The Seven Brides of Kane 01

Author’s Note: The eighth “first chapter” project. This is the last one before we start the polls to determine what people like best and what my next project, alongside Luther’s Pride and Harem House, should be. This idea is a space western, following Ezekiel Kane, a protagonist of questionable morals, traveling with precious cargo through an immoral void. The first chapter should give you an idea of the kind of Western I’m going for, establish the setting and its various conflicts, and introduce two potential romantic interests. I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think! 

~~~

It had been seven years since Sarah Dillon crossed the threshold of a bar. She’d prayed she’d never have to cross one again. The screens in the windows offered every pleasurable diversion to tempt a man, woman, or them. Drink, drugs, sex, and experiences physical and virtual were yours. Exchanging money for momentary diversions was an age-old tradition among the lower classes, and one that Sarah found understandable, if unfortunate. 

She braced herself at the door, doing her best to ignore the Synth bouncer who waited for her to enter so they could close the barrier. She stepped forward and had to remind herself that she wasn’t looking for her late husband among the sea of faces in the smoke-filled booths. She was after a different man entirely. 

It helped that this establishment bore no resemblance to the bars in Cheyenne Station. The uppers presented elegance and sophistication with their vices.

Her careful stride carried her through the crowd, even as the bar nearly choked her on its thick, sweat-laden atmosphere. Bodies of all shapes, sizes, genders, and origins gyrated on the open floor to music that wasn’t so much heard as felt. No ear could endure the volume indefinitely, but audio implants were cheap enough, she supposed. 

What little air didn’t contain sweaty aromas or pulsating music carried vapors from stale beer permeating the floor or the dozen or so pipes pumping their laced smoke toward the ceiling. 

She was the only one not having a good time. 

She stood out among the others on the floor as she pushed her way to the bar. Their outfits consisted of skin, with patches of leather held together by straps, buckles, and hope. Their unwashed hair, lack of jewelry, and total primal behavior assaulted her sensibilities. 

Finally, Sarah arrived at the bar and managed to wave down a bartender. It wasn’t that difficult. Her white pants and lace-trimmed white shirt stood out amid the dark, dirty clothing around her. Of the three young ladies working the bar, the one with the smallest set of tits and the most piercings approached. Their uniform of ruffled briefs, stockings, and garters bared every inch of skin above their hips. 

“I’m looking for someone!” Sarah said, having to shout over the music. 

The bartender laughed. “Aren’t we all?” 

“Ezekiel Kane!” Sarah said. “I was told he frequents this establishment!” 

“He what?” The girl asked. 

“He frequents this establishment!” Sarah said. 

“I don’t–” 

“He’s here all the time!” Sarah said, realizing what might be the problem. 

“Oh, yeah! He’s our head of security! Has a tab and everything!” The girl said. “But you’re not his type!” 

Sarah glared at the younger woman and sighed. “Where is he?” 

The younger woman pointed above and behind her. Sarah turned and raised her gaze to the VIP balcony overlooking the dance floor. Women in even less clothing than the bartender attended them with trays of food and drink. Some of the glass walls separating them from the carnal dancing downstairs were tinted black, giving their occupants privacy to engage in all kinds of primal activities. 

Sarah passed her expression of gratitude toward the young woman, who took the plastic chip with surprise, and quickly pushed it into her shorts. Sarah hoped they had a pocket of some kind sewn into the interior. 

Seeing the balcony and making her way there were two different prospects. She pushed her way through the crowd again, doing her best to ignore the music and the overwhelming noise. She made it to the stairs, only to find a man and a woman standing there, blocking her way. 

The man was a synth, tall and broad-shouldered, with muscles that no doubt had machinery behind them. His shiny silicon skin didn’t have any sweat on it, and the irises of his blue eyes had traces of gold circuitry in them as he stared at her. 

“This is the VIP section, please show identification!” The human-like voice had only the faintest resonance of a recording.  

Sarah glanced at the woman, flesh and blood. “Do you work here? I’m here to meet Ezekiel Kane.” 

