FERTS Read online

  FERTS

  GRACE HUDSON

  ISBN: 978-1-943279-52-4

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  rev:01fK

  Copyright©2015 Grace Hudson.

  Cover by Sanura Jayashan

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Author's Note

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  This book is dedicated to my partner.

  For listening,

  encouraging,

  watching

  and waiting.

  – 1 –

  “Sound it.”

  “Sir?”

  “I said sound it. Another has escaped.”

  The siren hummed through the surrounding forests, a rumbling whine that grew in volume as the minutes passed. Many could say they knew how to resist the pull of the Ward Beacon, but they were in the minority. An Internee had once attempted to remove her own eardrums in a vicious effort to get free of the perimeter zone. She was recaptured within hours, patched up and left to recover in Zeta Circuit. Zeta housed the defective, the damaged, it was the station for the used. Once admitted to Zeta, there was no means of promotion, no advancement opportunities. Zeta was the end of the heap, the end of hope.

  Officer Cerberus glanced outside the immediate perimeter. The dryness of the day had given way to mist, the change permeating the air with a promise of a smattering of rain.

  “Only one?”

  “Sir?”

  “Is that all you can say?” Cerberus huffed, turning his head in annoyance. The young operator, Quinton, looked up at him with wide eyes.

  “I’ll start again. Is. There. Only. One.”

  “Escapee? Yes, Officer. Only one. Internee Beth 259251, 19Y, Epsilon Circuit.”

  “Then she’s not a high priority. Nonetheless, get her back. We have the highest recapture rate for this quarter. Keep it that way.”

  “Yes, Officer.”

  Cerberus strode out through the rear of the observation tower, leaving Quinton to his track and surveillance duties. The console zoomed in through trees to show the clear, glowing bright red outline of a young Internee, bent at the waist, visibly panting. Her hand gripped the tree beside her as she crouched, other hand planted firmly on her right knee to steady herself. She had lasted all of two minutes, the Ward Beacon surely must be having some kind of effect on her Implant Marker by now. Quinton looked more closely through the cracked monitor, admiring the sharp outline of her jaw, the defiant spread of her shoulders, as she leaned back against the tree, resisting the call.

  “Go back,” he whispered.

  She raised her head, as if sensing something.

  He checked her file in the logs, Epsilon Circuit, three years trained, two years fight duty. Beth 259251. They were all marked as Beth, only the numbers would change between Internees. She was assigned to Epsilon Circuit due to a hormonal imbalance at fourteen. She had contracted a common autoimmune disorder, causing her fertility rating to drop to a 5.6, but it was her muscle mass that relegated her to the betting Circuit of Epsilon. Her muscle mass was far above regulation and despite her condition she was physically strong, testing high on agility. Her fight record was exemplary, a formidable opponent for any challenger from the Epsilon Internee fight pool.

  The endurance monitor blipped. Her heart had begun to stutter. She had five, maybe six minutes to get back within the ward zone before her time ran down.

  “Back, come on,” he muttered. It was none of his concern, certainly nothing he would voice in front of the other Operators for fear of derision. The Internees were plentiful, and the common Epsilon fellows were worth far less than the price of a basic ration.

  The endurance monitor spiked, displaying elevated cortisol and increased respiration. She clung to the bark under her fingers, scrabbling for equilibrium. He had seen this routine so many times before and had grown tired of the spectacle. He could do without another demonstration tonight.

  Before long, Beth 259251 stood to her full height, appearing to move towards the ward zone. Quinton exhaled, shifting back in his seat, ready to log her return. She hesitated, then turned to face the sparse plains of the suspension zone. Each small step was heavy, but she persevered, dragging her body further from the tower reach. The beacon’s steady hum permeated the forest. Her hands crept up to cover her ears, routinely dropping back down in futility. One minute and forty-five seconds later she dropped to her knees, heart rate spiking, shuddering. The endurance monitor blipped once last time as her form faded to a dull green on the console.

  “Recovery detail, suspension zone border.” He called out the coordinates into his radio, ignoring the crackle, repeating the details to ensure they had been received.

  “Confirmed, Quinton. Log response time at 18:16.”

  “Proceed as logged,” Quinton replied. He hissed a breath out through his teeth. The Epsilon fellow was no longer his concern.

  – 2 –

  The FERTS facility was utilitarian in nature. To the outside, FERTS was indeed the high-tech, glossy boutique promoted in the presentations used to lure in prospective Vendees. The FERTS facility lay in the heart of the suspension zone perimeter, certified forbidden territory for all Resident Citizens. The image projected by FERTS was miles of white, marbled, downlighted department-store chic, with attractive Internees from Beta Circuit dressed in white jumpsuits, smiling into each new camera with renewed pep and enthusiasm.

  The Vendees could be mistaken in thinking that the entire complex was set out in a similar fashion, gleaming white, polished chrome, scrupulously hygienic and fashionably sterile. The Vendees could also be mistaken in believing that all the Internees were just like the visible examples. Bright, healthy specimens with large white smiles, twinkling eyes and a dutiful nature. What the Vendees could not possibly deduce was that the Internees were carefully selected Show Internees, the most dutiful, the most attractive, and most importantly, the best at projecting a sense of contentment, joy and genuine happiness. The real FERTS, however, was something entirely different.

