by Britt Ringel
Kat approached the long counter separating the receptionist from visitors. “I’m sorry I missed work yesterday.” She fought the urge to look away self-consciously and instead maintained eye contact. “With my ribs, my concussion and the pain medicine, I just couldn’t wake up in time to catch the mag-rail. I’m very sorry.”
The receptionist waved her off. “It’s okay. Nobody was really expecting you to come back the day after that terrible accident. They shut down most of the mine anyway. The majority of the miners are being used for the cleanup and repair efforts to make the shafts safe again.” She turned back to the hallway and shouted slightly louder. “Hello? Kat’s here!”
Kat placed the note on the counter. “I got this note summoning me here.” The receptionist obviously knew why she had come to the trailer but it seemed an easy way to segue from the lie about her absence.
A familiar voice finally answered the receptionist. “I’m coming, I’m coming!”
Oh, no…
Tabitha Carter emerged from the hall. She wore the standard garb for an office worker, black ripstop pants with a white, collared shirt bearing the Porter Mining logo. The woman’s shimmering blonde hair was pulled into a sleek, low ponytail gathered a second time to form a loop. Light blue eyes and sculpted, high cheekbones framed a cute, upturned nose that made her one of the most attractive women Kat had ever seen. Kat flinched as she remembered that long, blonde hair disheveled and damp with sweat in her vision of Tabitha writhing over Sadler in ecstasy.
The woman’s eyes swept over Kat slowly, appraising not only her fashion sense but also her innate worth. “You’re here,” Tabitha stated flatly.
“Tabby, I’ve got to get back to my desk by the afternoon,” the receptionist pleaded next to her. “I’m falling way behind and Mr. Vincent wants the new hires finished before the end of the week.”
Tabitha ran her hands around her narrow waist, ensuring her crisp shirt was tucked in tightly. “We should be done in-processing before lunch, Dakota. That is, unless Kat can’t read or I have to repeat trivial things because she’s not bright enough to grasp them.” The tall woman leaned against the counter and the flex of her pants left little of her striking physique to the imagination. She continued to speak as if Kat weren’t present. “I understand rewarding a laborer for work in the mines but promoting a Trodden into an office position seems crazy. They’re just not cut out for anything but physical work.” She turned to Kat and flashed a wolfish grin. “This job requires mental acuity that you can’t find in the slums and even if the average Trodden had an IQ higher than a turnip, you still need an actual education to do the work we do here.” She sighed in exaggerated resignation. “That’s why you’re going to be the new receptionist. None of the executives wanted you as their secretary.”
Dakota’s face burned a bright red. “Tabby,” she hissed before becoming enraptured by her computer screen.
Kat felt her own cheeks blister. Last night I fought off two disposal teams and a woman who could turn my brain off like a switch. I refuse to be Tabitha’s punching bag. She opened her mouth to retort but the vivid image of Sadler’s hands covering Tabitha’s breasts choked her. An involuntary shiver followed as she felt phantom sensations of those same hands on her own body. How could he touch her like that? Like he touched me. How could he make love to someone so petty and hateful?
“Honestly, why are they torturing me with this?” Tabitha mused as she snapped her fingers repeatedly in Kat’s face. “Hello? Anyone home in there?” She shot an exasperated look at Dakota.
Kat fantasized about grabbing tightly onto Tabitha’s fingers and folding them backwards. Don’t threaten your coworkers on day one, she scolded herself. “I hear you, Tabitha, and torture can be a sliding scale,” she growled through clenched teeth.
Tabitha’s eyes widened briefly before she rolled them dramatically. “Well, let’s get this over with. I’ve been assigned to in-process you and get you settled. Even if you can’t do your job, at least Dakota will finally be able to do hers.”
As the morning dragged on, Tabitha clearly didn’t feel compelled to restrain her contempt. For reasons known only to Porter Mining Enterprises, Kat had to fill out a new employment application specifically for the receptionist position. She endured Tabitha’s snide comments regarding her lack of education, lack of experience, even her lack of a real home. It was one of the most humiliating moments of Kat’s new life to write, “Shantytown alley, sixteen blocks from Beggar’s Market,” as her address under Tabitha’s disparaging eye.