“No, you’re not,” The woman said, shaking her head. She wore even less than the bartender, with a stringless thong that covered her pussy, and nothing else but gold piercings through her enormous breasts. Her rose-red hair covered some of her torso and shoulders, but it was nowhere near the coverage Sarah expected. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re not his type,” The woman said, chuckling. “He prefers women with bigger tits, and he’s not into uppity bitches.” 

Sarah’s shocked expression only seemed to amuse the young woman more. 

“Do you know who I am?” The two women said at the same time. 

“Bitch, please.” The woman said. “Get lost.” 

“My name is Sarah Dillon, and I’m here to meet Ezekiel Kane. You can ask him!” Sarah said, defiantly. “Or you can fetch your manager.” 

“Charles, introduce me.” The woman said. 

“Miss Sarah Dillon, may I present Molly O’Lorne?” the synth, Charles, asked. 

“Is that name supposed to mean something to me?” Sarah asked, eyeing the woman. 

“Where are you right now? Have you been hitting the pipes already?” Molly asked, laughing at Sarah. 

“Oh,” Sarah said as realization struck her like a fist. Molly O’Lorne, the owner of the club, Molly’s. 

“Yeah,” Molly said, putting a hand on her hip. “Sara Dillon, huh? What’s your business with Mister Kane?” 

“I’m here to offer him a job,” Sarah said. 

“He has a job,” Molly said, her eyes narrowing. 

“He’s a freelancer, correct? Not under contract?” Sarah asked. 

“True enough,” Molly said, not relenting in her stern expression. “How the fuck do you know him?” 

“He came recommended by a friend, and has a reputation that aligns with my needs.” 

“Oh, I bet he does,” Molly chuckled. “Alright, fine. Pay the VIP fee, and he’s in the third booth on the left, can’t miss him.”

Sarah woke the screen on her left wrist and brought up her payment code. She presented it to the synth, who eyed it for a moment. He blinked and nodded after a small chirp sounded. “170k creds withdrawn” flashed on the screen before it went dark. 

“Thank you! Enjoy your VIP experience! To purchase the services of any of our workers, simply scan your payment code against their collar. If you require any assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask me or any of the guards or servers upstairs.”  

Sarah glared at Molly’s surprised expression. The synth stepped aside and gestured for her to ascend the stairs. 

“Thanks so much for your help,” She said to Molly. 

“Don’t mention it,” Molly said, her eyes narrowing. “And good luck. You’ll need it.” 

Sarah ascended the stairs as they disappeared into the wall, turned, and ascended to the balcony above the floor. The music immediately faded as she left the staircase behind. The small glass-enclosed hallway behind the booths traveled left and right. Sarah turned left and followed it to the third booth from the stairs, which had a good view midway over the dance floor.  

The glass was dark, blocking her view of the interior. That was probably because of their impending meeting. She pushed her hand against the door, but it held fast against her, not budging. It chirped at her and showed her a closed, red padlock. 

She pressed the door knocker button in the center of the panel, and after a moment, the door slid to the side for her. The interior of the booth wasn’t as dark as she expected. They could see out just fine, but the exterior remained opaque. 

A low, cushioned sofa wrapped around the rectangular booth, with a low table in the center. The red leather seemed to glow whenever red light struck it from the dance floor. 

Inside, a man sat in profile to the door, and he didn’t rise to greet her. A black-haired Latina woman knelt before him, her head bobbing in his lap as she serviced him. Her long black hair curtained her face and his lap from view. The collar around her neck and her lack of any other clothing suggested her occupation. 

Sarah averted her eyes from the young woman’s round, spherical ass and met the gaze of the blue-eyed man. There was a calculating judgment in his eyes, as if he were determining whether to shoot her where she stood. 

There was no suggestion that the man was a gentleman. To the contrary, in his sleeveless denim coat, white undershirt, and open blue jeans, he appeared more like a miner on holiday. The stubble on his square jawline was several days old, which was a good indication of his last shower. The shine in his hair and the glare in his eye made Sarah uncomfortable as he stood in the doorway. 

“Mister Kane?” She asked. The man bore some resemblance to the military photo she'd seen, but the image had been clean-cut and in uniform. 

