COMPANY OF ADVENTURERS

Dita woke in her cell. Her home for the past three years held only her narrow bed, a small metal table bolted to the wall, a bamboo chair and a sink/commode that could fold into the wall when not in use. The sun had edged around Unix, once more sending its searing rays past the planet’s edge to its moon Hoosegow, and across the prison compound.

Yesterday’s p-suit, that necessary undergarment for spacers, hung over the back of the chair, drying. Her other p-suit, already washed and dried, was ready to put on under the orange jumpsuit she had been wearing for a week.

Dita pulled on the familiar snug undergarment which, along with her own footwear, was all she had been allowed to retain while she served her sentence. The once black fabric had greyed, and was even more bleached at the crotch, but it still fit snugly and supported her breasts against unwanted movement.

She knelt and folded her hands, praying to every god she had ever heard tell, that her father and her brother still be alive when she left Hoosegow. And that they would not know she was free and looking for them.

Then she used her toilet for the last time that day, pulled up her footwear, tight kneehigh fabric with a thick sole, and slid in the shivs she had made from bamboo chopsticks traded with kitchen staff for sexual favours. She donned the grubby jumpsuit, brushed her teeth, washed her face and rubbed her tightly cropped scalp with her new wash cloth.

Outside a klaxon squawked, letting the prisoners know that the canteen was open. She checked that she had all her equipment secured out of sight then unlocked her door. The timer snicked behind her, closing the cell for the next 15 hours. Dita stepped out onto the balcony of the jailblock.

Along the balcony Little Pussy and Big Pussy, acknowledged monarchs of this section sat braiding their hair. Dita politely asked if they wanted anything from the cafeteria.

“Guards will bring our breakfasts soon, thanks for the offer,” Little Pussy told her.

Big Pussy said, “Lumpia?”

“If they got ’em, you got’em,” Dita said. Feeding Big Pussy was always a good plan. The greasier the better.

Dita trotted across the yard to the cafeteria. She had arrived earlier than most of the prisoners and none of her small crew could be seen. There was a cluster of new faces, short timers in red coveralls with yellow stripes down the sides. Boys really, talking loudly in an effort to sound tough but looking about nervously.

She strode past them and grabbed a tray. The buffet was plentiful, with scrambled eggs, cold toast, rice , miso, smoked fish, hot and cold vegetables, pies and pastries. There was also a big pan of juicy fruit salad. The melons, berries, and citrus not grown in Hoosegow’s hydroponic farm, and must have arrived with the new prisoners.

The bureaucrats on Third Rock were firm believers in ‘bread and circuses’. Keeping the peace on Hoosegow with hearty meals and organized sports. All the games being cooperative rather than competitive. At least in theory.

Dita filled her tray with eggs and rice, added some spicy salsa and poured a paper cup of tepid coffee and milk. She took a large helping of the fruit, the juices running into the rest of the food on her tray. The trusty passed her a bamboo spoon.

The new boys had worked out how the cafeteria operated and were filling their own trays. One of the boys, almost as tall as Dita, but heavy built like a dirtsider rather than Dita’s slender spacer body,

grinned and winked at her. Startled by his strange eyes, which were an unsettling bright blue, she nodded curtly.

She took her tray and the bamboo spoon back to the disposal rack, then returned for another paper cup of coffee. There were no lumpia, but there were small sausages, glistening with fat, so she filled another cup with a dozen of those for Big Pussy.

Her gift was well received.

“Damn that Gregor. He didn’t bring N’Goya an me no meat this morn,” Little Pussy complained. “Them guards tryin to starve us?”

Big Pussy slapped Dita’s rump, a sign of approval. Dita smiled automatically. Safe for one more day.

It was Eightday and Dita was not on work rota. She spent her morning pleasantly in the library, studying for her pilot’s license. The new boys turned up in the library as she was leaving, skylarking and laughing. Ms. Bookertee, a trustee who had claimed the library as her domain, tried to shush them, but being new they were ignoring her, until Blue Eyes called them to order. As she left, Dita saw him speaking politely to Ms. Bookertee. She grinned. He probably didn’t know how smart a move that was. Perhaps he would survive his time.

