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Authors: Jasper Scott

BOOK: Escape
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Dennis was shaking his head. “You'll have to go back and tag it again.”

“You know how much that's going to cost me? I don't even have the money to do that!”

Dennis shrugged and offered a mushy frown. He diverted his attention to some paperwork on his desk, as if the discussion were over. “You could always get a loan from the company.”

“With what collateral? I don't own a keficking thing!”

Dennis looked up from his paperwork, his expression mildly amused. “Watch your language, Kieran. You don't want to earn a fine for running your mouth off, do you? Company policy, remember?”

Kieran's cheeks bulged: “Kefick kefick kefick!”

Dennis shook his head sadly, his short, curly brown hair bouncing with the movement. “I'm going to have to report that.” His head dipped to make a note on one of the papers on his desk.

Kieran spun on his heel and angrily slapped his palm on the door sensor. The gray steel door slid hastily aside, and Kieran stomped out and down the corridor before he could cost himself any more money.

 

* * *

 

“I'm so sorry, Kieran, but at least you know your claim is still out there waiting for you. What are the chances that somebody else could discover it before you have a chance to go back?”

Kieran ran his hands through his short, sandy-blond hair, and sent Jilly a tired, despondent smile. He was sitting beside her on the couch in his boxy living room. A therapeutic glass of cheap Callinan Wine sat in front of him making a ring of condensation on his synth-wood perk table. Jilly had wisely eschewed his offer to pour her a glass of the rosy indiscretion.

“With my luck?” He shook his head. “Someone probably saw me heading out on the IF-57 and followed me, or maybe I've got a tracking device on the flitter. Cardian has been threatening to plant one ever since he accused me of jumping his claim last year.”

Jilly Claassen shook her head, her long, blond hair swinging from side to side. She crossed her long, silky legs toward him. Kieran tried not to read anything into that.

“You're being paranoid. And even if Cardian planted a tracking device, how would he know that what you found out there is even worth the toll to get there?” Jilly blinked her big blue eyes at him, her long, black lashes fluttering enticingly.

Kieran reached for his wine and watched Jilly's expression dimple into a smug grin. She was his best friend, neighbor, and sometimes love interest. Unfortunately, she was only ever interested in being more than friends when she was drunk and miserable. Not exactly the basis for meaningful relationship. Her latest lapse of judgment with him had happened a couple of weeks ago, following a messy breakup with a Sentinel. Kieran's appeal to her had lasted approximately 24 hours, just long enough for her to get sober enough to realize her mistake. This time, after she'd given him the usual excuses

I'm confused, I need some time to think, it's not you, it's me; I'm sorry

he had told her he'd rather just be friends, that they should stop confusing their friendship for something else

like it was his idea. What else could he do? They had a great mental connection, but the chemistry just wasn't there. Even he had noticed

kissing her was like kissing the sister he'd never had. But don't they say that about friends who fall for each other?

And as much as it was like kissing his hypothetical sister, it was also like kissing the first and last woman in the universe. Those lips, greedily pressed to his, her tongue twining round his
 
.
 
.
 
.
it was like walking through fire and somehow not getting burned by the flames.

Then again
 
.
 
.
 
.

Kieran grimaced, as he gazed into Jilly's sympathetic face. Those blue eyes were burning into his, filling his head full of wincing memories, scars so fresh that he could still remember exactly how it had felt when she had torn him open and left him lying in a miserable, drunken stupor, slowly bleeding out of his preciously small supply of optimism and hope.

Julie was frowning at him now. “It's an uncharted belt, right?

“Right.”

“Close to the spacelanes?”

“Yeah
 
.
 
.
 
.
” Kieran joined her and frowning, seeing where she was going with those questions.

“Are you sure that you found what you think you found?”

“Well, I didn't stick around to verify the readings, but what else could it be? Even if the rest of the belt is barren

9.6% of a moon-sized rock is a whole keficking lot of tetrillium ore.”

Jilly smiled. “Well, it sounds like you've finally gotten his one break you've been waiting for.”

“About maledicted time.” Kieran shook his head and took another sip of his wine.

“And if no one else has found it in all this time, that's not about to change before you can get out there tomorrow morning.”

“It could be a while before I can raise the money to get out there again. I'm going to have trouble just paying this month's rent, lease, and docking fees, let alone the exorbitant gate tolls on the IF-57.”

“What about Reddick? He could loan you the money.”

Kieran's lips flattened into a determined line. “I'll find another way.”

“He's your brother! Why not ask him? I'm sure he would give you the money. And unlike the loans department, he won't charge interest.”

Kieran looked away from her. “I'll find another way.”

“What's your problem with him, anyway?”

A muscle clenched involuntarily in Kieran's jaw, and he reached for his wine. He swirled the rosy liquid in the glass, his eyes fixed on the small blank rectangle set into the opposite wall

his holo-screen. “Problem? I don't have a problem with him.”

“Yes you do. Don't lie to me. I know you, Kieran.”

Kieran turned back to Jilly with a smile and eyebrows patiently raised over the rim of his wine glass. He took a thoughtful sip, swallowed, then said: “You think you know me?”

Jilly crossed her arms over her perfect chest. “I'm your best friend, of course I know you. What happened between you two?”

“Nothing.”

“Stop lying.”

“I'm not.”

“You are!”

