The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Low Point

F22 awoke before the tone sounded which was a little unusual and would no doubt be flagged by the mainframe in case it became a reoccurring occurrence. It awoke in the sleeping tube that it shared with E22—it was always E22 these days, not that F22 thought that anything was unusual about this. Monitor-Raksha had decreed that this would be the way of things so a mere Thrall wasn’t going to argue.

The Thrall tried not to move as the drogue still joined it to E22, keeping their bodies in contact and syncing their thoughts and the actions of the simulators embedded inside their sealed and shielded vaginas. Light levels were low, so low in fact that E22 was just an anonymous dark shape that it embraced in the confines of the shared sleeping tube.

F22 consulted its internal clock and received the data that the new day cycle was not due to begin for another four hours.

E22 stirred, stretched and began to awaken. F22 hoped that it hadn’t disturbed it as such an action would have been thoughtless and selfish—Thralls being conditioned to put the needs of their Thrallsiblings above their own.

Slowly, very slowly, the light levels within the tube increased as it transitioned from night to day causing habitual behaviour to kick in...

Ear buds were removed...

The drogue was undocked...

Then... Nothing.

It was E22 who first spoke. “ This is irregular.”

If F22 noticed that the other Thrall had stated the blindingly obvious, it did not comment. “Highly irregular, we have been wakened four hours early.”

Suddenly the tube’s door hissed open revealing the silver-grey figure of Controller22 standing in the Hive’s anteroom, it was not alone as X22 was standing behind and to its left... Apparently it was the Thrall who had been rostered to share a tube with its Controller for the night.

“You two Thralls are required to report to Monitor-Raksha in thirty minutes time. Get ready, eat, and report to Her in conditioning room three.” At that the Controller, accompanied by X22, marched over to its open tube and climbed back in, followed by its tube-mate...

No doubt to resume their nights’ sleep...

Or something...

“This better be good!” Huffed Detective-Inspector Lily Wright as she stormed into the CID office in the Birmingham nick where she worked. (’Nick’ being police-speak for ‘Police Station’, ‘Prison’, ‘To Make an Arrest’ or ‘To Steal Something’—confusing isn’t it?).

Andy Jordan looked up from the computer screen that he was reading from. “Sorry, Boss, but the duty sergeant said to call you out.” He was a young copper and hadn’t been with CID long so was still quite a bit in awe of the Inspector.

“Its three in the morning, for Christ’s sake—if its a murder then you should have got Jimmy Arkwright to come in, he handles that sort of thing!” Lily snapped.

“Not murder Ma’am!” Andy said as he rallied in the face of his superior’s wrath.

“What then, Jordan?” The Inspector demanded grumpily as she headed for the glass coffee pot that was always simmering away in the corner. She poured herself a mug of something that looked and smelled foul then poured a dash of milk into it—milk that was probably on the turn.

“Apparent abduction of a young woman, Ma’am. Same MO as two previous that I’ve dug up and similar to when that sludge-bucket O’Dwyer vanished a couple of months ago.” DC Jordan answered.

“O’Dwyer might be many things but a young woman he ain’t, Jordan.” She snapped, more out of habit than annoyance. “And besides they took his van, if I remember right..”

“His missus was in the van, last time it was seen.” Andy Jordan said, his voice tinged with excitement.

Lily sipped the mug of alleged-coffee and used a grimace to hide the fact that the young copper had impressed her. She nodded. “Tell me the details before we head on out to the scene of today’s incident.”

The Conversion room was somewhat crowded as it was only intended to house the material being conditioned plus the one or two who were working with her. When the two Thralls entered there were already three other women gathered around PC Laura Smith, who was still strapped to the training frame an so taking up a large part of the available space.

F22 recognized Monitor-Raksha, for whom she worked, and Monitor-Judith who was responsible for the day-to-day running of the unit. The third woman, who was also dressed in a similar style to that of the two Monitors, was not recognized by it. The Thrall, however did recognize the subservient attitude that the other two radiated which told her that the stranger was superior to them all within The Collective’s hierarchy.

“...is so important that I have been summoned?” The Thralls heard the woman ask as they entered the room, causing everyone who could move to shuffle around and make room.

The two monitors exchanged glances and F22 saw Raksha lick her lips nervously.

“Well?” The stranger said, ignoring the presence of the two silver figures who had just entered.

Without saying anything, Monitor-Raksha’s fingers danced across the console that was clipped to the arm of the material’s chair thus launching a sequence of events: the first of which was the activation of the large display unit that occupied the most of the wall directly in front of the restrained woman. It slowly brightened to the mandatory blue colour that all computer displays seem to prefer.

The raven-haired Monitor’s fingers moved again and a large picture of Mistress filled the screen.

“Ohh.” Said the stranger quite quietly.

Raksha then produced a small hypodermic and used it to inject something into the material’s neck.

The effect was rapid and the naked woman suddenly twitched and then gasped. Her eyes suddenly opened and she looked up and then around the room. Suddenly she became aware of the small crowd that seemed to be all around her. “What the fuck?”

Whatever it was that she had been injected with overcame something in the drug regimen that she had been fed ever since her capture and she was suddenly alert, more or less. “F22, what’s going on? Who are these people? And where’s my Teddy bear?”

“Shhh! Now look at the screen please, Laura.” Raksha said quietly.

