“Get in here! Let me look at you.” Becky pulled Violet into her apartment and shut the door. Becky looked her up and down. “Slut!” she pronounced.

“I am not!” Violet protested in mock offense.

“Whatever, girl. Chad’s a spacer if he doesn’t want to hook up with you.” She pulled Violet down to sit on the bed with her and bounced up and down with excitement.

“Okay, okay,” Violet gave in to her enthusiasm. “Tell me about this party were going to.”

“Oh my god, it’s totally going to be the best time ever!”

Violet rolled her eyes at the stock response. “You say that about every party. So what are we waiting for?”

Becky held up a small bottle and shook it a few times. The contents rattled back and forth inside. “Just these, motherfucka! Trust me, you are not going to want to remember the things you do in that dress tonight! Hell, I might do some things to you in that dress tonight.” Becky made a rawr noise and pawed at the air around Violet.

“Alright, down girl. Keep it in your pants. We’re not even at the party yet.”

Becky took out two pills and gave one to Violet. “Bottom’s up!”

Violet popped it in her mouth and chased it down with a shot of clear synth.

Violet nearly gagged. “Ugh! What the hell did you just let me drink?” Violet asked.

Becks shrugged nonchalantly. “Not really sure. Some shit that my cousin swiped from his parents’ cabinet. It’s supposed to be as good as the real shit on Earth.”

“Well whoever told you that is full of shit,” Violet said.

“Yeah? Well, it was free, so suck it!”

After a quick mirror-check and touch-up to their makeup, they left the messy confines of Becky’s luxury quarters and strutted to the party like a conquering Mongol horde.

The party was staged in an abandoned hangar in the lower quadrant of Section Six along the outer hull of the station. The hangar had been scheduled for repurposing for several years now, but something always kept coming up that pushed the zoning hearing back.

They entered the hangar through a double airlock. Not that an airlock was necessary for entrance, but it was perfect for noise control and not getting busted.

Violet had been to several parties held in similar locations around the station. About one in three got shut down before they even really started. As she walked through the airlock and saw the lights and fog and heard the music bumping, she hoped this wasn’t one of the those times. This was by far the coolest party she’d ever been to.

The dance floor took up most of the hangar. She could feel the bass beat thumping in her chest. Seventy or eighty kids danced their brains out to the loud electronic music.

Small makeshift lounges were set up along the sides of the dance floor. Various benches and tables made from old mechanic equipment had been arranged in groups for people to see or be seen.

The bar sat along the backside of the hangar. From the looks of it, it had been stocked to the gills with cheap synth procured by someone’s older cousin for a hefty fee.

Violet wondered how much was this night going to cost her. Not that she could have bought fairly priced drinks anywhere else for another three years.

She sighed. Law of supply and demand. Those who had the supply got to make the demands.

Violet followed Becky as they cut through the maze on the dance floor and made their way into one of the makeshift lounges on the far side of the hangar. Violet recognized a few of her friends, and sure enough, there was Chad.

Except he had his arm around Colleen Stilsworth.

That bitch.

Violet’s temperature rose and she felt a burning in her side, like a white-hot knife had just been thrust into her stomach. She stopped in her tracks, did an about-face, and headed straight towards the bar. Becky caught up to her and grabbed her arm, twisting her around.

“Come on, Violet. You can’t leave me all by myself.”

“I can’t go over there. At least not without a few more drinks.”

Becky glanced back over her shoulder and then looked back at Violet. “Look, I’m sorry.” Becky smiled apologetically. “I didn’t know about Colleen and Chad. I would have told you, honest. But come on, it’ll still be fun,” Becky pleaded.

“Give me twenty bucks,” Violet held out her comm.

“What for?” Becky asked. A look of intrigue crossed her face.

“If you want me to stick around and watch that,” Violet tilted her head toward Chad and Colleen in the corner, “I’m going to need some extra money for the amount of synth it’s going to take.”

Becky weighed her options and finally relented with a sigh. She pulled her comm out of her back pocket tapped the screen a few times, and then touched her unit to Violet’s.

Violet flashed a smile. “Thanks! See you in about four kamikazes!” She turned and made her way to the bar.

