Alyssia’s well-rehearsed ingratiating smile was wasted on the majority of the merchants and workers passing her corner. For the most part, everyone ignored her. Every once in awhile though, one would glance at her for a moment. Some simply looked disgusted at her presence, others annoyed. But a few, barely enough, looked at her with pity in their eyes and tossed her a small credit chip with one or two credits on it. These she would squirrel away in her carefully protected credit purse on the inside of her clothing when no one was looking, leaving just a few in the small box she used for the collecting.

It was strange, even in the art of begging, how a semblance of success was necessary to actually be successful. When she started the day she had to toss a few of her own hard-earned credit chips into the box to convince passersby that she was worthy of charity. A lot of things about human personality struck Alyssia as strange. Take the almost constant hypocrisy, for instance. It seemed to be the one thing humans were uniquely skilled at doing. They would use everyone around them mercilessly for their own ends, then spend the afternoon griping about how they were themselves being used.

No matter, it was these same foibles of personality that allowed her to con some of them into parting with their hard-earned credits. Perhaps con wasn’t necessarily the right word; she was, in fact, very poor. But she wasn’t entirely so destitute that she couldn't have been bothered to clean the dirt and grime off her face. No, the dirt, grime, tangled hair, and dirty clothes were all part of the sale. No one, it seemed, felt it necessary to give to a clean beggar. She had tried that, in the beginning, before she had truly learned the art.

Her reminiscing of the past had made her lose her concentration. She could feel her teeth clenching and the scowl painted on her face. She knew it was there because the people walking by her, those few that looked at her, were now shying away as if they were being threatened at gunpoint. Calming herself, she brought back that piteous semi-vacant look of lost hope and crushed will that seemed to serve her best at this trade.

As she did her best to look more in need than the rest of the beggars on this street, she saw one of said beggars on the other side of the street she was on. The man was grinning at her and shaking his metal collecting cup. Apparently, she’d lost a few prospective marks to him with her careless facial expressions. Chiding herself internally for losing her focus while she was working, she redoubled her efforts.

Being female did present certain advantages to plying this craft, but it also brought with it some unwanted attention. Some of that unwanted attention was walking down her street right at that moment. She recognized him from a dozen meters away; he had made several previous attempts at getting more for his credits than a simple ingratiating smile. The last time that happened, another one of Lucas’s beggars happened to be nearby and had diffused the situation. She didn't want to rely on her luck a second time. Picking up her box and the cardboard she sat on she began moving hurriedly down the street.

Fortunately, it seemed the man hadn’t noticed her, or decided at least that chasing her wasn’t worth the effort. Alyssia looked at the twin suns in the sky, one almost ready to set behind the squat buildings of the laborer district. She decided it was close enough to the end of the day that she would head back for now. It didn't pay to be out on the streets after dark, particularly if you were female.

She began to contemplate how unfair it was that women had to be more cautious than men at night. Pulling her thoughts up short she chided herself. It simply wouldn’t do to let her human penchant for hypocrisy get the best of her. If she was going to use her attributes to garner special attention from the passing merchants, she couldn’t very well turn around and start griping about the special attention she received from every other male. She would just have to deal with it like she did everything else.

Moving down the street towards the edge of the laborers’ district, she did her best to blend in with the sidewalk. That became easier as she got farther from the inner district and the streets began to look as dirty and disheveled as she did. Turning another corner, she walked up to a squat run-down apartment building about halfway down the street. It may have had most of its windows boarded up, one end of it leaning at a slightly precarious angle, but it was home, of sorts. It was a place she could find food that was mostly safe to eat and a bed to sleep in, for a price.

Stepping up to the door she knocked three times, paused, then knocked twice more. A small slit at about eye level opened briefly, showing a pair of bloodshot grimy eyes before slamming shut again. A second later the sound of locks being thrown was followed by the door swinging open. A short, dirty man who smelled strongly of alcohol stood behind the opened door. He leered openly at her, then stepped slightly out of the way. As she moved to pass him, he made a swipe at her ass; fortunately, she had been expecting it and stepped nimbly out of the way.

As she walked down the hall she looked over her shoulder and shot the man a look. If the daggers in her eyes had been real, he would have been unrecognizable to his own mother when it was over. Unfortunately, the only impact her look had was to cause the man at the door to laugh raucously and slam the door shut. While Lucas’s protection kept her safe for the most part, his cronies still enjoyed the occasional crude gesture or grope with impunity. She just had to put up with it, it was the cost of eating on a regular basis and having a safe place to sleep.

