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<blockquote data-quote="narayan" data-source="post: 7953231" data-attributes="member: 6677509"><p style="text-align: center"><strong><span style="font-size: 26px">PROLOGUE: </span></strong><span style="font-size: 26px">Part IV</span></p><p></p><p><span style="color: rgb(65, 168, 95)"><strong><u><span style="font-family: 'courier new'">Ashkelon Station: In Orbit of GL382</span></u></strong></span></p><p><span style="color: rgb(65, 168, 95)"><strong><u><span style="font-family: 'courier new'">07/22/2183</span></u></strong></span></p><p></p><p><em>Keren Ho-Stern</em> walked slowly through the outer corridors of Ashkelon’s spaceport, elbows thrust out with attitude, hands stuffed into the pockets of a retro-punk black leather jacket. Beneath her skirt, fishnet stockings wrapped around long shapely legs with high-heeled flats pumping up her ankles.</p><p></p><p>At twenty two years of age Keren was still young enough to flaunt an attitude with aplomb. Her hair, wavy and black, was full of body and teased to fly about her shoulders wildly. Her eyes, dark and intelligent were accentuated by mascara, eye-liner and shimmering-purple eye shadow. These colors contrasted nicely against pale skin with blushed cheeks and cherry-red lips.</p><p></p><p>At five feet ten inches tall, even without the heels, Keren stood a few inches over others in the crowd. Though not exactly beautiful, Keren was pretty in her own way and well-proportioned. A ‘handsome girl’ was the phrase most commonly used by her relatives. Many of her features took after her Chinese father, especially her rounded chin and strong jawline. Her look of strength was matched by an excellent physique, worthy of an athlete or a soldier. Keren was neither exactly, but a bit of both. She was a fighter; more specifically, a brawler well-trained in the martial arts.</p><p></p><p>A few whistles and cat-calls of approval reached her ears as Keren entered her favorite spacers-club, Dizzy’s. Recognizing the voices as fellow spacecraft techs, Keren casually threw up a middle finger in their general direction and headed for the bar. Beneath her feet black floor tiles were outlined in squares of glowing white. Similarly, the surface of the two dozen tables and the bar itself were frosted synthetic crystal imbedded with fiber optic strands and pressure sensors. Each time an object touched them ripples of light spread across the surface.</p><p></p><p>At the center of the club was the dance floor, made up of luminous white tiles beneath elaborate laser light shows. Two levels of six tables each rose up on either side settled into half-booth-alcoves beneath dim spot lights. Around the dance floor was a broad handrail, suitable to lean against while observing the dancers. Anyone standing by this handrail was within the spread of lasers and spotlights circling above. By contrast the rest of the club was heavily shadowed. One could move around the place in relative obscurity, only revealing yourself once you decided to sit down or stand near the dance floor.</p><p></p><p>Patrons of every sort wandered in here from the spaceport attracted by the glitzy lighting, the music and the drinks. It was a fun place to loiter and observe others. Local residents from the station made up the bulk of the usual customers. Now things were changing. New visitors arrived to the station nearly every day and their numbers were growing. Keren didn’t mind. She enjoyed the attention of strangers. Her bold attire and makeup was her way to project herself as approachable and interesting. Every weekend was a different costume.</p><p></p><p>Once sat upon a stool at the bar Keren noted two other women dressed in similarly skimpy flashy outfits. They glared in her general direction and whispered something to each other. Keren ignored them. They were working girls no doubt. Ashkelon Station had its fair share but they needn’t worry. Keren had no interest in interfering in their business much as it might appear otherwise.</p><p></p><p>“…Wow sis,” a snarky voice admonished as a younger version of Keren strolled up holding a tray of empty glasses. <em>Sheren</em> was her sister, younger by four years. Shorter and sweeter she always said. Her hair was trimmed up above her shoulders with natural curls. It was not black, but rather a deep chestnut brown. Her face was cuter, more feminine, more like their mother.