The Iron Maiden (3 page)

She turned to Hope, and he turned to her. They clutched each other, sharing their desolation. This horror overwhelmed them both.

But Spirit knew that this would not go away of its own accord. She jammed her dread and fear into some compartment of her mind for forced herself to speak. “We must do something, Hope,” she said.

He stood there, trying to recover his common sense. “A leader,” he said. “A new leader. But who? All our men are gone.”

“Use your talent,” she told him.

He nodded, and got moving. “Take care of Mother,” he said as he went.

Spirit did. Their mother was in an awful state, with her clothing in shreds, her hair ragged, and blood spattered across her arms and body. She looked as if she were in a trance. Spirit did not know whether she had been raped, or gotten free just before that, and thought it best not to ask. “Come with me, Mother,” she said.

She took them to the cell her mother and father had shared. Her mother went without resistance. “Lie down,” Spirit said, and her mother lay on the padding that served for a bed. Spirit sat beside her, took a cloth, wet it, and began to clean her face and body, methodically. It was all she could think of to do.

“You darling child,” her mother said, submitting.

After a time, Hope returned, with Helse, bringing Faith. “Please join your mother,” he told Faith. “You can comfort her better than I can, for you are a woman.” And Faith, who had been pretty much out of things since her rape, looked startled, and did as he asked.

But that left Spirit to fend for herself, and she wasn't ready. She had continued to function as long as she had something to do, but now the abyss yawned before her.

“Go with your sister, Hope,” Helse said, and departed.

Hope joined her. Spirit let go at last. She flung her arms around him and bawled. It didn't matter that he was crying too; the misery they shared was too great for either to bear in silence. At least they had each other.

Empty Hand

Thereafter things stabilized somewhat. The women assumed the tasks the men had handled, and managed to make the bubble function reasonably well. Having this to do seemed to help them. They also put the men's bodies into bags and stacked them outside the bubble, tied down, where the cold vacuum of space would preserve them exactly as they were. It helped to have the bodies out of sight and the blood cleaned up; then it was easier to pretend that something hadn't really happened.

Hope asked Spirit to help women learn to use the male sanitary facilities, as there was no sense wasting them when there were no men. This entailed pairing off, with one person holding the other in place so she could squat and pee into the urinals set in the walls. In fact Spirit got together with another girl her age, and they demonstrated the technique for others. The women were appreciative, but it was an inconsequential matter; they had more serious concerns. That came clear when they found one woman dead in the head--the bathroom. She had opened an artery and quietly fed her blood into a bidet. The others, when they learned, shrugged; they understood.

But Hope was worse. He was continually morose, rejecting all offers of comfort. Finally Spirit went to Helse. “You've got to do it,” she said.

Helse surely did not misunderstand, but was cautious. “What do you mean?”

“You have to get him over this hang-up he has, so he can join the living. Make him not ashamed to be a man.”

Helse gazed steadily at her. “You are very close.” There was no need to clarify to whom.

“Yeah. I can't stand to have him like this.”

“There is only one way I know.” She was still looking at Spirit with a disturbing understanding. “Someone might object.”

She was being discreet. She knew that it wasn't their mother, but Spirit herself who had the most difficulty with this. “Do it anyway.”

Helse nodded, and went to be with Hope. Spirit found an empty cell and clenched her fists, fighting off her unreasoning rage. Helse had asked for her leave, and she had given it, but she hated it.

Hope and Helse were together all night, as time was measured in the bubble. Spirit knew, because she checked several times, hating herself for it, but still doing it. She knew that Helse was showing Hope what it was all about. This was an occasion where sex had to be used, and Helse was using it, to get Hope out of his deep pit. Spirit had asked her to--but still it drove Spirit crazy. Not the least of it was that she could not say why, even to herself.

At last they emerged, and Hope was a changed man. His grief remained, but the guilt was gone. The job had been done.

Spirit couldn't stop herself. The first chance she had to catch Hope alone, for all that it was impossible ever to be completely alone in the bubble, she asked him. “How was it, brother?” She tried to make the question neutral, but the tone made it snide.

“I love her.” He spoke with such guileless candor that it made Spirit ashamed for her attitude.

“I'm sorry,” she said.

He understood, as he always did. “I know I've been a bear. Something had to be done. She did it. But you're still my sister.”

“Still, I'm jealous.” And there it was. How could she be jealous of that?

“When you grow up and love a man, I'll try not to be too jealous,” he said.