  The FERTS Internees who were ultimately chosen as Vassals were paraded to each township for Vendee purchase, where The Resident Citizens enthusiastically engaged in the process of outbidding each other, trading furs, grains and fruits, crude weaponry and cider. Once sold, a Vassal became the sole property of the Resident Citizen for a designated period of time. A Vassal was returned to FERTS once the Resident Citizen grew tired of the Vassal, or the Vassal reached the over-limit age of 26Y. A Vassal was also returned in the event that a Vassal became a birther. A Resident Citizen needed no part in the process of birthing, and would only require Sires, who would then grow up to become Resident Citizens. If the result of the birthing was female, the prospective Vassal would become an Internee, assigned to Beta, Omega, Kappa, Epsilon or Zeta, dependant on general health, potential attractiveness rating and probable fertility prospects.

  The complex was coordinated based on two criteria. Firstly, and most importantly, was the criteria of physical attractiveness. All Internees with a physical attractiveness score of more than 8.2 were placed in Beta Circuit, regardless of all other ratings. The most attractive were picked most frequently by the Vendees and fetched the largest amounts at sale, whereas other factors were less often discussed. An Internee’s attractiveness was based on simple criteria, height, weight, muscle m
ass, configuration of features and overall appearance of health. Those deemed to be most attractive were over regulation height of five feet six inches, a minimum of muscle mass, an overall slender and streamlined appearance, with wide-set eyes, a straight thin nose, and wide, well proportioned lips. Teeth were to be straight and white, with good mineralization and strength. Eyes were to be clear, eyelashes long, and hair thick and glossy. The Internees were taught to keep their muscle percentage to a minimum, so as to maximize their attractiveness rating. The Officers and Operators, however, knew that the Internees who were thin and less well-muscled were by far the easiest to restrain and contain. Any Internee who was found to have developed a skeletal muscle mass of greater than 24.3 were sent on compulsory transfer to Epsilon Circuit to participate in the games. Once relegated from Beta, an Internee could never return to that coveted position. The highest a relegated Internee could climb would be to Omega Circuit, the second tier of the Apex in the FERTS hierarchy.

  FERTS stood for Fertility Emigration Resource and Training Supply, the sole source of female Vassals for the town’s male Resident Citizens. Vassals were plentiful, and were routinely sent out to prospective Vendees in a horse-drawn cart, secured with a wooden cage. Vassals were sold from the age of sixteen and up to the age of twenty-six. There were no Vassals marked for sale over the age of twenty-six.

  The second criteria, and considered second in importance, was that of fertility. Each Internee was periodically tested for hormonal balance and fertility probability based on age, hormone levels and reproductive organ health. The score would determine viability for birthing, once the attractiveness ratings had placed each Internee in the appropriate Circuit. Scores of 8.5 and above determined the overall viability of an Internee’s suitability for sale to Vendees.

  Those with a fertility score of 9.6 and above, with a physical attractiveness score of 8.2 or more were assigned to Beta Circuit, which housed the most aesthetically pleasing of prospective Vassals to be and all active birthers sent from Vendees. All Vendees sent their Vassal back to FERTS should a birthing cycle occur and opted to choose a new Vassal rather than reclaim the original after the cycle was completed. Actions such as these were encouraged by FERTS Relations Officials, since most Vendees had no interest in the Vassal’s body after the birthing cycle and tended to return them anyway. It was only logical to find a younger Vassal as a replacement and save on the needless administrative costs.

  The 7.9s and above resided in Omega Circuit, a respectable gathering of prospective Vassals and the second choice for most of the less affluent Vendees. These Internees were constantly encouraged to relentlessly work on their appearance, through restricted nutrition, exercise and continual grooming practices. If an Omega was to put in the required effort, and should their attractiveness rating be amended, then an Omega could make the transfer to Beta.

  All those who were not deemed to be sufficiently aesthetically pleasing were relegated to Kappa or Epsilon, depending on their physical strength and capabilities.

  Internees from Beta and Omega who increased their muscle mass above regulation levels were automatically relegated to Epsilon, regardless of previous attractiveness ratings. Epsilon was the Circuit of chance, and all Internees relegated to Epsilon had failed to reach the standards of physical attractiveness or fertility required to become a Vassal ready for sale. Epsilon Internees had special abilities based on speed, agility, strength and cunning.

  Epsilon Internees were scheduled to fight, often to the death, for the purposes of betting and entertainment. The Officers were the most frequent attendees, however, many wealthy Resident Citizens paid for the privilege of hosting their own personal games, often purchasing one or two of the winning Internees for fight scheduling within the confines of a private domicile. Many lavish parties were held, where Resident Citizens were entertained by Epsilon Internees, taken for pleasure and then used for sport, fighting until one emerged victorious. Epsilon Internees were not expected to return, and all were marked as expired as soon as the terms of sale were negotiated.

