"You're going to just walk away from me again, Rann?"

The holo-center flashed in the corner of the room, but the occupants had stopped watching it minutes ago. The immaculately dressed, yet somehow perpetually untidy children were more interested in the scene between Witt and Erson. The confrontation had even brought the attentions of some of the older children, who should have been in the main building but were drawn here, their old haunt, with the promise of some familiar entertainment. Baron Liddell’s youngest son beating up a newcomer- what could be more entertaining than that?

"That's it. Rann ran away. Rann ran away!" Whitt Liddell was a short, pudgy boy of about 13 years old, but he stood confidently as his chest heaved, his eyes unnaturally bright. The white flightsuit he wore was flecked at the cuffs with Erson's blood, yet the younger boy hadn't managed to spill any of his own. His place was here, amongst his friends and the children of those seeking favour with his father, and he knew it. Witt grinned as Erson walked away, nursing his bloody nose.  

"Keep running, groundboy. You'll never be welcome here. Just go and tell your father to start the engine on that worthless pile of..."

The doors censored Witt's last comment with a soft beep as they slid shut. Erson sighed and tugged his collar up; trying to keep out the bitter cold that was latching its teeth into him. His father had been right to tell him to wear his jacket tonight- the Liddells didn't care much for wasting money on heating the walkways. Erson peered over the handrail and tried to search for the ground below all of the thick fog. He couldn't find it. His nose throbbed as he walked slowly toward the largest building in the compound, watching the shadows that danced in the shaded permaglass ahead of him. The entire compound was suspended over 100 feet above the planet, to make it easy for the spacers to take off without the heavy gravity putting too much strain on their engines. Of course, that was why it was so freezing outdoors. Erson was almost surprised that the breathclouds from his mouth weren't simple freezing solid and falling to the floor.

Erson stopped a few feet away from the door, once he was sure that the cameras there had identified him and weren't going to blare out any sort of alarm, and gingerly pressed his nose against the freezing metal wall. His eyes watered as he held it there and he soon released himself with a hiss, but he hoped that the cold had stopped some of the bleeding. It was bad enough that he didn't fit in here, amongst the spacers with the slick flightsuits, his nose made it worse. With his tan 'functional' ground-clothes, patched on one knee, and his heavy jacket, Erson looked like one of the ground-crew here at Liddel Station. Witt Liddel had been quick to tell him that.

"Darn spacers." Erson muttered to himself, shuffling his feet on the walkway. He didn't want to go inside, but the cold was starting to seep inside his jacket and his ears were stinging just as much as his nose was. "Didn't want to watch their stupid holo anyway." Reluctantly, he let go of his nose and wiped his face before shoving his hands into his pockets, glancing at his refection in the permaglass. He looked, as he had been expecting, like he'd been punched in the nose.