Collateral Damage

by K S Augustin

  No good deed ever goes unpunished.

  Meyal Lit has been alone on an orbital for the past six months, analysing the remote planet of Falcin V. It’s a lonely job but, if it means financial security for herself and her family, Meyal is happy to grit her teeth and do it. That is, until a rival exo-geologist on a station on the opposite side of the planet contacts her.

  Even though they work for competing companies, loneliness drives Meyal and Waryd together. In between work shifts, they indulge in small talk and chat-sex, knowing nothing can come from their liaison. Then Meyal gets confidential news that could change the entire way she and Waryd operate. If she does nothing, Waryd dies; on the other hand, if she saves her rival, she can kiss her dreams of financial independence goodbye.

  What’s a smart, introverted geologist to do?

  Collateral Damage

  by

  K.S. Augustin

  Chapter One

  Meyal dialled down the illumination in her quarters, until only the blue from the control console highlighted the naked curves of her body. She leant back in her bed, angled so she was lying on a half-incline, her torso erect, her nipples hard and thrusting forward.

  “Okay,” she whispered. “You’ve carried me to my quarters and placed me on my bunk. You’re now standing above me. Then what?”

  “Then,” Waryd’s silky voice said, “I lean forward and tease your mouth with my tongue.”

  “Mmmmm.” Meyal’s own tongue darted out of her mouth, duelling in the air.

  “I cup those delicious breasts of yours in my chilled hands. You can feel them, can’t you? Cold and arousing against your hot flesh. I—”

  “Hold on a sec.” Meyal snapped into sitting position. “You couldn’t possibly have done that yet.”

  “And why not?” Waryd’s voice was irritated.

  “Because you haven’t taken off my top!”

  “Meyal—”

  But Meyal was adamant. “If this session is going to have any effect at all, Waryd, we’re going to have to do it right.”

  “So I have to take your top off?”

  “Yes,” she nodded. “And then you may rub some ice solution over your hands before touching me. Remember, according to your words, you were carrying me to my quarters. That means your hands would have been warm. And you can’t go for the bare breasts without even taking off an item of clothing.”

  Waryd’s heavy sigh whooshed through the speakers. “You’re not making this easy.”

  “It helps if everything’s accurate. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way I’m wired.”

  There was a heavy pause.

  “We’re not going to get off tonight, are we?” he asked.

  Meyal grimaced. “No. I’m sorry.” She relaxed against the bed’s firm mattress. “I don’t think so.”

  “Hmmmm. Well, I’d better sign off then. Catch you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, sure. Bye.”

  Silence filled the small cabin.

  “Waryd?” Meyal called softly.

  There was no response.

  Meyal sighed. She knew it was her fault. She was the one who had called an end to their sex session. But part of her wished that Waryd had stayed on, just to talk, if nothing else. But, as he’d told her dozens of times before, they couldn’t be caught “just talking” for any length of time, not by either of their employers, especially when they were supposed to pretend that the other didn’t exist.

  Unable to go back to sleep, Meyal rose and dressed, casually pulling on a pair of loose trousers and top before leaving her quarters.

  The curved corridor outside her cabin was tinged blue with night-time lighting. Unmindful of the chill metal flooring, she padded silently along the passage, past the two cabins for visitors – both empty, almost from the time she arrived – and entered the Analysis Room.

  The colours here were more welcoming. Red, orange and green polygons from the double row of monitors in front of her threw warmer reflections against the dull alloy walls. With a smile on her face, Meyal slipped into her seat and checked the programs that had been running for the past few hours.

  The XeGeTech probes had been deployed in the new configuration she specified, the nine of them forming a three by three “super-probe” that was slowly scanning the surface of Falcin V, a giant rocky planet circling a star in the Beta Tucanae system. This was in contrast to the strategy that XeGeTech’s main rival, ExoSystems, was taking (or so Waryd told her), widely scattering their own probes across the planet in the hope of picking up a big find.

