A New Administration Ch. 02

Part 2 -- The Assault on Satcom

It was nightfall over the once bustling city of Londinium as a helicopter swooped low over the silhouetted rooftops. The UN had started using London's Roman name several years earlier because they thought it sounded grand and authoritative. Upon entering the city, this grandeur quickly evaporated; with its population cut by nearly three-quarters and an acute shortage of qualified engineers, surveyors and builders, it was a shadow of its former self. Many of the great buildings stood in ruins and, those that remained, housed the poor, needy and destitute. Its famous streets were pot-holed, litter-strewn, and virtually empty.

The City of London, the historic core of the great metropolis, seemed curiously unaffected by the devastation surrounding it. This was the power base of the administration and, from this single square mile, they ruled the entire county with an iron fist. The UN Overwatch Committee, a ruthless police force with near-universal jurisdiction, was headquartered in an imposing structure once known locally as The Old Lady of Threadneedle Street, or, more commonly, as the Bank of England. It was ideal for the Overwatch's nefarious purpose; built entirely of Portland stone and designed to be impregnable. It had no windows on the lower floors and the rooms were configured in a maze-like pattern to disorientate and trap would-be escapees.

In a small room on one of the lower floors of 'The Old Lady', Michael was laying, barely conscious, on a spartan bed with a wafer-thin mattress. As he stirred, trying to open his eyes, a female voice with a cut-glass British accent boomed out of a speaker above him.

"All prisoners will remain seated for inspection!"

It took a few moments for Michael to recall the events of the previous day. He cursed himself for being caught so easily and for giving up the information he should have protected with his life. He glanced around the room, relieved momentarily that he hadn't been tied to the bed but his head was pounding from the after-effects of the heavy dose of chloroform. The room's walls were padded and clinically white; there was a door opposite him and a flat-screen monitor positioned at the foot of his bed. Just where the hell am I, he thought.

He heard a mechanical lock rotate and slide along its barrel before the door to his chamber swung inwards, framing two women in the aperture. Both wore the familiar regalia of the Overwatch; a knee-length skirt and black halter-neck top emblazoned with a yellow serpent encircling a large, phallic-looking obelisk. The imagery wasn't exactly subtle but it had succeeded in becoming both feared and despised in equal measure. The two women were well trained and stared straight ahead until the tapping of heels on a bare floor announced the arrival of a third. They saluted as the footsteps approached and then stepped aside to allow a rotund figure in her early fifties to cross the threshold into the prison cell.

"Mr Tyson, I trust your new quarters are to your liking?" the woman croaked in mock concern. "I am Helana Solomon, Head Watchwoman and commander of this facility; you may address me as either 'Miss Solomon' or simply as 'ma'am'. I came down here to introduce myself in person before we move on to the main order of business."

Michael briefly surveyed the woman in front of him before responding. The first striking feature was her size; the monogender plague had shrunk the labour pool to such an extent that food shortages were common and gluttony almost non-existent. Strict rationing had helped fuel the rebellion in the early days of the UN government but was now so widely accepted that the sight of a corpulent person was rare indeed. She was dressed in a black suit, which exuded authority, and spoke with a confidence that suggested she was used to getting her own way.

"I don't care what you have to say, 'Helana', just get on with doing whatever it is you're going to do." Michael replied obstinately.

"For one so weak-willed, you have such defiance in your voice. I think I would have liked to have been there when they broke you."

"Well now I've met you, I can see why you sent Gisselle instead." Michael said with the slightest hint of a smile.

"Enough pleasantries," Helana snapped, "All Lev-1s believe they operate above the law and can't be touched but I'm given a great deal of flexibility in how I run the Overwatch. Simply put, I can make your stay here very easy or extremely uncomfortable. It's your choice."

"Go fuck yourself 'Miss Solomon'."

"That's the wrong answer Michael and, in time, your rebel friends will pay for it dearly. Not to mention the lovely Miss Anderson --"

"Michelle!" The pain in his head had forced her from his mind in the short time since his reawakening. The feelings he had towards her didn't make any sense; she had, after all, betrayed the rebels and put him in this situation. In that moment, though, all he longed for was to know that she was safe.

