Lana's Comet (Outer Settlement Agency) (3 page)

The owner of the shirt in question blinked a dozen times in rapid succession. It almost brightened his mood.

“Sir?”

“Any reason in particular why you can’t be bothered to dress properly?”

The boy looked down and hurried to redo his outfit.

“Did I tell you to move?”

“No, sir.” The boy’s hands dropped, shirt half open.

“Name?”

“Jones, sir.”

“Well, Jones, if you wish to dress like a child, then out of my graciousness I’ll allow it. You’ll walk around wearing your idiocy for the remainder of the day,” he said and moved on down the line. Every year, all the same. New names and faces, though that hardly mattered. Most of these would be sent out to the far-flung moons of Jupiter. A few of the luckier ones would stay here on Titan. Rejects were shuttled off to Earth, destined never to see a clear sky again.

The choice of who went where was more theirs than his, though they never seemed to know it. Those from OSA or Meash families were best prepared, though sometimes bettered by the poor, hungry for a chance to step and make something of themselves. The third and fourth children of wealthy men broke first. Where did Lana fall on the spectrum?

He’d find out. “RUN!”

The group took off around the training center, breaking away into three packs. The stupid stuck out first. They sprinted, breaking into a sweat early on. Then there were the weak, already slow and waiting to be cut. Finally, Lana and a small minority of recruits kept pace in the middle. Smart. He’d make them run forever. This was the only group with any hope of surviving him.

Five laps later and the gaps widened.

Ten laps later and the chests of the first runners heaved. He’d let it go another few moments before culling the herd.

Lana’s uniform darkened with sweat and her jaws expanded and deflated in time. It wasn’t the most effective method, but it worked for her. She hadn’t slowed. The powerful hips and curvy thighs...no.

No!

Yet not looking wasn’t an option. The perspiration had her clothes plastered to every bend and arc of her body, leaving nothing to the imagination.

He turned away, refocusing his thoughts on her comrades. “Stop running.”

Bent backs heaved as people caught their breath. Good. Now it was time to get rid of the weaklings. It was one thing to run and suffer through it. It was something else entirely to stop, lose the momentum and find the strength to go at it again. “Begin.”

Two groaned. He pointed from them to the door, silently sending them home. Both cried, proving their worthlessness.

His eyes narrowed in on the Kin-Humanoids in the pack. He couldn’t help it. Two were nearly identical, but shared no overt family relationship, at least according to their data files. Their grandparents simply hadn’t had enough sense to widen the gene pool. Assuming they’d have found some willing humans. Poor bastards, all around. On the other hand, the recruits had probably grown up in Kin-Humanoid communities, away from the stares and whispers he’d known as a child. They needed toughening up.

“You, Clifton. Yes, slime, you get over here. The rest stop running and find a partner. We’re moving on to double person pushups.”

The out of breath Kin gasped out a greeting and a half-assed salute.

“Go around once more and come back to me with a proper address.”

“Sir?”

He didn’t have to look up to know it was Lana. “And you are?”

She took her time answering. He tilted his head and caught her eyes widen, before narrowing into pissed off slits. “Lana Kagen, sir.”

“And, Lana Kagen, were you about to say something, or have you come to your senses?”

“I have very much come to my senses, sir
,
” she said, in a voice laced with ice. If he read her right, she hadn’t expected to see him here either.

“I’m not sure I appreciate your tone.”

“We haven’t been taught to salute, sir. It isn’t Clifton’s fault.”

The Kin grimaced, but with his back to Lana, she wouldn’t have been able to see it. “You should see the look on your rescuee’s face. You’ve just earned him a position as my training partner. I’m sure Clifton will thank you later. You go run, while we learn proper technique.”

“But I—”

“That’ll be all, Kagen. Start running.”

A
nd run she did. She ran until her thighs quivered and her vision blurred. The jerk made her run two days straight. Every time she slowed, Cyprus...no...Commanding Asshole Officer Dhoma, forced one of the other recruits to run in the opposite direction. As they passed, she winced at the string of rolled eyes and curled lips.

She’d also learned why Cyprus hadn’t taught them to salute. Within three short days...

No.