  Down from Epsilon came the 6.5s and below, who were assigned to Kappa, consisting of those unlikely to be chosen as a Vassal. These Internees made up the labor Circuit. The work was physically demanding, dirty, and without any discernible reward. Many who could no longer fulfil their duties in Kappa were sent to Zeta Circuit, the bottom rung of the Circuit hierarchy.

  Zeta Circuit was rarely mentioned. Most of the prospective Vassals knew nothing of Zeta Circuit, the idea merely a distant reminder of how lucky they were to be in their respective Circuits. Beta and Omega Circuit were kept uninvolved in any news or knowledge of Zeta, all that most of the Internees knew was that Zeta was the lowest Circuit, the one from which none would graduate. A ticket to Zeta Circuit was one-way, and no Internee, regardless of station, cared to dwell on the concept for too long. Zeta housed the sick, the lame, and those no longer able to work in the Kappa rotation. The Zeta Internees were kept separate from all other Circuits, and it was widely whispered that Zeta was the only transfer option for those who had reached the over-limit age of twenty-six. Nobody knew for sure, as Zeta was the only non-aspirational Circuit, meaning that those who were relegated to Zeta would never raise above the Circuit to reveal other Internees of the conditions there. For many, Zeta remained a mystery, and many were determined to know as little about the Circuit as possible. The Officers, Operators, Prospective Vassals and Internees knew well that this was a fundamental fact: Zeta was for the losers, and all within deserved the scorn and derision afforded to them.

  – 3 –

  Beth 259201 turned her head, blearily glancing around her chamber. The walls were regulation white, with a large bed, bedside table, bathroom, table and chair. Music filtered into her consciousness, bland and inoffensive, designed to soothe and relax. Most of the time it just annoyed her. There was a thin window, too thin for her to fit through, just enough to allow the air to flow and on certain days, it wafted through the foreign scents of the forest below.

  She stirred, snuffling into her regulation silk slip pillow. All Internees were supplied with silk to minimize creasing for presentation. She saw no sense in it, considering she had been relegated to Epsilon twelve months ago for breaking muscle mass regulations. Her muscle mass last month had tested at 30.1, far too high for any kind of promotion. Beth 259201 had been a Beta Internee, rated attractiveness 8.9. Her features were pleasing, according to the adjudicating Officers, and her general health was rated as excellent. Her intelligence was far above the required limits of testing. However, she had excelled in none of the required activities except for training drills and general exercise, and her penchant for spending too much time in the regulation gym had resulted in her demotion to Epsilon. Her regulation red Epsilon jumpsuit hung over a chair, however the insignia bearing her identification had changed. Yesterday it had read 259201 23Y. This day it read 259201 24Y.

  She sat upright, facing her evaluation mirror. Her long dark brown hair hung in a shaggy mop, never smoothing and curling around her shoulders like her grooming Officers had specified as a requirement. Her slanted hazel eyes blinked back at her, slightly puffy from lack of sleep. Her light olive skin appeared dulled today. Her morning Epsilon beauty pill lay waiting in her small bedside tray. She hastily took the pill, following a long drink of water. She made a mental note to remember to increase her fluid intake this week. She knew how it looked, her sullen features glowering back at her. Her attractiveness rating would be readjusted at this rate. She had rated poorly on grooming, dutiful activities and sexual availability. In fact, she had not even attempted the eyelash fluttering, simpering, smiling or any of the other signs of availability taught to her fellow Betas. She could not convince any of the Officers that she was interested in them, nor could she convince herself. So she declined to try, much to the chagrin of her instructing Officer, Harold.

  Later that morning, he had taken her aside in one of the small assessment rooms and made her predicament clear.


  “201. If you continue like this you know what will happen. You will stay in Epsilon and before long you will qualify to be a Fighter. Once you are scarred, you cannot return to Omega.”

  “I know. Yes. I understand. I just can’t pretend like that. I don’t mean it. I don’t like… I mean, I’m not interested. At all.” 201 cast her eyes downwards, studying her regulation Epsilon boots.

  “Whether you are interested or not is irrelevant and you know it. You must try harder.”

  Harold was a patient Officer. His grey beard and quiet demeanor made 201 feel safe somehow. His insignia glowed back at her, 62Y. He had never tried to make any advance towards her in a sexual manner, but 201 knew from experience that this was no guarantee of what may happen in the future.

  “You’re a 24Y, 201. You don’t have much time left. You have tested higher in intelligence than most other Internees I have seen in my time. But this is not what you need, these skills will not help you here. You need to excel in all required areas so you can be presented as a Vassal. I don’t think you understand how important this is to your development.” He took a moment to scribble indecipherable notes on his clipboard. He sighed, leaning forward in his chair, evaluating her appearance.

  “You don’t even brush your hair. Look, you even have a tangle here. It’s disgraceful.” He pulled on the matted strands to hold them in front of her face, expression stern.

  “It’s a waste of time,” 201 muttered.

  He stared at her, unimpressed. “And your nails, they are just too short. And unpainted.”

  “They get in the way of…”

  “Do you even use the regulation skin cream? You look a little dry around the eyes.”