Kat balked when Tabitha produced a DNA capture strip to complete the application. She knew the background check from Northport would once again say her DNA matched that of an infant who died twenty-five years ago. What would Porter Mining do then? However, she saw no alternative than to press her finger to the strip and Tabitha affixed the small device to her application like a miniature time bomb waiting to explode. The pair then returned her dryman’s equipment and locker lock back to inventory before settling in at Kat’s new desk. Kat had no choice but to place her satchel, unprotected, at her feet. Tabitha insisted it would be safe, not only because citizens didn’t have the natural inclination for thievery that Trodden possessed but also because Kat owned absolutely nothing that a “normal” person would value. Kat staunchly resisted the urge to empty a Jamison into her new coworker.
“Now that that’s finished, it’s time to delouse you,” Tabitha proclaimed. “It might’ve been acceptable to show up to the mine smelling like a sewer rat but in the offices, you represent all of Porter Inc.” She pointed theatrically at the front door. “The first impression of every person who walks through that door will be made by you… heaven help us all.” The woman’s blonde ponytail shook vigorously with her head. “I know Trodden don’t like to shower but you have to come here with better hygiene than…” She held out her hand like a shield and swept it up and down over Kat. “Than… this.”
Kat nearly broke a molar clenching her jaw. Worse, she had to admit that on this assessment Tabitha was right. She had skipped the chance to shower at Sadler’s, thinking it wasn’t necessary because she’d be in the mine all day. Hell, she was lucky not to be plastered in gore after last night’s events. “Message received, Tabitha,” she ground out.
“Nobody expects you to rise to a citizen’s level in appearance but you have to—”
“I get it!” Kat snapped. She worked hard to relax her fists, concerned she was perpetuating Tabitha’s grotesque prejudices.
Tabitha walked to a floor-to-ceiling filing cabinet and crouched to open the bottom drawer. It was empty except for several bundles of clothes. Black office shoes sat on top of the stack. “Mr. Vincent had the foresight to secure some proper attire for you. The first three outfits are on Porter’s stick but if you want more, you have to buy them yourself.” She pushed one of the bundles onto the counter near Kat. “I suggest you change now. You’ll still smell like a gutter but at least you won’t look like you sleep in one.”
Kat grabbed the clothes petulantly and walked toward the courtesy bathroom near the seating area. Behind her, she heard Tabitha mutter, “Even though you actually do sleep in a gutter.”
Once safely in privacy, Kat wiggled out of her hessian pants. They were still tight but no longer obscene. To her delight, the treasure trove of new clothes included not only a pair of white, synthetic panties but also a sports bra and comfortable socks. She slipped on the underpants and then slid new ripstop pants over her hips. Porter Mining had taken her measurements when fitting her for dryman’s gear and her new pants fit her well. The material was lightweight and flexible yet durable and stain resistant. They felt heavenly compared to the coarse fabrics she’d grown accustomed to wearing. She felt almost as if she were wearing clouds.
She gingerly skimmed off her oversized shirt next and carefully slipped into the sports bra. Her damaged ribs ached fiercely but the support and security provided by the garment was divine. Her white shirt was a polo design with
short sleeves and three buttons. The cut felt tight but any shirt would feel restrictive compared to the tent she had worn. She buttoned the bottom two buttons and looked into the bathroom mirror. After a moment’s consideration, she unbuttoned the second button and made a note to subtly check the other women in the office to see what was typical.
The new clothes remade her and Kat felt herself smile as she took in her professional appearance. Despite Tabitha’s harsh criticism, Kat was pleased with the person smiling back in the mirror. She ran her fingers through her hair, wishing she hadn’t lost the ponytail holder a fellow laborer had given her on her first day at the mine. Her thick hair was as black as the mine’s coal and the left side fell past her shoulders. The right side was noticeably shorter, singed badly when she had scorched herself. After several weeks, the damaged hair was long enough to lay flat and soon, assuming she could find a barber, she could get a more even haircut.
