CHAPTER 5

Woman

After some hours they organized to set the bubble right. First they ate enough to sustain their systems.

Then they dragged the bodies to the front lock, and Hope and Spirit hauled them out, one by one, to anchor to the hull. The job seemed interminable, but they kept at it, because the bodies would soon spoil in the warmth and air of the interior. The only exception was Helse; Hope couldn't handle that, and neither, it turned out, could Spirit. But the other children rose to the occasion and did that job, burying her, as they called it, still in her wedding gown. They brought back only the once-humorous little tag, HELSE HUBRIS, and formally gave it to Hope as a memento. They pretended not to notice his tears; how well they understood.

In between they held spot services for the dead. They tried to remember something nice to say about each child they put away, and to wish him or her well in heaven. Some were siblings, some were friends; all had been companions in misery. If the tears came again, as they often did, there was no shame. They were family.

They swept up the refuse, and washed off the decks. Meanwhile there was another, far more positive aspect: they had taken the pirate ship with them. Its lock had been fastened to the bubble's front lock, and all the pirates were dead of decompression. They were treated with less civility: their bodies were dragged into a single chamber, piled up, and sealed off. They were welcome to rot, and their only benediction was an assortment of curses to hurry their way on to hell.

The pirate ship had welcome supplies of food, weapons, and tools. It would be some time, if ever, before anyone had to eat fresh meat again. It also had money and booty from pirate raids, including some mysterious containers marked only with letters of the alphabet. These, Spirit concluded, were illicit drugs, fabulously valuable on the black market.

Hope did a fade-out before they were done exploring the pirate ship, but she managed to steady him. He was like that, often thinking too much; no one knew what so-constantly revved up his brain, and it was best simply to work around it.

Finally they found a fully-stocked lifeboat. That was a find indeed! They strung lines to it so as to haul it behind the bubble. That might come in really useful, if other pirates didn't steal it from them first.

They cut loose from the derelict pirate ship and resumed their journey. One of the things they had picked up was a holo projector and a number of cartridges. Hoping for diversion, the children set it up and put in a cartridge labeled Animal Fun. But it turned out to be obnoxious fun: a naked woman indulging sexually with a donkey. There was a cry of dismay, and Hope came from his station to see what was wrong.

"Turn it off," he said, disgusted. But then the children got interested, because this was normally forbidden material. So they watched the animals, and also the cartridges showing all manner of human sexuality.

Spirit felt guilty, but watched with them, as intrigued as they. This was certainly one way to study the diversity of the act. Despite all its seeming variants, it consisted essentially of getting the male and female parts together, then squirming and grimacing and moaning until a bit of juice jetted from the male. She thought there should be more to it than that, considering all the secrecy about it. Maybe there was, in non-pirate relationships. Certainly it had had far more significance for Hope when Helse did it with him.

The children were adjusting, one way or another, but Hope was having more trouble. He slept only fitfully, writhing during what sleep he got, sometimes crying out inchoately. Spirit stayed with him, trying to tide him through by holding his hand, stroking his head, or just hugging him. It had been bad when their father died, and worse when their mother died, but Helse had taken up much of the slack. Now Helse had died, and it was the worst, because his loss was greater, and Spirit had less to offer. It was like trying to sail one of those little boats in a video, when the water got stormy. She just had to hold on to him, muttering reassurances, until he settled down again.

But one night it was worse. He thrashed about, and the name he spoke was Helse. He seemed to be talking to her. Then Spirit tried to leave, but he wouldn't let her. "Don't go!" he cried, grabbing onto her.

"Love and be loved!"

Spirit tried again to free herself, but realized that she couldn't do so without waking him from his dream of Helse, and she didn't want to do that. Helse was his only real comfort, and he could be with her only in dreams. So she let him draw her in, and actually she didn't mind being close to him, even if it was Helse he thought he held. She wished she could truly be Helse.

Then he tried to kiss her. She turned her face aside, feeling guilty. Then she asked herself what harm there could be in kissing her brother, and let him do it. That was perhaps her mistake, because when his passionate lips touched hers she felt a surge of passion herself. Was this what it had been like for Helse?

Lips were merely lips, but this was feeling fire, spreading through her body, heating her breasts and her groin. She wanted--what?

Then he paused and began to draw away. "But I killed you!" he said, perhaps waking just enough to remember reality.

Spirit felt the pain going through his body. She hated that. She tried to comfort him. "She told you to do it, Hope. To let the air out. She said 'Do it!'"