Kieran shrugged and drained his glass. Setting it down on the perk table, he said, “I guess you don't know me as well as I thought.”

“You're right. I know you better.”

Kieran burst into a long, bitter laugh that sounded forced, even to his own ears. He turned to her with eyes watering from the lingering sting of the Callinan Wine.

“Tell you what. I'll ask him for the money. Will that get you off my case?”

Jilly shook her head. “No. But it's a start.” She flashed him half of a heart-stopping smile, and Kieran had another wincing memory
.
 
.
 
.
 
.

 

* * *

 

The executive suites were on the upper levels of Outpost 110, a scattering of cylindrical modules arrayed in a circle, like a halo looming over the rest of the base. There was only one connecting corridor leading from the rest of the station, inside which there was an elevator, but only residents of the executive ring could use it

and, of course, anyone they deemed worthy to ascend to their lofty perch.

Kieran had had to call his brother on the holo-comm just to get permission to use the elevator, a fact which was like a punch in the gut after a thorough beating.

The elevator doors opened, and Kieran stepped out into an opulent foyer, with marble floors, intricate moldings, and soft, recessed lighting. From the foyer he could see a semicircle of six numbered doors. Doors that were paneled with
real
wood. Behind Kieran, on the other side of the elevator, lay another six identical doors. Twelve corridors, which sprang from the central column like the spokes of a wheel.
And like a wheel, all of the shakra collects beyond the spokes.

Gritting his teeth, Kieran took a few steps to his right, aiming for the door with the number six emblazoned in gold on its dark maroon-colored face. He waved his hand across the door sensor. It didn't open

of course, Reddick wouldn't add his little brother's biometrics to the security system. After all, he could be a security threat. Maybe he would try to steal one of those priceless transpiranium sculptures in the living room.

Kieran watched as a spherical camera mounted above the door swiveled to face him. Kieran saw his own face

horribly distorted

staring back at him in the shiny lens of the camera. A voice spoke:

“Kieran! Please come in.”

Heavy locks automatically clunked aside, retracting into the door frame, and with a suspicious hiss of escaping air

like maybe Reddick wasn't even breathing the same air as the less fortunate denizens of Outpost 110

the door popped open and hung a few micenté-astroms ajar.

Kieran reached for the handle and swung the heavy door wide open. Beyond the door was a long corridor with another door. Kieran strode down the corridor, leaving the first door open.
Let Reddick's precious air escape. What's he doing, anyway? Filtering it? Sterilizing it?

Germaphobe.

There was a soft
thunk
as the door closed itself.
Looks like he thought of everything.
Halfway down the corridor, Kieran passed a pair of airlocks, beyond which he knew would be his brother's corvette and yacht. Kieran shook his head and bit his tongue to keep from swearing under his breath. Shortly before he reached the end of the corridor, the door swung open.

“Welcome welcome!” Reddick said, grinning broadly.

Kieran stopped eyes to nose with his older, taller brother. He didn't meet his brother's eyes, didn't trust Reddick not to see the resentment boiling just beneath the surface.

“I've come to ask you for a favor.”

Reddick's grin flickered, and for a second Kieran thought his brother's olive-colored face almost scrunched into an angry frown, but he stood aside from the doorway and gestured for Kieran to go inside.

“Well, let's take a moment to get comfortable first, shall we? It's been a while since I've seen you.”

Kieran nodded, still not meeting his brother's gaze. He stepped through the door and walked hurriedly past the handful of elaborate transpiranium sculptures and busts in the foyer. Each one of them could be sold and the money used to buy an entire ship.

Not that Reddick needs more ships.

As Kieran strode into his brother's yawning living room, he couldn't help noticing a subtly encroaching feeling of optimism. His steps were suddenly lighter, his mood less brooding, his jealousy and resentment somehow less important. It was almost like someone had flipped a switch in his brain. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. If only he could feel this good all the time! Suddenly, he saw his whole life as a long, pointless series of meanderings which had somehow brought him to this place. Everything that had seemed so hard before suddenly looked easy
.
 
.
 
.
 
.
He felt like he could do anything!

Maybe he could. Maybe it just took a change of scenery to realize that.
After all, whatever potential runs through Reddick's veins, theoretically runs through mine. He just had a few more opportunities than I did, that's all.

Kieran took a seat in a brown, masser-hide self-conforming chair, one of two and a matching couch which were arrayed around an old, glassine holo-table

an antique, of course. Across from the table was a large holo-screen, the sound was muted, but the screen was cheerfully showing (in three dimensions) what looked to be a courtroom with a trial in progress. No doubt, one of the seemingly limitless number of programs on the net featuring lawyers, criminal justice, and everything in between. Kieran heard footsteps approaching from behind him, and he turned his attention from the screen to see saw his brother walk past. Reddick flopped into the chair across the glassine table from him.

His brother's dimpled grin was somehow infectious, and after a few seconds Kieran found himself grinning too. He let out a short laugh and shook his head. “It's weird, but I haven't felt so good in a long time.” Kieran sighed. “I shouldn't have waited so long to visit.”

Reddick began nodding slowly. “I know, huh?” He took a deep breath, his eyes closing rapturously, and he wafted invisible vapors toward his nose. “Magnificent
 
.
 
.
 
.
” he said, letting his breath out in a whispering rush.

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