The material fell silent as she turned her attention to the image of Mistress who was smiling down benignly at them all. Whatever the new drug was, it hadn’t cancelled out everything that was circulating in the woman’s bloodstream.

“Good girl!” Raksha said warmly. “You recognise Mistress?”

“Sss!” The material confirmed.

“Now tell us everything that you know about her.”

“She is Marjory Bennett, aka ‘Mistress’, founder, CEO and majority shareholder of Bennett Biotech, She was killed in a multi-vehicle pile-up an fire on the M5 three weeks ago. I was the investigating officer. Her body was badly burned but death found not to be suspicious.” The copper stated in the voice that she used when making a verbal report to her superiors.

“Shit!” Spat the strange woman, but there was something about her tone and posture that made F22, or rather F22/Emily, think that this wasn’t news to her.

The Thrall was clearly not alone in coming to this conclusion for everyone present, except for the material and E22, were now staring at the newcomer. “What should we know, Director?” Monitor-Judith asked.

Except for the susurration of breathing and the quiet hum of computerized machinery, all was quiet in the little room, although all F22 could hear was the bump-bump-bump of her own heartbeat that drowned out even that.

Detective-Inspector Wright sat back after reading through the PNC files on the abductions. The lad was right, it was the same MO... Always one of the larger Ford Transits, always one of the longer ones and always white. Okay so the two partial reg numbers they had didn’t match but that was nothing.

She took a long pull at the vile coffee and thought for a moment or two before checking the files again. The other two young women had been snatched on other force’s patches which was why the connection hadn’t been made earlier. But there was something else... Her fingers danced over the keyboard...

She leaned back once more and grinned. “You’re right, Andy, it is the same gang!”

He looked up from his desk and grinned, this was the first time that his boss had used his first name.

“But there’s something that you missed.” She added, not wanting the lad to become too complacent. “No CCTV footage! Each time these buggers struck, CCTV dropped out so there’s no record.”

Could be a coincidence.” Jordan muttered and received a disparaging noise as an answer.

Lily Wright gave him a piercing stare. “You want to run with this?”

“Yes, Ma’am!” He said sounding rather excited.

“Okay, see what you can dig up. Keep me appraised of any major developments and I’ll expect a preliminary report...” She glanced at the Domino Pizza calender on the wall. “...on Friday.”

At that she picked up the fax with the details of this morning’s incident and headed out to her car.

E22 felt as if her whole world had collapsed around her silver ears. “Mistress... Dead?” She moaned.

F22, or maybe it was Emily, slipped an arm around the other Thrall’s shoulder and gave it a comforting hug. E22 used to be its friend, Debra, after all.

“She lives in us.” The Director proclaimed quietly, there was a pause but continued when she saw that all eyes were on her, all except the material’s, that is—she was still staring at the smiling image of her wonderful new Goddess.

“We have her orders, we know her wishes, what more do we need?” The Director asked. She then turned towards the two Thralls and regarded them for a second or two. “It would be better if their memories were wiped to silence them.”

F22 felt a wave of something cold radiate through it: something that seemed to originate in the tiny section of its mind infested by the Emily-presence, something that carried an unfamiliar emotion with it. F22 trembled slightly: the emotion was fear—something that it had not experienced since—forever!

“It will be done, Director.” Monitor-Judith confirmed obsequiously.

“No!” The woman who had once been Dr Raksha Samri snapped.

“What?” The Director looked as if she had been slapped, “How dare you?”

“The Collective has expended a great deal of time and resources converting and conditioning these two. They are now able to carry out conversion work efficiently and unsupervised.” Monitor-Raksha said almost mechanically. The efficiency of the conversion processes would be negatively impacted if they were wiped and it would take time to retrain them or their replacements.

“Responsibility for the efficiency of this section has been devolved to me, Director!” The Monitor then concluded by adding. “I would be failing in my duty if I allowed you to go against Mistress’s wishes.”

The woman, known to the outside world as Dr Ursula Parker, hesitated. “I concur: such a course of action would indeed be a waste of The Collective’s resources—instruction withdrawn,”

Emily relaxed.

Worlds Collide I.

As Lily Wright read through Andy Jordan’s summary she was having difficulty hiding her admiration. He might be young and inexperienced but he was certainly onto something. Another four reports of CCTV dropping out at about the same time that women had been reported as going missing spread over the last five years, so it wasn’t something new.

“Okay, Andy, this is...” She stopped short. She had been about to instruct him to widen the search and check how many other disappearances had been linked to white vans, but that would be pointless as there were just too many of those bloody things around.

Instead she gave him a wry smile. “I think you’re onto something. I see that it’s not just the public CCTV systems that are affected.”

“No, Ma’am, “the younger copper cut in eagerly, “private systems, even dash cams go down, too!”

“I can read, sunshine!” The Inspector retorted and carried on going through his report. The gang was clearly employing some sophisticated electronics, ten years ago she’d have suspected somebody’s security services, but these days it could be anybody with a bit of nous!

Suddenly she looked up. “This could possibly be something so I’m pulling you off your other jobs for the time being... I want you to ask around the other forces, try and dig up the odd details that haven’t made it into their reports. Don’t forget our own uniforms who investigated the initial reports of O’Dwyers’ disappearance. Find out what they didn’t write down, you never know, we might just get lucky.”