Eyes the darkest brown stared back at her. Their almost total absence of color was one of the first things she had noticed upon waking up alone, hurting and terrified in the unknown alley during her first night in Shantytown. The burns on her face were gone. I’m growing up all over again, outgrowing that scared victim in the alley who felt so small. I’m past “who am I.” Now, I need to blossom into who I am. She thought of her visions and her intense jealousy over Sadler’s past with Tabitha. We all have a past, Kat. He hasn’t let yours kill the relationship. Don’t you dare let his. Even with the warning, she felt the embers of rage stoking inside her. She stifled them through sheer willpower. Who I am. I refuse to let my temper control me. A sudden question occurred to her as she stepped away from the mirror. Is that who I was?
Chapter 4
Kat rounded the reception counter while still running a hand through her hair in an attempt to style it. She caught Tabitha’s eyes and saw, for the first time this morning, a glint of insecurity.
“Well, if we can get you to practice basic hygiene, maybe visitors won’t run out the door when they see you.” Tabitha spun in her chair toward the workspace once Kat reached her. She gestured broadly. “This is a computer. Do you have any concept of what that is?”
“Actually, that’s a monitor,” Kat responded dryly.
Tabitha bristled at the reproach and rose. She patted the vacated seat dramatically. “Oh, then you already know everything about your job.” Pushing rudely past Kat, she moved quickly for the hall leading deeper into the trailer while spitting, “Good luck not screwing things up and when you do, remember that I tried to teach you but you preferred to act like a bitch rather than learn your job.”
Kat watched the woman stomp away before settling into her chair. It was nicely padded and more comfortable than anything she had been in besides Sadler’s bed. She scanned the lower ledge of the counter that served as her workspace. There was an unlit, scented candle in the corner. She lifted it to her nose and inhaled the intoxicating aroma of vanilla. A small comm console rested on the surface to her left. The unit had several channels and clearly marked controls on the touchscreen. Next to the sleek unit was a much cruder Vox-like microphone and speaker assembly. This must be how foremen contact the trailer from inside the mine. She had seen various supervisors inside the mine carrying walkie-talkies. She’d even observed Sadler using his on many occasions during her time as a dryman. The microphone was attached to a stand with a large, flat button that seemed to serve as the transmit key.
Her eyes turned back to the monitor dominating the workspace. In the upper left corner, she spied the icon of a red binder labeled “Continuity – Receptionist.” Opening the folder with a touch on instinct, she was delighted to see a well-organized table of contents highlighting the duties and responsibilities of a Porter Mining receptionist. Jackpot! She flipped to the introduction and began to read.
Hours later, Kat had absorbed the most important sections of the file and felt confident she could perform well in her new role. Admittedly, it wasn’t the most demanding job. She had already answered several calls from the main office in Waytown and even relayed a few questions from assistant foremen deep inside the mines via the Vox. It was now early afternoon and her stomach growled. Four women, including Dakota, appeared from deeper within the trailer and walked through Reception with lunch bags in hand. Without a single word, the women crossed Kat’s domain and exited the trailer. A few seconds later, Dakota reentered and moved quickly to Kat’s counter.
The young woman smiled timidly as she stuck out her hand. “Kat? I’m Dakota King. I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier.”
Kat stood and shook her hand, noticing how luxuriously soft it was with well-manicured and painted fingernails. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for covering for me yesterday.”
Dakota glanced quickly at the front door. “Uh, the admins are going to lunch. We usually try to eat after the higher-ups do to have the lunch trailer to ourselves. Someone has to staff Reception all the time though so we rotate who covers for you when you eat.” She ducked her head and lowered her voice. “I suppose Tabby didn’t tell you that. You’re supposed to get a half hour for lunch and when I get back, I’ll cover you today.” She looked shyly at the door again. “Well, I better get going. I’ll, uh, ask the girls who’ll cover your lunch tomorrow, okay?”
Kat smiled. “Thanks, Dakota, but you don’t have to cover lunch today.” She gave the woman a furtive shrug. “I didn’t bring one.” An idea struck her. “Can I eat in the miner’s courtyard?”
