There are four of us. Gail and Guin are twins, two years later I was born, I’m Edward, and two years after that Julian arrived. We’re orphans. When I was seven, Mary and Tim our parents were killed in the inter company rivalry that spilled over into violence when the planet they were working on was raided by a Universal Metals and Resources mercenary team, which is a euphemism for their army. Our parents worked, as do the four of us now, for Intersystemic Resources. The UMR team were wiped out by IR’s security forces, which is another euphemism for soldiers, but seventy three IR personnel were left dead including our parents. It turned out the UMR team leader had acted without the knowledge of her sector chief and UMR willingly paid huge compensations, far more than any court would have ordered them to pay. The dependents of those killed would never have to work and most chose to return to live with relatives on their planet of origin.

Mum and Dad had been highly respected and qualified geologists. Mum was what she called a prospector, and worked in the field seeking new economically worthwhile sources of what ever she could find. We still have her hammer. She was highly successful because she never went out looking for anything in particular. Friends of hers tell us she always said, “You might not find gold, but a first class iron ore mine is a damn sight more useful, and more lucrative in the long run too.” Dad worked in the labs as an analyst and they say he was a genius at telling Mum what she should keep her eyes open for as a result of his work on her samples. Our parents were wealthy due to the bonuses they accrued.

We all knew Mum and Dad had no contact with either of their families. The parting of the ways had occurred in Dad’s case when he was in his early teens and told his family he wasn’t a girl and wanted to have the treatments to fulfil his needs. He was clever and knew what he wished to do as a career, so he’d approached IR for a scholarship. IR became his family from the age of twelve. They obtained custody of Tim, and shipped him out to live and be educated far from where he’d originated. He chose to live in the barracks close to his school with the security trainees, who were mostly in their middle and late teens, rather than be adopted, and had the treatments to complete his confirmation as Tim when he was thirteen at the local IR infirmary. That was why IR had shipped him out. His planet of origin knew nothing about the entire matter and would have prevented him becoming truly Tim for several years. Mum and Dad met when they were doing post grad work for their doctorates. When her family found out about Dad they freaked out, and the rest as they say is history, well at least as far as Mum and Dad were concerned their families were.

After the raid we were orphans with no family, and all our friends and the adults we trusted were at the IR township of Haematite where we’d all been born and lived our entire lives. IR is a good company and takes far better care of its citizens than does many a planetary government. To be fair the same can be said of URM. They are both enormous concerns and have a greater population to care for than any planet. Initially we were made wards of the company, but were subsequently adopted by Jane and Francis who worked in the Electrical Distribution Department of Engineering Maintenance and the Land Allocation Department of Planetary Provisioning respectively. The former is obvious, but Planetary Provisioning is what IR calls the department that includes the equivalent of the Department of Agriculture, Fishing and Forestry. They are lovely persons and became Mum and Dad in a matter of weeks.

So there we were, newly adopted wealthy orphans with our lives in front of us. The data block tells me it was an early twentieth century writer called Mark Twain who said ‘History doesn’t repeat itself, but often it rhymes.’ He said that before the internet never mind the data block. I came to realise what that implied when it became obvious Julian was not a little boy. The IR child behaviourists talked with Julian at length and asked if he wanted to be a little girl. He replied ‘No, cos I am a little girl, and my Mum and Dad and brother and sisters and all my friends call me Julia, not Julian.’ Not bad for a five year old. The IR medics took the view since it would make him happy and it was reversible give him the treatments. He was the youngest person to have them that I have ever read about, but a solemn little boy became a joyous little girl overnight.