"It was a difficult decision for me to send such a young and delicate creature to a labour camp. I doubt she'll last more than a few months." Helana could read the pain on Michael's face and took a great deal of satisfaction from it. Gisselle had already spoken of the concern Michael showed towards her in the hotel room. It presented a weakness that Helana delighted in exploiting.

"Why would you do that? She was working for you." Michael stammered.

"No, she was a rebel, driven by base desires; I have no need of someone like that in my organisation."

"If I ever get out of here I'm going to find you and --"

"Careful, Mr Tyson, making threats in here is not advisable and my patience is wearing thin. I could arrange for you to have an 'accident' if you push me too far." Helana said menacingly.

"Well, perhaps there's another way I could convince you to let Michelle go?" Michael though it was worth a shot; it was a tactic that had worked for him in the past.

"My goodness, that is priceless!" Helana laughed mirthlessly. "I'm afraid that however appealing you may believe yourself to be, my interests lie...elsewhere." She gestured towards one of the guards standing at the door, "Besides, unlike most women you've met, I'm afraid you hold no mystique for me. I was thirty-five when the plague struck and I still remember a time when men had to do all the chasing. I'll forgive your ignorance as I'm sure you've never known anything different."

"Fine, can we cut the bullshit then? What, exactly, am I here for and what will it take to get Michelle and the other rebels released?" Michael asked decisively.

"Why the rush, I thought we were just getting to know each another? You'll have your answers soon enough, but first I would like to show you something." Helana moved towards the monitor at the foot of Michael's bed and pressed a button. The screen blinked a few times and then displayed a grainy image of the Overwatch's insignia. "I think you'll enjoy this; it's the rebel's ill-fated attempt to seize control of Satcom yesterday. None of what your about to see would have been possible without your assistance," her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Oh, and put these on," Helana handed Michael a pair of rose-tinted spectacles. The irony wasn't lost on him.

"What do they do?" he asked, eying them suspiciously.

"They're 3-D glasses; designed to enhance your viewing pleasure and, don't worry, I'll be wearing them as well." she removed a second pair from her jacket pocket and placed them carefully on the bridge of her nose. Michael reluctantly followed suit.

The screen, meanwhile, had come to life and displayed a crystal-clear image of what appeared to be a small warehouse or store room. It was so lifelike that Michael could almost reach out and touch the boxes stacked high against the grey interior wall. At one end of the room, a small lobby separated two sets of heavy-looking reinforced glass doors. Nothing happened for several minutes until the sound of hurriedly approaching footsteps punctuated the silence.

"The recording started at the point when Gisselle sent the fake 'go' signal; it gets interesting soon." Helana explained, though Michael had already guessed as much.

The footsteps died away; replaced by a loud thud as the outermost door was forced from its hinges. Several figures appeared in the cramped lobby area, though the Videolink's vantage point was such that it was impossible to discern who they were. After pausing for a short while and adjusting various dials on a handheld device, the electronically-assisted inner door yielded and slid back into recesses positioned on either side of the entrance.

"Alpha-one to nest: we're in, over?"

Michael had recognised the voice before its owner had even stepped into view. Katie Albarn was the second-in-command of the rebel's Midlands cell despite being only thirty years old. He could see her clearly now; her diminutive stature, strawberry-blonde hair and tiny frame masked a fierce intelligence. She, along with all other members of the resistance, wore a tight-fitting navy blue jumpsuit with a long zip on the front.

"Alpha-one...'crackle'...breaking up....'crackle'...interference on line...'crackle'...switch to alternative channel, over."

Katie paced nervously as she switched the communicator to the agreed back-up channel. Something's not right here; she thought Michael should be dealing with this.

The rest of the team slid into view as Katie struggled in vain to get a signal. Michael immediately recognised the other five rebels involved in the operation and a pang of guilt shot through him. He wanted to reach out and warn them but he knew it was too late and that he, alone, was responsible for what was about to happen.

"What's wrong? We need to get moving." said Aaron Donnelly.

Besides Michael he was one of only two other men in the Midlands cell. He was middle-aged but kept himself in good physical condition and often provided the muscle in operations such as this one. He had a swirl of cropped black hair, a neatly trimmed goatee beard, and pale skin festooned with tattoos. He was a Lev-3; one of the four designations created by the UN Administration Committee and applied to all men. It made him far less valuable than Michael because he was incapable of passing his immunity to the monogender plague to his children. Lev-3s were often kept as the playthings of those rich enough to afford them.