Dakota looked stricken. “Would you really eat that slop?” She covered her mouth quickly as if slapped. “I’m sorry. That was rude. Most of us don’t have a lot of interaction with Trodden.” She took tentative steps from the counter.
“Dakota,” Kat called out before she could leave, “do you know how much I’ll be paid as a receptionist?”
The secretary’s face lit up. “Oh! Tabby didn’t tell you? Your position pays eight hundred twenty-five credits every Friday. That’s over twice what a dryman earns.” She took more furtive steps toward the door, clearly wishing to escape. “I better go. It was nice talking to you.”
Kat watched the woman scurry away. The executive assistant opened the door and nearly collided with two corp-sec officers preparing to enter. After eking out an apology, she took a wide berth before disappearing into the dry, summer heat.
The officers were a mixed pair, a man and woman. Kat assessed their gear as they approached. Both wore standard blue kinetic armor over crisp uniforms. The woman opted for a revolver on her waist while the butt of a semi-automatic rose from the holster of her counterpart.
Kat’s instinct was to run. But where? She took her seat and forced herself to smile. They aren’t here for you, Kat. Look at their posture. The holster straps are snapped over their weapons. These aren’t cops expecting trouble. “Good afternoon,” she greeted. “May I help you?”
The officers glided to a stop at the counter. The man grinned back at Kat and she watched his appreciative eyes sweep over her even as his partner scowled. “We’d like to speak with Sadler Wess,” the woman answered. She unsubtly drove her elbow into the man’s side. “Right, Doug?”
Kat held her smile as her heart rate skyrocketed. “Of course.” She typed randomly on her keyboard, temporizing. “I’m, uh, not completely sure he’s on location but let me check.” Her mind raced for reasons why corporate security would want to speak with Sadler. There was only one reasonable conclusion. The question was, how much did these officers know? Obviously, they weren’t actively searching for her. If corp-sec had linked her to either the massacre in Rat’s alley or the bloodbath at the Mura Convention Center, the officers would be pointing their weapons at her. She tapped her satchel with her foot to reassure herself. Still there. Okay, if not that, then what? Relief flooded into her as a second possibility emerged. Is this about the sabotage in the mines?
She pressed the transmit bar on the microphone stand. “Mr. Wess, this is Reception. Are you there?”
He
responded almost instantly. The thundering background noise in the mines forced him to shout his reply. “Yes, what do you need?”
“You have uniformed guests requiring your presence at Reception.” She wanted to warn him but not call attention over an open channel to the fact corporate security was looking for him.
“On my way.”
Kat looked up. The officers kept their casual demeanor. She pretended to input more data into her computer as she forced monotony into her voice. “I need to log the reason for the visit since it’s taking him out of the mines, officers.”
“Corp-sec business,” the woman replied without emotion.
The chilly atmosphere remained unchanged until Sadler entered the trailer. If he feared his visitors, he disguised it beneath a friendly smile. He walked right next to the officers and ignored them. “Hi, Kat—Kate. I tried to get a hold of Porter to discuss that morning topic but he’s all the way in Northport today, giving testimony in the matter regarding Recore.” Finally, he turned his attention to the officers.
Kat noticed it was the female officer’s turn to stare, her eyes lingering over a very rugged-looking Sadler. The male officer returned her earlier elbow and said, “Mr. Wess, we’re investigating a possible visa violation and believe you may have relevant information. We can give you a lift or you can follow us to the Waytown station.”
Sadler sighed dramatically and hoisted a thumb behind him. “I’ve got a hundred miners committed to a clean-up operation and you expect me to leave the work site?”
“Yes,” the officer stated plainly. “You can come with us willingly or we can charge you with impeding an investigation.”
Sadler shook his head and set his jaw. He glanced at Kat. “Let management know that their tax credits are pulling the acting foreman away from his job. Apparently, Waytown’s finest need me in town before I tell them that I don’t know anything about a visa violation.” He waved curtly at the door. “Let’s go and I’ll fly there myself.”