He seemed to consider that. Then he said "I love you."

"And I love you," she replied. That had always been true. Did it matter whom he thought he was addressing? She was addressing him.

He put his hands on her, ruffling her clothing. She was in a nightie left from one of the women; it was more comfortable for sleep. He was in pajamas, similarly loose. She moved, trying to preserve her modesty, such as it was, but he pressed in more closely. She felt something by her hip, and realized with a shock that it was his member. He had an erection.

He thought she was Helse-- and he wanted to have sex with her.

She almost cried out, to wake him, lest they both be severely embarrassed. But something stopped her, and in a moment she realized what it was. She wanted to help him, not hurt him--and waking him from his longing dream to the stark reality of Helse's death would hurt him worse than anything else. He could never again have sex with Helse--unless she came to him in some other body.

Spirit could be that body. She had been jealous of Helse, then sorry when she died. Now she could do something to make it up. She could let Hope love Helse, using her body. Almost she felt the spirit of Helse entering her, seeking Hope.

So she let him draw up her nightie and put his hand on her breast. It seemed to fill out as he touched it, assuming a little of Helse's volume. She breathed, trying to make it fuller yet, suddenly afraid that he would recognize the imposition and wake, angry with her.

But he continued. He kissed her mouth again, and this time she responded better, her feeling fleshing out what her body lacked. Then he moved his face down and kissed her breast, and she let him, her excitement blossoming. He put his mouth on her nipple, licking it, and her body came alive in a new way.

She arched, trying to give him more. She had never imagined feeling like this. The pirate holos had shown no such tenderness, no such joy of participation. This was the missing element, this burgeoning feeling.

He got on top of her, and his member was now free of its clothing, pressing hotly against her belly. He wanted to put it into her. How would that happen? In a moment she realized that she had to help him.

She spread her legs, lifting her knees on either side of him. His member slid down her belly and dropped into the opening crevice between her legs. She had become hot and slick there. She remembered what he had said about being inside Helse, and heaven being inside him. Had heaven been inside her too?

She wiggled, and the tip of the member found the deepest, hottest recess, and pushed into it. She welcomed that forbidden penetration. There wasn't quite room enough, but he did not stop and she did not try to withdraw. Instead she tried to relax where it counted, letting her knees spread wider. She pictured a cylindrical spaceship docking at a round refugee bubble. The mating of the locks. He was knocking at the lock; she wanted the lock to open. Only in this case the ship was actually sliding into the bubble. And it did, slowly, tightly. There was pain all around the rim, as if the surface were corroded, but it was sweet pain, maybe punishment for her doing what she knew she should not, though also joy.

Pleasure-pain, like struggling to win a fierce competition. Stage by stage, the valve yielded as the conduit connected, as something somewhat too big nudged into something slightly too small. But the tube was expanding, stretching around the entry vessel. The atmospheric pressure was equalizing. Yet the ship was still driving in, on and on, as if forging through viscous substance, and the bubble was still giving way around it, more readily now. There was a special delight in the tightness; the fit was firm, with no leakage.

Overall it was weird and wonderful, a transcendental experience.

At last it stopped; he was all the way inside her, his hull right up against hers, the seal complete. She had not realized how far in it was possible to go; the warm rod of him was throbbing right there in the depths her belly. She surrounded him, she enclosed him, she contained him, she loved him. She reveled in her power to perform, to take the whole of him into her resilient being, and hold him there softly forever.

"Helse!" he whispered, and kissed her again on the mouth. She returned the kiss ferociously. She felt him swelling within; now it didn't hurt, for the tight interior was more flexible than the aperture. She clenched whatever muscles she could find there, squeezing him, caressing him, making him welcome. She felt him responding, becoming increasingly urgent as she stroked him with her substance. Yes! She wanted him to feel her loving power. His body was tensing, his breathing coming hard; something was building to the bursting point. The member jerked quickly in and back and hard in again. And at last there was a rush of fluid heat. It was a signal of his melting joy, erupting from the swollen tip--and after that her own joy came, surprising her, radiating through her body long and slow and strong, wave after wave, making her writhe in the continuing ecstasy. It seemed as if his essence was spreading through all her channels, carrying pleasure everywhere. Who cared about the beastly mechanics of it; this was heaven!

