Lana's Comet (Outer Settlement Agency) by Lyn Brittan

Chapter One
    C yprus Dhoma pulled down the black tunic, wincing at the civilian apparel in the mirror. Ridiculous, but necessary. No amount of talk and sound reasoning had been able to convince his former commander, Jasper Yoshisumi, not to hold his retirement party in the center of town. At least they’d rented out the place for privacy’s sake. He had no desire to be seen at a bar with ale in his hand by the Outer Settlement Agency’s latest batch of recruits.
    Decorum.
    Respectability.
    He flicked a speck of lint off his shoulder and gazed through the haze of Titan below. Despite the late hour, reds and yellows glittered off the silver buildings, reflecting lights of ground based rovers and hovering cruisers. Greenery hung off trellises like hanging gardens from ziggurats in the ancient days of Earth – back before man devolved with modernization.
    Ugh, Earth.
    He snorted at that hellhole and rolled his eyes.
    The whole 22 nd Quadrant would be filled with Earth born scum. Life had proven often enough that only Venus, Titan, Mars and later settlements produced decent human beings. That backward, polluted, once blue rock only had those too poor, too stupid or too unlucky to settle elsewhere.
    His omnitablet blinked, reminding him of something equally annoying - his latest injection.
    “Damned Kin juice.”
    He didn’t bother to look, just reached for a jar of disposable sharps and shoved its contents into his neck. Years ago, his kind were called clones. Today, that word would get you punched in the throat. That didn’t make it any less the truth. Kin-Humanoids were bred years ago to do the grunt work of building life beyond Earth’s boundaries. That first batch didn’t go so well – no emotions, no soul. But as humans increased their clawed grasps on technology, the Kin developed as well.
    Now society recognized them as equals – at least on paper – but every once in awhile, a Kin was born with screwed up genes. Not that he needed the calcium processing shots, or Kin juice, as a reminder. His cloneness was all over his face. Oh, sure, a couple generations of human/clone breeding softened some lines, but his too wide mouth and too blue eyes, had him the recipient of many a second look.
    “Cyprus? Let’s go!”
    “You can’t knock?”
    His fraternal twin shrugged and grinned. “You’d never let me in. We’re going to be late, which for you means your head exploding. I’d rather avoid the mess.” 
    Vin was everything he was not. Healthy, happy and very human looking.
    “Please?”
    And whiny.
    “I’m almost done, Vin. We won’t be late.”
    “Let me guess, you’re going to play with your hair again. Shave it off like mine. Real women think bald is sexy.”
    No, women thought Vin was sexy. Vin could get away with that cut. The lucky bastard didn’t have ears that needed hiding or any other feature that needed disguising. 
    “So this will be the first you’ve left Titan in how long,” his brother asked.
    “I’ve been busy.”
    “Being a good little soldier.”
    “As are you, Vin.”
    “No. I have a life. Tonight will be good for you. Go out. Meet a girl. Get her omni specs. When was the last time you got laid?”
    His brother didn’t stop long enough to let him answer. Vin talked all the way downstairs to the cruiser launch area. Despite his station and the good sense that ought to have come with the rank, the fool winked at every woman they passed. Annoying. No amount of smacks to the back of the head could curb his ridiculous behavior.
    Or his mouth.
    It flapped on the whole ride downtown...and at the docking station...and up the fifteen flights to the top of the club they’d rented out.
    “Are you even listening to me?”
    He’d stopped ages ago. “Not on purpose.”
    “Slap a smile on your face before these lift doors open.”
    “I am smiling.” But it slipped the second he saw his commanding officer, shirtless on the bar and throwing a woman above his head. “Where the hell’s