She met her crew at lunch. Bitchface, Bimbette and Sillyboy. They decided to find another crew for a few rounds on the hazard track. As the women headed to the game grounds of the prison, Dita felt cramping in her belly. At first she ignored it but then it intensified. “Oh bloody hell, “ she muttered, “I gotta shit right now.”

“Want us to go with?” asked Bitchface.

“Nah, don’t look like the shitter is occupied, I’ll just run in. Damn that fruit salad.”

Dita approached the common latrine with caution. She could see three sides of the small building and there was no sound from behind it. She decided her need was greater than the possible dangers and dashed inside the door.

She chose the cubicle furthest from the entrance and closed the floor to ceiling shoji behind her. Quickly she stripped her jumpsuit off and grimacing hung it carefully away f rom the puddled floor.

Her bowels were cramping badly now. Her p-suit could easily handle sweat and urine, that was how it got its name, but its other function , supporting blood circulation under zero gee, meant it fitted snugly and was not quickly removable.

Clenching her buttocks, Dita peeled down the suit until it was at her knees. That would have to do.

Before she could sit, there were noises outside the cubicle. Men’s voices, at least three.

“See now , Freddie? Told you I’d find you something nice for yer birthday.” There were rough guffaws from the men and a hand punched through the paper and bamboo door, leaving Dita almost naked to the men’s lascivious gaze.

“Get out.” she snapped.

The men laughed again and their leader, not as tall as she was, but much heavier grabbed her arm, pulling her into the open area. “See, now, ain’t that a nice present, Freddie?”

With her legs hobbled by the p-suit, Dita was pushed against the sink. “Lookit that pretty ass, Freddie. Even nicer than Joe’s, ain’t it? Show her your weapon, boy!”

Dita was being held by her neck and her arms dangled down her sides. She felt another hand on her bottom and what was probably Freddie’s penis. With that she loosed her bowels, and the two men closest to her squealed in shock and disgust.

She found her shivs she had hidden in her footwear and pulled them out, feeling a sharp edge slash her calf as she did.

The men had let her go and jumped back. As she turned, shivs in hand, the men were moving from disgust to anger.

Her foot caught in the p-suit and she fell to the wet floor. The men crowded in, swearing.

Dita took a deep breath trying to decide her next move, when she heard laughter as the youngsters she had seen earlier in the cafeteria, entered.

They stopped in shock. Then the boy with bright blue eyes gestured with his chin and his posse went into action.

They took great pleasure in fighting the older men, but at best were heading for a draw. All of them ignored the woman sprawled on the filthy floor.

When a boy knocked Freddie to the floor, Dita changed the odds by stabbing her attacker in the neck. Blood spurted all over and the fighters stopped in horror at the escalation. Still on the filthy floor, Dita slashed at the back of the knees of another man, knocking him off his feet and leaving him howling. With no allies left, the big leader dashed for the door.

Blue Eyes helped Dita to her feet. Turning her back, she pulled off the filth smeared p-suit and used it to clean her naked body as much as possible.

She moved to a cleaner row of sinks and rinsed quickly, if not thoroughly. Enough to pass until the cells would be unlocked after supper.

“We gotta go,” she snapped “Get my jumpsuit outta the cubicle.” One of the boys fetched it, still clean on its wall hook.

“C’mon. If the guards find us here , we’re in solitary for a month or more. Might even have to repeat our time. “

She herded the boys like a mother hen out the door and towards the playing fields, carrying her shivs and p-suit.

The boys followed her and Blue Eyes. At the hot sandy field they stopped near a water tap. Dita used it to rinse more filth from the p-suit.

“You know this didn’t happen, right?” Dita said, rinsing the p-suit.

“Won’t those men tell the guards?” asked one of the boys.

“Rat on us? Like hell.” She spat. “But watch your backs from now on. Don’t go into the latrines alone and don’t play team sports.”

“I’m Rand Hudson, ma’am,” said Blue Eyes.”Glad we could assist you.”

“Yeah. No names. We never met.” She paused. “Thanks.”