  Personally, Meyal thought that the XeGeTech tactic was more sound and, by the analyses that were blinking on the rightmost monitor, she was right. In the past four months alone, the super-probe had picked up enough erbium and neodymium to repay almost half of the company’s investment in the far-off chunk of alien rock.

  She spun back through the timeline, noting the concentrations of other metals and minerals. A good stash of platinum was always appreciated and gold still retained its lustre for its anti-oxidant properties and high conductivity. If the next six months followed the same pattern, Meyal could look forward to a handsome bonus at the end of her year’s contract.

  “And wouldn’t that be great?” she murmured.

  It had been a deal she could hardly have refused. One year of her life in return for enough money to get her and her beleaguered family at least two crease-hops away from Earth and its credit-sapping economy. Not to mention doomed love affairs, she added. In fact, when she added everything up, the future was looking rather rosy.

  She pursed her lips. Not bad for a failed space engineer with an interest in exo-geology.

  With eager fingers, Meyal singled out the deposits of minerals the super-probe had uncovered, added her opinions to the figures, and shot off the report to her sector supervisor. It would take more than a week to reach her. In the meantime, all she could do was re-calculate her termination bonus and make plans for which planet to call home.

  Ping.

  The unobtrusive sound made her glance to the console and flick a switch.

  “I’m here,” she said dryly. Where else would she be?

  “I, er, wanted to apologise for earlier.” Waryd’s voice sounded contrite. “I didn’t mean for things to get difficult.”

  “That’s okay,” she conceded. “I had some part in that too, if you recall.”

  “Don’t suppose you’d put me on visual?”

  Meyal glanced around the room. There was too much advanced analysis going on, too much obviously expensive equipment on display, for her to risk Waryd seeing anything. Despite their strangely intimate relationship, he was, after all, a rival.

  “I’ll switch you over,” she finally said. “Give me a couple of ticks.”

  She gave the console a final check before leaving the room, heading to the Rec Space at a leisurely saunter.

  The Space had been designed to host four individuals (two inhabitants plus two guests) in social conviviality but, to Meyal’s mind, it was too cramped for even three. Situated next to the tiny kitchenette, the Space functioned as eating area, vid room and discussion pod, all rolled into one.

  Heading for the recreation panel, she switched on the camouflage protocols that Waryd had initially supplied at the start of their relationship. The software would rewrite the station’s event logs to say that she was lounging around, reading a book. It was only when she checked that the logs were being correctly amended that she initiated the sequence that handshook her station’s communication protocols with the station on the other side of the planet.

  She had time to walk to a lounger and slide into it while Waryd’s figure took shape in the centre of the Space.

  The hologram had a bluish tint to it, an aberration that indic
ated older technology being leveraged to generate the image. The image itself was contraband. Forbidden. With a relaxed gaze, Meyal watched, as the figure built up in layers, from the toes upwards.

  Waryd had delicious toes, Meyal thought, not too skinny, with a little meat on them and delightful springy dark hairs behind immaculately manicured, square-shaped nails. She found the shadow from a hint of arch on each foot quite sexy. His ankles were well-formed, not thick but not skeletal either. And it only got better from there.

  His calves were delectably sculpted, but she wrinkled her nose when the outline of a pair of trousers appeared below his knees. What a shame to cover such beautiful thighs.

  He was facing her, so she couldn’t see his backside but, from past experience, knew his buttocks were firm and well-rounded.

  There was a dip as the trousers followed the line of a taut abdomen before clinching at the waist. Thankfully, his shirt was thin and form-fitting. Meyal continued following the program’s progress upwards, over the muscles of his torso and impressive pectorals, dipping along a line just below his wide shoulders, before curving out and disappearing, to mark the limit of his body.

  She switched her attention to a corded neck, saw the Adam’s apple bob once, then smiled as an attractive face formed.