“Just pace yourself!” she heard Becky yell as she walked away.

The bar was crowded, and the drink choices were limited. Exactly what you would expect from a post-high school, pre-university party. Beer, vodka, whiskey, and rum. The synthetic versions of course, and the cheaper brands at that. There might be fifteen people on the entire station who could afford to import the real stuff from the big blue marble. For everyone else, there was good ole synth.

Violet stood at the bar for several minutes trying to get one of the four bartenders’ attention. One of them finally looked up and made eye contact with her.

He flashed a smile and asked, “Hey, don’t I know you?”

“I don’t think so,” Violet said. Although he did look familiar, Violet thought. She couldn’t place from where though.

“Zane.” The bartender stuck out his hand. “Zane Anderson.”

Anderson? Like the Station Administrator Anderson? Was he one of the sons?

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Maybe that’s why he looked familiar. She’d probably seen his picture in some news story before or something like that. What was he doing here, working at an underground party?

Violet shook his offered hand and responded, “Violet, Violet Weaver.”

“That’s a very pretty name, Miss Weaver.”

“Just Violet is fine.”

He tipped his head apologetically. “Well, Violet is fine, what can I get for you?”

“You can get me wasted, Zane,” Violet raised an eyebrow and then broke into a laugh.

Zane laughed with her. “My kind of girl. What’s your poison?”

Violet was halfway through her second drink when Becky slid up beside her. “Hey there, stranger! How you been?” Becky threw her arm around Violet’s shoulders. Violet could smell the synth on her breath. Seems she’d been doing just fine over there on her own.

“I’m making my way.” Violet lifted her glass and shook it at her.

“Who’s your hot friend here, Violet?” the bartender asked.

“Zane, meet Becky. Becky, this is Zane.” Violet took another swig of her drink and signaled Zane for another one.

“Anything for you, Becky?” Zane asked.

“Yeah, what do you got that will make my friend happy over here?”

Violet slapped her arm with a backhand.

Becky continued undeterred. “See, she had her heart set on this one boy, but it turns out he’s already taken. And I’m sure a good shot of happy juice with a total stranger would work wonders for her right now, if you catch my meaning?” Becky winked at him like a mental patient.

“In that case, shots, coming right up!” Zane turned and began mixing various colored liquids together into a tin.

Violet wasn’t sure if he missed the crude joke or was just kindly sidestepping it.

Becky leaned in and yelled over the music, “Just wanted to check in on you. I’ll be over there if you need me.” She left as Zane turned back around with three shots.

“What? Where’s she going?” he said.

Violet shrugged. “Party-pooper, that one. No worries though.” She took one shot in each hand and drank them down, one after the other.

“Hey, it’s bad form not to cheers!” Zane took the remaining shot.

Violet belched loudly. “Cheers,” she laughed.

The bartender shook his head, grabbed the empty shot glasses and went back to work helping the other people at the bar.

The booze hit Violet all at once and she stood up, grabbing the bar for support. “I’m gonna dance,” she announced, but no one was paying attention to her. She shrugged and shuffled off toward the dance floor, her limbs feeling heavy and sluggish.

She danced for what could have been ten minutes or an hour before a sudden wave of dizziness overcame her. Something was wrong. She thought she might be sick. She tried to leave the dance floor as quickly as possible. She bumped into several different groups of dancers and managed to stumble her way to the corner of the hangar. The urge to lie down suddenly overcame her, and she found an empty couch and flopped down onto it. Within seconds she blacked out.

When she woke, someone was touching her. Prodding her shoulder. Her head was still fuzzy and the room was spinning slowly.

“Hey there, kamikaze,” she heard a voice say. “Have a little too much to drink?”

Violet managed to open her eyes wide enough to make out the bartender from earlier. What was his name again? Zane?

“Here take one of these. It’ll help sober you up.”

Violet felts his fingers enter her mouth and deposit a small pill on her tongue. Her eyes shot open and she tried to spit out whatever he had put in her mouth.

“Hey, watch it! Don’t bite me!” Zane pushed her face away, trying to clear his fingers from her mouth.

The pill hit the back of Violet’s throat and she gagged, managing to cough it back up and spit it out. “What the hell? What the fuck did you just try to give me?”

