The Hents House

Chapter One

The air stank of dust and Hopper fuel, great clouds of it rolling over the city for weeks at a time. Pestas may have had a liquid inner core, but looking out at the bone dry ground of the moon, I didn't think it was much usefulness at all.

Overhead, hoppers scuttled over the tops of buildings, and above them, the rattle of clankers and sky-busters. They had been trying to seed the sky here with rain for weeks, with sky-busters zipping through the atmosphere all hours of the day, but without success, just like every other time they tried. This rock remained as dry and rain-less as thr day humanity first discovered it.

Wiping at the sweat forming on my forehead, I bent down and grabbed the crate of SC-IT rations for the month. There wasn't enough. We had gained six new girls in the past month, the rooms the fullest I had ever known them, but it had been over a month since we had an Investor stop by. The box that held all of the house's coins grew lighter and lighter each time I saw it, and each day somone opened it only to find it a little more empty.

The wind kicked up again, and little Jordyn, one of the new girls, clung tighter to the fabric of my pants, big blue eyes staring out at the bustle of the footpaths. She was young, maybe six or so, and the skinniest child I had ever seen, with short brown hair that whipped around in the wind. She had been left by her father, a man even thinner than her, all bones and hunger, who made Mam Dorce promise the girl would be fed every day, that she wouldn't go hungy. This wasn't an uncommon situation. He—like so many others on this moon—had run out of money and had to choose between fuel and food. But to have no fuel in your ship meant that you would be trapped, stuck in whatever dump you finally drifted into. I would rather choose no food than to watch all the systems in your ship go down, one by one, power and fuel evaporating into thin air as you sat there, holding the knowledge that this entrapment of metal and glass would be your grave.

Besides, food could be begged for, bartered for, stolen. Fuel couldn't be. If you had fuel, you could pick up jobs, get payed then. People could take pity on the starving. I had done it plenty of times.

It was no wonder he had left Jordyn here, in the Hents house where food could always be promised, even if it was a growing concern. Mam Dorce would never let the little ones go hungry, and us older girls would be expected to help somehow, to work.

And we would have to change our situation somehow soon if we were going to support our growing family at the Hents House.

A loud clanging filled the air, and Jordyn screamed, wrapping herself around my legs. "Oh, baby it's ok," I murmured, bending a little to stroke at her hair, the crate wobbling in my other arm. "Ain't nothin but a hopper dropping down now. C'mon now, let's get the two of us back to the house, it'll be quieter back home."

It was no surprise she would have been distressed by the loud sounds of the hoppers, but this was a fact of life in North Port. This was the busiest port city on the moon colony, and even though the Hents house was on the edges of the city, there was enough noise from the various machines and ships that silence and calmness were never found, especially not this close to the market.

Jordyn didn't let go of me once on the walk back home, her little hand gripping at my pants, and I had to remind myself to keep my strides shorter to accommodate the child. Once we got back home I would be able to fully breathe again, knowing that we were safe and everything was well. Perhaps I could even find Reah and enlist her into brushing ouy my hair tonight, the thought of the soothing sensation making my steps slow a little in their pace.

I turned the last corner before reaching the Hents House and stopped dead in my tracks. Jordyn let out a small squeak as she collided with my legs.

There was a clanker parked on the street outside the house, blocking the door as it sat, heat-marred glass and the patchwork job of a ship that should have been turned to scrap years ago. It was bigger than the typical clanker, with a boxy rear for cargo storage. It was most likely that this ship was some sort of supply runner, and the owner was looking for some company regarding the long flight times.