The white vans was just two of several transits parked up in the shabby industrial estate. Like Ford Transits themselves, these rundown areas were very common and most towns and cities had at least one. There wasn’t a great deal of activity in any of the surrounding drab buildings that seemed to be huddled there for mutual defence against the coming night. The buildings were old and had clearly seen better years, let alone days. But decrepit or not, they still provided employment for the many who worked inside of them.

A dry wind suddenly picked up and lifted the scatter of litter and long-dead leaves that was strewn around giving the dead scene some false semblance of life. One by one some of the street lamps flickered into life seemingly in a vain attempt to resist the encroaching night. The task seemed futile so the rest stayed off. The wind dropped again, the old rustling newspapers settled and a silent stillness descended onto the canyon-like street.

Dusk fell and things began to happen. The same sequence of things that unfolded here every night. I was about eight when the shabby green minibus rolled quietly into the gap between the parked vehicles that was outside one of the cladding covered, dirt streaked blocks. Even though the new vehicle was dark green it was as anonymous as all of the other vand and cars that were parked near by.

If anyone had been watching they would have seen movement in the front of the minibus as a shadowy figure struggled with their mobile phone in the encroaching darkness. There was a burst of dim light as the phone’s screen lit up and the figure tapped away at it.

The shadowy figure climbed out and stepped into the road before looking around to check that it was alone. Then with a sort of hunched-over, shambling gate, headed to the metal door in the side of the building that the minibus was parked outside. A building labelled The Nicolescu Clothing Company in uneven letters on a warped and cracked signboard.

As the figure approached the door it swung open and a line of eight more drab figures emerged and made their hunched-over way to the minibus and seemingly clumped together for protection as they did so. There was a resounding ‘clang’ as the factory door slammed shut as soon as the last one had left.

Suddenly things began to happen further down the street as the pair of large white transit vans roared into life and moved in to block the van’s movement. The milling figures began to move around in an agitated fashion and several of them screamed.

The black-clad women who piled out of the of the transits were armed with what, in the darkness, looked like batons or baseball bats which they used to round-up the milling drab figures. The minibus driver suddenly bolted back towards the clothing factory door but cried-out and collapsed when one of the batons touched him. Finally the black-clad women marshalled the surprised figures into the back of the two vans which then moved off down the street, the whole operation lasting less than a minute.

Except... Well it wasn’t quite over as unknown eyes had been watching from another factory unit’s car park further along the street. The car moving off as the rear-most of the white vans vanished around the corner at the end of the street.

The two figures in the car, a large high-powered BMW, looked worried. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” the passenger mused, “I’m calling for back-up. Follow, but don’t get to close.”

“Yeh, as if I’m going to get muddled up in a turf war!” The driver, a largish man, muttered,

They turned out of the street just in time to see the pair of vans separate and turn into different side roads.

“Grab your jacket, Andy.” Detective-Inspector Lily Wright yelled as she stuck her head around the CID office door. “Your job’s just come alive.” Then she was gone, heading in the general direction of the staircase and the car park.

Andy Jordan was still pulling his jacket on when he caught up with her. “What gives, Boss-lady?” He asked as they both headed out into the car park.

“Call from Border Force. On of their surveillance teams is trailing a white Ford tranny and has requested assistance.” Wright answered, her tone letting him know that she notice his use of ‘Boss-lady’ but had refrained from saying anything—yet!

Detective-Sergeant Jerry Mitchell was already in the driving seat of the CID car when the two of them piled in—Lily to the front seat, Andy into the back. “Let’s move, Jerry!” Lily snapped. “Know where we’re heading for?”

The Big DS nodded as he put the silver BMW into gear and headed out onto the road. “On the hurry-up, Ma’am?”

“Quick as you can.” Wright instructed while still fastening her seat belt.

In the encroaching darkness several miles away to the south-west, a whole slew of CCTV camera’s suddenly turned themselves off much to the chagrin of the operator who was on duty. She was about to re-boot the system, but hesitated when she realised that the rest of them were still up and running. She then called the police control room and informed them that all of the cameras in the Harborne area had suddenly gone off line—the information being acknowledged in a rather disinterested way, which was fairly normal.

A couple of miles away, from the outage, Jerry Mitchell suddenly braked the BMW and made a hurried left turn into a side street and began to weave through a series of right and left turns in an attempt to shave valuable seconds off their ETA. Then, blue lights flashing angrily and siren blaring, it was back onto a main road, straight across a junction on red and accelerate along the A456 towards the motorway.

Suddenly they were aware of a number of stationary blue-lights flashing angrily in the darkness up ahead and traffic tailing back. Mitchell manoeuvred onto the wrong side of the road, going around the stationary vehicles then slowed down on approach partly so that “Ma’am” Wright could judge just what was happening, but mainly so that they didn’t arrive too early (before tempers had calmed down that is!).

“Oh, shit!” Muttered Lily Wright. The transit’s nose was buried in the wall of someone’s front garden and a couple of blue lights were ambulances.

Moving swiftly, she was out of the car almost before it had halted.

She looked around and made a beeline for the sergeant who seemed to be in charge of the scene. “Evening, Jim. What gives?”

The black clad figure spun around. “Oh hi, Lily, buggered if I know! This is a weird one.”

Just then the Inspector realised that the group of figures over by the ambulances contained a number of naked silver women and suddenly she could see what Jim Dalton was driving at. “Casualties?” She asked.