“Take it easy… It’s called All The Rage. It’s a new strain of Forget Me Nots that I had whipped up on my family’s private printer.” Zane took another pill from his pocket and held it up for her to inspect. He then put it in his own mouth and swallowed it, showing her his empty mouth afterwards. “See? Nothing to worry about.” He made a funny face. “Hmm, tastes a little weird. Maybe it was a bad batch,” Zane joked.

Another wave of intoxication hit her.

Violet didn’t know if she fell asleep or just drifted off with her eyes open, but the next thing she knew, Zane was sitting on the couch next to her. He was very close. She felt something on her thigh, and looked down to see Zane’s hand. He gave her leg a squeeze and slid his hand a little higher.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Violet grabbed his hand and threw it off her leg.

“Come on, I’ll help you forget all about whatever’s been troubling you tonight.”

“Not interested.” Violet stood to leave, but he grabbed her arm from behind and spun her around. Before she knew what was happening, Zane forced himself on her. Kissing her sloppily and running his hands up and down her body, squeezing her in places that made her skin crawl.

Violet pried herself out of his grasp, and with all the pissed-off, drunken strength she could muster, she slapped him in the face. “I said—not interested! Now fuck off!”

Zane grabbed his face where she slapped him and his expression darkened. Gone was the happy-go-lucky, jovial bartender. In its place, something sinister. She realized she was looking at his true self. “Big mistake, bitch. I was trying to do you favor.” He took a step toward Violet, his fists clenched, but then stopped when Becky appeared behind her.

Violet didn’t know if it was the pill he’d partially slipped her or the threat of rape and violence, but she felt almost sober compared to a few minutes before.

“Oh my god! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. Where have you been?” From the sound of Becky’s speech, she was well on her way to hammered.

Violet looked from Becky to Zane, challenging him with her eyes. There was a witness now.

“Yeah, fine,” Zane spat. He turned and left, cursing her under his breath.

Becky studied Violet’s face with concern. “Guy puts out kind of a creepy vibe, doesn’t he?”

Violet managed a laugh, despite the circumstance. “You could say that, I guess.”

Becky threw an arm around her shoulder. “Come on, back to the party! I need your help with this—”

“Listen, Becks. I can’t, I’m sorry. I think I drank too much, too fast. I’m going to call it a night, and head home. Sorry, if I ruined the party for you.”

Becky’s face showed a little disappointment. She offered one last ditch effort to salvage her wingman. “Are you sure? Do you maybe want to sit down and have some water for little bit, and see how you feel?”

Violet shook her head. “No, I just need to go.”

“Okay, are you good to make it back on your own?”

“Yeah, totally. I’m not flying, I promise. Here, take the keys to my ship.” Violet broke into a grin as she held her empty hand out.

Becky grabbed the invisible keys and giggled. It was their private joke.

“Okay, in that case then, be careful. Come here,” Becky gave Violet a hug. “I’ll check on you first thing in the morning. I have the feeling this might be one of those nights that Forget Me’s were invented for.”

Violet was halfway home before she realized she’d left the party. So much for sobering up. The synth had kicked back in, or more likely, the adrenaline had worn off.

The station started spinning again. Had she gone up the lift yet? Damn hallways all looked the same.

She plodded on until she found another lift and checked her location. Thank the Maker, she was on her level already.

People passed her in the corridors and she could feel their eyes judging her. They knew she was wasted. How could they not?

Then again, maybe the synth was making her paranoid or the drugs. It could always be the drugs.

Finally, Violet made it to her apartment. She waved her comm at the door and walked face-first into the half-opened door. Pain exploded through her nose and her eyes turned into open water faucets.

When the initial shock faded, she gently probed her nose, hoping it wasn’t broken.

Her hand came away wet and warm with bright arterial blood. She coughed as she squeezed through the half-open door, spraying blood spatter like a human aerosol can.

She wanted to be angry at the night, her situation, the world, but her vision was growing dark from the outside in and she was growing more and more lightheaded. She needed to lie down before the synth and the possible concussion laid down for her.

Violet managed to slur a last, “fucking door,” before unconsciousness took her.