As we grew up and learnt more about everything we realised we were citizens of IR and really that was as good as it got. Other concerns were as good, but we were IR born and bred. It never occurred to us that we would ever work for any other concern. Mum became an elected Planetary Councillor, so we heard about most of the issues folk came to her with for resolution, and it seemed to us that our part of the universe was administered with care, justice and efficiency. When Mum was in doubt as to what to do she’d as often talk to her neighbours and friends as Councillors for other views and advice. We didn’t need to study or ever work, but there’re neither respect nor self respect in that. We were clever and there was a need for medics, so in our late teens that was what all four of us decided to study. We’d always been close, and that enabled us to study together. We older three worked as mess hall assistants till Julia was old enough to start studying medicine with the rest of us.

I said we were close. After the loss of our birth parents, we became even closer. When we were little we’d cuddle together in one bed whenever there was a thunderstorm. We’d always hated the thunderstorms, which are severe in the late summer round Haematite, and our hatred turned to fear because there was one the night the UMR team made us orphans after which we associated thunder and lightening with screams and gunfire. As we grew older we never saw any reason to discontinue the practice. Mum and Dad were ok about it, but when Gail and Guin were fourteen they talked to us about it. Dad asked if we thought we’d ever separate, and even we were surprised at the vehemence of our denial. Mum said we’d be getting interested more in each other as we grew older. When we blushed because we’d already done a little exploring, Mum said, ‘I see. We need you to the medical centre to make sure no one gets pregnant for a few years.’ The medical centre gave my sisters long term contraceptive implants and sent us to the genetics department. They sampled our DNA and told us there were a few issues that needed dealing with if there was any likelihood of us having children. A fortnight later it was all done. Our explorations became more interesting as we grew up.

When I was twenty-two the girls ganged up on me and the next weekend I was a married man with three wives, which made no difference at all to the way we lived. The only change was the slight change to our personal ID codes. Eventually we all qualified and reached the end of our doctoral studies. We were at a bit of a loss as to what to do next, and Dad suggested we went to talk to the Employment, Placement and Procurement office, they’re like human resources and transport and logistics all rolled into one. Dad said they would know who could use us and probably give us a lot of choice. That’s how we came to be here on Devlin’s World. It’s named after Charlene Devlin, the IR explorer who discovered it, but it’s known locally as Devil’s Island. There’s only one town and one mine here. It’s not long been opened up and is desperately short of colonists, especially women. It was also making do with six persons with first aid training and an inadequate medical centre because no one else had been available. Serious cases had to be shipped out for treatment.

The arrival of a team of four fully qualified medics complete with a portable start up infirmary was a welcome event to the entire personnel, just short of six thousand folk. Most of the personnel were miners and a pretty hard bitten lot. In the initial phase of any colonisation or extraction of resources IR impose a strictly enforced ban on the importation of alcohol or anything else that could lead to violence. Miners by their nature are not into tranks and are a resourceful bunch. The technology to brew alcohol and then distil it seems to pervade all known space wherever there are miners. So there were fights. Lots of fights, mostly over the few women that were available. The company always offers free passage to any single woman wishing to emigrate and any other willing make herself available under the circumstances, but Devlin’s World was a long way out and they’d had few takers. Like I said, a lot of fights.

The miners were happy to have a medical team at last that could manage the accidents that inevitably go with their job. It happens no matter how careful they are. What they weren’t happy about was a young medic with three pretty wives when there was such a shortage of ladies to accommodate their needs. The girls were always being propositioned and eventually stopped going out. We lived in the medical centre and had little need to go elsewhere and as yet there was little to see. A construction crew were due in a month to build more accommodation so as to enable the population to go up to about ten thousand. Whether that would make the problem better or worse was anyone’s guess.

