I don't often think about my pa, not when I make good decisions. I think about him now because of the gun put in my hand.

"These are stunners, you don't wanna make a kill," Bailey says, his dark, wiry frame stomping past me.

"Kill?" I whisper. No one would meet my gaze. "Kill? For...for cleaning?" I ask again. "This is a cleaning job."

Clean for Gara, walk away with monetary credits, I recall the ad saying—the same ad Gara promotes for new talent and security for her shows. Cleaning...that's no job for a fighter. Even my pa has never done menial work like that. Still, it sounds easy and I need equipment and instruments to try and get on the stage. I need to train more in acting. I need monetary credits. My father's spent each and every monetary point on my clothes and fee to train with Job. At least in those places I could take a shower regularly. My height and training with Job was probably why I made the cut. But this must be a misunderstanding.

But come to think of it, we're in a tunnel...an uninhabited tunnel. A structure's only this quiet when it's private property. It doesn't look any different from a regular gray-walled Colony one, though. I've never heard of anybody rich enough to own a part of the Colony's tunnels.

"I dunno, Bailey. Word has it, she's temperamental," someone complains.

The man in the center of it all, Bailey, whispers, "We just clean it out fast, but the pay is good."

My hand goes up before I even realize it.

"Sir. This is a gun," I say. Bailey blinks at me so I add, "For cleaning?"

"No. They're stunners. If you can't help, then keep outta trouble. Don't try to steal any diskettes with credits. Private credits are hard to decode. We want jewels, glass especially. We want trinkets, anything not bolted down that'd fetch a good price. And of course, anything private you can pick up like clothes. We only have twenty minutes to make this count."

Second guessing isn't an option now, not with the way everyone eyes me as if they've found the weakest link. It occurs to me, finally, what sort of cleaning they'd been talking about. A heist. The chances of them letting me walk away are slim at best.

You're in it now, Phil. Just shut the fuck up and keep outta the way. Sound an alarm and they'll shoot you right here.

I tuck the gun in the back of my trousers like I see them do at Job's gym after training. Hopefully, it won't go off in my pants.

Three things concern me as of now: my pa, this gun, and Gara. Credits would make it all go away. Besides, these are stunners.

Bailey touches the wall and says, "System, mass transport."

"Command confirmed," the computer sounds.

Everyone takes on a readied stance, so I follow suit. I need credits. Maybe this is luck. All this hard work to smell like hell and die with nothing just isn't cutting it.

Bailey drops his hand, signaling us to move and I run with the crowd. I've never traveled a mass portal before but this one is rough. As if I'm made of rubber, my head is yanked back, and my lower body stretched. I shoot out of the portal on the wall just in time to topple onto my ass.

I'm slow and stupid. Everyone else is already in motion, ripping down trinkets on the walls, turning over furniture.

Me? I'm admiring the view.

The house is fucking amazing; high ceilings, even higher than in the theater; plush rugs, statues everywhere. The marble floors aren't even the usual gray; they're white. This place looks ethereal—especially with the long award banners hanging everywhere. Every second my guilt for stooping so low as to let others rob someone fades. Someone this rich can stand to lose a few monetary credits. But if I'm caught here with them, that's jail for sure.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I decide to wait it out and follow them out again. I won't take anything of real value, but I need something, something to show that I'm in it, too, and I won't rat anyone out.

There isn't much left for me to get to with the nine other people weaving through rooms. One thing is enough.

Glass is everywhere, too. Not the cheap plasticky stuff either, but real glass, the stuff you can't find in the Colony anymore.

Everyone else keeps to the living room area and kitchen but I figure there's got to be something cheaper in the bedrooms. The foyer itself is so huge I fear this house might swallow me up. Before I reach the largest double doors—fashioned out of wood, no less—I spy an open hallway. Halfway down there's a door. It's so strange that there should be one there. No bigger than a storage room for cleaning supplies; this looks like the perfect place to wait them out. Maybe I could take something from here.

A tap of the wall has the door sliding open. It's not a storage closet, though, but another hall. With everything so quiet, I run down it to make sure it doesn't lead to a secret room somewhere.

It leads to a lot more than that, though.

The hall ends at a spotless room. It's pretty tiny, big enough for five people maybe. Soft rolled-up blankets are tucked neatly against the wall but at the center of the small room, a little shrine rests. There isn't much. A pair of old boots, shined to perfection, a shirt and some trousers. These are miners' clothes—I've never seen a set so clean. The boots catch my eye because, being tall and big meant requiring more material; good boots aren't that easy to come by.

Shame I can't use the clothes; they look good, almost fashionable but I wouldn't be caught dead in miner garb.

I want new boots, better ones, but these aren't bad compared to the ones I've got now.

I kick off mine and drag on the newer pair. A little big but they fit just fine.

Look at that, Phil. You've even got boots. Things are looking up.

A gun discharges somewhere in the house. Thoughts of the clothes fade. Loud voices follow and then a ruckus I can't quite make out.

"Shit," I whisper. Inching along the hall. I strain to hear what's going on.

I don't have to wait for long.

The lights dim red and the System announces, "Intruder. Please fall to the floor and await the guards. Intruder. Await the guards, please."

Colony houses can't open and close to strangers. A temp code, like we've used, can allow a one-time access in, but not out. Each single door leading into a house responds to the residents only. Despite that fact, there's no mistaking the airlock. Someone opens the front door. More guns discharge before voices fade.

"System," someone calls out. "System, get the guards into this main tunnel. Tell them to look for eight men. One I've shot, so get a medic down here."

At the edge of the hall, I peer out as slowly as I can.

The man standing over Bailey's still frame, the same who has called for the System, shoots him again, right in the chest.

I draw in a breath and press myself against the wall. The voice I know, at least the tone as the man barks orders.

"You. Get in here. Make an assessment of everything they stole. Heads will roll." Gara's husband. This man with the gun is Gara's husband.

This is Gara's house. We're robbing Gara's house.

I race back down the hall to the little room, desperate to find a vent or something to climb into and hide.

Nearby footsteps pad against the marble floor. Someone's coming.

I grip the gun at my back, not sure what I should do.

A gasp from the hall tells me someone's spotted me. Maybe they were readying their weapons because I hear a rustle.

This gun might only be a stunner, but it's something.

Panicked, I take aim but I don't fire. Gara freezes dead in her tracks.

Her breath hitches, her eyes widen at the sight of me. A second later her features soften, disappointment creases in her face. She's stark naked. I tear my eyes away from her neatly groomed groin and stare into her startled eyes.

Who was she expecting?

She leans back to refocus on me and says, "You were supposed to leave before we got back. Why didn't you meet at the front door?"

I lower the gun.

Hands on her hips, she looks up while shaking her head. "Of all the fucking places to come.... Why are you in my private area?"

"They shot him," I mutter, "they shot that man."

Voices close in from the hall and she drags me closer by the waist, fumbling with my buttons.

"If anyone asks, just say you were keeping me company!" she whispers.

My mouth opens and closes as I struggle to answer. That's hard when she yanks my trousers down around my thighs. She looks back at the hallway and waits. I wanna say something, I mean to.

Those thoughts fade when Gara drops to the floor and drags me down on top of her bare body.

I look up in time to see a small army of guards empty into the hallway.

Several step back, startled.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. There's been a break in. Are you all right?"

Looking back at them, Gara says, "Well I was until you bastards walked in. Can I have some privacy?"