</p><p></p><p>Keren reacted to her comment with a curl at the edge of her lips intimating a smile. Slight as that expression might seem such an involuntary twitch felt like a total break of discipline for Keren. She loved it as much as she would never admit it.</p><p></p><p>“Something wrong with the way I look?” Keren asked with a sidelong glance across her shoulder.</p><p></p><p>Sheren’s eyebrows shot up as she grimaced, “No nothing at all, nothing that should bother you of course.” She coughed holding back a laugh.</p><p></p><p>“Whatever!” Keren snapped.</p><p></p><p>Undeterred Sheren slid her tray of glasses unto the bar puffing her breath out cheerfully. “Everyone’s looking at you,” Sheren smirked. “Imagine if mother could see you now…”</p><p></p><p>Keren refused to alter her expression. This was the game they played ever since they were little girls. It all started when Keren stood outside on the doorstep wearing mother’s clothes, jewelry and makeup. Neighbors laughed and strangers stared as little Sheren watched from the window, giggling, amused by her older sisters antics. Later it wasn’t so funny anymore.</p><p></p><p>Sheren remembered the hushed discussions between their parents, the counselors and therapists who tried to help. Keren never grew out of her need to dress up. Childhood on Temple, (the world marked on the star charts as GL382) was far from easy to begin with. Adding to the family stigma only made it worse. Keren’s decision to move up to Ashkelon Station with their father, Guo, after the divorce six years ago was something of a relief to Sheren.</p><p></p><p>A lean dark figure approached from behind the bar dressed in slacks, white wing-tip shoes and a burgundy/purple velvet shirt. At his wrists were genuine ivory cufflinks as he reached up to tip his tweed ivy cap.</p><p></p><p>“…my-my-my...” He spoke smoothly through a familiar grin, “You’ve outdone yourself this time Keren.”</p><p></p><p>“Thanks <em>Dizzy,</em>” Keren said gratefully to her old friend.</p><p></p><p>Sheren smirked, rolling her eyes, “At least make her buy a drink if she’s gonna sit here all night starting trouble.”</p><p></p><p>“I’m sure I don’t need you telling me who has to buy drinks in my own place,” Dizzy said firmly as he removed the empty glasses from her tray. “Looks like you have more work to do anyway, get to it!” He stated leaving no room for argument.</p><p></p><p>Sheren scowled, pursing her lips together testily as she whirled away again, tray in hand.</p><p></p><p>“Sorry she’s such a pain in the ass,” Keren remarked apologetically. Having Sheren living with her and working at her favorite place to relax wasn’t easy.</p><p></p><p>“I’d say she’s just jealous,” Dizzy winked.</p><p></p><p>“How about a Pomegranate Martini?” Keren asked, changing the subject.</p><p></p><p>“You’ve got it!”</p><p></p><p>Before the divorce, Guo would bring Keren up with him to the station for a few days at a time. After his shift working private security they’d sit here at the bar talking to Dizzy. Once or twice Dizzy bought her a dress for her birthday. His wardrobe connections back in the Core Systems were legendary.</p><p></p><p>“You look sad,” Dizzy said as he made her drink.</p><p></p><p>Keren nodded, “I’ve been thinking about Eva.”</p><p></p><p>“Yes I heard there won’t be a memorial this year. Is that what’s bothering you?”</p><p></p><p>“It’s not fair!” Keren snarled balling her hand into a fist.</p><p></p><p>“Easy!” Dizzy said handing her the martini disarmingly.</p><p></p><p>Keren drank it down in three gulps.</p><p></p><p>“Look I know you miss her.” Dizzy said consolingly, adding, “Guo’s been missing too. It’s hard to imagine loosing a best friend and a father within a year of each other.”</p><p></p><p>Keren stared at the empty martini glass, bitterness welling up inside her.</p><p></p><p>Dizzy poured her another as a waitress called out for him. “Just relax, I’ll be back to check on you soon,” he said, reaching over to give her shoulder a squeeze.