A Small Degree of Hope. Lyndi Alexander

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СКАЧАТЬ polished stone steps of the three-story white building were spotless. Probably some poor employee had scrubbed them until the wee hours, whether anyone appreciated them or not. She reached for the door handle, promising herself she’d get through this.

      The heavy wooden door opened without a sound. Amaranta had redecorated since Kylie had been here eight months before. Instead of heavy dark pieces with red upholstery, she’d now chosen white pieces with blue cushions and trim. A lot more antiques, good ones. Certainly the Colonel wouldn’t tolerate cheap reproductions.

      Her observation was cut short by her sister’s shrill cry of surprise. “Kylie, you came!”

      Nissa came running down the curving staircase, shiny black boots halfway up her leg, a tiny tank top in jet black, the cutouts across her collarbones the signature of an up and coming designer. She wore some frilly tutu kind of skirt in black with silver spangles, and silver hoop earrings. Her brown hair hung in a terrible, uneven shag, which probably meant it cost more than Kylie took home in a week.

      “It’s been too long! You’re skinny. Have you been on a diet?” Nissa wrapped her arms around Kylie, squeezing her close in a cloud of suffocating floral perfume.

      Kylie disentangled herself, and set her luggage aside. “No. I’ve been working.”

      “Ugh. That’s what Mother said. Investigating bloody murders of homeless people or something.” Nissa grimaced. “And did you leave the house this morning without makeup?”

      Kylie chuckled at her sister’s horror. “I didn’t leave the house this morning, Nis. I left last night and took the IP. I haven’t exactly stopped to make sure I was beautiful.”

      Her mother’s voice came from the left, in the direction of the salon. “But you’re always beautiful, my love.”

      Kylie tried not to roll her eyes at the inevitable maternal fluffing. “Hello, Mother.” She held out her arms as delicate, dark-haired Amaranta flowed toward her in ethereal lavender robes that matched her eyes and made her look like an exotic butterfly. Hugging her mother always felt like embracing a skeleton. She was a full human, but came from a planet where the gravity was a quarter less than it was on most human worlds. The result left her exhausted and frail. Her bones broke easily. Kylie’s father kept a doctor on location around the clock, just in case. The doctor had tended to the family, also providing vitamin shots and boosters to the girls as they’d grown up.

      “It’s so good to see you, dear.” Holding her close, Amaranta whispered, “You should have called me.”

      “Apparently,” she whispered. “What’s the big news?”

      “Your father will tell you.”

      “Oh, come on, Mother. We’re not acting out his mystery games, are we?”

      “I can’t believe you’re letting people see you like that,” Nissa whined. “At least you’re wearing my jacket.”

      “At least.” Kylie couldn’t stop the eye-roll. Of all the people who might criticize her, her sister shouldn’t have the privilege. “Not everyone lives the life of a fashion model, Nis. Or plays at being one.”

      Nissa slumped. “I’m not playing at it! I got invited as guest celebrity at the spring Lantier fashion show.”

      “Not for money, though. You mean Desmond’s turned metals commodities into a profitable enough career that you can live off him and spend your days wearing pretty clothes and dolling yourself up for free?”

      Her sister’s eyes filled with tears. “Kylie, why do you have to be so mean?”

      “You started it.”

      “Did not!” She actually stamped her foot.

      “Sprechan’s balls,” Kylie muttered. “Where’s Father? Let me get this over with and get back to my sane world.”

      Her mother’s lips pressed together for a count of three before she jumped into the fray. “I don’t know how you can expose yourself to such tragedy day after day, dear. Your father could find you something much more—”

      Kylie held up a hand. It seemed like each time she came home this fight happened sooner in her stay. This time, she’d come in with the chip on her shoulder, and it hadn’t even waited until the tray of aperitifs arrived. “No. No more.”

       If I don’t get out of here, I’m going to say something awful to them. I just know it.

      “I’m going to find him.” She left, taking the hall to the right of the front door to her father’s office.

      First she passed through the solarium with a black and white tile floor, full of imported specialty fruit trees and exquisite tropical flowering plants, its glass ceiling allowing the sunlight in. The terra cotta-colored marble fountain burbled and splashed in the center of the huge room. She slowed down then stopped, letting the atmosphere fill her. In this room, at least, she could legitimately admit she found a warm spot in her father’s home.

      After a few deep orchid-scented breaths, she was ready.

      She marched down the hall and opened her father’s heavy carved office door without knocking. The rows of books on two walls hadn’t changed, probably hadn’t moved. The Colonel had always kept them for show, not to read. The wide, polished desktop held three baskets half-filled with papers. A young woman Kylie didn’t recognize fussed over the last one, sorting through while the Colonel’s voice boomed around her. He was on the comm, ranting at someone. It was his way.

      Prepared to lay down an ultimatum when she walked in, she was deflected by the activity in the room. She stood before the desk, waiting for her father to finish.

      Once he’d identified the miscreant with the audacity to burst into his workspace unannounced, he turned his back, concentrating on his call.

      As usual. Business is important. Family, not so much.

      He’d made her appearance here a matter of business, with his financial string pulling of Jaco Rand and the SIRT budget. So just maybe she was entitled to priority.

      She reached for the base of his communications unit and pushed the button, cutting off the transaction.

      The secretary bailed, her face draining of color.

      Her father turned, blue eyes wide with surprise and even some emotion for once. “How dare you—”

      “No. How dare you?” Frustration blazing through her, she glared. If she could have shot lasers from them, she probably would have. “You don’t have the right to interfere with my work day. My work life. My life at all. Your money doesn’t give you the right to buy me.”

      He slowly set the comm back in its cradle and studied her, his outrage fading to a faint smile. “On the contrary. If it weren’t for my money, you wouldn’t be where you are now.”

      “I got through school on my own, without your damned money. I got this job on my own. Again, without your money. So lay off.”

      He just continued to smile, studying her with frigid blue eyes. “You always did perk up when thwarted. See, Cary? I told you she was a spitfire.”

      Who?

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