They remained a forever moment in that hot wet joy, their bodies perfectly united. Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me, she thought, and wondered whether that was the true meaning of those words: the blessed rod of flesh within her. She wanted it never to end. But of course it had to, for men lost capacity after they jetted, as if they had lost the fluid that distended them. What had been huge and hard was softening.

"Oh, Helse," he said as he drew out of her, diminished.

"Oh, Hope, my love!" she said, kissing him again.

He dropped his head beside her and slept completely. That was the way with men; Helse had told her.

But as the rapture of the moment faded, Spirit became increasingly uneasy. Hope had perhaps not known what he had done, but she had. Maybe Helse was with her, but it was Spirit's body, and who else would ever understand? Also, the fluid heat had come out of him and into her, but it wouldn't stay; it would slide out of her and stain the mat.

Carefully she disengaged from him, and he did not wake. Surely Helse had done the same, many times. It was part of being a woman. She sat up, and felt the wetness below. She got a tissue and put it there, wincing when it touched the rawness. Then she stood, holding the tissue in place, and walked quietly around. The fluid slid down and out cohesively, and she folded the tissue around it.

She climbed out of the chamber and went to the nearest head. She was alone, fortunately. She used the facilities and cleaned up. She was sore, but knew she would recover. She opened the tissue she had brought and looked at it. There was just a whitish blob there, like the translucent white of an egg. So little, signifying so much! She put it down the disposal chute. Then she returned to the chamber and lay down beside Hope. She had to decide what to do, because when he woke he might ask. She didn't want to lie to him, but neither did she want to tell him the truth. Not only had she had full woman-style sex with him, she had reveled in it as the culmination of all her desire. He would never understand.

She worked out the necessary compromise: if he asked her, she would tell. But she would not volunteer it. That way she would not be lying to him. With luck it would remain her secret.

She closed her eyes. "Oh Hope, my brother, my love," she repeated. Maybe it was forbidden, maybe her soul was soiled, but she had at last had what she wanted most of him. She had never really understood what it was she had desired, but now she knew, absolutely. She knew it would never be repeated, but she would cherish the secret memory as long as she lived. It was, in its way, Helse's gift to her. The gift of his ultimate expression of love.

As morning came, she got up and dressed, letting Hope sleep. He had not slept this well since losing Helse; that much she had done for him. She donned blouse and pants and brushed out her hair, adding a ribbon, making herself respectable. She looked in a mirror. Helse had been right: she was becoming pretty. Her blouse made her breasts show a little, and the pants were tight enough to give her a bottom.

She had used that bottom! She also looked innocent, which was much of the point. Her innocence was forever gone, but she would try her best to fake it. Maybe Hope wouldn't ask.

She went out and interacted with the other children, seeing that they got food for breakfast, hugging a girl who had evidently been crying, planning the day. Did any of them suspect what she had done in the night? There was no sign of it. She intended to provide no sign; every hour the secret held made it less likely ever to be exposed. Her mother and the other women had shown her how to fake innocence; it was a lesson she hoped she had learned well.

"You're pretty," a little boy told her.

"Thank you," she said, exactly as she should. The children needed her to be pretty, because pretty Helse had become their mother figure, and now it had to be Spirit. She had taken Hope's early advice to heart, enhancing her body with clothing and hair and expression, though she used no makeup. She needed to be pretty, not adult, right now, for a reason it was best they not understand.

She checked on Hope frequently, and when she saw him stirring, she joined him. "Are you all right, Hope?" she asked, peering down into the cell.

He looked up at her, seeming troubled. Yes, he definitely suspected!

He was going to ask. She could not avoid it, but it was best that this confrontation be private. She dropped down into the chamber beside him.

"Spirit," he said. "Were you with me when I slept?"

There it was. The hour of trial was upon her. But she would not volunteer it. "Hope, I will always be with you," she replied. "We are family."

"No, I mean--"

She looked at him, bracing for disaster. She had to answer, but she wasn't going to make it easy. "You mean what?"

"I mean with me. When--"

"When you screamed for Helse?" That was of course not the same. He knew she had been with him, every night, trying to ease his pain.

"Yes."

"Hope, you had a bad dream. You were thrashing about. I tried to hold you down. Finally I got you quiet." Literally true, but not the whole truth. If he asked her how she had gotten him quiet, the game was lost.

He considered. "Did I--hurt you?"

"You can't hurt me, Hope."

"I mean--" But he did not finish. She understood with a flash of revelation that he didn't want to know.

