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“You really despise them, don’t you?”
The intonation didn’t make it a question. Lelandra Montague was a woman more suited to interrogation than interrogatory. She turned from the window casement with a half smile and just a hint of a spark in her dark eyes. The Ionian atmospheric light show continued behind her, without a thought for the triumph of technology that having a window casement positioned above the surface of Io was.
Her severe chin-length bob swayed almost as it would in full gravity, the strands of her hair attracting and repelling each-other because of the product she used to coat them, instead of floating like a poofy cloud the way Ariana’s hair did in this place. Lela, it seemed, controlled her style with the same granite resolve she did the rest of her life. The simple gray sheath she wore over gorgeous designer grav-boots was probably spun of earth-fibers. It was slit up both sides just high enough for a hint of each thigh to be revealed above the tops of those thigh-high grav-boots as she took a few steps toward Ari.
Lelandra was right about Ari’s disdain, of course. The heir to the Montague’s system-spanning fortune knew Ariana too well. Lelandra seemed to know everyone and everything too well in this godforsaken colony. Ariana knew that the fortunes of the major families were maintained with the ability to control of colonies like this. Ari’s family had sent her here to learn from Lela, with the unspoken hope that she’d also move her family closer to alliance with the Montagues. Every experience she’d had so far indicated that she still had a lot to learn. And that she hadn’t necessarily made a positive impression yet. Like the rest of this trip, Ari’s perception of that rankled.
Lelandra constantly maintained an air of lazy indifference, but she seemed to notice everything. Including the way Ari had flinched back from handshakes with the rough group of engineers and team-leads that had just delivered a report to Lela and her management team for the colony here.
For the first time, Lela stepped close to Ari, making apparent the difference in the two women’s heights. Ari realized that the grav-boots must also have included platforms. Lela looked down at her through hooded eyes in a face that was flawless. “It doesn’t behoove you to despise them,” she said in a low tone, and she reached out to stroke the shorter woman’s jawline. Her subtle spicy sweet perfume hit Ari like a wave and she felt herself flush before she could sort through the appropriateness of Lela’s touch.
“The workers aren’t like us,” Lelandra was saying as Ari compared her soft fingers to the scarred rough ones she’d been forced to handle earlier, “But they’re motivated by the same things we are. They won’t give as much if they perceive you as someone to be contested with, who’s trying to get as much from them for as little as you can. Come and have dinner with me, and I’ll explain.”
***
Brenton Mackey was beyond exhausted. The engineering work he did for Mont-corp on Io provided all the challenge he had hoped for coming out of school and more. It had been such a long day, but he was ready to chalk it up as a win. At least he was ready to chalk it up as a win before he irised into his family enclave.
“Dad, dad, it looks like you have messages from the flight teams!” His oldest son shouted as he made his way across the little living space for a hug. For some reason, the nine-year-old was only wearing one grav-shoe, which made his lurching progress both funny and painful to behold. “When will you take me flying again?! Or even just up to the surface rooms to look out the windows. I’m pretty sure my grades are back up to all As.”
The enclave smelled strongly of kitlet. The boys’ little pets were hiding somewhere, but it was abundantly clear that their litter needed attention. Brent grimaced. His wife had agreed to stay on top of cleaning the litter enclosure when they’d adopted the second kitlet. But apparently she was having a rough day today, too. The boys’ school things and outerwear were scattered all over the living space. No smell of dinner helped to mitigate the smell of the kits. He could see Lisa’s legs sprawled across the end of their sleeping couch in the adjoining room. Today had all the earmarks of another high-pain day for her. He wished again they could afford to send her to a specialist down on Jove City. He started moving toward the food storage.
“Have you both let Mom check your homework yet?” he asked, trying not to sound as exhausted as the question made him feel. “C’mon Eli, Jack, you both need to put your school stuff away so we’ll have somewhere to eat. The boys were groaning in response to his question. Apparently they had not. They were also groaning about neatening up.
He pulled his personal tablet from the big pocket on his hip and quickly flashed past his personal messages so that they would stop flashing in the corner of the family data screen. Indeed, he did have a message from Maris, the local flight team lead. No doubt she was hoping he would make it out to the rim tonight for some wing-suiting, but there was no way it was going to happen. He loved the low gravity sport, loved the way his mind cleared when he was in the air where every minuscule movement affected his trajectory. And talking to the engineers from across the valley after flights was always nice too, seeing how they were dealing with their issues. But he absolutely needed to get back to his office to crunch numbers on the reconfiguration they’d discussed in the big meeting today after dinner. Wing-suiting would have to wait until the weekend.
He really wanted to talk to Lisa about how the meeting had gone, but she didn’t seem to be in any shape for bouncing worries off of now. He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the knot of stress that was building there. At least there were ample frozen rations in the box. He could get dinner going.
By the time they’d cleared a space to eat, fed the kitlets, shoed the kitlets out of the middle of the table, and served the meal, Lisa was moving, if slowly. Brent had resigned himself to his own interpretation of the meeting earlier and to the growing knot between his shoulder blades. Lisa didn’t need to hear about his worries to add to her burden.
