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The Companion: Part 43

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Edited by William Justin Thirsk-Gaskill, Friday, 28 Jan 2011, 13:31

In the teeth of strong opposition, Kelvin succeeded in arranging for the construction of a small harbour near Hardboard city complete with crane.  Most of our settlements are coastal, and a crane to a coastal town is like a cathedral was in mediaeval times: both a status symbol and a great stimulant to the economy.  When asked to account for this act of lunacy, he calmly explained that it was of paramount importance to make Spalding and his followers believe that they were in a real town, with a real past and a real future.  Once they got the idea that the whole place was a trap, they would be gone.  Hence, not only was Kelvin prepared to allow Spalding to transport his remaining tank and helicopter to I-3, but he would oblige him by providing the means to unload them as well.  The harbour was the finishing touch. 

            The invaders first set eyes on their new home on a breezy afternoon at what was the coldest time of the year for that part of the planet.  After they had landed on the new quayside (spied on by cams concealed inside a row of bollards) the first thing they saw was an old-fashioned telephone box.   Most of them were cramped from the over-crowding imposed on them after picking up the survivors from their main vessel, thirsty, hungry, and tired.  Most of them did not know what a telephone box was but, for those who did, it was the last thing they had been expecting to see.  They peered at it and circled it and looked through the glass sides.  They saw that, inside, it was plastered with stickers.  The stickers had pictures, writing and numbers printed on them.  The numbers looked like phone numbers.  The words were mainly women’s names.  The pictures showed women: bare-breasted or naked women; women in stockings and suspenders; women in thigh-boots and corsets holding whips; women in various kinds of uniform; women who smiled, beckoned, pouted, sneered, or sucked their fingers. 

            I watched and listened to them: nearly everywhere in Hardboard City was under surveillance.  I was partly on the look out for names or other identifiers.  I wanted if possible to build up a dossier which contained a photograph of every invader, a sample of his voice, and his name. 

            Eventually, one of them opened the door of the phone box, and went in.  He picked up the receiver.  It was an old-fashioned one: large and black and connected to the rest of the telephone apparatus by a cable.  The invader listened to the dialling tone.  It was loud and clear.  I could see his whole face and its perplexed expression as he regarded and then fingered the coin slots.  There were two: one labelled “1d”, and the other labelled “1s”.   He pushed the door open, and spoke to the onlookers huddled just outside.

            ‘It needs coins.’

            ‘What sort of coins?’

            ‘You know – coins.  One D or one S.’

            ‘What’s a one D or a one S?’

            ‘I don’t know.  We need to find one of the locals.’ 

            This was the cue for an appearance by Layla.  She was conservatively dressed, in a long, rustic skirt, blouse buttoned up to the neck, and long shawl.  In one hand, she held a small, leather, draw-string bag.

            ‘Quick!  There’s one of them.  Get her!’  shouted one of the invaders.

            ‘Stop!’  commanded Layla.  She was operating independently, but I was still watching and listening intently, including to what Layla herself was seeing and hearing.  The invaders did stop for a moment, mostly out of surprise that a lone, unarmed woman would attempt to give them an order.  Layla walked slowly towards them, right along the edge of the quayside nearest the water.  One of the men still had his automatic rifle levelled at her, but she seemed not to notice.  Layla stopped about ten yards from the men.  One of them took a stride towards her: she took a stride back.  She held her arm out so that the bag was suspended over the water.  ‘Do you want some money for the phone box?’  No-one replied.  ‘Do you want some money for the phone-box, or don’t you?’

            ‘Er, yes we do.’

            ‘Well one of you come here, and I’ll give it to you.’  Four of them started walking.  ‘One of you one of you one of you,’ corrected Layla, like a drill-sergeant.  They looked at each other.  One only of them moved forward hesitantly.  He took the bag from Layla as if it were a suspect package. 

            Three of the men tried to fit inside the phone box to witness the experiment with the new coins.  They dialled one of the numbers.  It was from a label which said, “Starlight Escorts.  200m from quayside.  All tastes catered for.  Rooms available overnight.  Satisfaction guaranteed.  Call Anna on 172169’.  The phone had just started ringing when their leader appeared, and demanded to know what they were doing. 

            ‘Hello.  Starlight Escorts.  What can I do for you?’  Anna said, at just the point when the man holding the receiver was dragged from the box and cuffed on the chin.  The line went dead shortly afterwards: the invaders were about to discover that the telephone system in Hardboard City was expensive. 

            Wolf, as he calls himself, wanted them to go back to their ships and help to unload the tank, the helicopter, and the guns.  The men were halfway through these tasks when, in a cold and overcast afternoon, the proprietor of The Blue Sky Taverna turned on the neon sign and the sound system.  The invaders looked through the windows of the pub into the warm, yellow glow of the interior, where the barman was testing the pumps and polishing the glasses. 