Walking into the common room she groaned inwardly. Perhaps thoughts of the unwholesome man had summoned him. Lucas stood in front of a desk on the right side of the room, talking quietly to one of his less shabby cohorts. He noticed her almost immediately and waived his accomplice off to whatever nefarious errand he had been given. Standing immediately in her path, she had no choice but to acknowledge his presence.

“Lucas,” she said. Trying to keep as neutral a tone as she could manage.

“Ahh Alyssia, how’s my favorite little beggar doing this evening?” he said, leering at her. “Done already I see, perhaps you took my advice from yesterday?”

Alyssia shuddered; she couldn’t keep the feeling of disgust from showing on her face. His ‘advice’ had amounted to whoring herself out to that rich merchant she had so narrowly escaped earlier. Damn that beggar who had rescued her last time. She was grateful to some degree but she wished he had kept his mouth shut about the incident. After hearing about it, Lucas had gotten it into his head that there might be better ways for her to make credits than begging.

“Ah well, I suppose not. Maybe after the idea has had time to settle,” Lucas said. Letting his smile widen, Lucas continued, “Now, to the matter of your rent. It seems that the price of food and other necessities are always increasing. The cost of living, you understand. Now, I’ve done my best to absorb as much of these costs as I could,” he gave a feigned apologetic look, “but you must understand I can only do so much. I’m afraid I’ll have to increase your rent by seventy credits a week.”

Alyssia was outraged. He had just increased her rent two weeks before. A seventy credit increase would quickly clean her out of everything she had so far managed to save up. She had the feeling his ‘cost of living’ increases were specifically designed to make certain she never had enough credits to leave. She was about to tell him exactly where he could stuff his rent increase when he suddenly dropped the false smile and leaned uncomfortably close.

“And let’s not forget the most costly matter of all, keeping your dirty secret,” he said. His face was so close to hers that his rancid breath almost curdled the milk in her stomach from breakfast.

Alyssia froze. She cursed the fates that had allowed the depraved man to ferret out that particular part of her past. It was a uniquely effective piece of blackmail. Shoving her anger and frustration down, she dug out her hidden purse and shoved it into the man's hands. Without looking at his face she stepped around him and headed for the galley. She wasn’t sure she felt hungry anymore, but it was foolish to turn down food in her situation.

“Always a pleasure doing business with you,” Lucas called after her.

Alyssia didn't stop walking. She was afraid of what she might say if she so much as acknowledged him at this point. She still needed this place, despite Lucas’s extortion. This city was far too dangerous to walk around unaffiliated, even in the day time. Walking into the galley she headed to the buffet on the far side. Thin watery soup and hard stale bread. At least the bread wasn’t moldy this time. She glared at the heavyset man watching over the rations. Only Lucas’ chosen few were allowed seconds. Grabbing a chunk of the bread and a bowl of soup she sat at one of the many unoccupied benches.

Thinking about her current situation, Alyssia mechanically chewed the tasteless food. It was hard to plan long term. For the most part, she just concentrated on getting by week to week - making sure she had enough food to live and someplace she could close her eyes without having to worry about being murdered, or worse. This place was no longer as safe as it had once seemed. Now that Lucas knew her secret it was only a matter of time before she could no longer satisfy his greed with the credits she could make by begging.

She had been trying to save up some credits so she could escape this trap, but Lucas was making that hard. She suspected he had informants that were keeping him apprised of her financial situation. The ‘rent increases’ were far too precise and regular, usually amounting to exactly whatever she had managed to save. She began to contemplate how she might escape without any extra funds. Her meager ration of food gone, she had still not managed to come up with any solid plans.

Standing, she brought her empty bowl and spoon to the washbasin next to the buffet. She paused in front of the food, the large man standing behind the table eyed her. The credits she needed were at least half for the purposes of buying food. Perhaps she could stock that instead of credits. But no, she was only allowed so much and she needed every scrap. Besides, she had no way to store it. The only safe hiding place she had was on her own body, but if Lucas’ informants could determine how many credits she kept on her, she was sure they would take note of any food she squirreled away.

Sighing bitterly, she walked out of the galley and down the hall towards the sleeping cells. Finding her own small iron grilled door, she opened it. Stepping inside she locked it; the doors had simple locks that could be turned without a key from the inside. Once locked, they could only be opened from the outside by someone with the key. Unfortunately, Lucas had the master key. So far, he had never tried to barge in on her while she slept.