</p><p></p><p>The mysteries of what happened to Eva and her father never ceased to haunt Keren. The fact Guo was something of a mercenary; a refugee from the Union of Progressive People’s caused no end of drama for the family. For starters, Keren’s mother, Haylia, came from an orthodox Jewish family. For someone like her to marry a foreigner (and a former communist at that) shocked the community.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="narayan, post: 7953231, member: 6677509"] [CENTER][B][SIZE=7]PROLOGUE: [/SIZE][/B][SIZE=7]Part IV[/SIZE][/CENTER] [COLOR=rgb(65, 168, 95)][B][U][FONT=courier new]Ashkelon Station: In Orbit of GL382[/FONT] [FONT=courier new]07/22/2183[/FONT][/U][/B][/COLOR] [I]Keren Ho-Stern[/I] walked slowly through the outer corridors of Ashkelon’s spaceport, elbows thrust out with attitude, hands stuffed into the pockets of a retro-punk black leather jacket. Beneath her skirt, fishnet stockings wrapped around long shapely legs with high-heeled flats pumping up her ankles. At twenty two years of age Keren was still young enough to flaunt an attitude with aplomb. Her hair, wavy and black, was full of body and teased to fly about her shoulders wildly. Her eyes, dark and intelligent were accentuated by mascara, eye-liner and shimmering-purple eye shadow. These colors contrasted nicely against pale skin with blushed cheeks and cherry-red lips. At five feet ten inches tall, even without the heels, Keren stood a few inches over others in the crowd. Though not exactly beautiful, Keren was pretty in her own way and well-proportioned. A ‘handsome girl’ was the phrase most commonly used by her relatives. Many of her features took after her Chinese father, especially her rounded chin and strong jawline. Her look of strength was matched by an excellent physique, worthy of an athlete or a soldier. Keren was neither exactly, but a bit of both. She was a fighter; more specifically, a brawler well-trained in the martial arts. A few whistles and cat-calls of approval reached her ears as Keren entered her favorite spacers-club, Dizzy’s. Recognizing the voices as fellow spacecraft techs, Keren casually threw up a middle finger in their general direction and headed for the bar. Beneath her feet black floor tiles were outlined in squares of glowing white. Similarly, the surface of the two dozen tables and the bar itself were frosted synthetic crystal imbedded with fiber optic strands and pressure sensors. Each time an object touched them ripples of light spread across the surface. At the center of the club was the dance floor, made up of luminous white tiles beneath elaborate laser light shows. Two levels of six tables each rose up on either side settled into half-booth-alcoves beneath dim spot lights. Around the dance floor was a broad handrail, suitable to lean against while observing the dancers. Anyone standing by this handrail was within the spread of lasers and spotlights circling above. By contrast the rest of the club was heavily shadowed. One could move around the place in relative obscurity, only revealing yourself once you decided to sit down or stand near the dance floor. Patrons of every sort wandered in here from the spaceport attracted by the glitzy lighting, the music and the drinks. It was a fun place to loiter and observe others. Local residents from the station made up the bulk of the usual customers. Now things were changing. New visitors arrived to the station nearly every day and their numbers were growing. Keren didn’t mind. She enjoyed the attention of strangers. Her bold attire and makeup was her way to project herself as approachable and interesting. Every weekend was a different costume. Once sat upon a stool at the bar Keren noted two other women dressed in similarly skimpy flashy outfits. They glared in her general direction and whispered something to each other. Keren ignored them. They were working girls no doubt. Ashkelon Station had its fair share but they needn’t worry. Keren had no interest in interfering in their business much as it might appear otherwise. “…Wow sis,” a snarky voice admonished as a younger version of Keren strolled up holding a tray of empty glasses. [I]Sheren[/I] was her sister, younger by four years. Shorter and sweeter she always said. Her hair was trimmed up above