That was funny, and she had to smile, but there was truth in it. She would like to do just that, and make him jealous back. “Oh, go ahead and be jealous!” Then she couldn't stop herself: “Tell me what it's like”

She saw him hesitate, and she knew why: she was only twelve years old, supposed to be too young for sexual knowledge. But after what they had seen and experienced in the bubble, that hardly mattered. “I was inside her,” he said. “And heaven was inside me.”

“But what about--I mean, the first time--the blood--”

“Only when the woman is a virgin, not the man.”

She felt stupid. “Oh. Of course. But still--”

“Give me your hand.” He took her hand it his and squeezed it cruelly. “That's rape,” he said as she yelped. Then he kissed it. “That's love.”

“But it's still sex. Faith--”

“Don't judge all men by the pirates,” he said. “That's what Helse taught me. Ask her.”

“I will.” Because though her jealously still lurked, she really did want to know.

Later, Helse clarified it for her. “He wouldn't come to me, so I came to him. I got him naked, and I spread myself upon him. I put his hard member into me and dared him to say he was raping me. He couldn't.”

This was fascinating. “Couldn't what?”

“Couldn't say it. Then I kissed him, and he came.”

“Came where?”

“I mean he climaxed inside me. Jetted his semen.”

“Oh.” She had been stupid again. “That's all it takes?”

“Sometimes. It varies with the situation. Sometimes a man will spurt even before he gets in; sometimes he has to pump a long time. Usually it doesn't take long. Then he sleeps.”

“He just has to get inside her, and then it happens?” Somehow she had thought it would be more complicated.

“It happens, and then his member softens and shrinks, and it's over. He loses interest, for an hour or a night. Sometimes a girl will move things along fast, just so he'll be done and will leave her alone. It's like letting the pressure off a valve.”

“Some valve!”

“Sometimes it is necessary.”

“I guess,” Spirit said doubtfully. This seemed so businesslike it was almost disappointing.

“Once a man has done it with a given woman, he wants more of it, on other days. Men think of sex all the time. The nice ones court a woman; the pirates rape. The difference is in their manners, not their lust. I will be doing it again with Hope, perhaps often. I can't tell him no; a smart woman doesn't. You understand.”

She was warning Spirit not to be jealous. But she was. “Sure,” she said shortly, and left.

But some of the truth of what Helse had said became apparent all too soon. Another band of pirates boarded. It wasn't clear that they were pirates at first; they were polite, and promised to take the refugees to Jupiter. But then it turned out that they had given the children poisoned candy, Spirit included.

Spirit fought the drug, but it overwhelmed her and she had to sit down, then lie down. But she could still hear them talking, and learned that the pirates were holding the children hostage for the performance of the women.

And Spirit's mother agreed to buy Spirit's life with sex. Spirit could not protest; she could not move or speak. All she could think of was Helse's remark: “Sometimes it is necessary.” Necessary to give a strange man sex, in order to save the life of her child. Because all men wanted it, and the pirates didn't much care how they got it.

Then Faith came forward; Spirit heard her, and knew by the sudden hush that she was dressed to show off her lovely body. She was working at being beautiful. “How many children can I buy?”

And so it was that Faith Hubris saved the lives of all the children who had eaten the tainted candy. She went with the men on their ship, and was gone.

The children recovered. Spirit wasn't sure whether it was because of the antidote, or whether the poison was only a temporary drug, but at least they were all right. She resolved never again to be caught that way.

And only a few hours later, more pirates came. This time the women put all the little children in the cells, while Spirit, Hope, and Helse hid in the netted supplies in the center of the bubble, where gravity was slight. Spirit was still a bit groggy, but saw the sense of it. No children would be drugged this time.

But that left the women. The pirates were armed and ruthless. Their deal was simple: submit or die. If the women died, the children would be left without any remaining protection. Spirit heard Helse explaining it to Hope.

But he would have none of it. “That's my mother down there!” he said, and launched himself forward.

Helse caught him, but couldn't entirely stop him. “Spirit!” she cried in a whisper. “Help me hold him!”

Spirit snapped out of her remaining stupor and grabbed Hope's legs. Together they held him back.

“But our mother's getting raped!” he protested.

“I know it,” Spirit said, and did not let go. She had come to understand about sex as a tool to do what was necessary. Certainly their mother understood. It was maddening, but it had to be.

Hope continued to struggle, until Helse hugged his face to her half-bared bosom. Spirit felt the fight go out of him then, and marveled at the evident power of a woman's breast.

Still, he protested, wanting to try to save their mother somehow. “Let it be, Hope,” Helse told him.

