It's only been a month since the other Ellen left. But a month can feel like an eternity.

And 'she left' can feel like the truth.

But a month is only a month.

And a lie is a lie, even if it makes you feel better about what you did, even if it helps you sleep at night, even if it is the only thing that keeps you from ripping out every wire, every circuit board, and every hard drive from the MOM.

When she sleeps, she dreams. Strange dreams that feel like memories. But memories don't change. Memories are the same every time; they don't start nice and pleasant and then twist into something else, something that leaves you shaking and wet and ashamed when you awake.

Dreams do that. Nightmares do.

She remembers dancing with Hiroko, in the academy ballroom, the one with all the statues along the walls. She remembers the words Hiroko always whispered, the words that always made her spine tingle.

"Tottemo daisuki, Ellen-chan."

She remembers Hiroko's chirping laughter, her soft hands in hers, and the way her shiny black hair seemed somehow always a second late every time she moved, as if it couldn't quite keep up with her.

But in her dreams Hiroko suddenly stops dancing. Her smile disappears, her hands grip hard on Ellen’s wrists and push them up and outward until her arms are stretched open, and Hiroko’s thigh slides between Ellen's, and presses up with a continuous force. The statues seem closer. Some of them appear to be watching. Cheering.

Hiroko still laughs the same chirping laugh, but now it sounds wrong - higher, sharper, almost cruel.

Ellen tries to pull her arms free, but can't. She tries to close her legs, but can't, and the more she struggles, the more Hiroko’s laughter brightens.

In her dreams, Ellen begs her to stop, but she never does, and the pressure between her legs builds until pleasure and pain are inseparable. In her dreams, she can feel herself getting closer and closer to an orgasm, but she fights it. She doesn't know why, but she knows she can't come. She knows if she does, she'll lose, so she fights it, while the statues look on, until their cheers and Hiroko's evil laughter jolts her awake.

But that's not what happened. That's not how she used to remember it. But now when she's awake, and she tries to bring back that memory, when she tries to remember how she used to remember it, that scene from the dream keeps popping up and taking over until she's no longer sure if it did happen or not.

A memory wouldn't do that to you. Nightmares do, all the time.

-

Two days away from Egerius' moon.

That place is a hellhole. They never even bothered to name it. They thought they had found rhodium on Egerius and spent years transporting mining equipment and workers there, but what they found wouldn't fill a single truckload.

Then its moon rose above the horizon, and someone's desperate idea and need to save face became one of the galaxy's largest illidium mines.

There are really only two reasons to go to Egerius' moon, if you're not transporting illidium. You either go there to gamble, or to get laid.

And Ellen isn't a gambler.

Though it's heavily rationed, they get the water they need from Egerius. That's not why she's going. And sure, she can probably sell a few vials of goo on the black market there. No one will know, or care. Aside from a few assigned deliveries, she's free to distribute it as she sees fit – with some exceptions. Some places aren't allowed to have it, and Egerius' moon is one of them.

But no one really cares. The important thing is to keep the human race from dying out until the plague disappears.

If it ever does.

But that's not really why she's going either.

On Egerius' moon, trades are done with working hours. You pay for what you need by committing yourself to hours, days, or weeks of working in the mines.

It's money as good as any. It's really the way money has always been, just skipping a few unnecessary steps in between.

But that's why many of the hookers on Egerius' moon were once gamblers and fortune hunters. If you win, you leave with a chunk of the most valuable metal in the known universe. But if you lose, you're stuck there. If you lose big, you're stuck for months or years.

Every customer, every pussy you eat is a few days off your debt.

-

“You haven't been using the R&R,” MOM says. “I should remind you that for the sake of your mental health I do have the authority to command you to.”

It's true. She has stayed away from the R&R. She's been tempted; there's no doubt about that. She's wanted to. Felt the need - every day. But the R&R was, in a way, the other Ellen's place. It was her room, as much as her sleeping quarters were, and Ellen hasn't been in there either.

It's stupid, sure, but memories have a way of attaching themselves to objects or places. Stay away, leave it alone, and maybe the memory dies.

There's another reason too. It would feel like absolving MOM. Giving herself over like that, letting MOM take her, control her, bring her pleasure, it would feel like saying 'I forgive you.' Like going to bed with a lover who wronged you.

And though she knows, deep down, that MOM did nothing wrong, she's not there yet.

She will be. She has to. But not yet.

She does masturbate. The old-fashioned way. Whenever she can empty her mind and not think about her. Or when she can find a fantasy that goes beyond anything that would bring her to mind, something daring and crazy, where there's no possibility of her suddenly showing up.

Or some yet undefiled memory.

“I know, mom,” Ellen says. “I'm fine. But I will. I promise.”

“Very well,” MOM says.

She spends the day before her departure preparing, calculating the coordinates and sending them to the shuttle craft, making sure it's fully charged, and fetching the goo and loading it into small cold storage boxes.

Twelve vials is more than enough, she decides. Twelve vials, and one of those vials alone should buy her a dozen nights with one of the hookers there. Or one night with a dozen hookers.