“Two dead: front seat passenger of the transit and one in the back. The rest seem to have got away with minor injuries.” The sergeant answered brusquely. “But some of them took some getting out as they were connected up to weird medical equipment. Their seatbelt catches were also locked, which is a new one on me!”

Lily nodded and then glance over at the group over by the ambulances, whose crews were checking the women and draping them in blankets. “What is it, a student prank gone wrong?”

Jim Dalton shrugged and gave a dry chuckle. “Border Farce operation gone wrong, more like!”

“Oh, dear, anything else I should know?” Lily answered in a slow, resigned voice.

“They were running surveillance on a small clothing factory in Selly Oak, suspected illegal gangmaster activity using trafficked illegal immigrants. A minibus turned up to collect the workers: Border Force planned to follow it but suddenly a pair of transit vans turned up, snatched about eight women and then separated shortly afterwards,” The sergeant said. He cocked his head towards the wrecked vehicle. “The Border Force car them followed that one and radioed for back-up and when a couple of units tried to do a stop-stop the driver lost control and ploughed into the wall.”

“Where’s the driver?” Lily asked.

“Legged it,” Dalton answered, “front seat passenger wasn’t wearing a seat belt and got thrown through the windscreen. Passenger in the back seems to have been out of her seat and got thrown head-first into the front bulkhead. Looks like she was killed instantly.”

By now they had been joined by Detective Constable Andy Jordan. DI Wright turned to him. “Go and see what you can find out from the ‘walking wounded’.”

She then turned back to the sergeant. “Okay, Jim, let’s have a look at the transit and the bodies.”

Counterpoint

F22 hadn’t been hurt in the crash as all of the seats faced backwards. It had been relaxing: its task having been to strap one of the material into the seat opposite which it had completed before the van had moved off. It had then settled back into its own seat, thinking of nothing in particular as the van had begun to move away.

The journey, however, had been much shorter than the trip out and had ended when the vehicle had accelerated, spun around and slammed into something. The Thralls and material had been protected but Doctor, #09MD, hadn’t been so lucky as she had been on her feet, connecting IV lines and headsets to the material when the crash happened. She had been thrown the full length of vehicle and hadn’t moved after that.

F22 was very concerned as it knew that Medics were valuable components of The Collective and were in short supply.

The impact had thrown the Thrall back into its padded seat and dazed it somewhat so consequently it hadn’t unstrapped itself by the time that the doors at the rear of the van were pulled open. It recognised the figure who was outlined in the doorway as a police officer although the latter was clearly surprised by what he saw inside if his exclamation of “Fuckin’ hell!” was anything to go by.

Green clad ambulance crews then checked Thralls and material alike and released the former from their straps. Disconnecting the material from their iv lines and unlocking their seatbelts, however, seemed to be beyond their pay-grade as one of them shouted that someone should radio for a doctor.

#09MD must be dead. F22 thought sadly. It had loved #09MD, but then it had loved all of its sisters in The Collective, so this was no surprise.

Eventually hands hesitantly helped the Thralls out of the wrecked van and they were ushered over to the ambulances and given blankets although F22 didn’t understand why as it wasn’t cold.

It’s to protect our modesty. The Emily-persona suddenly announced which confused F22 even further as it didn’t understand what a modesty was.

Police officers had spoken to the Thralls although it was clear that they didn’t know what to make of them. A youngish looking copper who Emily thought to be a detective, because he was not wearing a uniform came over. Then after exchanging pleasantries with the two coppers already there began to question the Thralls.

“’Evening, ladies.” He began, “I just need to take down a few details.”

When the silver women regarded him somewhat blankly he continued. “I’m Detective Constable Andy Jordan,” he showed them his warrant card, “so who exactly are you?”

T17 stared at him for a moment before announcing. “We are Thralls!” In an icy voice before pointedly looking away.

He scribbled something down on his note pad before saying. “Let’s begin with your name, shall we?”

“This one is T17.” She said turning to face him squarely and making no attempt to close the blanket that the ambulance crew had draped around her shoulders.

“No, no,” clearly flustered, Jordan jerked his eyes back up to her face and continued as best as he could, “what is your name?”

“This one’s designation is T17, a name would serve no useful purpose.” The Thrall replied managing to convey her sense of superiority with every breath.

Jordan sighed and made more notes. He notice the woman’s collar with ‘T17’ embossed upon it. “Like it says on your badge, eh?”

“Precisely!” She answered.

Jordan sighed and turned towards the next silver woman. “And what’s your name, love?”

“This one is E22.” She answered in an identically frosty tone.

Jordan noted this down with a sigh before turning to the final member of the trio. “And you are?”

“I’m Emily Crawford.” She answered in a small, tearful voice before pulling her blanket tightly around her.

Worlds Collide II.

Wearing latex gloves, Lily Wright knelt by the body in the back of the van and made a mental note of what she saw... Dark haired woman whose face showed considerable blunt-force trauma, evidently cause when the impact threw her against the bank of equipment that was fixed to the bulkhead. The woman was wearing what looked to be green medical scrubs although her hair was not covered.

Lily glance around. The body was in the isle between the two rows of rearward facing seats. Let’s see... She thought. The silver women were strapped into three of the four seats on the left... The fourth was probably hers so why wasn’t she in it?

She examined the woman’s out stretched hand. Ah!