“Have a seat, Miss Dillon,” Kane gestured for her to sit in her choice of seat. She chose the seat across from him, though the glass table did nothing to block her view of the other woman. 

“Do you want me to come back in a few minutes?” Sarah asked. “This is… extremely unprofessional.” 

“It’s just a blowjob,” Kane said. “Do the uppers not enjoy the pleasures of the flesh?” 

He had to know they were more reserved than that. 

“We’re not animals, we reserve such… activities for the privacy of VR,” Sarah said. 

“Well, here in the lowers, sex is just part of the day. A good way for a girl like Calliope to earn an honest living,” Kane said, clearly watching Sarah to see if the slurp Calliope made bothered her at all. It did, but not in the moral fashion he likely suspected. Her reaction was entirely perverse, her heartbeat responding to the noises as if she were on her knees.

“And we can discuss business with her in the room?” Sarah asked. “The matter does require some confidentiality.” 

Kane nodded, closing his eyes in a slow blink that suggested Calliope had done something talented with her tongue. 

“I’m her subscriber,” Kane said. “Do they have those in the uppers?” 

“No,” Sarah said. “But I’ve heard of them in the lowers. It’s a crude term for an employer. You pay her a monthly salary negotiated by what she’s willing to do, up to and including personal services like–” 

“Like what she’s doing, yeah,” Kane said when Sara drifted off. 

“And she does her duty for the length of the contract,” Sarah said.

“Right on the first try,” Kane said. “Her contract includes a non-disclosure agreement, some professional work, and some personal clauses, so anything you’d say to me you can say in front of her without fear.” 

“Okay,” Sarah said, nodding. “It’s uh, it’s nice to meet you, Calliope.” She realized now why others had chuckled when she said she was meeting Kane. They thought she was trying to make him a subscriber, probably because they thought her outfit marked her as a high-class performer. And Calliope’s body was more voluptuous than hers. 

Sarah’s tall, lithe form was graceful, but not curvy. The puffed shoulders of her top made her look broader than she was, which made the taper of her torso to her waist appear more dramatic than it was. Her slender legs complemented her slim hips, and she considered her long legs her most attractive feature. Her breasts and behind were well-shaped, but small. The thickest part of her was her long black hair, which curled naturally into a bushy mess behind her. Her tan skin contrasted sharply with the white clothes she wore. The lace top showed her skin beneath its pattern, but hid her nipples and navel. She presented an image of seductive elegance, without any of the crude nudity so ignorantly displayed in the lowers. 

Voluptuous Calliope lifted her head off Kane’s cock long enough to say, “Nice to meet you.” Then she resumed her activities with greater enthusiasm without waiting for a response.  

“Would you like a cigar?” Kane asked. “Something to drink?” 

“No, thank you,” Sarah said. She found lifting her eyes from Calliope to be a Herculean task. She hadn’t expected the woman to have such a gorgeous face. 

“Never seen a blowjob before?” Kane asked. 

“Uh, not in real life,” Sarah admitted, blushing. “It’s different in VR, I guess. But in the uppers we don’t…” 

“I know,” Kane said, chuckling as he puffed his cigar. “Just don’t condescend to us lowers because we’re a bit more primal.”

People like Sarah had neural implants that make physical sex boring by comparison. They enjoyed VR stimulation and didn’t have to worry about physical side effects. 

“That doesn’t mean we aren’t without certain, base desires,” Sarah said. Her body still reacted to certain base stimuli. 

“You want to take a turn?” 

“Sucking your dick?” Sarah asked. “No, thank you.” 

“Or with Calliope. She’s into chicks too, and so long as we both consent and I get to watch it, it doesn’t violate our contract.” 

“Maybe later,” Sarah said, to be polite. “Right now, I’d like to talk to you.” 

“Shoot,” Kane said. “Father Matty said you’re looking for a security specialist?” 

“Yes,” Sarah said. “Exactly.” 

“How long is the job, what are the details, and how much are you paying?” Kane asked. 

“Is it okay if I start at the beginning? I prepared a presentation.” Sarah said, straightening in her seat. 

