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A year after the events of 'Lifehack',
strict anti-nanite laws have made life
difficult for those in the business.
Leftenent Cassidy Stanton gets a 'dear jane' message
from her girlfriend. When she's offered a
new post with the Yute temple honour guard,
she sees it as a way to make a fresh start.
Settling into the unusually casual base, she
eventually finds a new love, (despite not
looking), and things all seem well, other
than the commanding officer claiming to hear
the voice of the statue in the temple.
When Jacob Kirison begins trying desperately to erase
his illegal nanite project, he sets into
motion a plan that results in a devastating
loss to the Yute temple personnel.
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| Excerpt
1 |
Cassidy suspected the truth, but didn’t want
to be right. So she stood there, denying the
thought until the box was put down in front
of her. As she signed for it, she stared at
the return address. It was from Brandy.
It didn’t look like roses. She ripped the corner
of the tape, and opened it up. It was filled
with the stuff she used to have at Brandy’s.
Clothes mostly. A bracelet she had given
Brandy once. And a letter.
She couldn’t face this now. Part of her just
wanted to burn the whole box, but serenity
prevailed for the time being. She sighed,
closed the box, and stowed it under her arm.
Suck it up, go say hi to McKinney, and go
home.
It was around shift change, so she felt she had a
good chance catching him at his locker. As
she walked there with her box full of
rejection under her arm, the uncomfortable
feel of the central base crept up on her
again. She found McKinney easily enough.
“Hey,
stranger.” Only as she said it, did she
realize how true it felt. She’d never been
super close to him, but now it seemed more
so. McKinney looked over to Cassidy ready
with a smile, but when they made eye
contact, McKinney’s smile... just sort of
died. He looked at her silently for a
moment, as if he didn’t recognize her.
“Oh!
Hi Stanton… how... how are you?”
“I’m
fine.” Cassidy said. “How’s my replacement
working out?”
“Fine…
Stanton... you seem really… relaxed, I
guess. I guess your new post is suiting
you…?”
Relaxed? What reason did she have to be
relaxed? Hell, a part of her… the part still
thinking about the box she was carrying…
would be quite willing to go hide in a
corner and sob. Not that it was McKinney’s
business. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is. Well…I
better get back.”
“Sure.
Um. See you round, Stanton.”
She left him there, both feeling like they
had just talked to a stranger. She went to
arrange a ride home, and found she had an
hour to wait. Not bad, all things
considered.
But she didn’t have anything else to do. She
didn’t want to go talk to McKinney again.
She sat with her box of rejection, and felt
the walls closing in. The box reminded her
of the telltale heart. It was an entity unto
its own. It made her feel sort of queasy.
That damned letter inside. Why wasn’t she reading
it? The same reason she never returned her
calls. Because it never seemed to bring good
news. As a form of pressure relief, she
pulled out her terminal, and dialed Brandy.
Again, it was blocked, but this time she was
almost relieved. Not an intelligent way to
avoid the letter; if Brandy had answered, it
would have been far more difficult to talk
to her than reading a letter.
The letter, and the “BLOCKED” notice wrapped
around Cassidy’s throat. It was hard to
breathe. This damned place wasn’t helping
either. Damn it. Damn it, why won’t
that chopper come get her? If it crashed and
killed her, at least she wouldn’t be feeling
this anymore.
Open the letter.
OPEN THE LETTER.
Open the damned letter. How bad could it be?
How much more dumped can she be? Brandy
could tell her what a useless girlfriend she
was, how much Brandy felt neglected. Brandy
could tell her she was worthless. No, worse.
She felt that something truly horrible was
waiting in that letter. That Brandy would
have written something monumentally hurtful.
Damaging. But if she didn’t open it, it
would just torture her in suspense.
“Leftenent
Stanton?” A deck crewman called to her.
“Deck eight, chopper leaving as soon as you
get on it.”
She crammed the thoughts down under the safe seal
of distraction. The letter down, under the
safe seal of clothes, and packing tape.
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| Excerpt
2 |
Kirison studied himself in the mirror. What
was the right ‘look’ for this kind of
meeting? He’d heard rumors that Mr. Book was
connected, but Kirison didn’t have any
exposure to them himself. He made a mental
note that should pushing come to shoving,
the fact that his boss was connected
might be a useful bit of leverage.