Within three
long
days of soul-destroying, I-hate-everything, kill-me-now hell, a fourth of the class either quit or had been pulled, including the Kin she’d stood up for. Even then, Himself didn’t dare lower to this type of instruction. Instead, Cyprus pulled up a chair in the center of the gymnasium while another well-decorated man went through the basics of marching, drilling and salutes.

She thought she caught Cyprus glancing at her over his omnitablet sometimes, but whenever she turned to look directly, his eyes shifted elsewhere.

Did she see any remorse on his beautiful face? Hell no and she could have kicked herself for those momentary lapses into wishful thinking.

But why?

He was mean. Cruel.

A good fighter and an even better kisser.

Still, he’d gone after that Clifton boy for no reason other than his Kin genetics. Anyone could see it. Did Cyprus have that much self-hate running through him that he couldn’t give the kid a freaking chance?

“Stop!”

Bodies slammed together at Cyprus’s order, squishing in heaps of perspiration and hacking coughs.

“Sometimes we must run to danger and when we get there, do we sit? The answer is no. We fight. I need a volunteer to help me illustrate a Vesuvian Night. You!”

A ginormous, sweat-dripping recruit stumbled over, wheezing between steps. Cyprus stood next to him, facing the opposite direction. In one blazing fast millisecond, the man stepped between the kid’s legs, kicked him in the knee and as the poor guy went down, elbowed him in the kidneys. She winced in sympathy and had to beat back the doctor in her that demanded she render aid.

Cyprus signaled for his assistant trainers to haul the groaning lump off to a medipod. “This will render anyone immobile. What you do when you have them down on the ground will depend on the situation. But this will get them there. You are all about to experience the pleasure of a torn knee ligament and a busted kidney. After, you’ll go to the pod, get healed and then return to inflict that same joy on your classmates. Ladies first.”

Tears.

Screams.

Begging.

That about summed up the rest of her day. No one was ever hurt too long, the medipods were top of the line, but the moments of torture left her face hot, fists clenched and jaw twitching with rage. When people split into small groups for the next round, she sought him out.

The act wasn’t easily accomplished. Grabby hands of her fellow trainees pulled her back. Hushed threats and
‘please God no’s’
didn’t stop her. “Why are you doing this, sir?”

“STOP!”

The room stilled.

“Trainee Kagen would like to know why I’m doing this. Will someone please explain?”

Some fool with a bloodied nose had the nerve to raise his stupid, little hand. “To teach us to be strong, sir. If someone hurts us, we can’t let it show.”

“Good. And?”

The little suck up wiped a nostril on his sleeve, painting the top of his shirt red. “We may be without weapons....an-an-and back up.”

“So therefore,” Cyprus prodded, cleaning behind one thumbnail with the other.

“We must have the ability to immobilize our enemy.”

“Good. Very good. Five laps around the gymnasium. All of you, save Ms. Kagen, of course. You will thank her as you pass, then go back to your exercises.”

And so she stood there, at attention, receiving spat out ‘thank you’s’ and ‘appreciate it’s’ from every single member of her class, five times. By the end, she wanted to crawl into the drains along with the blood and sweat. Blessedly, the last person finished and His Majesty waved her off to join in the group exercises.

Additional insult?

Yep.

She’d been on the receiving end on the knee kicks before the run. Which meant that after all the crap of making people suffer, she had to layer up on the love by bruising some kidneys. Great. The blond jerkhole didn’t even look up.

After an hour or so, Cyprus dismissed them in formation, but she broke ranks before they hit the door and turned back to Cyprus, sitting cross-legged with a cup of something steaming in hand. “Commanding Officer Dhoma, may I have word?”

“Certainly. Mind, while we talk, your comrades will have another run.”

Oh, they really loved her now and shot her the glowering looks and pinched lips to prove it. She spoke so fast her that her words smashed together, determined to get this over with as soon as possible. “No one needs to suffer for what I do.”

“You are making them suffer.” He mixed spice to whatever he drank, agonizingly slow in stirring it in. The jerk meant to drag this out. If his plan was to make everyone else hate her, he’d accomplished that ages ago.

“Me? Or Jones? Or Clifton.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Jones, he didn’t respect my uniform.”

“It was his first day.”

