Collateral Damage Read Free

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.”
    She made a show of finishing her drink. “Look Waryd, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go grab some sleep.”
    “Sure thing. I’ll call you again. Soon, okay?”
    She dug up a smile. “Okay.” And terminated the call.
     

     
    Not that she’d ever admit it to him, Meyal thought over breakfast the next morning, but Waryd was right. XeGeTech must think they employ robots. Not only was she forbidden to talk to anyone else who approached the orbital – unless they were of, or had been sanctioned by, the company – but her sector supervisor had told her, back at the start of her deployment, that there were
no
other occupied orbitals around Falcin V. Which had made Waryd’s initial ping a huge surprise.
    In the six weeks since they’d first made contact, they had moved from wary acquaintances to chat-sex partners. And now….
    Now, regardless of what she’d said the previous night, she wanted so much more. She wanted to feel Waryd’s muscles move beneath her fingertips, stroke the hair-roughened skin of his, breathe in his scent as she ran frantic hands over his body. She missed the sheer
physicality
of another person.
    Her fingers curled around the cereal spoon more tightly. When she had signed away twelve months of her life, it was with the strict understanding of one very important objective. She was buying basic financial and medical insurance for her family, and a future for them all. In return, all she had to do was lock herself away at the end of the universe for a year.
    In the beginning, it hadn’t seemed so bad. She had passed the psych tests with flying colours, religiously read and memorised the tips for surviving in extended isolation and, as the counsellor told her with a half-cynical twist of her lips, if things got difficult, all she had to do was think of the money – the big gleaming pile of credits waiting for her at the end of the XeGeTech rainbow, made even fatter with her accumulating mineral bonuses.
    With no chance of a visit from family or friends, and the prospect of entertaining company scientists a rare event, Meyal thought she could keep things under control. And yes, thoughts of the fortune waiting for her helped. Whenever she became lonely, she either dove even more deeply into work and put all thoughts of home from her mind, or imagined her ex, Shad, begging her to take him back once he found out how much she’d earnt, courageously working at the edge of space. Both