In the dining hall of a mock Victorian mansion, there at the end of the table sat a girl with short pixie-cut hair she ate alone, even though the table had enough seats for twenty guests.
She silently sat and ate whatever was on her plate whatever the Earth farmers made. That wasteland....she pitied then. No real sorrow. She's never actually seen the wasteland. Never planned on it. Why would the rich Lunar need to?
This rich child was Lydia Fairman.
A girl who longed to rebel against her grandmother. What better way than by joining in asteroid? She chuckled and it echoed. Rather eerie really. She finished and simply got lost in thought she'd join the army. Or something even more dangerous. She'd know when she got there. And there was no doubt in her mind she'd get there.
She slumped in her chair, one leg bent and foot resting on the chair, the other stretched out as she chuckled again. She was an ass, she knew. It wasn't unlikely others knew too. Too bad she didn't care. The girl wore army boots, that had never seem work. Torn pants that were hndled with the most care they could get. A top with splotches of color. No reason, just because.
So many people walked around with a taste for century old fashion.... tee shirts and jeans, they stuck around due to helpfulness and comfort when working, but on Luna, nobody worked. The fashion was average, metallic colors and sparkles to show riches. Body suits that morphed to fit the temperature. It all seemed.... silly to this child.
She didn't care. She sat laughing because she was going to risk her life. She's never faced fear a day in her life.
Why start now?
YOU ARE READING
The Star Thrower
Science Fiction400 years in the future humans have colonized Mars and the moon is a playground for the wealthy. Young Shane, a boy born and raised on Earth, (now a polluted wasteland where poverty stricken humans live) dreamed of going to the Asteroid, a space sta...