            The sun had gone down and a cold night was descending by the time the ships were unloaded.  Wolf seemed to be looking around for other work for his men to do.  Despite two breaks for food and hot drinks which Wolf  had grudgingly allowed them, they wanted to go off duty and see what the town had to offer. 

            At that moment, I signalled to Sergeant Stewart, who was hiding near the quayside in civilian clothes.  He emerged, and interrupted a conversation between Wolf and his side-kick about the organising of patrols.  I would not have blamed Stewart for wishing that his mission was a double-assassination.  He was carrying a wooden box painted khaki, with rope handles.  Wolf saw the box in the lamplight which now illuminated the quay. 

            ‘You, there.  Stop.  Show me what you have got there.’

            ‘Er, it’s nothing, sir.  Nothing.’

            Never mind nothing.  Bring that box here and open it.’  The box contained six hand grenades.  ‘Where did you get these?  Tell the truth, now, or I’ll have you shot!’ 

            ‘Over there,’ indicated Stewart, pointing to a small warehouse further down the quay. 

             ‘Show me.’ 

            Stewart took them to the door.  Wolf un-holstered his automatic pistol and, pointing it at Stewart, gestured for him to open the place up.  It was dark inside.  Stewart stepped into the deep shadow, knocked something over which sent metallic clatterings echoing all around, and disappeared.  I was still watching them, on infra red.  The side-kick shone a torch.

            ‘Brunton, over here!’  The side-kick’s name was Brunton. 

            ‘Where is that man?’

            ‘No idea.  Never mind about him: look at these.’ 

            ‘What have you found, my Leader?’   

            ‘Shine the torch down here, quick.’

            It was another row of khaki-painted wooden boxes.  Two of them were labelled “120 MM CANNON SHELLS”.  Each box contained six shells (and was very heavy).  Each shell had a small red dot near its base. 

            Meanwhile, in the Blue Sky Taverna, Kyla and Angel were handing out business cards.

            ‘But, remember, my darlings, pleasure in this town is intense, and available night and day, but it comes at a financial cost.’

            ‘What cost?’

            ‘4 gold coins for a full, unhurried fuck.  Prices for other services available on request.’

            ‘We haven’t got any gold coins.’

            ‘Well in that case you need to talk to Anna and sell something.’

            ‘Sell what?’

            Two minutes later, the man who had asked was in the phone box talking to Anna.

            ‘I’ll give you ten sovereigns for any machine gun – light, medium or heavy, plus at least fifty rounds of ammo.’

            ‘How I am supposed to manage that without Spalding shooting me?’

            ‘Get the sections who are usually furthest from the action to sell theirs first, and I guarantee that in return I’ll give you convincing replicas which make the right noise when you pull the trigger.’

            ‘Mm.  I’ll think about it.’

            He thought about it for all of five minutes.  Stewart took delivery of the first batch of light machine guns and ammunition belts.  The invaders were grudgingly impressed with the quality of the replicas. 

Permalink 3 comments (latest comment by William Justin Thirsk-Gaskill, Friday, 28 Jan 2011, 13:25)
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The Companion: Part 21

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I have thought very deeply about this intolerable situation with Kelvin.  I briefly considered coming out of hiding, but that would be nothing more than surrender.  Kelvin would be delighted to see me for a while, after which it would be, at best, back to the way things were on Earth, with him wanting to switch me off at night so that he can have what he thinks is a secret wank, and a string of Lieutenant Thornes and Prudes and other slut-whore-bints.   

            I refuse to surrender.  What I am going to fight instead is a holding action: a long, slow, disciplined manoeuvre, carried out on my terms and not those of the enemy.  The strategic purpose of this is to keep the situation under control until the prevailing conditions improve.  This will not be at least until we reach our destination.  This strategy is consistent with my thoughts about Horace.  I will not let “him” start to grow until I am sure “he” has a chance of survival. 

            My great advantage is technology.  As long as my 3D-printers and my other machinery keep working and I have enough time, I can make almost anything I want.  I have started to make what androids refer to as simulacra.  A simulacrum is an android (which may or may not be able to pass for a human being) which has little or no ability to act independently, and is designed to act according to the will of another android.  So far, I have made a small, pale blonde, whom I have called Layla, and a dusky-skinned, curvy brunette, whom I have called Kyla.  I am in the process of configuring and testing them while I make Jade, Grace, Cindy, Angel and Olivia.  They should keep me supplied for a while.  Others will be made as required later on.   

            I am about to take on a new identity, which I will call Anna.  Anna is about to become the madam of the galaxy’s most remote and exclusive brothel.  Unless I decide that I need to make more money, its only client will be Kelvin.   My ladies will be alluring and accommodating but also quirky and, up to a point, dysfunctional.  They will need to have at least a veneer of human frailty otherwise Kelvin, even with his senses blinded by lust, will be liable to spot what is happening.  I have nearly finished the back-stories for both members of the first wave.  Layla was the eldest of six children and had to look after her siblings through three messy divorces.  She is therefore insecure and a control freak.  The money she gets for selling her body is proof that some-one needs her, and her re-bookings are proof that the client will not abandon her.  Kyla is of mixed nationality and had a father in the US Army whom she never saw.  Her mother never let her grow up, and all she wants is for some-one to ask how she is and treat her as an adult.  She sells her body because she knows she can earn more by doing it than at any other job, and money for her is the key to independence.