her shoulders with natural curls. It was not black, but rather a deep chestnut brown. Her face was cuter, more feminine, more like their mother. Keren reacted to her comment with a curl at the edge of her lips intimating a smile. Slight as that expression might seem such an involuntary twitch felt like a total break of discipline for Keren. She loved it as much as she would never admit it. “Something wrong with the way I look?” Keren asked with a sidelong glance across her shoulder. Sheren’s eyebrows shot up as she grimaced, “No nothing at all, nothing that should bother you of course.” She coughed holding back a laugh. “Whatever!” Keren snapped. Undeterred Sheren slid her tray of glasses unto the bar puffing her breath out cheerfully. “Everyone’s looking at you,” Sheren smirked. “Imagine if mother could see you now…” Keren refused to alter her expression. This was the game they played ever since they were little girls. It all started when Keren stood outside on the doorstep wearing mother’s clothes, jewelry and makeup. Neighbors laughed and strangers stared as little Sheren watched from the window, giggling, amused by her older sisters antics. Later it wasn’t so funny anymore. Sheren remembered the hushed discussions between their parents, the counselors and therapists who tried to help. Keren never grew out of her need to dress up. Childhood on Temple, (the world marked on the star charts as GL382) was far from easy to begin with. Adding to the family stigma only made it worse. Keren’s decision to move up to Ashkelon Station with their father, Guo, after the divorce six years ago was something of a relief to Sheren. A lean dark figure approached from behind the bar dressed in slacks, white wing-tip shoes and a burgundy/purple velvet shirt. At his wrists were genuine ivory cufflinks as he reached up to tip his tweed ivy cap. “…my-my-my...” He spoke smoothly through a familiar grin, “You’ve outdone yourself this time Keren.” “Thanks [I]Dizzy,[/I]” Keren said gratefully to her old friend. Sheren smirked, rolling her eyes, “At least make her buy a drink if she’s gonna sit here all night starting trouble.” “I’m sure I don’t need you telling me who has to buy drinks in my own place,” Dizzy said firmly as he removed the empty glasses from her tray. “Looks like you have more work to do anyway, get to it!” He stated leaving no room for argument. Sheren scowled, pursing her lips together testily as she whirled away again, tray in hand. “Sorry she’s such a pain in the ass,” Keren remarked apologetically. Having Sheren living with her and working at her favorite place to relax wasn’t easy. “I’d say she’s just jealous,” Dizzy winked. “How about a Pomegranate Martini?” Keren asked, changing the subject. “You’ve got it!” Before the divorce, Guo would bring Keren up with him to the station for a few days at a time. After his shift working private security they’d sit here at the bar talking to Dizzy. Once or twice Dizzy bought her a dress for her birthday. His wardrobe connections back in the Core Systems were legendary. “You look sad,” Dizzy said as he made her drink. Keren nodded, “I’ve been thinking about Eva.” “Yes I heard there won’t be a memorial this year. Is that what’s bothering you?” “It’s not fair!” Keren snarled balling her hand into a fist. “Easy!” Dizzy said handing her the martini disarmingly. Keren drank it down in three gulps. “Look I know you miss her.” Dizzy said consolingly, adding, “Guo’s been missing too. It’s hard to imagine loosing a best friend and a father within a year of each other.” Keren stared at the empty martini glass, bitterness welling up inside her. Dizzy poured her another as a waitress called out for him. “Just relax, I’ll be back to check on you soon,” he said, reaching over to give her shoulder a squeeze. The mysteries of what happened to Eva and her father never ceased to haunt Keren. The fact Guo was something of a mercenary; a refugee from the Union of Progressive People’s caused no end of drama for the family. For starters, Keren’s mother, Haylia, came from an orthodox Jewish family. For someone like her to marry a foreigner (and a former communist at that) shocked the community. [/QUOTE]
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