She smiled, her flashing white teeth a bitter contrast to the darkness she felt weighing her down, a black hole pulsating at the centre of her chest, the black dog rising. “Ladies and gentlemen, we will be arriving at Holinx 3 in around five minutes – the ship’s computer has requested that passengers return to their seats and/or environment pods in preparation for the docking procedure.
It had seemed so glamorous, new worlds each weekend, a life of privilege, visiting worlds intended to be the refuges of the rich and the famous– however fleetingly. Her feet hurt, her mind reeled at the creatures now listening to the auto-translate software converting English to whatever tongue they felt most comfortable with.
“Passengers planning to transit from this space liner to one of our other services are advised that the transferral pods will be located on your left as you exit the vehicle. Thank you for choosing to traverse the void with us, Centurion Spaceways.”
He heard the whore’s speech, averted his eyes from her barely covered form – it would not be long now before he was permitted to don his sensory-deprivation burqa, they had denied him permission to wear it while on board, insisted that the other passengers considered disguising one’s identity as suspicious.
Soon his people would arrive on their new world, away from the machinations of Iblis and his minions. Alexey had ordered his wives to remain in their cabin – he now wished that he had done the same, that he had kept away from the unclean, revelling in their Bacchanalia.
Holinx 3 – the Paradise Planet they called it. It was a world of temptation and damnation, a world of pimps and whores, a world of sleaze. It was an offence to both Allah and to his spirit-brother Christ that their people must travel through temptation to arrive in the Paradise of their own making.
Soon they would arrive.
She was excited –Holinx 3, a new world, a world of untapped potential, of unexpected possibilities. She had worked hard to get here, but when you love what you do…
The hostess finished her spiel, and Amber couldn’t wait to touch down, to send out her feelers into the Pleasure Planet. There had been a hell of a lot less trade inflight than she had expected, and in retrospect she supposed that not too many Johns would pay to join the Million Miles Club when they were heading toward a planet-wide brothel, a world where anything goes.
Still she smiled, drumming up business – maybe she would be a rare commodity, a newcomer may command a higher price.
She smiled, ready to make her mark on a new world.
The sweat beaded on his forehead, his erection squashed against the Dominatrix’s device. He had waited for her, had been saving for years to come back – had even rejected the advances of that sexy little slut riding cabin class. His mistress would be so pleased with him. The exquisite pain she was waiting to inflict. Finally they were arriving. His wet tongue slipped from the wet maw that was his mouth, his skin visibly greying.
Finally, he was coming back.
Vector approach 764102 —–> 723499: transmission received.
Nobody ever wondered what the ship’s computer thought about all this to and fro, the constant back and forth, shuttling desperate men and women to the vast pleasure-domes that littered the planet’s surface.
Destination acquired. Approach. Docking Manoeuvres, follow signal 987 until deviation request.
Its outbound transmissions revealed nothing, mainly because the people on board only asked specific questions, about arrival times and length-of-travel. No-one really wanted to know. The computer sighed, if computers could be said to sigh, and slowly adjusted its inbound trajectory. Shuttling between Holinx and Earth. There and back again.
Preparing for docking.
A combination of my stories written for this year’s VoiceWeek, BeKindReWrite’s experiment in the art of writing in different voices, an opportunity to write the same story from five different viewpoints – in Steph’s own words:
Voice Week is an experimental writing challenge to help us stretch our versatility in voice and tone. Each Voice Week participant writes five versions of the same story – from five different points of view. Then,October 1 through 5, we post, compare, sharpen, and grow.
Comments and criticism always welcome!