It contained a medical iv needle still attached to a length of plastic tubing that must have been torn away from whatever it had been attached too by the force of the crash. She straightened up and looked around. The right-hand seats that the normally-dressed women had occupied all seemed to have a bank of medical devices attached to them. Christ, what the hell is this? It’s more like a bloody ambulance than anything else. We’re going to need to get an expert to go over this lot, that’s for sure! But an expert on what?

She examined the fittings on the nearest seat, noting the various trailing electrical leads and iv lines although she couldn’t easily make sense of them.

Shaking her head sadly, she turned her attention back to the one thing that her job had made her an expert on—the dead body. Suddenly she turned and looked at the Sergeant who was watching her from outside the van. “Can I borrow your torch, Jim?”

He slid it along the floor of the van towards her. “Found something, Lily?”

“Dunno...” She said as she pulled open the neck of the woman’s scrubs. “Ah!”

“Looks like she’s wearing something like a dog-collar.” She called back to Jim Dalton.

“No accounting for taste!” He answered wryly.

Lily frowned as she tried to slip a finger inside the collar but couldn’t as it seemed to be glued to the woman’s skin. Then there was another. “Ah!”

“What you found?” Dalton demanded.

“She’s got some sort of ID disk on the front of her collar... A circular ‘Red Cross’ badge about three centimetres in diameter... There’s a number on it, too.” She bent closer and shone the torch on the badge.

“Hash... Zero... Niner... Mike... Delta.” She called out using the phonetic alphabet as she read out the badge’s embossed gold coding. “What the hell does that stand for?”

“MD?” Deacon mused. “Medical Doctor?”

“Christ knows!” Lily sighed in a perplexed voice as she made her way out of the van. “I’d like the duty pathologist to take a good look at her before they move her.”

Deacon helped her down. “Yeh, I believe that they’re on site.”

They made their way around to the front of the van to where the passenger was hanging half way out having dislodged the entire laminated windscreen by the force of her impact with it.

Lily reached over and grasped the body’s shoulder and then hesitated. “That black cat-suit she’s wearing... It looks like it’s been sprayed on.” She mused.

“Either that, or she’s been dipped in black latex...” The sergeant added.

“She’s also wearing the same sort of black collar as the other one... We’ll have to wait for path to move her before we can find out more, though.”

“Hey, come and have a look at this!” Deacon sounded puzzled as he called out from the cab of the transit.

When Lily joined him a few seconds later, she could see what had attracted his attention. The woman’s body was draped, half in and half out of the gap where the windscreen had been and her boots with their four-inch heels were clearly visible... Only they didn’t seem to have any tops... They just seemed to join the woman’s latex suit seamlessly.

“First the silver women, now this. Is there a local fetish club, Jim?” She sighed.

Deacon pointed to the long sinister object lying in the foot well. “And that’s either a cattle prod or a riot baton!”

“If this is a fetish club road trip, then they’re well into BDSM!” Lily Wright sighed with a slow shake of the head. Something else to look into!

Softly softly Catchee Monkey

There is a saying that used to be popular in policing that was along the lines of ‘softly, softly catchee monkey’. It was popular before the days of the high-speed information age when things moved at a more sedate pace and everything did not have to be done at once. ‘Softly, softly catchee monkey’ meant that if you took your time and did everything methodically then you’d usually get the bad guy—eventually!

‘Softly softly catchee monkey’ suited Lily very well as she still believed in being methodical: although this approach seemed to be out of fashion with her seniors who seemed to want everything done, now! Now!! NOW!!!

She plonked herself down behind her desk with a mug of the same revolting liquid that always came out of the office’s coffee pot. She sat back, raised the mug and sipped it thoughtfully. She grimaced...

There had been no milk for what had left in the plastic bottle was almost in one solid lump. Dark and bitter. She had thought as she sipped the foul brew, then recollection dawned: it was one of those stray facts that lurk in the darker recesses of a copper’s brain. Dark and bitter... Wasn’t that an old Jewish proverb that meant that things couldn’t get any worse?

She shrugged... Two dead women, one wearing a black latex catsuit and a blonde wig, yes, that was the first thing that the duty pathologist noticed. Lily could have kicked herself for missing that. Two dead women plus three more who were all but naked and seemed to have painted themselves silver. Plus four others who had been heavily sedated and were suspected by Border Farce of being trafficked and sold to a gangmaster who hired them out to the cut-throat clothing industry. Well that was something but it couldn’t be confirmed until the women recovered sufficiently to be questioned: providing Border Farce could provide a reliable interpreter, that is. It’s a Border Force operation after all, so let those lazy buggers sort it out!

God! Don’t I just hate the weird ones? Lily Wright thought bitterly.

She stood up and walked over to the big window behind her desk and stared out at the car park two stories below. It was nearly midnight now, but the outside lights were bright enough for her to see by. She looked out at the parked cars and then let her eyes stray to the cityscape that surrounded it. Birmingham might be a shit-hole but it was her shit-hole: she’d been born here, grew up here, moved away for university about fifteen years before and been posted right back here when she had joined West Midlands Constabulary on graduating.

She shook her head slowly. Birmingham! Love it or loath it, you can’t ignore it! She thought bitterly. Suddenly, something caught her eye down on the police car park.

“Hallo?” She muttered. “What are those kids up to?”