“By all means,” Kane said, gesturing to the space between them. “Give Calliope a proper challenge.” 

Sarah pretended not to know what he meant by that and tapped the screen on her left wrist. She flicked her finger toward the space over the table. A projection hovered between them, showing images she’d curated for her presentation. A planet hovered and spun, one that Kane scrutinized. 

“This is Dotellus,” Sarah said. “It’s the colony planet in Vega.” 

Recognition dawned in Kane’s eyes, and he nodded.

Sarah changed the slide to the image of an older woman who looked a little like Sarah. “My mother is an executive in a company called Xynth Trad.” 

“I’m familiar with it,” Kane said, his eyes narrowing slightly. 

“She’s spearheading a new initiative called Tradmatch to solve one of the problems that Dotellus is facing,” Sarah explained. “As you know, Dotellus has recently been declared viable as a colony planet. Xynth Trad is one of many corporations that contracted with the UE government for a colony. Unfortunately, it’s an arduous journey, and the female population in our colony has dwindled, making others reluctant to move out there. Thirty percent of the original Xynthian settlers were women, a record high for initial colonists. With fatalities during the infrastructure process, that number has plummeted to five percent of the population.” 

Kane gave a low whistle. It was dangerous work to establish a survivable planet colony, even with synths.

Sarah nodded. “Currently, there are one hundred sixty-three thousand, three hundred thirty-seven individuals in our colony, producing a female population of eight thousand one hundred sixty-six.” 

“How many of them are currently paired or married to Dotellus males?” Kane asked. 

“Seven-hundred thirty-six.”

“Wow,” Kane said, chuckling slightly as he inhaled on his cigar. “Dotellus men must be really unlikeable.” 

“That’s part of the problem,” Sarah admitted. “The other problem is that women from overpopulated planets who would thrive in a more rustic environment aren’t matching with men they’ll get along with, and that’s the problem Tradmatch hopes to solve.”

“Protect the company’s investment by getting women out there to fuck ‘n breed, got it,” Kane said, summarizing her point far more crudely than Sarah thought possible. 

“What we’re doing now is a field test,” Sarah said, ignoring the gagging noises Calliope made as she held her head still against the base of Kane’s cock. “We’re shipping out our first wave of volunteers.” 

“And how many are you shipping out, exactly?” 

“A dozen, including myself.” Sarah sat straighter in her chair, as if her involvement were a noble act. “My parents will be joining us on the voyage, as well as a priest.” 

“A priest?” Kane asked. 

“Did Father Mathias not mention it? He’s coming to facilitate any marriages that will hopefully result from the matchmaking process,” Sarah said, as if she shouldn’t have had to explain that part. 

“Okay, but only a dozen?” Kane asked, surprised. “It takes more than that to save a colony.” 

He was right about that. Not to mention their corporate rivals having more successful colonies. But Sarah prepared what to say when she practiced this presentation with her mother.

“We’re still in Alpha,” Sarah said, “and we carefully chose those dozen from the highest percentile matches from over three thousand test applicants. Once we can verify the application’s success and the algorithm’s potential errors, we’ll be able to certify and arrange for more frequent transport.” 

“Sounds lucrative for Xynth Trad,” Kane said. 

It would be, if it worked. 

“And you, if you take the job,” Sarah said. 

“Why me?” Kane asked. 

A fair question. After all, why not hire a security expert from among the uppers?

“My mother has had some difficulty securing security contracts,” Sarah said, trying to hide her nerves as they brushed the topic she’d hoped to avoid. “She has a competitor who’s doing everything they can to block our progress. They're also building a matchmaking app for their colony on Dotellus. They don’t even have a working algorithm yet, but they have enough money, power, and influence to make other companies wary of working with us for fear of retaliation. It’s uppers politics.”

There was also the matter of trust. Xynth Trad couldn’t trust most of the security officers in the uppers because you never knew who might’ve already bought their loyalty. 

“Hm,” Kane hummed, thinking or reacting to Calliope’s efforts, Sarah couldn’t tell. 

Sarah coughed. “It’s also dangerous work. Space travel isn’t without its dangers, as you well know.” 

