Shoshone Station: The Galactic Consortium season 2

Episode 8: The Sting #10

The next day, they had their first set of visitors to the newly opened "Personal Service Bureau." They had decorated the office to make it look like it was a government office, even though neither America nor the Consortium had anything resembling a Personal Service Bureau. There was a small waiting room and a couple dozen offices for private interviews. The entire complex had a door at the back that led to the mid-level security office.

Fox had spent the last few months on the top-level office, but now he was spending more time on the lower-level office as bottom court became more active with visitors and new workers.

Now, as he sat in an almost identical but larger command office here on 1 below, he considered that it was time to move again. After all, there was a good reason the mid-level office was the largest of the three security offices and typically preferred by the heads of security on other stations; it was the most central location.

He watched the view screen into their bureau and wondered how long it would take when the first group arrived—two men and three women. The men were wearing blue jeans and greasy T-shirts. The women were in cocktail dresses and heels.

"Do women on your planet have some sort of grease fetish?" Shandra Mahika, one of his junior melee officers, asked with a high laugh.

He looked at her.

"The men aren't applying for licenses, the women are," Sarah said without looking away. "And I can already tell you those women aren't doing this of their own free will.

Fox nodded, turning his attention back to the screen. Sarah was right. Every instinct as a cop told him that these were bad men and the power dynamic between them and the women was anything but equal.

Kellii, in the role of bureau secretary, was playing dumb, however. "Now, if you want to offer services of an explicit nature, you'll have to submit to medical tests and an interview process."

"Not us, you idiot," one of the men barked. "The girls. All three of them."

The first group never made it out of the office again.

They listened to, rather than watched, the medical exam, out of privacy's sake.

"That's quite a bruise you got there," Sherle, their healer, commented casually.

"Didn't make quota," the woman said, her voice flat.

"Quota?"

The innocence of Sherle's questioning brought out more of the story, how the women had to bring home a certain amount of cash or she would be beaten. How she hoped the station would be better, the pay would be good, and she wouldn't be beaten so much. "But Jim will probably raise the quota," the woman ended with a resigned sigh.

"Your brain activity shows recent opioid consumption. Heroin?"

"They said we couldn't bring it on the station."

"So you took it before you came."

There was no answer, but she must have nodded.

"We can treat that addiction. I can begin the protocol if you like," Sherle said.

"I've tried. Several times."

"Our technology is better. Most of those who stay on the station have little trouble."

"Would I have to . . .?—"

"There are many things you could do. Many lives you could lead."

Next came Leela, who had been coached by their legal expert. By the time Leela concluded a short interview and ushered her back into security, she was ready for Sarah and Fox to double-team her.