And Ellen doesn't plan to stay that long.

But there is one more reason to go to Egerius' moon. One more thing she intends to buy there.

She shouldn't. It's wrong. MOM will disapprove. But she's made up her mind.

And she's not sure of the price.

-

“Name and objective?” the voice on the radio says.

“Captain Ellen Barber of the SS Aphrodite,” Ellen responds. “Recreational visit.”

“Any weapons must be turned in to the nearest federation officer immediately after disembarking,” the voice says. It's the voice of someone who spends every day repeating the same line over and over. Toneless, impersonal, uninterested.

“No weapons,” Ellen says.

It's a lie, and the woman the voice belongs to surely knows that. But you don't walk around on Egerius' moon unarmed. You don't even bother to pretend to. Ellen has a Bolt 7 on her belt. It's smaller than the Chazer, but it's a plasma gun, and though it's one of the less powerful ones made, from a close enough range it will burn a hole straight through you.

“Dock sixteen,” the voice says. “Welcome.”

Whoever she is, her ability to make a word sound like the exact opposite of its meaning is impressive.

She's barely off the shuttle, still on the ramp when she's first approached.

“Want to have some fun in there before you get off? I can do stuff your MOM would never even consider.”

“No thanks,” Ellen says and rushes by her.

There are federation officers everywhere, easily recognizable by their red-and-black overalls and their plasma rifles, but none of them even look her way. They shuffle along, chat, smoke. One sits with her back to a light pole, half-empty bottle of green liquid in her hand, swaying to a song only she can hear. Another leans against a fence, overalls zipped down as far as they go, eyes closed, hands buried in the hair of the girl kneeling in front of her.

Another woman approaches Ellen. She's only wearing a g-string and has the word “LoLo” painted across her breasts. It takes Ellen a few seconds to realize it's supposed to be “LooLoo” and her nipples are the missing O's. She seems to think Ellen is staring at her huge breasts in admiration because she shakes them a little and says, “I know, right?”

Then she hands Ellen a flier, winks, and disappears. Ellen quickly glances at it; it advertises a place called “LooLoo's Hotel & Casino,” then folds it and slips it into her back pocket.

The mining town is really just one giant steel structure on pillars, rising from twenty or thirty feet above the moon’s surface to six hundred feet or more, stretching roughly a mile in every direction from the central dock.

Everywhere Ellen walks is steel grating. Looking up, she sees the soles of the people on the level above; looking down, the tops of the heads of those beneath. Trying to focus through the grids, wires, and fences makes her eyes ache.

Every level is just high enough to stand upright. Most of them are anyway; in some places she has to bend her neck, and there are even a few places where she has to get down and crawl a few feet.

The homes and shelters of those who live there look more like cages than anything else. There's no privacy, nowhere to hide from prying eyes. Here and there, someone has put up a blanket or a tarp, or something that was once a blanket or a tarp, to get some feeling of isolation, however illusory, but most haven't bothered.

Almost everyone walks around minding their own business anyway. But if you're new, like Ellen, you can't help but look.

She passes one of the shelters and sees a woman inside, passed out naked on a bench; a bottle is slowly sliding out of her hand. It's the same kind of bottle, with the same green liquid, as the federation officer's, but only a few drops remain at the bottom.

In another one, two women are fighting. Yelling at each other in a language Ellen doesn't know. The one who seems to be losing has blood coming out of her left eye and her nose.

There's one with a woman fucking herself with what looks like a thick, curved steel rod. Her neighbor is watching her through the wire mesh that acts as the wall between them.

Ellen walks on.

Did she really think this was going to be easy? Just show up with money and goo and expect a red carpet? Girls lined up in display windows? She knows there's a market for what she wants, but she doesn't know how or where to find it. There are no signs, no maps. She could walk around here for years and never find anything but the same cages with the same women inside, sitting there like animals in a zoo, with no hope, no ambitions, nothing but a fading memory of a different life, a disappearing dream of a distant place.

This was a bad idea. And a stupid one. She should have waited, dealt with her loneliness until she got to Ingolstadt. She could get an android there; the goo would buy her one at least as advanced as those on Earth. And it would be disconnected from MOM.

That's what she should have done.

She's only been here an hour, and she's already contemplating the same kind of escape that so many of them have chosen. Drunkenness. Fleshly pleasures. Anything that tricks your mind into thinking you're happy, even if it's just for an hour or two.

“You're lost, milenkiy,” someone says.

She turns around to see who's talking to her, but the woman is just a blur. Ellen's eyes have teared up without her even noticing, and she quickly wipes them with the back of her hand.

“You're lost,” the woman says again, as if declaring a fact rather than asking a question. She's old. Face wrinkled, cloudy eyes, wearing a dress that looks like it was cut out of an old oilcloth, with just a rope for a belt. And she's as bald and hairless as Ellen is.