Space was a lawless place, with no government bigger than the ship it was on. Technology protected them from many natural dangers, but their strength of arms was their only defense against pirates, raiders, and other rogue elements. 

“Hm,” Kane agreed.

“We need someone capable of operating the ship's defenses, and we'll need protection on the journey. Someone our competitor can't coerce.” 

“So you come to someone expendable, who doesn’t give a fuck about your politics, isn’t in someone else’s pocket, has good personal references, and is likely to shoot anyone who tries to stop him from making decent money,” Kane surmised. 

Sarah blanched. Uppers typically had more tact than to state everything in such simple terms. “Well, that, and uh, someone we can trust not to try their luck with any of the volunteers,” Sarah said. “That part is important.” 

“I might be more human than machine, and I’m certainly willing to do some unsavory things, but I’m not a rapist, Miss Dillon,” Kane said, annoyance clear in his tone. 

“No, I know that. I mean, Father Mathias assured me you weren’t. But to be clear, I don’t want you seducing them either. These women are not yours to flirt with; they have their matches waiting for them in the colony. I don’t want you interfering with the program’s results. Plus, you’re a subscriber, so if you’re afflicted with any of your base needs, you have someone to take care of that for you.” Sarah said, rushing through her defense. 

“So there’s room on this voyage for Calliope?” Kane asked. 

“Of course,” Sarah said. “We’re traveling in style.” 

“I can assume Xynth Trad has a ship, then?” Kane asked. 

Sarah nodded and changed the image to that of the ship. The Artemis was a small passenger cruiser compared to some of the vessels in Xynth Trad's fleet, but she considered it impressive. 

“State-of-the-art luxury, military grade defense systems, staffed by synths, and stocked for our sixth-month journey through voidspace.” 

It'd take time to reach the wormhole into voidspace just outside Sol, then they'd have to spend a few months traveling through the passage, until they reached the Vega system's gate, before making their way to the planet. A generational journey one thousand years ago, now in six months with minimal time dilation. 

Kane didn't look impressed. 

“I’ll need to inspect the ship and see its specs before we leave, to determine security protocols and vulnerabilities,” Kane said. 

“Of course,” Sarah agreed. “It’s docked at Cheyenne Station; you’re welcome to come and see it after you sign the contract.” 

“When do you need an answer?” Kane asked. 

Sarah turned off her projection, giving her a clearer view of Kane and Calliope still working his shaft. Calliope held it in one hand, kissing the side of his length above her fist. She massaged it with her lips, then pumped him for several strokes before she sucked him into her mouth again. Kane wasn't the biggest Sarah had seen, except perhaps in real life, but it was a respectable, intriguing size and shape. The way Calliope affectionately pleasured him made her wonder if their relationship was strictly professional. Then again, that was the performer’s job.

“Miss Dillon?” Kane asked, drawing his hand from beside Calliope’s head to his eyes. “My eyes are up here.” 

“I’m sorry, what was I saying?” Sarah asked, embarrassment heating her face into a furnace. 

“When do you need an answer?” Kane repeated the question. 

“I was hoping you’d say yes before I left.” 

“Not a chance,” Kane shook his head. “I might owe Father Matty a favor, and even trust you about as far as I can throw you, but I need time to research any potential employers before I agree to work for them. It’s good business.” 

Father Mathias warned Sarah that this might be Kane's answer, but it was no indication of whether he'd take the job. It only meant he hadn’t rejected it yet. 

“How much time do you need?” Sarah asked. 

“Not much. I'll let you know by tomorrow.”

“Very well, Mister Kane,” Sarah said, seeing the sense of his suggestion. “Let me know your answer as soon as you can, and we’ll sign the contracts.” She tapped the screen on her wrist, and a woosh transferred the file from her to Kane, who checked his left forearm for the contract. 

“I’ll have my people get in touch with your people,” Kane said, still seated. “Now enjoy your night. Oh, and if you see Molly, maybe apologize for how you treated her earlier. She’s better as a friend than an enemy.” 