Leverage? What was he thinking? For one thing, he
was in deeper than the boss was already…
maybe... and for another thing, he was about
to meet people who didn’t respond well to
nobodies trying to wield leverage around
them.
Okay, screw the leverage. For now. Focus on the
image.
He didn’t want to priss up too much; they’d eat
him alive. He didn’t want to look too tough;
they’d sniff him out as a poser.
Kirison had a laugh at himself. As if he knew how
they think. His knowledge on the topic was
entirely rooted in movies. Screw it. Dress
‘business casual’, be respectful, and try
not to throw around too many big words. He
wouldn’t want to seem condescending.
He was ready to go. Maybe. He had agonized
earlier about how to get there. Drive, and
chance his licence plate being seen there,
or take a taxi, and risk disappearing, and
not leaving behind a car that could help
solve his murder. Of course, if they wanted
to go to that length, they could make a car
disappear, too. He had finally decided he
was being paranoid, and that once again, his
lack of knowledge about them gave him very
little information with which to make smart
tactical decisions.
Of course, smart decisions weren’t what got him
into this position, was it? He walked right
into a rabbit hole and had been falling ever
since, not even aware of it until just a few
days ago. And now he was looking for a
grappling hook that he might as easily lodge
in his own eye.
Clips from cheesy movies popped up in his
head all the time as he was driving there.
The restaurant he arrived at was nice, but
not too nice. The lights were low inside,
like a movie cliché. It was not a comforting
thing.
“I’m
here to see him.” He said to the
lounge bartender, hoping he would know what
he meant. The bartender silently lifted one
finger, to tell him to wait. The bartender
knocked on the mirror behind him, and went
on with his business. Shortly after, a very
large man in a very nice suit came out from
the back.
Kirison wondered if this large man would be
gentle when giving him cement shoes.
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| Excerpt
3 |
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Cassidy cleared the helipad back at the Yute
temple base. Another light dusting of sand
swept across her, but lighter than the first
time. It probably was just helicopter
backwash after all. Her box of rejection
felt a little lighter now, and the biting
self-loathing she was developing at the
central base was mellowing into a softer
sorrow.
She got back to the barrack to find three of the
others asleep there. She put the box down on
her bunk and sat next to it. The flap rested
open enough that the letter could peek up at
Cassidy, who eyed it back with a mix of
fear, dread, and resentment. Cassidy just
watched it sit there for a bit,
expressionless. From behind a cloud of
fatigue, she felt slightly braver than
earlier.
“Fine,”
she thought to herself; to the letter,
“let’s get this over with.” She slowly put
her hand on the letter and pulled it
forward. She opened it, and unfolded it with
steady, measured movements. Hand written.
Brandy had the most beautiful handwriting.
The light was bad, but not so bad that
Cassidy wanted to risk waking anyone by
doing anything about it. “Okay, okay, stop
making excuses, and read the damned thing.”
She sighed.
Cass-
Where do I start? I met someone. There’s
nothing going on, but I found myself wishing
there was. It made me realize that I had
felt like I had been single for a long time
now. I thought for a while that it was just
the long distance thing. That’s a big part
of it, I’m sure. But it seems like you
haven’t done anything to keep things going.
To be honest, in the last month, I had a
theory that you’d already dumped me, and
were just avoiding telling me. That would be
really cruel. But I know you a little better
than that. I think I can just chalk it up to
you being…. Lazy? No. I don’t know. I’m just
going to give you the benefit of the doubt
and say you fell out of love with me, and
didn’t know what to do about it. It took me
a while to realize I’d fallen out of love
with you, so maybe you didn’t know.
Whatever.
You may have noticed I blocked your calls.
Maybe that’s a bit harsh, but I was really
ready for a clean break. I wish I could
think of something more appropriate to say
than ‘have a nice life’, but honestly,
nothing else comes to mind. The good times
were good, and the bad times… just kinda
snuck in while we weren’t looking. While you
weren’t calling.
have a nice life
-Brandy
Well. That was that, wasn’t it? Cassidy was
split about it. Brandy hadn’t called her a
bitch or anything. Might that have made it
easier? She was just so polite about it.
