Authors: Jasper Scott
She frowned uncertainly at him. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “Mostly.” Turning his gaze past her to his mechanized opponent, who was standing unnaturally still in his corner of the ring. “Stand down. Fight's over.”
“Thank Deus for that,” Jilly said.
The automaton quietly ducked out of the ring, and Kieran turned his attention back to Jilly.
“Your brother wouldn't give you the loan.”
“No, he wouldn't.” Suddenly unable to look Jilly in the eyes, Kieran's gaze wandered around the room, alighting upon the door to the showers.
“I could talk to him for you
.
.
.
.
” Her voice was strangely hesitant.
Kieran's eyes narrowed, and his brow pinched in thought as his gaze panned back to her. “What good would that do? You don't even know him.”
Jilly was nervously biting her lower lip. “That's not entirely true.”
“Oh?” Kieran's eyebrows slowly elevated.
“We met at a company party last week.”
“I didn't know you moved in such lofty circles.”
“Another friend of mine got me an invitation. Anyway, your brother
.
.
.
well, he's got a certain something, don't you think?”
Kieran snorted, and wiped his arm across his sweaty brow. In order to distract himself from the growing feeling of unease in his gut, he began unstrapping his gloves.
“We started talking. He asked me out.”
That feeling of unease blossomed into dread. “What did you say?”
“I said yes.”
Kieran began nodding slowly, reasonably. His jaw was clenched so tightly he couldn't have replied if he'd wanted to. Not content to have everything else, now Reddick was going to take one of the few things in his life that actually mattered to him.
Jilly.
“We went out last night.”
“And?” Kieran violently yanked his gloves off by tucking first one and then the other under his arm.
“It went really well. We're going out again on the weekend
.
.
.
I meant to tell you sooner, to ask for your permission, but I was afraid you'd make me feel guilty enough not to go.”
Kieran shrugged, and turned in the direction of the showers. “Why should I care? We're just friends, remember?”
“Right
.
.
.
but he's your brother, and I knew that the two of you weren't really talking. I should have asked you
—
I'm sorry. But I'm sure I could convince Reddick to loan you the money.”
Kieran began striding out of the ring. When he reached the springy red railings, he ducked through them and sent Jilly a quick look. His expression was carefully neutral, but he felt sure that did nothing to hide the boiling temper underneath. “Knock yourself out.”
Jilly called after him just as he was reaching the door to the shower rooms. “You're not angry with me, are you, Kieran?”
He called back: “Of course not. You're free to do whatever you like.” He stopped just inside the open door to the showers. Turning, he offered her half a small, bitter smile.
Jilly hadn't moved to leave the ring. She was staring after him, her expression full of sympathy and pain. She looked close to tears.
“I need to get cleaned up, but when I'm done
—
say 20 minutes from now
—
you want to go get a drink and a late dinner at the Wayfarer?”
“I'd love to.” Her voice was soft, guilty, apologetic, and intensely irritating.
Kieran swallowed his ire and nodded. “See you soon.”
“I'll wait for you in the lobby.”
Kieran watched for a moment as she turned to leave the ring, then he grimaced and began stalking down the corridor to the shower room. When he got there and located the locker with his clothes and belongings in it, he waved his hand across the sensor and the locker popped open. He withdrew his towel and body wash, then violently slammed the locker door. It bounced back open.
Kefick!
Kieran closed the locker more gently and set his things on the bench behind him while he stripped out of his boxing shorts and shoes. He wasn't sure was worse, having to appeal to brother's absent sense of charity, or knowing that Jilly would be using her feminine wiles to appeal on his behalf.
Reddick and Jilly. It was like a nightmare. Reddick had everything while he had nothing, and now he had Jilly, too. It was almost more than he could take. He already knew there was only one solution, only one way he could deal with it. He needed to get away. He had to put as much time and space between them as possible. Best friend or not, he was going to have to say goodbye to her.
Soon.
As soon as he got the money from that claim, he would have the means to freedom.
Kieran made his way around the corner from the lockers to the showers, wondering for the first time why he hadn't seen anyone else in the gym, or the locker room, for that matter. Then again, it was around supper time, and most sensible people were out at a nice restaurant, talking about their day with their girlfriends or wives.
I guess getting the shakra kicked out of you by an automaton isn't a popular way to unwind after a hard day out in the belts
.
.
.
.
That was when Kieran nearly bumped into Cardian, who was coming out of one of the shower stalls with a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist. Cardian was short and balding, with fat black tufts of hair (presently wet and flat) running along the sides of his otherwise round head.
“Hello, Kieran.” Cardian's voice was perpetually smarmy, and always reminded Kieran of the shakra he had to scrape off his boots after going dirtside.
Not giving Cardian the courtesy of a reply, Kieran shouldered past the smaller man.
“Took a beating in the ring again, I see. Always losing.” Cardian clucked his tongue in mock pity. “How does it feel to be such a loser?”
Kieran turned at the entrance to one of the shower stalls. “The only difference between a winner and a loser is perseverance, my slimy acquaintance. And I have a feeling that my perseverance is about to pay off.”
Cardian snorted. “What universe have you been living in? Success is the meeting of opportunity and intelligence.”