Trying to put that worry out of her head for now, she looked around her small room. A washstand with a pitcher of mostly freshwater stood on the left, a small stool on the right. Beyond those, a small pallet took up the remaining space in the tiny closet-like room. Moving the stool up to the washstand, Alyssia began washing the dirt and grime off her face as best she could. She didn’t know how effective her efforts were as she had no mirror. It was probably just as well though, her disheveled unwashed state would just be one more thing to be depressed about.

What she wouldn't have given for a bath. Occasionally it rained, and that was about as good as it got. She tried not to think of all the things she didn't have anymore. A home, a family, all these things were lost to her now. She pushed those thoughts out of her head. If she dwelt on the things she had lost she might lose the will to keep going while she was at it. Dropping the soiled washcloth back into the now very dirty pitcher of water, she stood and placed the stool back in the corner of the room.

Moving over to her pallet, she laid down but stayed clothed. She didn’t feel safe enough here anymore to change. Reaching under her pallet on the side against the wall, she felt around for a moment. Her fingers brushed against something metallic, closing them around one end, she pulled out a small knife she had managed to steal. It certainly wasn’t much; no match at all against the pistol that Lucas carried. Even so, it gave her some small measure of comfort. If it came down to it, she would do whatever she had to in order to protect herself. With that thought in her mind, she drifted off to sleep.

Something woke her - a sound. She opened her eyes. The dim light filtering in through the grilled opening in her door was artificial. Not daytime then. She strained her ears, trying to catch the sound that had woken her. It came to her then, the sound of metal on metal. The sound of keys being turned in a poorly maintained lock. As she realized in horror that the lock in question was hers, the door swung open.

Standing in the now open doorway stood Lucas. His eyes were red and bloodshot and in his right hand, he held a bottle of what could only be alcohol. Leering at her with a look of intense hunger on his face, he said, “Time to pay the rent, little girl.”

Alyssia gripped her knife in reverse, with the point hidden up the sleeve of her shirt. She moved to a crouch on her pallet, the room was too small to offer anything in the way of maneuverability.

Still leering at her and apparently oblivious of the weapon, Lucas moved into the room, sat his bottle on her washstand, and kicked the door shut with his boot. Alyssia stood slowly, her mind raced trying to think of how best to diffuse this situation. It wasn’t the first time Lucas had made a pass at her, but it was the first time he had barged into her cell at night. She was about to tell him to leave when he slurred, “Why don’t you just lay back down and take off your clothes like a good girl. You’re nothing but a worthless whore anyway. Nobody cares about you but me, I’m your only chance of staying alive in this shit hole.”

He moved slowly towards her, his hands outstretched towards her body. Alyssia didn’t move, she didn't so much as twitch. But inside she was seething. She had paid him whatever he asked for and still, he was going to rape her. Her anger boiling at a fever pitch, she moved without thinking. In one smooth motion, she raised her hand, revealing the knife she held and plunged it towards his face.

As drunk as he was, he was still quicker than she was. He grabbed her arm at the wrist, and with a shove drove her back against the wall. Pinning her wrist against the wall he leaned forward, his face inches from hers. “Just for that, I’m gonna make sure it hurts,” he said cruelly.

Panic began to rise in Alyssia; she had never been with a man before and she didn’t want her first time to be with this slimy cretin. Focusing all of her energy she drove her knee into his groin and with a surprised grunt, he released her arm. Unfortunately, she hadn’t had much space to develop momentum so the damage was not as great as she had wished. He was recovering quickly, a look of contempt and rage painted on his face.

Alyssia still held the knife, but she was more scared than angry now. Without that blind rage to drive her, she wasn’t certain if she could kill another person. Suddenly, she was on the floor in the corner, her head ringing and the side of her face feeling like it was on fire. She realized the knife wasn’t in her hand anymore; in a panic, she moved her hand around trying to locate it.

“You’ll pay for that, bitch,” said Lucas.

As Alyssia frantically tried to find the knife she had dropped, she heard a distinctive click. She froze and slowly she turned her head towards Lucas. Still standing just inside the room, he was now holding a slug pistol in his right hand, the loading mechanism engaged. Taking another step toward her, he leveled the weapon at her head, just inches away.

“Get naked, now,” he commanded coldly.

Despair began to overtake the panic and fear raging in Alyssia. Tears started to form in the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t believe it would end like this, after everything she had done to survive up to this point. Her hand, still moving of its own accord, brushed against something metallic. As her fingers closed around the knife she had lost, her rage welled up again, washing away the despair that had threatened to overtake her. With one last thought for the parents she had never known, she decided she would rather die swinging than be this man’s plaything.