She half turned, grabbed her radio from her desk and used it to inform everyone that a group of kids were busily breaking into the cars parked outside the nick. Then she stepped back to the window and watched as coppers seemed to appear from all directions—some of whom, no doubt owned the cars that were being broken into. The scuffle lasted all of thirty seconds and ended when the four youths were frog-marched into the police station. Anyone breaking into a copper’s car that was parked outside the nick must be a special kind of idiot. She thought as she returned to her desk. It’s a clear cut offence under Section Six of the Stupid Persons Act!

Birmingham! Love it or loath it, you can’t ignore it! She repeated to herself as she returned to the paperwork generated by tonight’s incident over in Harborne.

There were just the two of them on duty in the path lab over in the Queen Elizabeth Hospital: Doctor Janine Harry and Mike, her assistant and general dogsbody.

They’d just returned from the staff restaurant where they’d grabbed a bite to eat and a drink after returning from the RTA at Harborne . It was part-way through their duty shift and they’d been relaxing after stowing the two bodies away in the fridge. There was quite a contrast between them: Mike was in his early sixties and was due to retire in a few months while Janine was nearly thirty years younger and took pride in the fact that she was one of the youngest Home Office Certified Forensic Pathologists in the country. Janine’s parents, being immigrants from Tobago in the West Indies were really proud of their daughter, as was the local West Indian community who regarded her as one of their own who’d made it good—big time.

“Alright, Mike, we’ll make a start on the front seat passenger.” Janine had said as they had stepped out of the lift and into the basement corridor that led to their lab.

“Oki-doke, I’ll get her out of the draw and wheel her across whenever you’re ready. I washed the table down just before we left so it’ll only take a couple of minutes.” Mike answered cheerfully.

“I’ll be in my office getting the paperwork ready—just give me a shout if you need any help.” Dr Harry offered.

The Doctor was a big lass and Mike was getting on a bit so he was used to this kind of offer. “Nah!” He shrugged as he held the lab door open for her. “I should be able to manage after all I ain’t dead yet.”

Janine chuckled. “Well let me know when you are and I’ll do you a fantastic post mortem.”

Mike’s smile froze on his lips. “Funny!” He muttered. “All the lights are out down the far end of the lab.”

Janine stepped past him and tried the light switches but that didn’t make any difference. Then she glanced across at her office with it’s big window that looked into the lab. “My office is in darkness too!”

“Shit!” Mike muttered. “Something must have tripped the breakers... That’s all we need on top of everything else that’s happened... I hope to God that the fridges are okay. I’ll give maintenance a ring—hopefully they’ll do something other than make excuses.”

“I’ll make a start while you’re sweet-talking them...” She stopped in mid sentence as the rest of the lab’s lights chose that particular instant to fail... Not only the lab, but the corridor lights went off too.

Suddenly Mike grunted from somewhere in the darkness and dislodged something as he fell and Janine screamed when she felt hands grab her out of the shadows...

Impact.

Lily had managed about four hours sleep last night and so was consequently even more grumpy than she was most mornings. The rest of the nick, CID included, were well aware of this and so tried to keep out of her way until after her second cup of coffee.

She sat down at her desk and took a mouthful of the tan coloured brew...

The milk was actually fresh...

Consequently the coffee tasted bloody awful...

Nothing like the foul tarry concoction that she was use too...

No, that wouldn’t have done it...

There must have been something else...

“Which one of you wankers cleaned the coffee pot?” She roared, a demand that was answered by a ripple of laughter.

“Told you!” Someone could be heard to mutter. “You’ve really done it this time, Andy!”

About an hour later Lily, temper cooled somewhat was sitting in one of the interview rooms, glancing at a file and waiting for one of the silver women to be brought in. She read through the notes as she waited

The women had caused the custody sergeant a few problems when they had been brought in last night. For a start he had insisted that they remove their high-heeled shoes as per standing orders.

The three women had given him a blank look but ha made no attempt to comply with the instruction.

“It’s okay,” he said, “you can wear some of these slippers.”

The women had stared uncomprehendingly at the small elasticated paper foot coverings that he held out to them but had made no attempt to take them although they were wearing white disposable SOCO suits and were no longer seemingly naked.

The sergeant had sighed and moved back while a couple of female officers attempted to remove the offending items of footwear. One of the policewomen suddenly gave him a perplexed look. “These shoes, or whatever they are... They won’t come off—they seem to be a part of their feet!”

Then, against his better judgement, he bent down to take a look. “Shit! You’re right! This is impossible!”

The women had cooperated after that and had not objected when they had been searched and put into their cells for the rest of the night. They had in fact proved to be model prisoners and had not even demanded to see their solicitors!

A female police officer had shown the one labelled ‘F22’ into the interview room and had stood behind her when the silver woman had sat down across the table from Lily.

Lily had then turned on the recording machine and made the necessary statements as required by the Home Office. She had then looked up an smiled. “So I see by the badge on your collar that you are ‘F22’. So what do I call you?”

The silver woman had given her a sad, frightened look. “My name is Emily Crawford, or it was before they turned me into F22.

Lily had nodded knowingly as this was what Andy Jordan had told her. “So, what does F22 mean?”

“It means that I am Thrall ‘F’ in Hive twenty-two.” Emily had said quietly.

“Wooo!“ DI Wright had exclaimed. “What does all that mean? Can you help me out here, Emily?”

