LiAM ‎ lATz

“My goodness, is that fire still burning?”
Kassandra glanced up from her book to the television. Her mother had just changed to the news channel, where an Old Worlder was covering updates from Alpha.
“I‘m here in the Lunar Colonies,” the reporter said. “East Keibetsu Ring, Solenoid Alpha. Where the fire that started over two days ago is still raging…”
Father Cyril sat down next to Kassandra’s mother. “Truly awful,” he said.
“Isn’t it?” Mary replied.
Kassandra went back to her book.
“...Tensions between Colonists and Old Worlders have increased dramatically, with acts of violence and vandalism at an all time high. Consisting of 26 percent of the population, the largest of any Solenoid colony, Old Worlders have long since been subject to-”
The reporter shrieked, dropping her microphone to the ground. Kassandra’s parents gasped, and she looked up at the TV again.
The reporter pressed her hand to her forehead, blood streaming through her fingers. The camera spun around to face a group of tall men. Colonists, with brightly coloured hair, and tattoos winding down their arms. The group laughed, and kept walking down the street.
“Go back to Earth!” one of them shouted.
“Yeah, go ruin your own planet!”
A bloody rock flew into frame, which smacked a Colonist in the chest, “Go fuck yourself!” the reporter screamed.
The TV cut off.

Matteo strained at the cable-ties around his wrists, struggling to see in the dark toilet stall.
A moment later, the door slid open. Rhoda Cortez stood over him, and pulled a knife from her belt.
“Ready to talk?”
“Rhododendron!” Matteo grinned. “How nice of you to pay me another visit. You know, it’s awfully dark in here.”
He spat a wad of blood at her boot. “Are we coming up on Ganymede?”
“Clematis Cortez,” Rhoda said, crouching down in front of him. “He was with you on Europa. Where is he now?”
“Well he’s certainly not on Ganymede,” Matteo said. “He’s flown away.”
“Has he gone back to your FLGA buddies?”
“Now Rhoda, I can’t tell you that.”
“Do you think I care about what the FLGA is doing?”
“Oh I know you do,” Matteo smirked. “Clem said you call us terrorists, that’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?”
“I can think of forty-seven Europans who would disagree.”
“I’m sorry Rhoda, I can’t trust that you won’t repeat everything I say back to the UN.”
Rhoda jabbed the knife into Matteo’s knee. He jumped in his seat.
“I don’t have to promise you shit,” she spat. “This is not a negotiation; You tell me where my brother is, and I’ll make sure you’re turned into the UN with all ten of your fingers.”
“Scary,” Matteo winced. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”