"I can't seem to get anything other than static on this damn thing. Overwatch must be running interference, which means they're on to us and we need to get out of here now!" Katie responded in with growing concern.

"There, uh, might be a problem with that Kay; look!" An attractive woman in her late twenties that Michael identified as Hannah McFarlane stood at Katie's side and pointed back towards the lobby. The inner doors were closed and a metallic roller-shutter immediately slammed down in front of them, barring their only means of escape. At the same time, artificial light flooded the room from several high-powered halogen bulbs set into the ceiling. This served to further enhance the high resolution images from the Videolink.

"Find us another way out Hannah; I don't think we have much time." Katie ordered, though she couldn't see a viable alternative.

"I think I've got something over here guys." As she spoke, the youngest member of the team, Lisa, was looking down at an air duct positioned a few inches from the floor. "If we can just get it open we might have enough room to squeeze through."

No sooner had she spoken than the duct began spewing a think reddish-pink vapour into the room; it took Lisa completely by surprise and engulfed her before she had time to react. Now freed from its enclosure, the gas spread out in all directions and began filling the confined space at a rapid rate.

"Is that what I think it is?" Michael interjected whilst watching intently.

"I see you remember HAL-247 from your time with Gisselle. I thought we'd have a bit of a show before taking them in for questioning; you'll find it affects women more severely than men." Helana responded without looking away from the monitor.

Back on screen, the warehouse was draped in a sweet-smelling fog. "Just what exactly is this stuff anyway; I thought they were trying to knock us out?" Hannah asked the room in general, reasoning that any anaesthetic gas should have rendered them unconscious almost immediately.

"Whatever the Eunuchs are doing can't be good for us." Katie replied. The UN Overwatch Committee got its derogatory nickname, Eunuchs, from a poorly judged decision to carry its initials U.N.O.C. on all uniforms. The regime corrected the mistake quickly but, despite their best efforts, the epithet stuck.

"I feel very strange and my heart's pounding like I've just finished a bloody marathon!" said Sophie Smith, who usually stayed at the rebel base to provide technical support. Her cheeks were flushed red and framed by wavy blonde hair. The dark coloured jumpsuit accentuated her curvaceous body but did little to prevent her from perspiring as the effects of the gas overwhelmed her.

"So do I and, I don't really know how to say this, but I'm getting kinda horny." Lisa responded whilst slightly loosening the zip retaining her ample bosom.

"Hey I'm getting turned on as well; something's not right here," Hannah added.

"Everyone hit the floor! I've heard of this sort of gas, it's supposed make it impossible to control yourself." Although she didn't realise it, Katie's revelation was too late to save them. Nonetheless, all six rebels dutifully lay down on the floor and tried to cover their months.

"I don't think this is helping, Kay, my body seems to have a mind of its own," said Lisa as she casually slipped a hand inside her loosened clothing and started to rub her heaving breasts.

"Same here, I'm finding it difficult to concentrate; I just keep thinking about sex. What the hell are we supposed to do Kay?" asked Emma in a frightened voice. The slim brunette had hypnotic hazel eyes, a curvaceous mouth and high cheekbones. Despite being in her early thirties, she was the newest member of the team.

"Wish I knew, Ems, but I'm starting to think there's no way out," Katie replied.

On the other side of the room, Sophie had removed her jumpsuit altogether and was lying down on the cold stone floor, wearing nothing more than her drab cotton underwear. She was softly groping herself with one hand whilst thrusting the other inside the lining of her briefs. She immediately found her moistened pussy and carefully inserted her forefinger; whimper escaped her lips and her pale, freckled skin felt warm to the touch.

Noiselessly Lisa had moved over to join her, "I can't believe I'm doing this Soph; we've been friends for years but --" she trailed off as Sophie grabbed the back of her head and pulled her close for a passionate embrace. Their tongues danced around in one another's mouths as the two friends fed off of the sexual tension in the room. Lisa's contrasting dark skin tone served as a counterpoint to Sophie's lighter hue as their bodies interlocked on the unyielding stone floor.