  He was so unlike what she had been expecting that she still couldn’t believe Waryd Gosin was a solitary-minded exo-geologist like herself. Maybe one of his dark brown eyes was a little larger than the other, and his nose was crooked but, those slight defects to one side, he wouldn’t have looked out of place as one of the new “Widow Companions” that was the talk of every gossip vid between Earth and Kepler-34d.

  His expression was blank until the rendering was complete, then he looked around. Catching sight of her in the lounger, he smiled crookedly.

  “Hi there.”

  “Hi yourself,” she said.

  “As I said, I didn’t mean to—”

  She waved away his objection. “It was my fault too. I always get a little…pedantic when stressed.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Stressed?” His faintly tinted face looked concerned. “What by? Is it anything you can share?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “It’s the build-up of a whole lot of things,” she said, after a short pause. “Will HQ like my reports? Am I getting the proper bonuses for all the analyses I’ve done? How is the family back on Earth?”

  The eighteen-month anniversary of Shad, the man I thought I’d be spending my life with, ending our relationship.

  I wonder, Meyal thought, if I wave a bunch of credits in Shad’s face when I get back to Earth, would he come running back?

  “I wouldn’t think you’d have to worry about the last point too much,” Waryd replied, breaking into her musings. “With you out here, a long crease ride away from home, the least XeGeTech can do is cover your family’s medical and basic living expenses.”

  “I know, but it still doesn’t stop me worrying. I mean, don’t you worry about your family?” She paused for a second and frowned. “Do you have any family on Earth?”

  He laughed. “Where else would they be? I’m not rich enough to buy us a ride to one of the new worlds. Why else do you think I took this job?”

  “Those bonuses we were promised during orientation had better pay off,” she muttered.

  “I have a sister,” Waryd said abruptly.

  “A sister?” Meyal’s eyes widened. His face showed traces of embarrassment, as if he hadn’t meant to blurt out the existence of a sibling.

  “You never mentioned a sister before,” she said slowly, wondering why he would try to hide something as innocuous as a family member.

  “If you recall, we’re usually too busy doing, other things.” His voice was dry.

  If Meyal’s skin was any lighter, she was sure Waryd would have seen her blush.

  “What does this sister of yours do?” she asked, clearing her throat as she tried to bring the conversation back on track. “And does she have a name?”

  “Her name’s…Callin. And she has got me into more trouble than a dozen shard-dealers rolled together.”

  Meyal laughed. “Let me guess. She’s your younger sister.”

  Waryd smiled and shook his head. The echoes of the movement sent faint blue ripples radiating from his body. “You have no idea.”

  Despite his words, however, Meyal picked up a firm note of pride in Waryd’s voice. “What does she do?”

  He snorted. “Whatever the hell she wants! At the moment…” he paused. “Nah, you don’t want to hear about boring family problems.” He straightened and looked her full in the face. “So, tell me more about this stress of yours. Things always appear more manageable if you talk about them.”

  Meyal didn’t want to talk about her problems, she wanted to talk about the mysterious Callin Gosin. There was something in Waryd’s voice, a wariness she hadn’t heard before. Did it have something to do with his sister? To her way of thinking, that seemed to be the least of his worries. They were both stuck orbiting Falcin V, a planet so far away that, even with crease-jumping, it would take more than four months to get home. And there was nothing either of them could do about it.

  “You know what,” she said out loud, “I don’t think it’s anything serious.” She definitely didn’t want to talk to him about her ex-boyfriend and the significance of the date. That was too private a matter or, worse yet, Waryd might even laugh at her for being so sentimental. “Maybe boredom is making me jumpy. You know, when you’re alone, you tend to blow things out of all proportion. I was briefed that that might be a side-effect of our…contract.”

  “Well, do you know what I think?” Waryd asked, his voice grim. “I think a duty stretch this long, without a single soul for company, is nothing short of inhuman. Sure, both our companies want to cut costs, I can understand that. Maybe one person is more productive than two, although I’m personally beginning to doubt that rationalisation. But what about the intangibles? What good’s a planet full of minerals if your analytical geologist goes insane? You might as well give the planet to your competitor.”