Sarah tried not to let her annoyance at the lack of protocol and the dismissal show on her face, but she let the insult pass. “If I see her, I will,” Sarah said, rising. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kane. Calliope.” 

Neither offered her an answer on her way out. The door slid shut behind her, and she was in the smoke-free air of the hallway once more. Was it just her, or had the end of their meeting been abrupt? She wondered if he’d spared her from witnessing the consequence of Calliope’s efforts. 

And how had he known about her conversation with Molly? Oh, right. He was the head of security here. That meant he had access to their cameras. He'd probably been watching her since she arrived. 

Sarah breathed deeply through her nose. Mister Kane’s cigar hadn’t been overly odorous, but it was still more smoke than she was accustomed to breathing. 

She descended the staircase, hoping that Molly had moved away from the stairs by now. Unfortunately, she had no such luck. 

“Could Mister Kane afford two subscriptions?” Molly asked, as if she already knew the answer. 

“Sure,” Sarah said, shrugging. “In about six months.” 

Molly looked slightly confused, but chuckled as if Sarah had made a joke. 

“Look, I apologize for my rudeness earlier,” Sarah said. “It was unbecoming, and I will be more careful of it in the future.” 

Molly stared at her, looking her up and down as if measuring every inch of her. Finally, she kept her eyes locked on Sarah’s. Instinct told her to look away, but Sarah steeled herself and held the gaze, squaring her shoulders. 

Molly smiled. “Oh, please, you’re not even the worst customer I dealt with in those five minutes,” She said, waving away Sarah’s concerns. “I hope you’ll stay and enjoy yourself? If you were telling the truth, we don’t often get customers from the upper stations around here.” 

“No, thank you. I only came down because Mr. Kane insisted on meeting in person, for some reason.” Sarah said. She’d begged Father Matthias, but he assured her this was the only way. 

“Yeah, he’s like that,” Molly nodded. “Old-fashioned Mr. Kane prefers to see your soul, as he calls it.” 

“See my soul?” 

Molly tapped the side of her head by his eye. “He reads people. According to him, he can tell if a man’s dishonest at a hundred paces.”  

“What’s his secret?” Sarah asked. 

“He has yet to meet an honest man,” Molly said, then laughed so hard she snorted. The synth beside her didn’t crack a smile. It stood as resolute as a statue, waiting with Sarah for Molly to recover. 

“Right, well, have a good evening, Miss O’Lorne,” Sarah said. “I hope you can do without your freelancer for a few months.” 

Molly’s laughter died. “Has he signed the contract yet?”

“Not yet,” Sarah said. “I expect he’s researching what I told him with his sub right now.”

“Calliope,” Molly said, nodding. “Sweet woman, great ass, don’t you think?” 

“Heh,” Sarah said, laughing politely. “Yes, she’s lovely.” 

“If you’re interested in a subscription of your own, we’ve got plenty of candidates, male, female, nonby, or even synth, if you’re into attachments with attachments.” Molly cracked herself up again, laughing as she patted Charles on the back.  

It was a humorous enough joke, Sarah supposed, but nowhere near as funny as Molly seemed to think. “No, thank you, I’m spoken. I’m on my way to meet my new, eh, husband, soon.”

“Heh. You might be spoken, but they’re bespoke!” Molly said. 

Sarah laughed. “That was actually quite clever.” 

Molly chuckled. “Not everyone down here is dumb, just like not everyone up there is dishonest, at least not any more than anyone else.” 

“Right,” Sarah said, confused as to whether she should take that as an insult. Sarah considered herself an honest person, after all, and she hadn’t told any lies when speaking with Kane. She might have left some details out of their conversation, but everyone did that. He couldn’t hold that against her. Or at least, he shouldn’t. 

It wasn’t her fault that uppers had the reputation for being greedy, sneaking, and conniving bastards. 

“I should be going,” Sarah said, nodding slightly to Molly. “Take care.” 

Molly waved farewell as Sarah left, already moving on to the next person waiting to talk to her. 

Sarah pushed her way through the crowd again, reaching the doors and passing over the threshold once more. The night air was hardly freeing, but her shoulders dropped as she left the bar behind. Whatever Kane’s reasoning was for meeting in person, the next time they met, it would be in her territory. 