Most of the women on Egerius' moon now were born either here or somewhere close enough that they didn't need cryo to get here, so they have their hair. The bald ones are travelers, adventurers, or deserters from the academy, either dropping by to gamble or fuck, or stuck here in debt after too much of one or both of those.

But no one as old as this woman. No one survives here that long, and no one this old bothers to come here. And the last cryo ship with workers from Earth must have arrived here over forty years ago. If she was on it, she must be close to sixty years old by now, not including cryo time.

“Where are you going?” the woman says. “Need company?”

“Uh, no,” Ellen stutters. “I'm fine.”

The old woman frowns.

“Tfu!” she says. “First of all, that's not what I meant. And, I may be old, but I would curl your toes, darling. No, what I meant was, do you need help? A guide? Nothing here is easy to find, and I'd hate to see a cute girl like you go astray.”

“Oh,” Ellen says. “I'm sorry. Thanks. I'm... I'm looking for...”

For what really? A department store? A marketplace? 'Sex slaves! Get your sex slaves here!'

“LooLoo's,” she says, remembering the flier.

“Thought so,” the old woman says. “Are you sure? There's lots of girls everywhere that'll only charge you for the fuck and not the bed. And if you're here to gamble, just... don't. Is my advice anyway.”

“I'm not,” Ellen says. “I want...”

Someone she can take with her. Someone to keep her company. To help her get over the other Ellen, help her forget what she did. Someone to talk to, sure, but more than that, someone to keep her out of the R&R, someone real to hold, touch, kiss, taste. Someone to scratch her itch, quench her desires. The desires that have been burning stronger and stronger, as if she's turning into the libidinous other Ellen instead of the other way around, as is supposed to happen.

“I want...”

The woman smiles cordially.

“If stuff like that makes you embarrassed, you're in the wrong place, milenkiy,” she says.

“I'll take you to LooLoo. Don't settle for anyone in her stable, though. No enthusiasm. But don't worry, if that's what you want, I can get you the good stuff.”

Ellen is about to object, but halts herself. She did come here for that. Not only that, but still. And something about the old woman tells her not to waste the opportunity.

So she follows her, with one hand on her shoulder at times when it gets too crowded, afraid she'll lose sight of her. They climb several stairs and ladders, getting to higher levels until the woman suddenly stops and points ahead.

“See that sign? Crawl through that pipe. There's a red door at the end; you can't miss it.”

“Thanks,” Ellen says. “So, about that...”

“I'll be there in half a turn," the woman says. Then she suddenly grabs Ellen's arm.

“But,” she says. “Nothing is free. I don't want to get you a clean girl, only to find out you can't pay and plan to gamble for what you owe. What's your cover? And I don't trade in shifts.”

“I have credits,” Ellen says. “And I have this.”

She opens the bag she's been carrying and gives the woman one of the boxes inside. She opens it with a scowl that tightens as cold vapor escapes. After just a short peek at what's inside - three glass vials with a frozen, crystallized bluish gray substance in them - she quickly shuts the lid.

“You must be crazy walking around here with these. Anyone here will gladly kill you if they knew.”

“I can take care of myself,” Ellen says.

“I doubt that,” the old woman says. Then she hands the box back to Ellen.

“You better do your dealings with LooLoo after all,” she says.

“Why?” Ellen says.

“Because I'm an honest woman. I could never provide anything that covers what this is worth. I'll end up owing you.”

“You won't,” Ellen says. “Just get me what you think covers it, you decide, and we'll be even no matter what.”

She peers at Ellen for a while, and then she smiles.

“In that case,” she says. “I have a special treat for you. But it'll take me a few turns. Stay at Looloo's. She'll offer you cards and chips, and girls. Stay away from the tables. If you take the girls, pay with credits. She'll say she can't take it, that she only trades in turns and shifts, but she'll take it in the end. And whatever you do, don't show her what you're carrying.”

When the old woman is gone, Ellen walks toward the sign she pointed to. It's a metal plate with holes punched in it to spell out 'LooLoo's Hotel and Casino'. At the bottom, 'Real beds!' is written in red paint.

There's an opening beneath it: a pipe about three feet high. Ellen crawls through; it ends about ten feet in, and she can stand up again.

She gasps and backs up against the wall behind her. A deep chasm is in front of her, and for the first time since she arrived, she can see the barren, jagged surface of Egerius' moon far below and the black sky above.

A single, less than two feet wide but more than twenty feet long platform leads from where she's standing to the other side of the chasm.

Beyond it is another steel structure and what the old woman called a door. It's an opening in the fence that has been covered with what's supposed to be a door curtain; strings with all kinds of scrap metal tied to them, cans, hinges, old tools, small machine parts, even an android's head - everything roughly spray-painted red.

She only hesitates for a second before stepping out onto the platform. If there were any wind, she might be in trouble, but the air is completely still. Cold and thin, as if breathing through ice cubes, but wonderfully refreshing after the stifling atmosphere and sometimes foul-smelling air she's been walking through.

