Chapter Two

The cyborg was huge, built like a juggernaut, and carrying a weapon the size of a rocket launcher. All to hunt down a skinny hooker, weighing a hundred pounds on a good day.

It was pretty funny really, when you thought about it. She almost smiled before the terror kicked back in. The coke must still be in her system, warping her judgement. She took another look at the cyborg striding towards her, its golden eye gleaming soullessly in the dark, shut her eyes and leapt into the canal.

The icy water swept over her head, driving the breath from her lungs. Sylvia gasped and spluttered, her arms flailing as she tried to swim. Before she had gone half a metre, a large hand grabbed her by the back of the neck, like a cat with a kitten. Or a mouse. The cyborg hauled her easily out of the canal and slung her over one shoulder, then turned, and strode back down the alley, completely ignoring her kicks and screams.

No-one looked out of a window, no-one came to her rescue.

After all, the cyborg was simply doing its job, rounding up the undesirables. The cyborg went up to a large van parked in the street, opened the rear door and tossed her inside. The door clanged shut, leaving her in the pitch dark, only able to tell she was not alone by the sound of breathing.

"Who's there?" she asked.

"Who wants to know?" a male voice shot back, still cocky, despite everything.

"I'm Sylvia."

"Eric."

"Cas."

"Trixie."

"Where are they taking us, do you know?" someone asked, now the conversational ice had been broken.

"I bet we're all going to Europa, that's where they send everyone these days. Cheap labour for the colony." That was Eric, the cocky one.

"What do you mean? We're already in Europe!"

"Not Europe, fuckwit! Europa! Saturn's moon. Haven't you been watching the holocasts?"

"Who's got time for that shit?"

"Why don't you tell us, seeing you know so much, smart ass?'

"They sent a ship to Europa last year, and now there's a colony up there, in space."

"What's that got to do with us?" asked Trixie uneasily.

"They want cheap labour. And labour don't come cheaper than us, babe!"

"Doing what? Surely they'd want scientists, people with technical skills?" protested Sylvia, who'd read a bit of sci-fi, before her so-called best friend introduced her to drugs and her life went down the toilet.

"Yeah, we're hardly the cream of the crop! It must cost billions of credits to launch a ship. Who's going to spend that sort of money on people like us?" Cas was getting his second wind. "Sounds a bit like what they told people before they took them to the gas chambers!" he continued, then he swallowed. Why the hell had he said that? As much as he had wanted to sneer at Eric, the vision his words had conjured up, suddenly seemed all too real. Even in 2101, gays were still a favourite target for hate groups.

"It's what I heard," muttered Eric, defensively.

"Well, I guess we're going to find out soon enough," murmured Sylvia. "The van's stopped."