms.

“Good afternoon,” said the woman. “You are right on time.”

“Ranior always delivers,” said the guard on my left.

“The senator will be pleased. Thank you.” She grabbed my wrist. She was about three inches taller than me, as was her companion, who grabbed my other wrist. They held me securely between them.

One guard held out his hand, palm downwards; the woman passed her hand over his, their ID chips transferring credits. “Transaction completed,” she said, and turned on her heel, the man on my left spinning with her, in perfect tandem. Ranior’s guards’ footsteps echoed away and were lost in the hum of the wind.

We walked down the long corridor. I caught glimpses out of the arched windows of rows of manicured trees, some varieties I’d never seen before—twisty, black fernlike things with spines. A few large brown animals hopped past at high speed, but I couldn’t get a good glimpse of them.

At the end of the hall, a huge iron door loomed before us. The man touched the pad beside the door and it creaked open. We stepped into a vast hallway with vaulted ceilings, a high window throwing sunlight onto the floor.

A few people, who I assumed were servants, disappeared through doors on either side of the hallway without glancing at us.

The guards stopped. I tugged against their grip experimentally; their hands tightened around my wrists with equal pressure.

A door on the left side of the hall opened. Through it burst the girl who had bought me. Or who her father had bought me for. Either way, I was hers.

She raced over to us. “Hi! Daddy said Ranior’s never late, but I didn’t believe him.” She lunged toward me, gave me a kiss on the cheek, then stepped back, eyes narrowed. “Yeah, you look good in that uniform. I’d be the envy of everybody, if I could tell them.

“Okay, come on, take him to my quarters.”

“But your father—” said the woman.

“Daddy’s in a holoconference; he’ll be there for hours. We can’t stay standing here that long, can we?” She strode toward the door, and the guards took me through after her.

The hall branched off toward the right, and we followed her until we reached another open area with a domed ceiling, sunlight pouring in through the skylight. The girl—Stace—twirled in the sunlight, arms spread out, green skirt flaring, revealing black boots that rose to her thighs. Then she skipped through a door on the right and they brought me inside.

It was a spacious room with a floor-to-ceiling window that looked out on the oasis, tall palm-like trees circling a small lake where black swans swam. On the far side of the room sat a bed; in various heaps all over the room lay instruments, clothes, gadgets, styling gear, jewelry. She stepped on, around and through these, while the man and woman held me in the doorway.

“Would you like us to stay with you?” said the woman.

“No, Ginj. I want to be alone with my new acquisition. Besides, I have this if he gets out of hand.” She held up her hand, something black strapped to the center of her palm.

The woman nodded reluctantly, and they both disappeared through the door, which closed behind them.

Stace ran back over to me and stood right in front of me, looking up into my face. Her hair still stuck out at all angles, but today it was tipped with green, the same color as her eyes. Her pupils were heart-shaped, but I didn’t know whether it was a genhancement or merely a temp external.

She reached up and touched my face. Then she kicked her boots together, and the heels extended so she rose until her face was at my level.

“This is the height I’d be if Daddy would let me. But no, I can’t get any more gens until I’m eighteen.” Her lower lip pouted, revealing gems on the inside of it. “I was having so many fits to get gens Dad got tired of it and said if I didn’t stop he wouldn’t get me my own slave. Well, I stopped. For like six whole months. And now I’ve got you.” She threw her arms around my neck, planted a kiss on my forehead.

She turned and stepped over the piles of stuff. “Yeah, looks like a whirlwind went through here, but I don’t let anyone touch my things, even slaves. Except you of course. Come on,” she beckoned, and bounced down onto the bed.

I stayed at the doorway. “Well, come on! I don’t want to have to use this, not on our first day together.” She raised her hand, revealing the little black device on her palm. I assumed it corresponded with the transponder in my arm that would punish me if I didn’t obey.

I walked forward, trying not to step on her things, and sat down beside her. The broad window spread before us, a panorama that showed, beyond the greenery, a wall of savage red.

“This world has no moon, you know,” said Stace. “So it has like four hundred mile-an-hour winds. The only reason we can have trees and things is because of the force field barrier. If we didn’t have the oasis or the town, I’d go crazy.”

She reached up to touch my hair, and then buried her fingers in it. “I always wanted red hair—I mean, I changed mine to red, but it’s not, you know, really red. Daddy and Mom wanted a brunette, and so they made me a brunette, but red’s the best. There’s only like one percent reds in the whole population now. There’s lots that were genhanced that way, but you—you’re unique. I wanted somebody unique like you.”

She pulled my neck forward, down toward her. I didn’t resist, but neither did I act with any feeling whatsoever. There was no use in feeling; I’d avoid that at all costs. Cut myself off from the past. Feel nothing in the present.

That was my philosophy, which I’d partly outlined on the way here, trying to avoid any image or word that would invade my mind and remind me of …what had happened.

She pressed her lips to mine, then she climbed onto my lap, still kissing me. She dug her fingers deep into my hair, then slid her arms down and unlatched the back of my shirt, undoing each latch until it hung loose off the front of me. She stepped down and pulled it, sliding it off my arms, and added it to a pile of clothes on the floor.

She clapped her hands. “I can’t believe I found you.” She sat back on the bed beside me, and traced her finger down my chest. “It’s amazing you’re mine.”

I felt a twinge of apprehension. She could not force me to do anything, but she could inflict pain with that palm device.

“Don’t worry, I won’t force you to go, you know, too far,” she said. “Daddy doesn’t want me to, but that’s not the reason. I don’t want your body unless you love me, and I can’t force that. Doesn’t mean I won’t get carried away. I just got you, after all.” She smiled and sat on the bed, legs crossed. “So, all I know about you is from the official records, and those just have boring stuff like what grades you got in school. What was your life like, before you came here?”

I didn’t feel like talking or doing anything, but I didn’t want any trouble either. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, if I worked around the things that hurt. Like if I told her of my teen years—maybe she could relate to that, anyway.

Stace seemed a bit rebellious and spoiled, but also, despite her attitude, rather lonely. Giving her a slave was automatically corrupting her, but I would do as little as possible to facilitate that. Even if it meant more pain? I wasn’t ready to commit to that, but maybe I was willing to be, if not a friend to this girl, then someone she could talk to. And hope for escape? No. But perhaps hope to feel human again.