  Meyal merely lifted her eyebrows. She didn’t disagree with anything Waryd was saying, but verbalising them was tantamount to heresy, and she liked the perks – and her family’s well-being – too much to start spouting revolutionary slogans.

  “It takes a lot of money to send one of us out this far,” she said instead. “When you figure the cost of transport, plus atmosphere, plus supplies, it all adds up.”

  “Sure, but—”

  “And it’s very competitive,” she added, “especially when current law says that an uninhabited planet’s resources can only be assigned to one company for exploitation.

  “Plus…,” she hesitated. “I’m not sure what you’ve been reading but, from the bulletins that have been reaching me, the competition between our companies sounds like it’s heating up. Who knows? Maybe we’ll be hearing of a takeover bid soon.”

  “I know which way I’d bet,” Waryd muttered.

  Meyal clicked her fingers. “And let’s not forget the freelancers. Protecting claims against a host of small operators seems to be taking up a significant amount of our companies’ budgets as well.”

  “Freelancers!” Waryd snorted. “That’s the term they use for small operators who are smarter and more nimble than they are.”

  Waryd was right. He was also wrong. Meyal would have joined one of the so-called “private outfits” herself, but they simply didn’t offer the range of benefits that a big entity like XeGeTech did.

  “Well, for whatever reason,” she remarked, attempting a calm tone of voice, “we’re employees of two megacorps. Whether we like freelancers or not doesn’t come into the equation.”

  “Don’t tell me you weren’t even tempted to join one of them?” Waryd was clearly inquisitive. “I can’t understand it, especially from a smart woman like yourself. You could have had a bigger share of profits, direct input into decisions, more control over how you live your p
rofessional life.”

  “Fewer medical benefits,” she countered, “no allowances for family members left on Earth, no guarantee of income.”

  “You’re being way too practical, Meyal.” He stretched out an arm. “There’s an entire galaxy out there waiting to be explored and you’re worried about guaranteed income? Doesn’t the…romance of space appeal to you at all?”

  “If it’s so romantic, how come you’re not out there? The same reasoning applies to you. Why stick with an outfit like ExoSystems when you could have joined a bunch of freelancers?”

  At least Waryd had the good sense to look abashed. He lowered his head. “Yeah, well, some of those outfits aren’t very reputable. And I suppose it can be a bit difficult telling the good ones from the bad.”

  Meyal’s voice was dry. “You don’t say.”

  She had heard nasty rumours floating around about some of the freelancers. Scandals involving pirated software, gutted orbital pods, and dead bodies. She wasn’t about to bet the lives of her family, or herself, against such dubious entities.

  He looked back up, a devilish glint evident in his eye. “Of course, a smart person would be able to do some homework first. Separate the bad freelancers from the good.”

  “Is that all this is to you?” Meyal asked, exasperated. “Romance, the grandeur of space, and betting that you’ve dug up some background information that hasn’t been manipulated by the very people you’re researching?” She shook her head. “I’m not about to bet on something like that, Waryd. Not when lives are at stake.”

  Why was he pushing the issue of the freelancers? Until now, Meyal had considered Waryd to be a carefree personality, but the doggedness of his remarks made her question her opinion.

  He must have picked up on her unease, because he suddenly shrugged. “I was just exploring my options. I know we tend to talk mostly about ‘other stuff’,” he winked at her, “but I’m getting restless working for a B-grade outfit like ExoSystems. I was just wondering whether you were too. Getting tired of XeGeTech, that is.”

  Meyal didn’t want to tell him her plans. She didn’t think they had that kind of relationship and she wasn’t comfortable sharing the kernel of a thought that had been bouncing through her brain for the past few weeks . Instead, she mirrored his shrug. “It’s a bit early yet to be thinking of that. For me, at least.”