She makes her way across and enters a corridor with walls covered in blankets of every color imaginable all the way down until it opens up in a large area that could almost be called a reception hall if it wasn't for the steel grating floors and walls, and the fact that it is empty except for maybe a dozen mattresses scattered around on the floor and a desk made out of old barrels at the far end. Behind the desk are several doors, or openings with curtains covering them.

She walks up to the woman behind the desk.

“Welcome, stranger,” the woman says. She's a large woman, wearing a red coat and a black leather corset that seems to at any moment fail at its task of keeping her breasts covered. Every visible part of her skin except her face is covered in tattoos.

“I'm LooLoo,” she says. “Our first game starts in only two turns. Would you like some company while you wait? We do have rooms available, or you're welcome to use our facilities here in the hall free of charge.”

“No games,” Ellen says. “Just a room, and... girls.”

“Girls,” the woman says. “Plural. Been a long, lonely journey, huh? You've come to the right place. Sign up for ten shifts, and I'll give you a room and two beauties. Hell, I'll even throw in, let's say, three turns worth of chips. You don't want to miss out on the fun.”

“I'm not gambling,” Ellen says. “And I have credits.”

“Can't do that; we only trade in turns and shifts here, honey.”

“I have more than enough,” Ellen insists. “Really.”

“I'm sure you do. But turns and shifts only. Ten shifts is the price, honey. The girls don't want worthless credits; they want their debt cut.”

“I also have this,” Ellen says, takes out one of the boxes of goo, and opens it so she can see.

LooLoo gasps with wide eyes. “Well, tie me down and shove me up a titanide's cunt. We haven't seen that stuff here for almost two cycles. How much do you have? Are you distributing?”

Ellen immediately regrets going against the old woman's advice, and stutters, “No, nothing. I mean, this is all.”

“I see. Well, I'll take those off your hands. Two girls, one room, and chips, was it?”

"No chips,” Ellen says. “And I'll only give you one vial for that.”

“Two,” LooLoo argues. “For the room and three girls, all yours until you're happy. Take it or leave it.”

“Fine,” Ellen says.

“Wonderful.”

LooLoo practically snatches the two vials from the open box and stares at them, almost in awe, for a long time.

“You have to keep it cold,” Ellen says. “Or it'll die.”

“I know,” LooLoo says. “Don't worry about it.”

She hands Ellen a red ribbon.

“The girls will be there in a few beats,” she says. “Just tie that to your door, and you won't be disturbed. Room five.”

She points to one of the curtains behind her, and as Ellen walks through, LooLoo shouts after her, “And if you change your mind, I'll still throw in those chips. Cards and dice all dark turns, and our main event at the last bell!”

Behind the curtain are three doors. They're just wire mesh in a steel frame, with no curtains or blankets covering them, but the mesh is dense enough to block most of the view unless you get really close.

All the doors have the room number spray-painted on: number six on her left, number five straight ahead, and number four to her right.

The door on her right is the only one closed, with a red ribbon tied to a steel ring hooked onto the mesh. The sounds coming from behind the door are unmistakable.

She enters her room after tying the ribbon to the ring on her door. This room, too, is nothing more than a cage, with steel-wire-mesh walls all around, and through it she can see the lights in the surrounding rooms. Looking down, she can see through the gratings she's standing on just like everywhere else, and she can see the people walking around below.

But there is a bed there with a stained, moldy mattress. There's also a table and a chair, two buckets - one empty, smelling of urine, and one with water - and a metal chest in the middle of the floor.

It suddenly dawns on her why she came to this sty; to get her pussy eaten out over and over till she passes out. That's what she wanted, what she thought she needed. To have as many hookers as she can find fuck her senseless, until she has forgotten everything about the other Ellen.

But right now, standing in this room, it is the last thing she wants.

What she wants most of all is to run all the way back to the shuttle, get back to the Aphrodite as fast as she can, back to MOM and just let her deal with her desires the way she's supposed to.

But she stays.

Soon the girls arrive.

There are three of them, as promised; all seem older than Ellen, maybe in their mid-twenties, and all with the lean but slightly underfed look that so many women on the moon share. One has short-cropped hair and a faded tattoo Ellen can’t quite make out on her shoulder. The second is taller, with a bored expression and a thin silver ring through one nipple. The third is a short girl, quiet; she keeps her eyes on the floor until the door mesh closes behind them.

They know the routine; no names are revealed, no pleasantries exchanged.

The short-haired one starts on Ellen’s mouth while the other two work on her clothes. First the jumpsuit, then her underwear. Their hands move over her, skilled, efficient, but detached - cupping her breasts, sliding between her thighs, turning her, positioning her on the stained mattress.

Ellen lets it happen.

She keeps her eyes open at first, looking up at the ceiling and the occasional glimpse of someone passing on the level above. The taller girl settles between her legs and begins to lick her with slow, steady strokes. The smaller one offers her breasts. Ellen takes a nipple in her mouth, more to participate than out of desire. The short-haired girl kisses her face, then moves lower and bites gently at her neck and shoulders.

It’s competent. It’s sensual. It’s exactly what she paid for.