The woman had leaned back in her chair, her breasts thrusting forward inside her white paper SOCO suit. “May I remove this... Garment? It is most uncomfortable. I have not worn clothes since becoming a Thrall.”

“Sorry, better not, Emily, people will talk! But tell me, what is a ‘Thrall’?”

Emily sighed. “A Thrall is an enhanced human female.”

Lily nodded. “And there are twenty-six Thralls in a Hive? One for each letter of the alphabet?”

“Twenty-five as there is no ‘I’ in Thrall. The twenty-sixth member is the Hive’s controller who is responsible for its direction and management.”

Lily fought a losing battle against showing any confusion. “The women dressed in black who were in the cab of your Ford Transit, were they Thralls too?”

Emily shook her head. “No, 49/7 and 22/6 were both Hornets.”

“I see.” Lily said, even though she clearly didn’t. “What is a Hornet?”

“Hornets are enhanced for security and defence. They protect us.” The silver woman explained.

Lily sighed. “I’m sorry to have to inform you of this but 49/7, was killed in the traffic accident yesterday.”

Emily nodded. “Thank you. And 22/6?”

“We don’t know... She is believe to have left the scene before we arrived.” Lily admitted and then mae a point of glancing down at her notes. “Tell me, Emily, how did you come to be a Thrall?”

The woman seemed to stiffen. “They...” There was a definite pause. “...took me.”

Lily’s voice was very quiet as she continued the questioning. “Where were you when they took you?”

Emily picked up the soft plastic jug and carefully poured herself a drink of water which she drank some of it very slowly.

“Where were you? Emily?” Lily repeated the question.

“I—I was on holiday in North Wales... I don’t remember much about it.” She sipped more of the water.

The detective waited patiently, never taking her eyes off the woman. “Go on, Lily. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened to you.”

“I was with some friends... My boyfriend, Tony was there and so was Debra: she is my best friend. We grew up in the same village. Her girlfriend Madge was there too.” Emily said hesitantly.

Inspector Wright nodded. “That would be Tony Latimer, Debra Walton and Madge McGuire?”

“Yes.” Answered Emily as she sipped the water. “Debra’s aunt paid for the holiday—she thought that we needed a break.”

“An it was Debra’s aunt who reported you missing.” Lily informed her. “But that was over two years ago.”

Emily dropped the plastic beaker that she was holding and stared at the police woman opposite. “Two... Years?”

Lily ignored the puddle of water that had splashed over her notes, they were for show anyway, an actor’s prop in the great game of interrogation. “Over two years ago, Lily. So, tell me what you remember about it.”

She sat back and watched as Emily launched on a hesitant account of her conversion into a Thrall. A story of what she could remember about how her mind and body were altered step by step... Except that the steps as related were clearly in the wrong order and events were obviously missing. She kept her face as neutral and non-threatening as she could and listened carefully to the woman’s account.

“So E22 is Debra Walton?” Lily finally asked.

Emily nodded then asked. “Am I in trouble?”

“Interview terminated at 11:30 hours.” Lily said and switched off the cassette recorder. She looked up at the Thrall and said. “Before we go any further, I think you should see a solicitor.”

Emily nodded again. “But I want to help you to clear this up.”

DI Wright sighed, she was very tired and she wanted to get it cleared up too, so what she said next was probably a mistake. “Okay. Emily, do you know what all of that kit in the back of the transit does?”

Emily Crawford had nodded. “Would you like me to explain it to you? Debra, T17 and myself can demonstrate it to you if you want.”

Aftermath.

Andy Jordan had listened carefully when his boss had explained what she planned to do. “Are you sure that that’s a good idea, Ma’am?”

Lily shrugged. “I’m pretty sure that the key to understanding what’s going on is in that van but do you know what all of that stuff inside it is for?”

Jordan had shook his head. “Not a clue, Ma’am.”

“Me neither and as forensics have been all over it and found nothing significant except for fingerprints, its up to us now.” Lily had said. “Hell, they couldn’t even turn anything on!”

“But to let one of the suspects loose in it?” The younger copper had asked.

“You’ve talked to her, haven’t you? She’s just as much a victim as the women who were wired up in it were!” The Inspector said bluntly. Then when her subordinate still didn’t look convinced, she continued. “She’s also the best hope that we’ve got to unpick whatever it is that’s happening here: Emily could well be be our way in into this particularly nasty can of worms.”

When he had still looked unconvinced, Lily Wright smiled maternally. “Don’t worry, Andy, it’ll be alright. And besides, you’ll be standing right outside, won’t you?”

Emily was still wearing the white paper SOCO suit when Lily escorted her to the police workshop where the wrecked Ford Transit had been stored. Then, with Andy Jordan bringing up the rear Wright opened the workshop door and indicate that Emily was to enter which, with a click-click of heels and the rustle of paper, she did.

The silver woman walked across to the wrecked vehicle and made to climb into the back but Lily placed a hand on her arm to stop her. “Before we go any further, is there anything else that you haven’t told me?”

Emily half turned and gave her a confused look. “I -I don’t understand.”

Lily smiled gently. “What about the third person in the cab of the transit, you haven’t mentioned her have you?”

Emily stepped back. “I didn’t think she was important.”

Lily smiled gently. So there was a second front seat passenger... “Emily, if you want me to help you, you really must tell me everything.” She said gently.