"What do you two think you're doing?! This is exactly what they want; I bet there's some eunuch bitch watching us right now!" Katie shouted, though she was having difficulty maintaining composure.

"I'm sorry but I can't help myself, Soph's just so...sexy," Lisa replied before turning her attention back to the blonde lying prostrate in front of her. "Now take off those knickers and open your legs."

Sophie eagerly complied and presented her aching, neatly-trimmed pussy for closer inspection. Lisa started slowly; lightly kissing her inner thighs with soft lips before turning her attention to the engorged clitoris in front of her. She skilfully flicked it with the tip of her tongue until Sophie was gasping for air and arching her back; hands clenched into fists at her side.

"Oh -- my -- god, that feels incredible!" She screamed as Lisa quickened the pace.

She immediately placed a hand on the back of Lisa's head and held it in a vice-like grip. Lisa responded by sliding two fingers inside Sophie's sopping wet snatch, whilst continuing to lick her clit with long, lingering strokes. The moans grew louder as Sophie wrapped her legs around Lisa's back; I can't remember ever being as desperate as this, she thought. At that moment, however, Lisa stopped her oral gymnastics and looked up to meet a quizzical gaze from Sophie.

"Don't stop for fuck's sake, I need you to finish me off!"

"My pussy's throbbing, it needs some attention too," with that Sophie loosened her grip on Lisa's head. As she stood up, her legs nearly gave way, "Hurry up Lisa I wanna taste you."

With that, Lisa collapsed on to Sophie's face and bent over to resume her frantic licking. Sophie inclined her head slightly and began to return the favour, noting with a degree of self-satisfaction that Lisa was gushing.

A voice called to them from a short distance away, it sounded like Katie but they didn't care. Both were completely lost to carnal abandon.

The next minute or two passed in a haze as the two rebels enthusiastically sucked, stroked, groped and caressed each other to the point of orgasm. They screamed obscenities as their pleasure built to a crescendo; Sophie bucked her hips as they both started to shake.

"I'm gonna cum Lisa, you're gonna make me cum!"

"Me too, Soph, me too!"

With one final scream they were both consumed by climactic disorientation and, for the briefest of moments, they didn't know where, or who, they were. Then a new feeling overtook them.

"Lisa, I'm still gagging for it."

"How can we still be horny, that's the best bloody orgasm I've ever had!"

Presently they heard voices nearby and remembered they weren't alone. Emma and Hannah had turned their attention towards Aaron, with lustful glints in their eyes. Both had demonstrated a degree of control up to this point but their desires couldn't go unsatisfied forever.

"Come on Aaron, you must be feeling horny too. Just let me play with it and we'll both be happy," Hannah said, having loosened her jumpsuit enough to show off her pert breasts. There was no question that Aaron found her attractive; her flawless olive skin accentuated her pecan shaped blue eyes. Locks of long blonde hair fell down her back and her supple body moved with the poise of and grace of a professional dancer.

"Yeah, I know you want it; I've caught you looking at my arse whenever you think you can get away with it." Emma continued, standing a couple of feet from Aaron in just a thin, black g-string.

"Girls, please, we shouldn't be doing this - it's a bloody eunuch trick!"

"Sorry I can't help it, I need you dick." Emma moved closer to Aaron and started to grind her shapely rear into his groin. The effects of the gas had already made him hard and he wanted nothing more than to rip Emma's underwear off and penetrate her right there. A voice in the back of his mind, however, was telling him it was wrong.

Meanwhile, Sophie and Lisa, still exhausted from their earlier sapphic excursion, had joined the group and the four women were determined to have their way with Aaron.

"Get him girls!" Said Sophie and immediately tried to push Aaron to the floor. He maintained his balance but knew he couldn't resist four horny girls for long.

"Stop it; you know they'll be recording every second of this. They'll accuse you of rape for god's sake!"

It was a peculiarity of the British legal system that, in the past, all crimes were considered 'gender blind' except for rape, which could only be committed by a man. This position was reversed after the events of the monogender plague and, with men being such a rarity, a conviction for rape carried one of the strongest penalties the Administration could bestow. When combined with a charge of treasonous activity, it would be enough to justify the death sentence for all the rebels involved. At that moment, however, it didn't seem to matter much to any of them.