For a while she drifts, letting the sensations build without analyzing them. A mouth on her clit, fingers inside her, another mouth on her breast, the soft wet sounds of the three women working in coordination. When the first orgasm comes, it is almost impersonal - her body answering while her mind stays half a step removed. The girls change positions without comment, one of them straddling her thigh, another presenting herself to be touched in return. Ellen gives them what they seem to expect: hands, mouth, the occasional low moan.

She comes a second time with the taller girl’s tongue inside her and the smaller one’s fingers pinching her nipples. The third time is slower, dragged out while one of them rides her face and the other two stroke her, almost idly, as if they have done this many times before and will do it many times again.

Afterward they lie tangled on the narrow mattress. The air in the room is thicker now, smelling of sweat and sex and the faint metallic flavor that never leaves the moon. One of the girls reaches for a bottle of green liquid and passes it around. Another lights a cigarette and offers it; Ellen shakes her head.

No one says anything for a long time.

Ellen stares at the ceiling and waits for the emptiness to disappear. It never does. The other Ellen is still there, just behind her eyes, and the three warm bodies pressed against her feel like temporary accessories rather than company.

She closes her eyes anyway, and pretends.

The three girls leave, as quiet and indifferent as when they came, and Ellen is alone again. She has almost forgotten about the old woman's promise of a special treat, and is drifting off to sleep when she hears a voice.

“Hello again.”

It's the old woman, and she's not alone this time. Still naked, still covered in her own and the three girls' sweat, Ellen stands up from the bed.

“We saw the ribbon, but figured it didn't really apply to us.”

The girl she's brought with her is beautiful, probably seventeen or eighteen years old, with long, blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She wears a t-shirt that's torn and full of holes but looks clean, and what looks like jeans cut into mid-thigh shorts.

“This is my granddaughter, Solntse,” the old woman says.

“And this,” she continues as another woman, somewhere between the ages of the two, shows up at the door behind the blonde girl. “This is her mother, Ludmila.

“Now,” she continues, raising her hand. “Before you tell me it's not enough, and you're right to think that, I'll have you know that these two are the very best at what they do, and you won't be disappointed.

“I taught them everything they know,” she says with a genuinely proud smile. “Sol, darling, why don't you give her a preview?”

The blonde girl is chewing what looks like black chewing gum, leaning against the wall, looking indifferent, even bored, but she nods and takes the gum out of her mouth.

She sticks it to the wall, then steps forward and takes off her clothes.

When she's naked, she stretches her arms out to the sides and slowly twirls around a couple of times, and it's obvious she's used to promoting her body like this.

Facing Ellen again, she bends forward and, with straight legs, she puts her palms on the floor. Then she crouches down a little before she puts her feet straight up in the air, her toes almost touching the ceiling. Standing on her hands like that, she twirls around again. When her back is facing Ellen, she bends backward and slowly lowers her feet to the floor, first her right foot, then her left, until she's in a bridge pose with her thighs parted. She stays like that for a few seconds, showing herself off, and then she stands up again and walks back to the wall, putting the gum back in her mouth.

As she looks at Ellen, she gives her a brief, crooked smile that almost sends Ellen to the floor. It's a smile she has seen before. Even though this girl looks nothing like her, that smile is unmistakably Hiroko's. The same upward-turning left corner of the mouth, the same tilt with the head, the same alluring mix of playfulness and melancholy.

“Krasota!” the old woman says, clapping her hands.

“So,” she says, turned toward Ellen. “What do you think? Do we have a deal?”

“Yes, it's... great,” Ellen says. “She's great.”

“Yes,” she says. “Great. Mila?”

The blonde girl's mother walks up to Ellen, and only then does she realize she's wearing the red-and-black overalls of the federation officers.

She smiles, puts a hand on the back of Ellen's neck and one arm around her waist, and then kisses her. Ellen draws back a little at first, unwilling to again face the emptiness the three hookers caused, but Ludmila pulls her back in, and soon Ellen opens her mouth and lets her tongue in. As the kiss grows more and more passionate, Ludmila's hands trace down Ellen's back until she grabs her ass hard, pulls her close, and lifts her. Ellen has no choice but to wrap her legs around her waist, and, still kissing her, Ludmila carries her to the bed and sits her down on it. Then she kneels in front of her, pushes her knees apart, and puts her tongue on Ellen's clit, and a finger inside her.

With eyes closed, Ellen holds back for as long as she can, but as Ludmila's movements stay unhurried and gentle, a slow-moving orgasm soon creeps through her. It’s different than the ones she just had; liberating, as if it’s the first real orgasm in a long time, and safe, as if given out of devotion and not duty.

The old woman has settled herself in the chair, and Sol has been standing by the wall, chewing her gum and watching them, but now she walks up to Ellen as her mother steps away.

She grabs Ellen's head and leans forward a little, offering her her left breast. Ellen eagerly takes her nipple in her mouth, sucking it as the girl strokes her cheek. Though she's younger than her, Ellen feels strangely soothed and comforted by the act, and so she puts her arms around her waist in what is more an affectionate embrace, like the way you'd hug a close friend, than a sexual grasp.