She played on that. "Hope, I am your sister. I will do anything I have to, to keep you safe. I would die for you, as Helse did. Does anything else matter?"

Still he struggled, visibly "There are things you must not do for me, Spirit."

She put on her most innocent look. "Like what?"

"Like--" But he choked again.

"Like lying to you?" she asked. "Ask me anything, Hope; I won't lie." Please God, let him not ask!

He gave it up. "You are my sister."

"Always," she agreed. Then, trusting her luck no farther, she left him and went on about her business.

Soon he rejoined her. He never brought up the dread subject again. But it lingered long in her dreams.

*

Only a few days later the next pirate ship came. They set up for the three stage defense, this time with only two innocents to greet the visitors, because that was all they could spare. But the men had hardly entered before Spirit blew the whistle.

For an instant Hope and the others were at a loss. "It's the Horse!" Spirit hissed. Then they understood.

"Do it!" she said, meaning stage three.

But that moment of delay was too long. Even as Hope went out the lock, a pirate leaped forward and caught Spirit. She could not go to turn off the drive, so that Hope could reach the key valve. They were caught.

Horse wasted no time interrogating the captives. "Where are all the others? How did you get this pirate stuff?" he demanded. They refused to answer.

"Then we shall do it the harder way," the Horse said grimly. He pointed to Spirit. "Strip her."

They were going to rape her? But of course she had proved she was old enough, and of course no girl was too young for a pirate. She struggled, but soon they had stripped her naked.

The Horse studied her. "Not quite old enough," he said with evident regret. "Another year and she'll be fine, but I don't get my kicks from children. Anyway, that won't make this kid talk; it didn't before. We'll have to go the other way." He drew his knife.

The Horse faced Hope. "This is your little sister, by the look of her." He brandished the knife. "So are you going to talk?"

"He won't!" Spirit exclaimed bravely. But she was terrified. Rape was not necessarily the worst, with pirates.

The Horse sighed. "Okay, we'll start with a finger." He grabbed her left hand and wrestled with it until he had hold of her smallest digit, while the two other pirates held her legs and other arm, preventing her from struggling effectively. So far this wasn't much different from rape. Was he really going to cut her finger?

Then, without further ceremony, he brought the knife up and sliced into the base of her finger, near the knuckle.

The pain was overwhelming. Spirit screamed so piercingly her own ears hurt. She wrenched with all her strength, but the pirate hung on and kept carving. Blood spattered out and the pain continued.

Then it stopped, somewhat. Spirit stared at her hand, which was awash with blood. Her little finger was gone!

"I ask you again," the Horse said, grinning at Hope. "Are you ready to talk?"

What Hope said then surprised Spirit through her pain. It sounded like "Kife."

Spirit was awash in pain and horror, but she was aware that all the pirates took note. She didn't know what the word meant, or how Hope had learned of it, but it had obvious power.

"So you're into that, are you?" the Horse asked, licking his lips. He had for the moment forgotten Spirit.

"All right, show me the mark and I'll turn you loose."

"I have no mark," Hope said.

That evidently didn't wash. "There's always a mark," the Horse said.

"Let my sister go, and I'll tell you everything," Hope said, obviously defeated.

The pirates holding Spirit let go of her arms and put ropes on her ankles instead. She tried to put her fist in her mouth, but all she did was smear her own blood on her face. A man gave her a dirty bandanna, and she wadded that against the stump to finally stanch the bleeding. In a moment she found herself sitting on the deck with a blanket over her. She felt cold and faint, and her hand still hurt horribly.

Hope talked, and she listened despite her pain. It seemed that Helse had been a courier for someone named QYV, pronounced Kife. The Horse concluded that she must have been carrying something valuable in her body, and he wanted to know what it was. So while the eight children sat bound on the deck, the pirates suited up and went out on the hull to fetch Helse's body back in. It was frozen grotesquely stiff, so they waited while it slowly thawed, because they did not want to destroy whatever it was inside her.

It was an agonizingly long wait, several days, and all that time the pirates kept the children bound and guarded, released only singly to use the head. They allowed Spirit to rummage ineffectively through her own belongings for better bandaging material for her hand. The tacit deal was that then she would stop moaning so much. There was nothing suitable, so she had to settle for soft undergarments wrapped voluminously around and anchored clumsily with elastic. At least it stifled the bleeding, and she did stop her noise.