Cassidy pulled out her terminal, ready to
dial again. If by miracle Brandy picked up,
what could she say? “I read your letter.
Nice handwriting.” She put the terminal
away.
She tightened her fist around the letter, and
punched down into the mattress. She needed a
walk. Remembering the sleeping people again,
she composed herself enough to avoid
stomping until she got outside.
Without purpose or destination, she stormed off
between ruins, letter still crammed in her
fist. It wasn’t hate she was walking with.
Maybe it was. But not towards Brandy. She
stopped at a convenient place to lean, and
rested against a handy chunk of stone ruin.
Half formed thoughts fired around her skull,
aimed nowhere, getting nowhere. During all
of this non-thinking, Cipriana had found her
and quietly walked over.
“Cassidy?”
As usual, she spoke with only the required
volume.
“Oh,
hey Cip.” Cassidy’s voice was a little less
controlled, but she reigned it in some.
Cipriana stepped a little closer. “Cassidy,
what’s-“
Cassidy interrupted by holding out her fist, and
opening it, letting the half-crumpled letter
open like a flower blooming in her hand.
“Have a read.”
Cipriana took it and flattened it out a bit. She
turned to catch a little more moonlight to
read by. A few moments passed, and Cipriana
handed it back. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t
be.” Cassidy said, taking the letter back.
“It’s not news. It’s just the recap.” She
re-crumpled it, and let it fall to the
ground, “I took her for granted. I ignored
her, really.”
“Then…
why do you care?”
“I...
I didn’t think about it. I guess I never
thought she had noticed. I barely noticed. I
never wanted to hurt her. I’d be perfectly
happy if we were still a couple.”
“If
you loved her, why did you ignore her?”
“I
think I loved her still. I mean.. I never
saw her, but as long as she was out there,
and we hadn’t broken up..”
“Then
you weren’t alone.”
“Yeah.”
Cassidy slumped, siding down the wall until
she was in a crouched position. She could
have sworn that the crumpled letter had
reached up and dragged her down. “But this
thing..”
“Last
nail in the coffin?”
“That
came a while ago. Maybe I hammered it. This
is the last shovel of dirt.”
Cipriana sighed. “Go to bed. Calvert’s coming to
inspect tomorrow.”
“Yeah,
in a bit. Go on ahead.”
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| Excerpt
4 |
The man who Kirison finally met with after
lots of waiting and an entirely new
appointment, was significantly less
terrifying than he had feared. He expected
some chain smoking, overweight, middle aged
man with sunken dark eyes, massive rings on
every finger, an expensive yet tasteless
suit, and an expression as warm as an
undertaker.
The reality of “Mr. Irving” was a downright
skinny old man, tall and lively. He was also
dressed business casual, not too far from
what Kirison had chosen for himself. That
was good.
Regardless, Kirison’s paranoia found little
difficulty imagining a viciously dark evil
side to Mr. Irving, with a wide wicked grin
and some kind of hammer dripping with the
blood of someone who’d crossed him.
Let’s not think about that. Let’s sip the drink,
and let the Mr. Irving think. That won’t get
you killed.
Unless the drink was poisoned.
Okay, stop thinking like that. The nice skinny
beanpole career criminal has no reason to
kill you.
“Well
Mister Kirison,“ Mr. Irving said with a
light enough tone, “I really don’t think I
can help you out.”
“What?!
Why not?” Christ, that was less than
respectful. The drink doesn’t smell like
almonds, does it?
“Two
reasons. For one thing, it’s not really our
kind of turf. At all. By any stretch of the
imagination. I’m sure you can understand.”
Kirison nodded, and waited for Mr. Irving to
continue. “The other thing is, with things
being the way they are now, anything nanite-related
is kind of a spicy area to get into in
general. And besides that, there’s really
zero profit in it!”
Kirison stared at the wet ring on the table where
his glass had been earlier, and sighed.
“Well. I certainly understand that. I
wouldn’t touch this with a ten foot pole, if
I could avoid it.” He sighed again.
“Look.....”
Mr. Irving took a genuinely sympathetic
tone. “I know of this group… they might be
interested... but you might have to be…
creative… they ain’t as stable as you an’ I,
if you get my drift.”
Beautiful. The rabbit hole suddenly looked just
that much deeper, and the fall was only
gaining speed.
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