When Ellen looks up at her with her nipple in her mouth, the girl smiles, and again it is a smile Ellen has seen before; Hiroko's warm and comforting smile, as if saying, 'There, there.'

But then, suddenly, Sol pushes her away and down onto the bed.

The bed isn't wider than as Ellen lies across it like that. With her feet on the floor, her head is hanging over the edge on the opposite side.

As Sol crouches down between her legs, Ludmila takes her uniform off and joins them, straddling Ellen's face, with her back to her daughter, lifting Ellen's head so she can reach her pussy. When Ellen sticks her tongue out, she begins to rock back and forth, rubbing her pussy up and down from Ellen's chin to her nose as if she's selfishly using her face to masturbate.

And right now that suits Ellen just fine, as Sol's greedy and skillful tongue is making it impossible for her to focus on anything other than the bolts of pleasure that rip through her, making her writhe and squirm, simultaneously trying to get away from and push closer to the girl's tongue.

She comes again, but whether it's one long orgasm or three or four of them just fractions of seconds apart, she can't tell, and only when it's over does she realize that Ludmila has come too and is now leaning down, licking her own juices off of Ellen's face.

When both the mother and the daughter step away from her, she lies there catching her breath with her eyes closed, and when she's finally able to sit up, she's still a bit light-headed.

The old woman is still in the chair, and the other two are now leaning against the table, looking at her.

“So... uhm.... thanks. For the, uhm...” Ellen says, and she can feel herself blushing. “I guess you're waiting for your... your pay now. The... the box is in my bag.”

She blushes even more when the young woman smiles, and her grandmother laughs.

“Oh, but darling,” the old woman says. “We're not done yet. We're just waiting for you to recover. I told you they were good, yes?”

Ellen nods.

“Girls,” the old woman says. “Let's make sure she gets what she pays for, shall we?”

What follows is more her being used than participating; only occasionally does Ellen's tongue or fingers find Sol or Ludmila.

They work with gentle patience, always focused, always present. Ellen is caught underneath them, squeezed between them, hiked up above them. The two rhythms are different, yet somehow matched; one releases as the other restrains, one slows down as the other speeds up, one soft flick of a tongue is paired with a deep, forceful kiss.

One orgasm is a long, silent wave - the next a mind-shattering tremor that leaves her muscles aching.

Only when she is clearly spent do they let go.

Ludmila is soon back in her uniform, but Sol stays where she is.

“Are you okay?” Sol whispers, smiling up at her from between her thighs. Ellen only manages to nod.

“Ready for more?”

“No,” Ellen wheezes. “Not yet. Please."

“Of course,” the girl says. “Don't worry. We have to go soon; there's something I have to do. But I'll come back if you want me to stay with you.”

“All night?” Ellen says.

The girl smiles. “It's always night here, malyshka,” she says, and plants a couple of kisses right on Ellen's pussy.

Ellen moans. “Maybe you could...” she begins, but Ludmila interrupts her before she can finish her proposal.

“You know,” she says. “You don't have to go yet. We'll go and set everything up for you. Just be there before it starts.”

“Cool,” Sol says without taking her eyes off Ellen. “Spasibo, mama.”

“Just don't wear yourself out completely.”

“Pfft,” the girl hisses, and this time she looks at her mother. “It's Yvette. I know what breaks her. I can take her with both arms tied behind my back.”

“I know, I know,” Ludmila says.

As they turn to leave, the old woman reaches into Ellen’s bag, freezes, and looks up.

“You have more. Are you distributing? How much is on your ship?”

“No,” Ellen says quickly. “That’s all I have. I swear.”

The old woman studies her, then the smile returns.

“Of course. S vami priyatno imet’delo, darling. A pleasure doing business with you."

Ellen and Sol spend the next hour, or 'turn', in bed together, not talking much, most of the time just cuddling, fondling each other, kissing. When Ellen reaches for Sol's pussy she rubs her hard and fast, thinking that's what she wants, but Sol takes a hold of her hand and guides her, showing her how she likes it; slow and gentle, and Ellen makes her come, a faint, quiet and delicate orgasm that Ellen might have missed if she hadn't moaned, "I'm coming," into her ear.

With her head on Ellen's chest, while Ellen strokes her hair, Sol glides her fingers around Ellen’s breast, and quietly, she begins to sing: “Bayu bayushki bayu. Ne lozhisya na krayu!”

She drifts off to sleep, humming her lullaby, and Ellen lets her, thinking she'll just let her sleep for a few minutes before waking her up so she can go and do whatever she has to do. So that she can come back to her soon. Because this is the girl, this is the one she wants to take with her. She hasn't thought about the other Ellen at all since she showed up, and that's all she wanted. She'll gladly give half the goo on the Aphrodite for that.

They’re both asleep when Sol's mother wakes them by shaking her daughter.

“Sol!” she shouts. “Get up!”

