mid-level positions, only to be turned down again and again. After considerable research, she learned that Gregory had been intercepting her applications, poisoning her references, turning potential employers against her. She read confidential reports in which her own husband portrayed her as emotional and unstable; he suggested with saccharine sympathy that Sophie had been away from the real world for so long that she no longer understood it.
Sophie was furious. She filed for divorce and decided to make her own way in life, but by then Gregory Vence had become a well-connected man, and he fought her every step of the way. So much for young romance.
Though the court ordered Gregory to pay child support, he resisted, he refused, he “forgot,” and so Sophie had to fight him on that as well. Never giving up, she eked out a living at low-level jobs and began to work her way up. Despite being sidelined for almost nine years, she was back on track.
Then Gregory filed court papers demanding not only that she be stripped of all rights to child and spousal support, but requesting full custody of Devon as well. That absurd legal action convinced her that as long as she stayed on Klief, she would never be free of Gregory. In spite of all she had lost, she still had her self-esteem and her son.
The Deep Zone planets had opened to new colonization only a year earlier. Hallholme seemed particularly hard and challenging, a place that needed her administrative skills. Sophie didn’t want to go to a planet with an already entrenched bureaucracy. Hallholme would indeed be a challenge, but Sophie decided that it was exactly the sort of place where she could make a difference and find opportunities for herself and Devon. Best of all, Gregory would never bother to follow her to a place like that.
Before the ponderous wheels of the legal system could catch up with her, Sophie packed their possessions, cashed in her small bank accounts, and boarded a stringline hauler with Devon, leaving no forwarding address.
Even with the damned static storms and the smelly air, Hellhole wasn’t so bad compared with the crap she’d left behind. Sophie had done well for herself in Helltown.
After walking the neighborhood, making note of any storm damage. Sophie made her way back to the warehouse to catch some sleep.
The next dawn, Sophie became boss instead of nurturer. She roused Vincent, Fernando, and Antonia from their bunks and told Devon to find suits for the three guests. “My son will show you how to gear up. Wear masks, eye shields, and gloves. After that storm, even long-time Hellhole residents need protection – and as newbies, you’ll react badly to all the junk in the air.”
“How badly?” Vincent picked up the suit Devon had handed him and tried to figure out how to don it.
“Inflammation and rashes. A cough.”
Devon groaned. “The intestinal bug is the worst.”
Fernando never let his optimism diminish. “I’ve got an iron constitution.”
Sophie made several calls, reassigning work crews from regular duties to salvage her precious vineyards. The teams rendezvoused in front of the main warehouse and climbed into flatbeds that rumbled out to low hills covered with a corduroy of grapevines.
At the sight of the grayish-green powder that coated her vine stock, Sophie felt sick. She pulled the flatbed to a halt near where two crews had already arrived. “That stuff is going to kill my vines! Get out there, concentrate on the leaves and any grapes that are forming.” She didn’t want to think what the alkaline residue would do to the red wine’s taste. All the more reason to clean off the dust as quickly as possible.
Rolling water tanks followed the suited crews up and down the vineyard rows; they used a liberal spray to rinse the hard, unripe grape clusters. Fernando Neron was thoroughly entertained by his high-power blower that scoured the dust away with bursts of air. Vincent worked alongside his friend, revisiting
Sophie was furious. She filed for divorce and decided to make her own way in life, but by then Gregory Vence had become a well-connected man, and he fought her every step of the way. So much for young romance.
Though the court ordered Gregory to pay child support, he resisted, he refused, he “forgot,” and so Sophie had to fight him on that as well. Never giving up, she eked out a living at low-level jobs and began to work her way up. Despite being sidelined for almost nine years, she was back on track.
Then Gregory filed court papers demanding not only that she be stripped of all rights to child and spousal support, but requesting full custody of Devon as well. That absurd legal action convinced her that as long as she stayed on Klief, she would never be free of Gregory. In spite of all she had lost, she still had her self-esteem and her son.
The Deep Zone planets had opened to new colonization only a year earlier. Hallholme seemed particularly hard and challenging, a place that needed her administrative skills. Sophie didn’t want to go to a planet with an already entrenched bureaucracy. Hallholme would indeed be a challenge, but Sophie decided that it was exactly the sort of place where she could make a difference and find opportunities for herself and Devon. Best of all, Gregory would never bother to follow her to a place like that.
Before the ponderous wheels of the legal system could catch up with her, Sophie packed their possessions, cashed in her small bank accounts, and boarded a stringline hauler with Devon, leaving no forwarding address.
Even with the damned static storms and the smelly air, Hellhole wasn’t so bad compared with the crap she’d left behind. Sophie had done well for herself in Helltown.
After walking the neighborhood, making note of any storm damage. Sophie made her way back to the warehouse to catch some sleep.
The next dawn, Sophie became boss instead of nurturer. She roused Vincent, Fernando, and Antonia from their bunks and told Devon to find suits for the three guests. “My son will show you how to gear up. Wear masks, eye shields, and gloves. After that storm, even long-time Hellhole residents need protection – and as newbies, you’ll react badly to all the junk in the air.”
“How badly?” Vincent picked up the suit Devon had handed him and tried to figure out how to don it.
“Inflammation and rashes. A cough.”
Devon groaned. “The intestinal bug is the worst.”
Fernando never let his optimism diminish. “I’ve got an iron constitution.”
Sophie made several calls, reassigning work crews from regular duties to salvage her precious vineyards. The teams rendezvoused in front of the main warehouse and climbed into flatbeds that rumbled out to low hills covered with a corduroy of grapevines.
At the sight of the grayish-green powder that coated her vine stock, Sophie felt sick. She pulled the flatbed to a halt near where two crews had already arrived. “That stuff is going to kill my vines! Get out there, concentrate on the leaves and any grapes that are forming.” She didn’t want to think what the alkaline residue would do to the red wine’s taste. All the more reason to clean off the dust as quickly as possible.
Rolling water tanks followed the suited crews up and down the vineyard rows; they used a liberal spray to rinse the hard, unripe grape clusters. Fernando Neron was thoroughly entertained by his high-power blower that scoured the dust away with bursts of air. Vincent worked alongside his friend, revisiting
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