Did he just want to verify that she wasn’t a synth? Or perhaps it was a lurid desire to show off his sub, or something equally primal about seeing her flesh. She shuddered at the thought despite the warm seventy-five-degree night. The city’s temperature was so much warmer than Cheyenne Station. 

The crowded streets only increased the heat through friction, as people walked in opposing directions on either side of the landing lane. Each individual seemed to act as though they were alone in the city, even as they clutched their possessions to keep them from others. 

The lowers didn’t have enough law enforcement to keep up with the population, and too many people felt entitled to whatever they could take. 

Sarah pushed a few buttons on her wrist screen and waited for her carrier at the curb. A steel rail marked the boundary of the landing lane and the pedestrian walkways, and she stood at its edge.

More than one lewd lower made noises at her, offering to subscribe for the night, or inviting her to participate in all kinds of activities she couldn’t imagine doing sober in real life. 

She ignored them. She didn’t wear a collar, so she didn’t understand why people thought she was trying to seduce them. However, she solved the mystery while she waited. 

Her vehicle arrived as a trio of women in white turned the corner, yelling at her that this was their street. Their clothes were nowhere near as lovely or as covering as her own, but the unity in color was visible from a distance. Their white coverings were dingier, older, and more clogged with smoke or grime than hers, but still recognizably white.  

Her carrier landed. The smooth white vehicle looked like half an egg, with a single bench inside its opaque-from-the-outside hull. She pressed her hand to the side, and the red padlock on the seamless door blinked green as the instant scan unlocked the vehicle. She slid inside, and the door shut behind her. 

The dashboard before her lit up. “Welcome back, Sarah! Where are we off to this evening? Would you like to return home? Visit a friend? Go clubbing? Or see what’s in the area? Warning: Cheyenne Station does not recommend sightseeing in this area.”

Sarah dismissed the warnings, knowing well enough why. The trio of women had stopped as they saw her carrier, a class well above what anyone here could afford. Several people passed by, eyeing her vehicle as if they were one iron bar away from a whole new lifestyle. She wasn’t ready to start the journey yet, but she wanted a moment to breathe the filtered air and felt safe enough with the hull between her and the lowers outside. 

She replayed the conversation with Kane in her head as she sat on the bench, staring ahead. 

Had he said he owed Father Mathias a favor? Wasn’t this job offer a favor from Father Mathias? 

“Pull up the file on Ezekiel Kane, please.” 

The screen in front of her changed to an image of the man she’d just left. He was much more pulled together, clean-shaven, and even handsome in a United Earth military uniform. His record showed him contracted at eighteen, renewed several times, until four years ago when he retired into the private sector as a freelancer. Why would someone give up all the benefits of military service for work without regard to their health, education, and lifestyle? 

“This is all the information we have on him?” She asked, hoping there was more than the picture, his name, and a military record. 

“No social information, family history, nothing?” Sarah asked, incredulous. 

“These results are a culmination of all of Mr. Kane’s publicly available information. Private information may be available with independent investigation fees.” 

Sarah frowned, stroking her chin. 

“Alert! There is–” 

The computer warbled, stuttered, and faded into silence. The dashboard lights faded and went out. Sarah looked around herself and saw a large man grinning at her through the window. She could see out, but he couldn’t see in, could he? 

A magnetic charge on the hood of the vehicle sizzled. He’d disabled her vehicle. The hull was now transparent on both sides. He was indeed looking directly at her, as if he saw a pile of money instead of a person. 

The brazenness was unbelievable. Sarah’d heard warnings that this area was chaos. There weren’t enough police to go around, and lowers had the attitude of taking what they could, especially from uppers. They didn’t see thievery, murder, and worse sins as lawless or immoral if they acted against those who lived above them. 

Sarah didn’t want to think about what the leer on the man’s face meant. Ransom would only get him caught, and unlike Lower Cheyenne, Cheyenne Station had no shortage of law enforcement. No, if he breached the hull, she wouldn’t see her parents again. 