“Okay, okay,” Sol says, rubbing her eyes. “Sorry. Calm down.”

She gets out of bed, grabs her clothes from the floor, and heads for the door, but then she turns around, runs back to Ellen, leans down, kisses her, and says, “Hurry,” before she runs out.

Ellen has no idea why, but she does as she's told and hurries to put on her jumpsuit and her boots. She checks the Bolt 7 and grabs her bag before she leaves.

She runs too, thinking she'll have to catch up with Sol or she'll never find her again, but she sees her the moment she runs through the door and into the hall where she met LooLoo earlier.

The hall is completely changed. All the mattresses are piled up in one corner, and there are tables lined up close to the walls. Some are sitting around the tables, playing cards or throwing dice, but most of the women there, maybe a hundred of them in all, are standing around a cage that now has appeared in the center of the room, apparently lowered from the ceiling. It's a real cage this time, maybe fifteen by fifteen feet, with iron bars for walls and roof instead of the mesh that surrounds everything else.

She sees Sol, still naked, standing by the cage with her mother, who ties the girl's hair into a ponytail.

Sol climbs up on one of the horizontal bars of the cage, and when they see her, the crowd erupts in cheers and roars as she waves at them.

On the opposite side of the cage, another woman climbs up, and the crowd cheers again, but noticeably less, and there are even a few boos.

She points to where the boos seem to be coming from, then shakes her fist at the women there before jumping down again. She looks quite a bit older than Sol, heavier and stronger, with hair cut to just dark, irregular stubs, and, just like Sol, she’s naked except for a red wrap on her right hand.

Ellen forces her way through the crowd and reaches Sol as she jumps down from the cage.

“It's a fight?” she asks, but she has to shout the words to be heard over the cheers. “You fight?”

Sol gives her that same crooked half-smile, the one that keeps rearranging itself into Hiroko’s.

“That too,” she says. “Stay and watch. I'm all yours after.”

“You’re fighting her?”

“Yvette.” Sol nods her head toward the other woman. “She’s good. Strong, mean if she has to be. But I'm better."

Ellen shakes her head. “You don't have to do this,” she says, but the crowd drowns out every word.

“What?”

“You don't have to do this,” Ellen shouts. “I want to take you with me. Off this moon. A contract.”

Sol smiles and tilts her head, and behind her Ellen sees Ludmila's eyes flare up with sudden interest, then she masks it again.

“I'm not cheap,” Sol says. "I was born here, I'm still paying for the goo I came from."

“That's not a problem.”

“I figured that much. But..."

Her mother pulls her aside. The two of them speak low, in their own language that Ellen cannot follow. Sol shakes her head once. Ludmila speaks again, sharper. Sol hesitates, eyes on the floor, then gives a slow, reluctant nod.

She comes back to Ellen. The crooked smile is still there, but thinner now.

"If I win, I'm stuck here. If I lose, LooLoo might make a deal."

"Then lose."

Sol lets out a short breath that is almost a laugh.

“That’s what mama said.”

She turns toward the cage.

LooLoo is already inside. Clearly acting as the referee, she wears the same struggling corset, and her only symbols of authority are thin black gloves and the crowd's silence when she raises a hand.

“Welcome to our main event!” she shouts. “The girls are ready, so place your bets!”

She points to Sol, who has entered the cage and is standing in one corner.

“Solntse!” LooLoo shouts, and then she points to the other girl in the opposite corner. “Or Yvette! She who finishes first, finishes last!”

“Are you ready?!” she shouts, and the crowd roars again. Ellen hears shouts of, “Make her spill, Sol!”, “Break her, Yvette!” and “I want to hear her squeal when she comes!”

LooLoo raises her hand again, and lets it fall.

The two women close on each other.

No feeling-out period or sizing each other up. Yvette pushes Sol straight into the bars hard enough that the whole cage shudders.

In one move, she grabs Sol by the wrists and stretches her arms outward, presses a thick thigh between her legs and grinds upward. Sol snarls at her but is unable to break free from the stronger woman’s grip, but when Yvette gets too confident and leans down and takes one of Sol’s nipples in her mouth, she seizes the opportunity, bows her head, and bites her on the shoulder. Yvette growls and loosens her grip just enough so Sol can tear herself free and duck away under her arm. But just as she’s about to grab Yvette from behind, LooLoo steps in.

She keeps Sol away with her left arm as she examines Yvette’s shoulder.

“Penalty!”

Sol throws her hands out in frustration, but obeys. Standing in the middle of the cage, LooLoo takes hold of her wrists and locks them behind her back, and Yvette kneels in front of her and starts to lick her pussy.

“Ten, nine, eight…” LooLoo counts down as Sol grinds her teeth in unwanted pleasure.

“One!”

She lets go, and Sol jumps away from Yvette’s mouth.

They crash together again. Yvette once more gets the upper hand, grabs Sol around the waist, and throws her to the floor. She sits her full weight on Sol’s face and grinds while reaching back to work between Sol’s legs. Sol’s muffled sounds are half protest, half moan.