The Inspector nodded to Jordan who produced his police notebook and began to write things down. She turned back to Emily. “The other passenger? Important was she?”

The Thrall shook her head. “She was a Hornet, just like the other two. They were the ones who had stunned the escort and rounded up the new girls.”

“So, where did she go?” Andy Jordan suddenly asked.

“To report what had happened. The Collective needed to know about the crash.” Emily answered.

“What will the Collective do now, Emily?” Lily suddenly demanded.

The Thrall hesitated. “I... I don’t know...” She said quietly.

“Bright girl like you? Come on, Emily.” Jordan chided her. “Of course you know.”

Emily shrugged causing the suit to rustle again. “F22 probably knows, but I don’t... She won’t tell me.”

“But you are F22!” Jordan said.

“No!” Emily almost sobbed. “F22 is not me: she doesn’t tell me very much because she doesn’t trust me.”

The Inspector and the Constable exchanged glances which warned the subordinate not to push things.

So, she’s like a split personality. Lily thought as she mentally filed the information away for future consideration. Suddenly she smiled. “Okay, Emily, in you go and start talking me through things. Start off by showing me where you were sitting.”

Emily hopped up into the back of the van with Lily following her. She shuffled up to the front of the vehicle and indicated the third seat back on the left hand side. “I was sitting here.” Lily looked at the backwards facing seat—it had a full-harness seat belt similar to the ones used in rally cars, but little else. The whole thing was a study in safety, yet the ‘Doctor’ had been out of her seat...

Lily nodded. “So assuming that you weren’t just along for the ride, what did you actually do?”

“Us Thralls were there to assist, we helped the Hornets strap the material into their seats and we would have assisted #09MD if she’d needed us too.”

“Material?” Lily demanded.

“The women that had been snatched. They were raw material for conversion.”

Lily pulled a face. “That’s a bit cold-blooded isn’t it, Emily?”

Emily turned to face her an shrugged. “That is how the Collective regards them. You asked me so I told you.”

The Inspector nodded, this was something else to leave until later. She glance at Jordan who was perched on the rear of the vehicle noting things down. “Okay, Emily,” she said gently, “I take it that #09MD was ‘the Doctor’?”

The silver woman nodded as best she could in the limited headroom. “#09MD was a Doctor, yes.”

“So, talk me through what she was doing.”

Emily turned to one of the right-hand seats and indicated the jumbled mass of medical tubing which she began to untangle and straighten out. “She was connecting iv feed lines to the material so that they could begin their conversion.”

“Conversion into a Thrall like you?” Lily prompted.

“Very likely; although the larger ones could have possibly been transformed into Hornets. Higher castes are unlikely, given the limited quality of the material collected.” Emily answered in a casual way before adding. “Anything unsuitable for Thrall-conversion would have been turned into a Husk.”

“A Husk?” Lily asked but shuddered when the silver woman explained exactly what a ‘Husk’ was.

“Dear God!” Muttered Andy Jordan as he crossed himself. “That’s monstrous!”

Lily turned to face him, losing track of Emily as she did so. “You alright, lad? We can take a break if you need to.”

“No, I’ll be fine, Ma’am. I felt a bit sick, but I’m okay now.”

Lily turned back towards Emily who had move back to the equipment bolted to the bulkhead. She smiled at the Inspector. “Why don’t you sit in one of the seats? It’ll be easier for me to explain the processes to you if you do.”

The Inspector hesitated.

“It’ll be okay, Lily,” she said, using the Copper’s name for the first time. “There’s nothing that can happen as the whole system’s dead. Smashed in the crash.”

Lily thought for a few seconds. The forensic crew hadn’t managed to turn anything on so the whole set-up really was dead: no doubt wrecked by the Doctor’s body slamming into it. The girl is co-operating, the woman thought, time to trust her.

She folded herself into the seat that the Thrall indicated. “So! What’s all this stuff?” She asked with a lightness that she certainly didn’t feel.

Emily pointed to something that looked like a pair of headphones. “The material wears this headset which conveys instructions.” Next she pointed at an LCD screen that was built into the back of the next seat. “She also watches a video that helps her begin her transition into a member of the Collective.”

Lily leaned forward. There really was a monitor screen built into the seat in front. “Sort of like ‘in-flight entertainment’?” She mused.

“Sort of!” Emily chuckled her voice quiet and her tone almost conspiratorial.

Lily smiled and sat back, resting her head against the headrest... It really was a comfortable seat!

Suddenly another copper came into the workshop and leaned into that back of the van. “Phone call for you, Ma’am!”

“About this job, is it?” She asked without moving.

“Ma’am!”

She sighed an started to rise... No! Fuck it! I’m getting somewhere. “Andy, you go and take it... This is your job after all.” She settled back into the seat once again.

“You sure you’ll be okay, Lily?” The younger detective asked, concern obvious in his voice.

“Yeh! There’s nothing happening here... The whole system’s completely dead!”

Jordan nodded and reluctantly followed the other Copper to the phone that was in the little office next door.

A light suddenly blinked in the corner of the screen that was in front of Lily causing her to frown.

Something sharp stabbed into the back of her neck. She gasped as her body seemed to lock up. Then while she watched, the silver woman’s face seemed to changed as all humanity drained out of her expression.

F22 leaned in and checked the older woman... Yes, she was breathing... Then without another word, the Thrall began work in earnest.