Actually she wasn't hurting quite as much as she let on. She had realized almost immediately that the pirates were keeping all of them alive mainly so that they would have plenty of children to torture if they needed to make Hope talk some more. Once they had what they wanted, they would probably either kill the children, or leave them in the bubble without the drive, so that they would inevitably die when their food and air ran out. They were doomed--unless they found some way to overcome the pirates. That was why, in the guise of clumsiness, she fetched her finger whip, and the tiniest of weapons: a knife fashioned from an ancient-style razor blade. It had been one of the weapons they had used in Stage Two.

She hid it with in the bandage, next to the gore of the stump. It was unlikely to be discovered there.

But she had no chance to use it, because a pirate was always watching, day and night. One even watched while she pissed in the head, licking his lips; there was no privacy at all. They were children, but she was pretty sure they would get raped before the pirates departed. Not all of the men would be as finicky about age as the Horse. They were just waiting for his word that the mission was done; then they would grab the particular children they had decided on and do it. Spirit had a fair notion which pirate wanted which child for what; they were hardly subtle about their glances. When it was the Horses's turn to return to their ship and sleep, two pirates would stand guard duty in the bubble, and sometimes they talked, not caring who heard. "That one with the finger--she's got half a breast," one said, staring at Spirit. "Got tight little pussy too, I'll bet." They even played a series of games of dice to determine which one of them would get the first dip, as they put it. Spirit pretended she didn't hear or didn't understand, and so did the other children. They had all learned the pretense of innocence, but all knew exactly what the pirates were talking about, having seen it happen before.

Meanwhile in the long hours they sat while Helse's body thawed, and the deathly stench slowly intensified, Spirit reflected on her life and situation, trying to understand why it had come to this pass. She concluded that she had brought it on herself: she had let her brother put his digit into her, so she had had one of her own digits cut off. God's punishment, a tooth for a tooth. If she ever did it again, she would pay again. It was not a lesson she was ever likely to forget. It might be that the whole second appearance of the Horse was to effect that punishment. She had brought it on them all.

But they had not yet been killed. That meant that God was giving her time not only to repent, but perhaps to redeem herself. Maybe she could somehow save them, when her punishment was complete. But she would have to be ready whenever the time came.

At last Helse had melted through, and the Horse was ready. He took out his own blade and sliced carefully into Helse's belly, looking for whatever might be inside. The other pirates crowded around, watching avidly. Spirit knew that Hope was wincing; the woman he had loved was being further violated, even after rape and death.

None were watching the children now. Spirit slowly brought her swaddled left hand to her mouth and worked at the wrapping with her teeth. She found the blade and picked it up with her lips. Then she held it between her teeth and used it to saw at the bonds that held her hands together.

The child next to her turned his head to see what she was doing. She did not try to conceal it from him.

Then he looked straight ahead, at the clustered pirates. "Pause," he whispered, and she flipped the blade into her mouth with her tongue and made with the innocence. When no pirate was glancing their way, the boy whispered "Go."

The process seemed agonizingly slow, but the blade was sharp and a single strand was all it had to sever.

Her hands were loose, but she kept them together as if tied. When no pirate was looking, she nudged closer to the adjacent boy. He moved his bound hands toward her, and she held the blade in her right hand and sawed more efficiently at his cord. He kept his eyes on the pirates, warning her when there was danger.

When she had his cord severed, she passed the blade to him. It was a good one, holding its edge for a long time; it would cut more bonds before dulling. He knew what to do with it. She rearranged herself and watched the pirates, whispering warning when necessary. At the same time she used her nine fingers to work at the bond at her feet, loosening it without removing it.

What the pirates were doing was awful. Horse had cut Helse open from breast to crotch, and across the belly, and now they were drawing out her intestines and inspecting them length by length. They did not want to miss whatever it was inside her.

Finally Horse found it, and drew it out of her: a tiny capsule. But Spirit could not look at that; she was trying to catch Hope's eye. The child next to him nudged him, and he looked at her. She made a gesture with her hand as of cutting, indicating that she had a knife. Then the blade itself reached him. Not all the children between them had had time to sever their bonds, but they knew that Hope should be first, being more effective when free. So the child beside Hope was sawing at Hope's bond.

Meanwhile the pirates were trying to figure out the capsule. They were hesitant to break it open, lest it contain a deadly poison, or some precious oil that would be lost.

Hope gave Spirit a signal with a finger: when they acted, she should go first for the weapons. She nodded; that had been her idea, and she was glad to have it confirmed. She was closest to the cache.