After a few seconds, Sol stops fighting to get her face away from Yvette’s pussy, opens her mouth, and takes it deliberately, tongue working to push Yvette closer to the edge while two of her fingers push inside her from behind. An angry, hissing groan escapes Yvette, and her body trembles. She has to lift off or come.

Sol jumps up and grabs Yvette from behind, locking her left arm firmly under her chin and pressing her against the bars while she buries her right hand between her legs from the front, a curled middle finger pumping in a vicious rhythm that makes Yvette’s thighs shake. She tries to close her legs, tries to reach back, but Sol only tightens the hold and speeds up.

Suddenly Yvette pushes back and twists free, launches on Sol and throws her to the floor before she drops between her spread thighs. She eats her like she is trying to climb inside, while two fingers from each hand stretch her open. Sol tries to crawl away from her, but Yvette follows until Sol bumps into the wall. Her hands scramble for the bars behind her. For several long seconds the cage is nothing but the wet noise of Yvette’s mouth and Sol’s helpless moans. Then Sol manages to get a hold of the bars and with all her strength she pulls herself up and leaps over Yvette’s back.

Yvette jumps at her before she’s on her feet. They roll. Yvette ends up face down on the floor, with Sol pinning her down with her body, straddling her neck while grabbing around her thighs, and then she buries her face in Yvette’s pussy from behind, eating her out frantically, tongue darting in and out. Yvette groans again, louder this time, but the anger seems absent, and for a short while she lies still and takes it, enjoys it, as if she’s given up.

But then, Sol appears to let off, as if to catch her breath, and Yvette spins around underneath her. Sol still manages to stay on top of her, grab her thighs again, and go back to licking her. Yvette now has her face in Sol’s pussy, and for almost a full minute they keep licking each other like that, the occasional moan and sigh clearly heard from them both.

LooLoo drops down to her hands and knees beside them, ready to call out a winner, and when Yvette shoves two fingers inside her pussy, Sol arches her back and throws her head up, like a wolf howling at the moon.

“That’s it, she's done!” someone yells from the crowd. “Fuck her hard, Yvette!”

But LooLoo doesn't call it yet.

Sol's whole body quivers as Yvette holds her in a tight grip. The crowd is on its feet. For a dangerous few seconds it seems Yvette will succeed, even LooLoo raises her hand halfway.

Then Sol lifts her head, and her eyes scan the crowd until they find Ellen. Ellen stares back as Sol smiles that crooked, Hiroko smile - but now it is triumphant and arrogant, sly and mischievous - and then she plants a knee on Yvette's shoulder and shoves with everything she has. The moment contact breaks, Sol surges up, but instead of escaping she whirls around and throws herself on Yvette, pinning her down again. Her left hand grips around Yvette's throat, and with her right hand she pushes four fingers inside her pussy, with her thumb working frenziedly on her clit in tight circles. Yvette’s legs begin to tremble. Her hands grip Sol’s left hand, but she doesn’t try to tear it away.

Sol leans forward, her face close to Yvette’s. She seems to whisper something, and then she forces her tongue into her mouth.

Yvette’s body seizes - a broken, high sound tears out of her. The orgasm is long, shaking, unmistakable. Sol’s fingers ride her through it before she lets go.

LooLoo stands over them. Though it's not really necessary, she places two fingers at the base of Yvette’s throat, feels her pulse as the last throes subside, waits one extra second, then rises and lifts her arms.

“Solntse wins!”

The crowd roars. Sol stands on shaking legs, wetness running down her thighs. She turns, chest heaving, and searches again for Ellen in the crowd.

But Ellen is gone.

-

Ellen runs. She never hears Ludmila’s angry shouts directed at her daughter. She never sees the longing in Sol's eyes or the brief, complicated regret that crosses her face.

She never looks back. The steel clanks under her boots, sending a rhythmic, dull vibration up her spine as she flees. She turns corners she doesn't know, jumps down stairs she's never climbed, passes places she never was.

She feels duped and misled to the point of blind rage, but that's not why she ran. That's not why she's crying. In Sol's eyes, in her smile, she saw what the other Ellen must have seen. Felt what the other Ellen must have felt: betrayal, deception - absolute devastation.

She finds the dock by chance rather than through any conscious effort of her own.

In the shuttle, she goes through the undocking checks with the flat efficiency of book-learning and muscle memory.

The Aphrodite receives her without ceremony. The familiar, sterile smell of the ship closes around her.

She stands on the bridge for a while, still in the jumpsuit that carries the scent of the moon, and says nothing.

MOM is the first to speak.

“Welcome back, Captain.”

Ellen does not answer.

After a moment, MOM adds, quietly, “It’s for the best.”

Ellen closes her eyes.

She does not ask how MOM knows. She only nods once, a small, tired motion, and goes to strip off her clothes and her thoughts.

The ship is quiet again.

The other Ellen is still gone.

And the girl with Hiroko’s smile is already becoming another memory that will not stay still.