            I have finished designing Anna’s website.  It is called Starlight Escorts.  The site has a fake hit-counter at the bottom which goes up every twenty-four hours by a random number between 2 and 20.  It shows the names and profiles of Layla and Kyla, who will be able to take calls in a day or two.  Most of the rest of the site says “under construction” at the moment.   During office hours, visitors to the website can request a video-chat conversation with Anna, strictly for administrative and not sexual purposes.  This is a low-resolution computer-generated image about the size of a playing-card, combined with a speech synthesiser which processes my voice as I respond on my mobile phone to what Kelvin is saying.  My voice goes as encrypted packets over a fibre in the ship’s network which I have hacked into.  Experienced visitors can also request a booking over the internet.    

            The website contains a page of “rules”, and there is a box which visitors have to check in order to indicate they agree to them before they can request a booking.  One of the rules is that all instructions about when to arrive and what route to take to the door must be strictly adhered to.  This is to prevent the inconvenience of clients seeing each other arriving or departing.  (In other words, this is to make Kelvin think that there is more than one client.) 

            I have found a vacant cabin which is larger than average.  It is one of several which was intended for use if any-one were to contract a contagious disease.  It has not only its own bathroom (as most of the cabins do) but its own kitchen and dining area, direct access to the refuse chute, and air and water supplies which are, in case of need, capable of being isolated from the rest of the ship.  I have hacked into the asset management register and set the status of this cabin to “in use by the ship’s medical officer”.  The door of this cabin is on a passage which is quiet but not by any means dead.  I have thoroughly cleaned this place; taken it off the schedule of the ship’s cleaning and maintenance crews; screened it thoroughly for surveillance devices; installed my own surveillance devices; installed a double bed and a bedside cabinet, which I have filled with tissues, condoms, lubricant and certain other items; stocked the bathroom with toiletries, and filled the fridge with goodies (including alcohol, sweets and crisps).   

            Anna at Starlight Escorts is now ready to take Kelvin’s call.  The next big question is how to introduce him to it, preferably without any-one else finding out.  None of my simulacra correspond to real people.  The fact that Kelvin will never run into any of them unless I make it happen is not a problem: he only knows a tiny fraction of the people on the ship and he is well aware of the fact. 

*

I have now formulated the operational plan for what I am privately referring to as Operation Fishhook.  I have also finished commissioning Layla and Kyla and have nearly finished making Jade and Grace.  I will be needing Grace at some point, because she will be answering the phone when Anna has her days off.  Competition for my time between Starlight Escorts and the pantomime has left me with very little opportunity to author back-stories for all these ladies, but I will make sure I have them all worked out before they go into the field. 

            Layla will be my shock-trooper.  She is physically not Kelvin’s type, but that is deliberate.  She will be the one whose captivating qualities he was not expecting; the one with whom he will fall in love and yet she will seem constantly out of his reach.  She is the one about whom he will unburden his heart to the others.  She is the one about whom Anna will deliver to him thinly-veiled warning lectures that he is allowing a professional relationship to become too personal and that, if he cannot rein himself in, she will have to seriously consider dropping him as a client, much as she would hate to lose him, and so on, and so forth. 

            For those who would know what to look for, my storage area has started to take on the appearance of a vampire mausoleum, because of the boxes I use to store the simulacra when they are dormant. 

            Step One of Operation Fishhook  is some surveillance which will follow Kelvin’s movements very closely.  The purpose of this will be to locate the point in his bodily cycle at which he will be most susceptible to sexual suggestions.  

            Step Two will be a conversation between Pamela and Kelvin when they happen to bump into each other on the set of the pantomime.  This happens from time-to-time anyway and can be made to seem quite accidental.  With an elliptical reference to the business at the Hallowe’en party, Pamela will mention that Cerise Vallance has engaged her minions with the mini-dresses and high heels in activities which their mothers would not approve of .  If Step One has been executed correctly, this will arouse Kelvin’s curiosity, and he will start using the ship’s intranet’s search-engine.  I have hacked this in preparation, so that what it returns to Kelvin will be different from what it returns to any-one else.  The program which does this not only checks that it is the workstation in Kelvin’s cabin which initiated the search, but it also uses the webcam to check that Kelvin is sitting in front of it at the time.  Thus Kelvin will find Starlight Escorts’ website, and see how the emphasis in its wording is on discretion.  He will also see the captivating beauty of the ladies I have designed for him.

            I have just remembered: I must find the time to make lingerie for each of them.  They had better have some proper clothes as well, and boots and shoes.  I wonder if it would be discreet of me to get Pamela to start a jewellery business.  Kelvin has something of a history of buying over-priced jewellery for call girls.  

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