His boss had told him he was arguing for a raise for Brent, since Brent’s team was putting in so many hours and getting great results. But Brent had seen some of the big numbers in the meeting today, and if he was getting a raise, it didn’t look like it was going to be a very big one. On the other hand, the bigwigs from Corp had promised additional training for their brightest stars today, and Brent’s boss felt like Brent was a shoe-in for a spot. Surely the training would make up for the raise being less than expected, right? Brent figured it was better to keep a positive attitude. He smiled across the table at his wife, who was reprimanding Eli for feeding his kitlet from the table. Things were going to be alright. He was going to make sure they were.
***
Ariana rolled over and stretched luxuriating in the softness of Lela’s sleeping couch. Low gravity, it turned out, was actually good for some things. And Ari thought as she stretched that she had probably finally managed to make a positive impression on Lela. She was gone now, having an appointment with some of her people here on Io Colony to try a low gravity sport they called wing suiting. It sounded dangerous and foolish to Ari, and she wasn’t sad not to have been invited. Plus she must have earned at least some trust from Lela, since Lela had left her sleeping here in Lela’s quarters.
She thought back to their dinner. Lela had reprimanded her for her attitude toward the mining engineering group, and for the way she’d reacted when they wanted to argue about the algorithms’ findings. Ari couldn’t remember Lela’s exact words, but she’d been dismissive of the idea that it was worthwhile to argue with the team-leads and simply demand more time of the workers, even though several algorithms indicated that they could be more efficient.
“You don’t win with them by grinding them into the ground,” Lela had said. “It’s more about giving them hope that if they produce more results, they’ll be rewarded.” Lela hadn’t been a pushover, Ari knew, but she had been very positive with the workers, even though she wasn’t upping their salaries as much as previously promised. Ari needed to look at more spreadsheets to be sure, but she suspected from the energy in the meeting that these workers would continue to improve output, even in the face of less to work with than they had expected.
Ari pulled the silken sheets around her body and bounced a little on the couch. She suspected that she was going to enjoy learning more from Lelandra Montague.
______________________________
This entry was composed for LJ Idol, Week 1: “It’s hard to beat a person that never gives up.”
Tonithegreat sympathizes with anyone dealing with pet litter issues and a chronically ill spouse, and hopes you enjoy any Bitch Planet vibe that you get from this little story. You can blame current events for putting her in that mindset.
The intonation didn’t make it a question. Lelandra Montague was a woman more suited to interrogation than interrogatory. She turned from the window casement with a half smile and just a hint of a spark in her dark eyes. The Ionian atmospheric light show continued behind her, without a thought for the triumph of technology that having a window casement positioned above the surface of Io was.
Her severe chin-length bob swayed almost as it would in full gravity, the strands of her hair attracting and repelling each-other because of the product she used to coat them, instead of floating like a poofy cloud the way Ariana’s hair did in this place. Lela, it seemed, controlled her style with the same granite resolve she did the rest of her life. The simple gray sheath she wore over gorgeous designer grav-boots was probably spun of earth-fibers. It was slit up both sides just high enough for a hint of each thigh to be revealed above the tops of those thigh-high grav-boots as she took a few steps toward Ari.
Lelandra was right about Ari’s disdain, of course. The heir to the Montague’s system-spanning fortune knew Ariana too well. Lelandra seemed to know everyone and everything too well in this godforsaken colony. Ariana knew that the fortunes of the major families were maintained with the ability to control of colonies like this. Ari’s family had sent her here to learn from Lela, with the unspoken hope that she’d also move her family closer to alliance with the Montagues. Every experience she’d had so far indicated that she still had a lot to learn. And that she hadn’t necessarily made a positive impression yet. Like the rest of this trip, Ari’s perception of that rankled.
Lelandra constantly maintained an air of lazy indifference, but she seemed to notice everything. Including the way Ari had flinched back from handshakes with the rough group of engineers and team-leads that had just delivered a report to Lela and her management team for the colony here.
For the first time, Lela stepped close to Ari, making apparent the difference in the two women’s heights. Ari realized that the grav-boots must also have included platforms. Lela looked down at her through hooded eyes in a face that was flawless. “It doesn’t behoove you to despise them,” she said in a low tone, and she reached out to stroke the shorter woman’s jawline. Her subtle spicy sweet perfume hit Ari like a wave and she felt herself flush before she could sort through the appropriateness of Lela’s touch.
“The workers aren’t like us,” Lelandra was saying as Ari compared her soft fingers to the scarred rough ones she’d been forced to handle earlier, “But they’re motivated by the same things we are. They won’t give as much if they perceive you as someone to be contested with, who’s trying to get as much from them for as little as you can. Come and have dinner with me, and I’ll explain.”
