easy enough to download the e-version of the game on Earth, so it ought to be do-able up here. All she had to do was go to their home site, punch up her account, and—
Her account had been suspended. Surely that had to be a mistake. Even though Skye hadn’t been at home, the Battlehammer people should have been receiving automatic payments from her credit card, which also should have been paid automatically by her bank. Skye was a big believer in setting things up so that she had to think about them as little as possible.
Confused, she carefully pecked through the light-keyboard until she could call up her account summary, and sure enough: Account Overdue.
But she was so positive…she knew the last thing she’d done before leaving the house in the company of those nice young soldiers had been to make sure all her debts were paid off, all her mail was on hold, and all her future bills were set up for automatic payment. By God, did this mean her rent wasn’t being paid either? What was going to happen to all her stuff?
Now fighting off a useless throb of panic (what could she really do about any of this up here?), Skye left Battlehammer and went to her credit card’s site instead.
It wouldn’t let her in.
Account frozen, it said after she’d tried three times. Access denied.
Numbly, Skye went to her bank’s site and keyed herself in to what was essentially the same message. The accounts were still there, as far as she could tell, and as far as she could tell she was still considered the account-holder, but none of her passwords were working. The accounts were frozen pending reauthorization. By whom, she had no idea.
Wait, she did have an idea. A very bad idea. And she could see his face all over again, that man who had never even bothered to give her his name when he’d told her that she had a choice: either she could launch herself into space for an exciting career in interspecies prostitution, or she could be locked up indefinitely on grounds of National Security.
What was she supposed to go home to? Her apartment would be long gone, and all her things…Honestly, she didn’t care so much about the furniture (well, okay, a part of her cared, all right, a part of her cared a lot, but she knew the sofa wasn’t exactly leaving a void), but what about her photographs? The baby book her mom had kept so faithfully until she was five? Her dad’s journals from when he traveled around Europe and Africa? What about the home movies she had saved on her computer? She knew how things worked; eventually, all her saleable stuff would just be packed up and auctioned off by her landlord, and all the things that mattered, that really mattered, would end up in some dumpster.
“Skye?”
Vala rarely called her by her name. Hearing it was enough to shock her back into the present, where she realized she’d been sitting open-mouthed and wet-eyed in front of the alien monitor for several minutes. She didn’t know what to say to him, didn’t even want to look at him. He’d done such a nice thing for her, and all she wanted to do was crawl into a dark hole somewhere and bawl like a baby.
Her life was gone. She’d done everything they’d wanted her to do, and the sons of bitches had taken her life away anyway.
A blur of black at the corner of her vision; Vala had crept up behind her and was looking at the monitor over her head. She shut it off clumsily, mashing through a dozen error messages because her hands were shaking so badly that she kept blurring into the other holographic keys.
“Thank you,” she said, made herself say. It didn’t even sound like her voice. She got up from the chair, kept her face turned away, and escaped to the privacy of her room where tears, useless tears, offered up her only refuge.
How long she lay on the muffling bed and cried, she didn’t know, but it couldn’t have been too long. She’d had a lot of crying jags since coming here, and
Her account had been suspended. Surely that had to be a mistake. Even though Skye hadn’t been at home, the Battlehammer people should have been receiving automatic payments from her credit card, which also should have been paid automatically by her bank. Skye was a big believer in setting things up so that she had to think about them as little as possible.
Confused, she carefully pecked through the light-keyboard until she could call up her account summary, and sure enough: Account Overdue.
But she was so positive…she knew the last thing she’d done before leaving the house in the company of those nice young soldiers had been to make sure all her debts were paid off, all her mail was on hold, and all her future bills were set up for automatic payment. By God, did this mean her rent wasn’t being paid either? What was going to happen to all her stuff?
Now fighting off a useless throb of panic (what could she really do about any of this up here?), Skye left Battlehammer and went to her credit card’s site instead.
It wouldn’t let her in.
Account frozen, it said after she’d tried three times. Access denied.
Numbly, Skye went to her bank’s site and keyed herself in to what was essentially the same message. The accounts were still there, as far as she could tell, and as far as she could tell she was still considered the account-holder, but none of her passwords were working. The accounts were frozen pending reauthorization. By whom, she had no idea.
Wait, she did have an idea. A very bad idea. And she could see his face all over again, that man who had never even bothered to give her his name when he’d told her that she had a choice: either she could launch herself into space for an exciting career in interspecies prostitution, or she could be locked up indefinitely on grounds of National Security.
What was she supposed to go home to? Her apartment would be long gone, and all her things…Honestly, she didn’t care so much about the furniture (well, okay, a part of her cared, all right, a part of her cared a lot, but she knew the sofa wasn’t exactly leaving a void), but what about her photographs? The baby book her mom had kept so faithfully until she was five? Her dad’s journals from when he traveled around Europe and Africa? What about the home movies she had saved on her computer? She knew how things worked; eventually, all her saleable stuff would just be packed up and auctioned off by her landlord, and all the things that mattered, that really mattered, would end up in some dumpster.
“Skye?”
Vala rarely called her by her name. Hearing it was enough to shock her back into the present, where she realized she’d been sitting open-mouthed and wet-eyed in front of the alien monitor for several minutes. She didn’t know what to say to him, didn’t even want to look at him. He’d done such a nice thing for her, and all she wanted to do was crawl into a dark hole somewhere and bawl like a baby.
Her life was gone. She’d done everything they’d wanted her to do, and the sons of bitches had taken her life away anyway.
A blur of black at the corner of her vision; Vala had crept up behind her and was looking at the monitor over her head. She shut it off clumsily, mashing through a dozen error messages because her hands were shaking so badly that she kept blurring into the other holographic keys.
“Thank you,” she said, made herself say. It didn’t even sound like her voice. She got up from the chair, kept her face turned away, and escaped to the privacy of her room where tears, useless tears, offered up her only refuge.
How long she lay on the muffling bed and cried, she didn’t know, but it couldn’t have been too long. She’d had a lot of crying jags since coming here, and
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