“Thank you for reminding me.”

“And Clifton? Just because you hate what you are—”

He stood up so fast that the chair screeched across the floor. A hundred eyes turn towards her, but she didn’t shift, didn’t turn away.

Cyprus’s arms crossed his chest, and the lips she’d been latched onto days ago, sneered at her, inches from her face. “Don’t you ever presume to know what I think.”

“I don’t have to. You made it abundantly clear. I’ve come to expect you to be cruel. I hadn’t, however, anticipated you being an unfair ass.”

“Unfair? I’m responsible for making sure this place stays safe.” He leaned in so close that his lips brushed against her ear. “Clifton...that...that clone will face a life of unfairness. He needs to be tougher and better than everyone else is. Showing up in his condition wasn’t going to cut it.”

“That’s what this is about? You’ve made it and now you expect everyone else to pull themselves up to your standards? Get over yourself.”

“I’m not sure you understand the nature of our relationship. I can remind you. I can make you run until you break. It might help.”

“Do you remember the night we met? Try. It was back when you felt bad about being a dick.”

It was a step too far. A vein north of his right eye throbbed beneath the skin and his pupils narrowed. His fight for control played out in his cutting eyes and clenched jaw. “I will not show partiality. Not based on genetics or any other false issue that may burrow itself in your mind.”

“If that’s your way of asking or demanding I not mention our previous encounters, don’t worry. You’re nothing to be proud of. I wish you continued success in engendering loyalty and devotion from the craven masses you deign yourself to instruct.”

Then she stepped back, saluted and jogged away.

Damn him. Damn him for this.

For them.

And for making her feel so small. How stupid had she been to think they could have had something? She’d had one night and assumed he’d been worth seeing again. She’d fallen too hard and too fast. Now the universe was making her pay for it.

Fine, then.

But that was between her and the universe. She’d eat her humble pie, but not in front of Cyprus. Her pain would be her own and before she crossed the threshold of her room, she locked it away and promised herself that he’d never catch her weak again.

*****

S
he was way off point. And out of order. Mostly off point. Cyprus didn’t hate what he was. He just accepted and worked harder and there was nothing wrong with that.

Vin joined him in the mess hall with a stack of food...actual food...well above normal rations. Cyprus looked at his own bowl of lab-grown vegetables with a side of calorie tabs and shoved it away. “I’m taking some of that.”

“They’d give you the good stuff if you weren’t scowling all the time. That wrinkle gets deeper every year.”

He smacked Vin’s fingers away and grabbed a sandwich. “Let’s say you did something you shouldn’t have—”

“What are you accusing me of now?”

“Just supposition, Vin, all right?” He took a bite, dragged a napkin over his mouth and started again. “So you’ve done something that you shouldn’t have, but at the time you weren’t aware that you shouldn’t have.”

The dummy’s fork fell to the table. “
You
, did something? You? Holy shit.”

“Would you go to OSA with it or wait it out?”

“I need specifics.”

“You’re not getting them,” he said and took another bite.

Vin’s hands waved before him as if parts of an old fashioned scale, up, down and back again. “Depends. If it’s something that can get me fired, I’d run it past the suits upstairs.”

“Figured. There goes that promotion.”

“Have you heard anything yet?” At his headshake, Vin slapped the table. “Then shut up. Get the promotion and once you’re all settled in, maybe slip it past someone in conversation.”

“So, lie?”

“It’s not a lie. At the time of your application, had you done any of...whatever you did?”

“No.”

“There you go. Relax. Your reputation can handle it. You’re the most stuck up bastard here. You bleed OSA and everybody knows it. Whatever you
think
you did is probably nothing. You don’t get demoted for wearing mismatched socks.”

“Funny.” But while it was slightly more than that, Vin had a fair point. One night of heavy breathing wasn’t worth his career. These things happened. As long as he didn’t make it habit, he might get out of this unscathed and go on with the rest of his life.

Without her.

He tried to ignore that small aspect of it. He liked her all right and sincerely meant what he’d said about meeting her after training. Or had. No chance of that now, though. It was all for the best anyway. He’d sworn an oath to OSA not to let anything stand in the way of performing his duties. He slipped up once – he wouldn’t let it happen again.