“I guess you don't have anything to worry about, then.” Kieran disappeared inside the shower stall, turned on the hot water, and shut the door, effectively drowning Cardian out. It would have been an expensive waste for a station to have showers with running water, if it weren't for the water cyclers. Every drop that went down the drains would be filtered, sterilized, and eventually reused. As thorough as that process was, it still rankled to know that he was showering in the same water that had mingled with Cardian's filth.
After a moment of dwelling on that unhappy thought, Cardian's voice came oozing through the shower door. “By perseverance, I suppose you're referring to your little jaunt down the IF-57 this morning. I wonder what you could have possibly found out there to justify the expense? Something
special
, I'll bet.”
Kieran frowned in the midst of massaging all-purpose body wash through his hair.
So I was right. Cardian has been tracking me. Well, he can't possibly know what I found, or that I haven't had a chance to properly claim it yet. He wouldn't dare risk paying those tolls without reasonable assurance of getting the money back. No prospector would.
“You know, Dennis, right? Dennis Liquay?” Kieran's blood froze, and all of his muscles went suddenly, rigidly tense. “He and I had a nice chat this afternoon. Apparently you had some trouble filing for one of your claims. I wonder if that means
—
”
Kieran body-checked the door of the shower stall, and it slammed solidly into Cardian, rattling on its hinges. Cardian let out a startled scream, and Kieran rounded the door to see the little weaslin clasping both hands around his nose, trying to staunch the blood which was pouring between his fingers and running down his arms.
“Stay away from my claims.”
“I think you broke my nose!” Cardian's voice was horrified.
“Did you hear me?” Kieran's hands were balled into fists. If Cardian's nose wasn't broken, it was about to be.
“No, I didn't hear you! Are you crazy, Kieran? I'm going to report you to the station authority. They'll revoke your license!” Cardian was starting to sound nasal.
“Well, you never know, shakra face,” Kieran said, taking a menacing step forward. “I might just be crazy.” Kieran took another step, and Cardian stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet and landing with his bare cula in a puddle of water that was slowly running down a partially-clogged drain.
“You steer clear of my claims, Cardian, and you might just live long enough to regret it.”
Kieran disappeared into his shower stall again and slammed the door behind him. He began vigorously massaging the suds out of his hair.
One keficking thing after another.
Chapter 4
T
he Wayfarer was an independently run hotel, a large boxy module hanging off the lower levels of Outpost 110. It had a popular bar/restaurant with reasonable prices and good, greasy food.
Nothing like the places Reddick will be taking Jilly to,
Kieran thought bitterly.
The lobby was small
—
a few holo-tables surrounded by synth-hide chairs, with a long counter at the back where a desk clerk sat, reading on a data pad. Corridors disappeared to either side of the counter. Kieran didn't even have to read the signs to know that the left one led to the Wayfarer's Bar and Grill.
The lobby's blue lighting, sky blue ceiling, and profusion of plants were suggestive of a planetary surface. To complete the illusion, the floor tiles were painted and textured like dirt. The decor was probably supposed to be cheerful or homey, but to Kieran, who had lived his whole life in space, it was discomfiting
—
unnatural. Jilly, on the other hand, had lived her whole life until recently as a grounder, and she loved the place. Kieran endured the strange atmosphere for her sake, even though he would have felt much more comfortable in the Spaceman's Drift.
Kieran spent a moment shifting from one foot to another, his gaze skipping from empty chair to empty chair. Jilly wasn't here. Frowning, he walked up to the desk clerk.
“Excuse me.”
The desk clerk looked up from his data pad.
“Have you seen my friend? She's about my height
—
long blond hair, blue eyes
—
”
The desk clerk shrugged. “I'm afraid not.” His eyes returned to his data pad.
Kieran turned to face the entrance of the hotel, absently stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets to keep them warm. Despite efficient heating systems, most stations were perpetually cold. That went double for corporate stations where beady-eyed accountants were reviewing monthly expenditures and cutting corners in all the stupidest places.
Strange,
he thought, after a few minutes spent waiting. Jilly should have been waiting for him, not the other way around.
Then he saw her come through the door. She flashed him an apologetic smile from afar, and he strode across the dirt-colored tiles to greet her.
Giving her a hug and a kiss, as was the customary greeting where she came from, Kieran withdrew and asked, “What took you?”
“I went to see your brother.”
“And? What did he say?” Kieran's face had already clouded over in anticipation of her answer.
Jilly was frowning at him. “You look terrible.”
“Thanks, you too.” It was hard not to notice his swollen cheek and slightly split lip, the only immediately visible signs of his recent bout in the ring. He had a few hand-sized bruises, hidden and purpling beneath his shirt. “What did Reddick say?”
“He's going to loan you the 1000 tokens you need, plus 500 more.”
Kieran's brow shot up. “Just like that? No strings attached?”
“None that he mentioned.”
Kieran shook his head in bitter amazement. “Thank you.”
“Don't thank me
—
thank him.”
Kieran snorted. “What for?”
“For the loan!”
“I already asked him for one, remember? He refused. “The only difference this time, was you
—
so, thank
you
.”
Jilly's expression turned smug. “Maybe you just need to learn how to ask.”
“Maybe I just need to wear a Jilly suit.”