***
Brenton Mackey was beyond exhausted. The engineering work he did for Mont-corp on Io provided all the challenge he had hoped for coming out of school and more. It had been such a long day, but he was ready to chalk it up as a win. At least he was ready to chalk it up as a win before he irised into his family enclave.
“Dad, dad, it looks like you have messages from the flight teams!” His oldest son shouted as he made his way across the little living space for a hug. For some reason, the nine-year-old was only wearing one grav-shoe, which made his lurching progress both funny and painful to behold. “When will you take me flying again?! Or even just up to the surface rooms to look out the windows. I’m pretty sure my grades are back up to all As.”
The enclave smelled strongly of kitlet. The boys’ little pets were hiding somewhere, but it was abundantly clear that their litter needed attention. Brent grimaced. His wife had agreed to stay on top of cleaning the litter enclosure when they’d adopted the second kitlet. But apparently she was having a rough day today, too. The boys’ school things and outerwear were scattered all over the living space. No smell of dinner helped to mitigate the smell of the kits. He could see Lisa’s legs sprawled across the end of their sleeping couch in the adjoining room. Today had all the earmarks of another high-pain day for her. He wished again they could afford to send her to a specialist down on Jove City. He started moving toward the food storage.
“Have you both let Mom check your homework yet?” he asked, trying not to sound as exhausted as the question made him feel. “C’mon Eli, Jack, you both need to put your school stuff away so we’ll have somewhere to eat. The boys were groaning in response to his question. Apparently they had not. They were also groaning about neatening up.
He pulled his personal tablet from the big pocket on his hip and quickly flashed past his personal messages so that they would stop flashing in the corner of the family data screen. Indeed, he did have a message from Maris, the local flight team lead. No doubt she was hoping he would make it out to the rim tonight for some wing-suiting, but there was no way it was going to happen. He loved the low gravity sport, loved the way his mind cleared when he was in the air where every minuscule movement affected his trajectory. And talking to the engineers from across the valley after flights was always nice too, seeing how they were dealing with their issues. But he absolutely needed to get back to his office to crunch numbers on the reconfiguration they’d discussed in the big meeting today after dinner. Wing-suiting would have to wait until the weekend.
He really wanted to talk to Lisa about how the meeting had gone, but she didn’t seem to be in any shape for bouncing worries off of now. He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the knot of stress that was building there. At least there were ample frozen rations in the box. He could get dinner going.
By the time they’d cleared a space to eat, fed the kitlets, shoed the kitlets out of the middle of the table, and served the meal, Lisa was moving, if slowly. Brent had resigned himself to his own interpretation of the meeting earlier and to the growing knot between his shoulder blades. Lisa didn’t need to hear about his worries to add to her burden.
His boss had told him he was arguing for a raise for Brent, since Brent’s team was putting in so many hours and getting great results. But Brent had seen some of the big numbers in the meeting today, and if he was getting a raise, it didn’t look like it was going to be a very big one. On the other hand, the bigwigs from Corp had promised additional training for their brightest stars today, and Brent’s boss felt like Brent was a shoe-in for a spot. Surely the training would make up for the raise being less than expected, right? Brent figured it was better to keep a positive attitude. He smiled across the table at his wife, who was reprimanding Eli for feeding his kitlet from the table. Things were going to be alright. He was going to make sure they were.
***
Ariana rolled over and stretched luxuriating in the softness of Lela’s sleeping couch. Low gravity, it turned out, was actually good for some things. And Ari thought as she stretched that she had probably finally managed to make a positive impression on Lela. She was gone now, having an appointment with some of her people here on Io Colony to try a low gravity sport they called wing suiting. It sounded dangerous and foolish to Ari, and she wasn’t sad not to have been invited. Plus she must have earned at least some trust from Lela, since Lela had left her sleeping here in Lela’s quarters.
She thought back to their dinner. Lela had reprimanded her for her attitude toward the mining engineering group, and for the way she’d reacted when they wanted to argue about the algorithms’ findings. Ari couldn’t remember Lela’s exact words, but she’d been dismissive of the idea that it was worthwhile to argue with the team-leads and simply demand more time of the workers, even though several algorithms indicated that they could be more efficient.
“You don’t win with them by grinding them into the ground,” Lela had said. “It’s more about giving them hope that if they produce more results, they’ll be rewarded.” Lela hadn’t been a pushover, Ari knew, but she had been very positive with the workers, even though she wasn’t upping their salaries as much as previously promised. Ari needed to look at more spreadsheets to be sure, but she suspected from the energy in the meeting that these workers would continue to improve output, even in the face of less to work with than they had expected.
Ari pulled the silken sheets around her body and bounced a little on the couch. She suspected that she was going to enjoy learning more from Lelandra Montague.
______________________________
This entry was composed for LJ Idol, Week 1: “It’s hard to beat a person that never gives up.”
Tonithegreat sympathizes with anyone dealing with pet litter issues and a chronically ill spouse, and hopes you enjoy any Bitch Planet vibe that you get from this little story. You can blame current events for putting her in that mindset.
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