Free Collateral Damage by K.S. Augustin Page A

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 indicated 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