Alyssia lunged at Lucas’ chest with the dagger, putting all her strength and rage into the maneuver. As the knife plunged into his chest, he let out a surprised wheeze. Then slowly, as if the air was being let out of him, slumped to his knees and fell over onto Alyssia’s pallet. Alyssia knelt there next to his body for a few moments, her hand still held in front of her with Lucas’ blood on it. She tried to process the fact that she was still alive. She didn’t remember hearing the pistol go off at all. She fell back against the wall of the cell, breathing as if she had run a marathon. She couldn’t stop shaking, adrenaline kept pouring through her body.

Finally getting ahold of her emotions, she glanced over at Lucas’ corpse. Hesitating only briefly, she reached over and took the pistol from his lifeless hands. Holding it gently, she looked it over. It was a simple device with only a few components: a magazine, an energy cartridge, a loading mechanism, a trigger, and a safety switch. Looking at it again, she saw that the safety was still engaged. For the first time since she had ever known Lucas, she was thankful for his drinking habit.

Leaving the safety engaged, she carefully placed the weapon under her shirt in the waistband of her pants. Looking back at Lucas, she steeled herself and then pushed his corpse on its back. Trying her best not to get any more of his blood on her, she went through his various pockets. She was generally against stealing or looting from corpses, but for Lucas, she would make an exception. She found the credits she had given him earlier in the afternoon, and a few others he had tucked away here and there. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. She couldn't stay here now; his cronies would come looking for him sooner or later.

Standing, she moved to the washstand, and using the already dirty water, she did her best to remove the blood on her hands and shirt. With that done she drew the pistol back out of its hiding place and holding it in both hands she turned off the safety. Carefully she moved to the door and peered out down the hallway in both directions. It seemed the other tenants had deemed it best to keep their heads low during the altercation. Alyssia sneered at their cowardice, but tonight it was going to work in her favor.

She moved carefully and quietly down the hallway towards the rear entrance of the building. The old man who usually guarded this entrance was almost always asleep at his post. Reaching the end of the hallway she looked around the corner and, as she suspected, saw the old man fast asleep in his chair. She eased down the last section of the hallway, with her skin tingling and every hair on her body standing up; she very slowly reached for the door handle with her left hand, her right still clutching the pistol.

Just as her fingers brushed the metal handle, a hand shot out and grabbed hers. Alyssia almost jumped out of her skin; looking to her right, she saw the old man's eyes wide open. Without even stopping to think, Alyssia rammed the butt of the pistol she was holding in her free hand into the man’s temple. His eyes glazed over and his hand dropped from hers. Alyssia wrenched the door open and ran outside, not even bothering to close it behind her.

Once she was outside the building she didn't stop running. Taking alleyway after alleyway she made her way to the outskirts of the city. With Lucas’ pistol still clutched in her hand, the few elements of nightlife still awake at this hour chose not to disturb her flight. Her lungs burning, she neared the edge of the dense inner city. The buildings were now occasionally interspersed with trees and other transplanted vegetation.

Not daring to slow her pace she kept running until the buildings began to thin out. A hundred meters further and there was no longer any sign of habitation, just a thin coating of trees and vegetation. A few hundred meters after that and even the greenery petered out and disappeared. Finally reaching the very edge of the city, she slowed to a jog, then a walk. Her lungs burned like fire and her side ached. Her walk slowed, and standing just beyond the last tree, she stopped completely.

Before her was raw un-terraformed landscape. Only the occasional patch of long grass or a hearty shrub interrupted what was otherwise dirt as far as the eye could see. It was perhaps thirty kilometers to the next nearest city from here. She thought perhaps she could find a passing skimmer and hitchhike her way to the other city. If not, maybe she could at least use what few credits she had to purchase some food or water from one. If that didn’t work out, then she would probably die out here from dehydration.

There was no way she could return to the city for provisions. Lucas might not have been a popular man, but when his cronies found him they would scour the city for the only person possibly responsible. As she stood there in the dirt, trying to plan how she would survive for the next couple of days, her despair from earlier crashed back into her. Why did this always have to happen to her; what had she done to deserve so much misery in her life. It seemed every time she found so much as the smallest sliver of security, it was ripped away from her. Falling to her knees in the dirt on the edge of the city she had so narrowly escaped, she began to cry.