"To hell with that," the Horse exclaimed, settling the pirates' dispute. He twisted the capsule apart.

An object fell out. Another pirate caught it. They looked at it. "A key!" the Horse said, disappointed. "A stupid little plastic key!"

But they didn't know what lock it might be for. It was useless to them.

The man threw it to the deck. "Three damn days gone--for this! For nothing!"

The children could wait no longer; it was time. Spirit got up quietly and walked toward the weapons. She tried to project an aura of innocence, as if she had been released to go to the head.

She almost made it. But then the Horse spied her. "The little bitch is loose! Who forgot to tie her ass?"

She saw Hope launch himself toward the Horse. He crashed into the man, distracting him for a moment.

The other children were attacking the other pirates. Spirit broke into a run. A pirate intercepted her, but she flicked him in the face with her finger whip. He clapped his hands to the wound. But another pirate was between her and the weapons cache. She hesitated, looking wildly around.

Hope had been thrown aside, and the Horse, all too quick to catch on, had drawn his laser pistol and was bringing it to bear on Spirit. She couldn't outrun that!

But Hope acted with hellish inspiration. He was going for the corpse. He was going to hurl that at the pirates! But it would be too late for Spirit; the Horse was about to fire.

She changed direction, leaping up into the upper baggage section, curving as she did because of the spin of the bubble. The laser shot missed her, burning a food package. Then she was scrambling through the packages, effectively losing herself among them. Unfortunately there were no weapons there, so her objective had been blunted.

But she had thought of an alternate way. It was deadly dangerous, but this was a desperate situation. She passed right on through the baggage compartment and dropped out of it on the far side of the bubble, out of sight of the pirates for the moment. There was the little drive unit.

She picked it up and wrestled it around so that it pointed down the center of the baggage section, the way she had come. "Down!" She cried. "Flat!" She braced herself as well as she could and turned it on.

"Someone shoot that brat," she heard the Horse saying. Then the rocket came on.

A blast of propulsive flame shot out of its aperture, shoving her violently back against the rear lock. She spread her legs, fighting to maintain her balance, hanging on to the monster. The fire spread in a narrow cone, singeing the netting and packages of the center of the bubble and bouncing off the rim of the front air lock. Then her grip slipped, and the drive cut out.

"Get their weapons!" she screamed as she struggled to reorient the drive. She hoped the blast had fried the standing pirates, and missed the fallen children, but she couldn't see its effect through the expanding smoke.

She heard Hope's voice. "Spirit!" Then there was a thump.

She pushed the switch on again. The frame erupted, and now the metal of the drive was hot, burning her hands, but she hung on regardless, as long as she could before her damaged flesh could no longer do the job and the drive went off again. The bast of hot air around it stung her eyes so that she could no longer see, but she bluffed: "I'll burn you all if you don't get those pirates!"

There was a scramble at the other side of the bubble. Then Hope called again. "Spirit!"

Blindly, she lifted the hot tube and aimed it by hope and guesswork. She found the switch, and felt it blast again. But she couldn't hold it, and in a moment it bucked from her grip and stopped. She lay on the deck, unable to do any more.

She heard people coming. Who was it? She had done all she could.

"Spirit!" Hope cried. Then she knew it was all right. She let go of her dwindling consciousness.

When she woke, she was in agony. She felt the burns on her hands, arms, and face. But she was able to move, and to see; she had been singed, not destroyed. Hope had the pirates captive, and was trying to decide what to do with the Horse.

She had hoped that brute was dead. But maybe it was better this way. She knew what to do with him.

She held out her left hand, which was slightly better off despite its missing finger because the bandaging had protected it to a degree. That bandaging was gone, but her stump wasn't bleeding, maybe because of the ferocious heat.

Hope put a laser pistol into it. The contact stung her hand, but she gritted her teeth, aimed it at the Horse's crotch, and pulled the trigger. He screamed as smoke puffed out. She held the beam there until she was sure his groin was bare of all external flesh, then dropped the pistol. She had castrated him, avenging the rape of her sister Faith. The destruction of Helse's body. The man might live or die, but he would never do that to another maiden.

Spirit and the other burned children rested, trying to heal, while Hope and the well ones cleaned up.

Hope saved the plastic key, putting it with Helse's wedding tag, HELSE HUBRIS. They had survived, losing no more children, but they had suffered, and it was not a happy occasion.