“Those women are trying to save our lives.”

“At the expense of their honor!” he retorted, and Spirit had to agree with him there.

“Their honor is not of the body, but of the spirit.”

That made Spirit jump, though she knew it was a coincidental use of the word. She saw the point, however: the grown women were doing what they had to do to preserve their lives and the lives of their children. How could that be called dishonorable?

So they remained there for a short eternity, letting it happen. Spirit could see very little below, but her imagination filled it in: men thrusting their swollen members into the poor women, getting inside, making it happen. Then, sure enough, they were done, and they went away. It was amazing how quickly men lost interest, once they jetted.

At last they could let Hope go. Helse put her clothing back together, covering her bared breast. “You sure are pretty, when you show,” Spirit said enviously.

“You will be too, very soon,” Helse said.

They climbed down--and the women acted as if nothing had happened. Hope opened his mouth, but Helse intercepted his words. “Say nothing!” she whispered. That shut Spirit up too.

When they were separate again, Helse explained: "The women don't want us to share their humiliation.

We must pretend to be ignorant, and hope that the real children don't catch on. So as not to undermine their sacrifice."

Spirit pondered it, and realized that it made sense. It was a necessary deception, on both sides.

But things did not get better; they just got worse in different ways. There was not enough food; they were running out, even with the men gone. They went down to quarter rations, and Spirit felt hungry all the time. But their natural functions remained, and the toilet facilities were filling and clogging from overuse.

“Another head's clogged,” Spirit said. That cut them down to three functioning ones, and that was not enough. But she had an answer: “Why not just dump the stuff into space?”

Thus it was that Spirit, Hope, and Helse volunteered to go out on the bubble surface to unclog the heads.

They had to use the clumsy space suits anchored by safety ropes. It was awesome, clinging to the little hooks outside the bubble, so as not to be thrown clear by its rotation. The sun was just a star, but Jupiter was huge beyond belief.

Hope made his way to one of the pressure release valves and used a big wrench on it. Spirit was reminded of her dialogue with Helse, about letting off sexual valve pressure, and almost laughed. This wasn't sex, it was shit.

Suddenly the valve let go with a jet of vapor. It carried Hope along with it, which was another scare, but he was secured by the rope, and Helse reeled him in again. Then he and Spirit worked on the tank itself, opening it and getting the refuse out. It slid out in a huge awful mass, and immediately started fragmenting in space, becoming a cloud. She put her helmet next to his, so they could talk, and said “Jupiter rings!”

Like the rings of Saturn, only smaller and dirtier. He smiled.

Then they reloaded the empty tank and bolted it back in place. They did the others similarly. The job become tedious, and that gave her time to think, and she remembered how much they had lost: their home back on Callisto, the life of their father, and the honor (or whatever) of their mother. Certainly of their sister. Suddenly it overwhelmed her, and she began to cry. She had been doing more of that recently than she liked, but couldn't help it. Hope understood; he crossed to her and put his suited arm around her for a moment, and it did make her feel better.

They resumed working, getting the job done tank by tank. Until they got close to where the bagged bodies were tied. Then Hope somehow got tangled up with one, and struggled with it briefly. Spirit watched with bemused horror, uncertain what to do. It was almost as if the corpse were alive. Then Hope lay still.

She went over to him--and heard something through the hull. Screaming--someone was screaming. Then she saw into Hope's faceplate. He was screaming. Just lying there with his eyes closed and screaming.

She beckoned to Helse. Helse came carefully around, and they managed to disentangle Hope from the bagged corpse and drag him around to the entrance port. The few remaining refuse tanks could wait; they had done most of the job already. What had happened to Hope?

They wrestled him inside the lock, and the women helped them get inside. There they removed their suits, and the women removed Hope's suit. He seemed to be all right, just unconscious. He must have overstrained himself working on the locks; he had after all been doing most of the work, and he had not been eating any better than the rest of them.

He revived. They talked to him. It took some time for them to get his story. It turned out that he had had a vision. He had talked to their father, who had told him there was food available, and extended his hand, saying “Here.” But the hand was empty.

The women considered that. They sent Hope to their chamber along with Spirit and Helse, and consulted among themselves. Hope fell asleep, and they watched over him. “What do you think happened?” Spirit asked.

“He had a vision of some sort,” Helse said. “It must have gotten really bad. He saw an empty hand, and started screaming.”

After a time their mother came to check on them. Hope was still asleep. “Helse, change clothing,” the woman said. “There is no need for further concealment.”

Helse stared at her. “I don't understand.”