Gus was thirty-five, huge, powerful, bad tempered and particularly resentful that I had three wives. He was a regular fighter and had been locked up by security any number of times for starting fights. Only the one who threw the first punch was ever locked up and the CCTV cameras determined who that was every time. If security had locked up all the fighters the mine would have had to close. This time it wasn’t a fight, but Gus had gone too far. He’d been in the hospital to be patched up after a relatively minor mine accident when he’d grabbed Julia. He was fully intending to rape her when Guin misted the room with anaesthetic. The ability to do that was standard, though known to few non-medics, in all IR medical facilities and a few other places too. Minutes later, security had Gus in handcuffs, but he was still fighting, so they put ankle restraints on him too. When Julia came round, she instructed security to bend Gus over a gurney and said she’d give him something to render him tractable, but they’d have to bring him back in six hours. Security happily complied and after the gas jabs(1) in his buttocks Gus became almost friendly. Floppy and unable to support his own considerable weight, but almost friendly.

Guin suggested they left Gus with us strapped down to a hospital bed and return for him the day after rather than have to manhandle him half a mile to the lock up and then back again, before taking him back to the lock up again. It was a relieved security team that agreed. When they’d gone, I asked, “What the hell was in that cocktail you gave him, Julia? I’ve never seen some one react like that before.”

“Probably not. Gus told me he wanted to be inside a real woman. Well after I give him the second shot in six hours his wish will come true tomorrow, and he won’t be fighting any more. The carfentanyl derivative mix will keep him quiet till it’s all done.”

“Hell, Julia,” said Gail you won’t be able to keep that quiet.”

“I’ve no intention of doing so, because it is within our authority if we consider the welfare of an individual is at stake. I consider the welfare of the entire population to be at stake. How many dozens of persons has Gus hurt since he arrived? Till we have a more even balance of the sexes the problem remains, but when the other miners realise what can happen, I suspect security are going to be very grateful. After all when Gus’s, or perhaps I should say Gertie’s, tour of five years is over we can always change her back can’t we? But given that rape and even attempted rape can carry the death penalty and it’s all on camera this is a very lenient sentence even if she stays female for the rest of her days.” I’d no idea Julia could be that hard. “I’ll contact the magistrates and have it formalised.”

The following day Gertie awoke as a big buxom woman. She would be very popular. It was the screaming that alerted us. She was still strapped down to the bed and started cursing as soon as we entered the room. Julia was quietly menacing as she said, “Quieten down, Gertie. You’ve a lot you need to learn. You are now a woman and will remain so at least till your tour is over. Whether you are returned to being male at that point will depend on your behaviour in the meanwhile. We’ll keep you under observation for forty-eight hours and then you can return to your room. You may wish to see the Employment, Placement and Procurement officer about a new job. Are there any of your friends you wish us to inform of the changes?”

“Are you fucking crazy? Have you any idea what will happen to me out there like this. Change me back right now or I’ll fucking kill you the moment I get free.”

“Tut, tut, Gertie,” Julia chuckled, “You’re going to have to learn how to talk like a lady to attract a better class of clientele who will protect you from the rougher types. Talking like that you’ll certainly not attract any nice men and the rough types will do what they want to you. I’m sure you know the kind of men I mean. But let’s get a few things clear. We’re not changing you back because you are no longer strong enough to kill or even hurt any one, and that has been already been agreed by the magistrates to be in the best interests of the entire population, and furthermore they have decided that any other persistent fighters will be dealt with the same way. As you are you’ll have to keep your temper in check because if you fight you’ll get hurt badly. Do you really like pain that much?

“As to have I any idea what will happen to you out there? I presume you mean being grabbed by some sex starved miner and raped? Yes I’m aware of that, who better? But, as you told me, ‘If you don’t struggle you’ll enjoy it with a real man.’ Now be a good girl and watch this educational film. It will tell you what you need to know about your periods, and don’t worry we’ll give you sanitary supplies and a contraceptive implant too before you leave, but we'll only give you the implant if you wish one. We only enforce treatments when they are absolutely necessary, or as in your case at the order of the magistrates. Or of course you could go down in the history books as the second woman to give birth on Devil’s Island. You can’t be the first because I’m already in front of you by a month. Edward is by the way a first class O & G doctor.” [US Ob-Gyn]

1 Gas jab, inert gas driven equivalent of a hypodermic injection.