One of the three women in white cheered as a device on the door thundered and the seal popped. The large man jostled the vehicle as he wrestled with the mechanism to open it, even as Sarah pressed the lock button. Unfortunately, with the systems off, the vehicle didn’t respond to the command. 

“Oh, shit,” Sarah reached for the firearm in the compartment, but with the systems offline, there was no way to open the emergency box without a physical key, which was probably somewhere in her father’s hangar. “Shit!” 

The large man pried the door open, smiling as he reached in for her. Sarah pressed herself against the wall, kicking at him while avoiding the man’s grasp as he tried to catch her leg with every kick. Furious stabs with her foot found no purchase as she avoided his arm and stayed as far away from him as the door behind her would allow. 

“I’ll pay you!” Sarah said, “Just let me–” 

Then, as suddenly as the brief, terrifying fiasco had started, it was over. There were no sirens, no lights, just a loud, controlled explosion, a burning smell, and the man fell forward. She screamed, kicking him, and a large, masculine hand grabbed her attacker’s shoulder and hauled his body out of her vehicle. She saw his face, his surprised, dead face as the life left his eyes. 

“Don't.” She heard a man's voice warning someone, but it sounded far away to her.

Three more gunshots thundered through the air, making her clamp her hands over her ears.

Kane holstered the pistol in the hip holster on his belt. He stood much taller than Sarah expected, and his blue eyes shone. He huffed through his nose and cracked his knuckles. Then he turned around and looked into the car. 

Calliope stood behind him, the top of her head reaching his shoulder. She remained as naked as the day she was born except for her sleek calf-high boots and her collar. Her dark brown eyes met Sarah’s, and then Sarah’s flicked to Kane’s cold blue eyes staring at her. 

“I’ll take the job,” Kane said. He reached over and plucked the magnetic charge from her hood, tossing it away. 

The vehicle’s computer flickered, booting up as if she’d turned it off. 

“I can’t believe you were dumb enough to fly this thing down here,” Kane said. “You really do need someone to protect you.” 

Sarah wasn’t sure how to respond to that. The whole experience numbed her. She’d heard of the brutality the lowers showed the uppers, but she hadn’t really believed it until now. Reports exaggerated, and did their best to prompt bias against the lowers. She’d never expected any of them to target her the way they did. There might be some truth to “not all lowers” being that way, but enough of them were that Kane thought her driving here was stupid. 

“Lucky you were on the cameras, and Molly let us know what was happening.” Calliope pointed to the building behind her. 

“You’d best get home, Miss Dillon. I’ll send you the signed documents and meet you at Cheyenne Station in the morning to inspect the ship. Okay?” Kane waited for a response.

Sarah nodded, not sure what else to say. 

“Yeah, she’s not okay,” Calliope said. “Want me to go with her?” 

“Yeah. I’ll grab your things from my place.” Kane said, kissing Calliope before she slid into the seat beside Sarah. Sarah added her biometrics to the guest profile when the computer signaled that it didn’t recognize her. “Okay, see you soon.” 

Kane closed the door. The computer alerted Sarah that the seal wasn’t functional and asked her to wait a moment while it performed the necessary repairs. She’d have to take it into the shop on Cheyenne Station, but it’d be enough to get home. 

She and Calliope sat in silence until it finished.

“Cheyenne Elevator, please,” Sarah said, and the car began to move. 

Kane waited for them to leave before abandoning his post beside the car. Four bodies — the large man and the three women in white — lay around him. Their guns were still in their hands until Kane removed them. He signaled the synths at the door to Molly’s, and they began hauling the bodies away. 

“I think I owe your boss a bonus, and he hasn’t even signed on yet,” Sarah said. 

“I wouldn’t worry about it. Zeke likes killing people. He probably did those for free.” Calliope said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. 

“He–” Sarah hesitated, unsure of how to respond to that. 

“People who deserve it, I should say.” Calliope amended. “I’ve never seen him kill an honest man.” 

The comment made her recall Molly's joke. Sarah laughed, sparsely at first, and then she tilted into a full-on giggle as the vehicle left the streets of Lower Cheyenne behind and flew toward the elevator station that would take her home.