deBaca focused on a space off to the right of Adam’s head. Once he had thought that meant she wasn’t listening. After a year in SecDept he understood she didn’t even register his presence as she processed information, poured over facts in her mind.
“You’ve got one week. Get back out there, retrace the area by the river, and go downstream. Find a place the body or the pack might have washed up. Go to the larger mining camps. Get something on that prospector.”
“Are you sure? Won’t it leave you short-handed?”
She raised an eyebrow. “My problem. Go. I’ll check a few things here about that woman. Dismissed.”
He hurried out. As he pulled her office door closed, she summoned a comm panel.
It was a miserable week searching up and down the riverbank and talking to locals around the three primary mining camps to the east of Prime. No one had seen either the body or the backpack. They had glowered at his uniform and the insignia on his flitter with suspicion, even scorn. He’d gotten the name of the dead prospector from Sanitation, but the old man had been a wanderer with no fixed address.
He had met with Doug for coffee twice more, hoping Doug would remember something else that would help piece it all together, but the miracle never happened.
Now he shrugged and closed the window that held his notes for the last time. Sorry, kid, it’s someone else’s turn to make my life miserable.
And dived again into the queue of reports.
Chapter Seven
The sunlight filtered through the leaves and the shadows of the branches as she passed below. From the heavy boxes piled around her and the steady lurches, Eleanor guessed she rode in the back of a power sled. She rubbed her eyes but stopped short when the pain struck. The gasp it forced from her brought a worried face peering over the side to her left.
“Hey, she’s awake again!” Tanned, wrinkled faces loomed over her - the men bearded or with patches of stubble and the women as rough. Eleanor felt the edge of panic until a low voice said, “Back off guys. You’re freaking her out.”
With a little grumbling the wall of faces backed away to be replaced by a single new one. Over a thick brown beard shot through with grey, blue eyes examined her. “You feeling better?”
Eleanor’s throat hurt, and the croak that emerged frightened her. “Where am I? Who are you?”
“You’re on the Mossburg road. We found you on the east bank of the Namok. We’re heading back north. Your pack has Joel Zach’s mark on it. Figured he might know what to do with you. Rock carrier was empty on the return trip, so there’s room. I’m Tepper. Frank Tepper.” The sentences came out in short bursts.
Eleanor could feel the gears of her brain creak, dredging up information. “There . . . was a man. He chased me. I fell in the river. Did you see him?”
“Nope, just you. You washed up near to Secundus. Do you know where you went in?”
Eleanor shook her head.
“Must not have been too far up from where we found you. The river beat you up pretty bad. Coat about drowned you. Good thing the water is so cold. Took a couple knocks to the head. Wouldn’t let go of that pack for anything. Had to pry it out of your arms.”
Eleanor struggled to sit up. Her head throbbed as soon as she moved.
“Calm down. Your bag’s right by you, everything in place.”
She eased herself back, struggling to relax. “Where are we going?”
“Told you. North. Went south to take a load of ore in. Coming back.”
Eleanor thought about the map. Even if the river had carried her to the south - if she could travel with the prospectors - she’d end up close to where she wanted to be.
“Can I travel with you?”
“You are now, aren’t you?”
“But . . .” Her voice drifted off. She hadn’t planned on running into people who had known Joel. “I’m sorry, my head hurts. I think I need to rest again.”
“Sleep. Do you good.” And he stomped off.
The road became steep and muddy. Eleanor got out to walk behind the powersled to ease the load, but before long her legs shook. Her weakness frightened her and when Frank yelled at her to get back in, she did, thankful to obey.
That night she found Frank as he set up the kitchen tent. “How badly was I hurt? Everything feels harder than it was before. I run out of breath so fast and my arms and legs hurt all the time.”
Frank let out a breath and pointed to a folding chair. “Sit.” He sat across from her on a chest. “You didn’t have an easy time in the river. Kept you under for a few days to let you heal up. May not think it, but you’re doing pretty well.”
Eleanor sat motionless. “Can you do that to people? At home we’d have taken someone to hospital, let a doctor fix them.”
“I was a doctor. Back on Claro. Left.”
“On Claro? Why would you come here, to this?” Eleanor waved around her. The vids showed life on the capital world, the elegant clothing, and the glamorous parties.
“Didn’t like all the people, didn’t like the government’s fingers in everyone’s pies.”
“What about your friends, your family?”
He looked a little sad, but shook his head. “Not much left. We made our choices, different paths now.”
There had to be more to it. She couldn’t believe anyone would leave the most beautiful planet in the system willingly.
“Now. Going to tell me what you’re really doing out here?” He wasn’t smiling any more.
“Joel, he died in my bar back home. I mean, not in the bar, but in a room upstairs. And I guess it’s not my bar, but my father’s, or maybe my aunt’s now. In his things I found a map.” Eleanor hurried on, aware she babbled but unable to stop herself. “Joel didn’t die badly, just got old, the medtechs said. He didn’t get into a fight, nobody hurt him.” She faltered. “I talked to him a little, he was nice when everyone else yelled. I wish now I could have talked to him more.”
Frank pondered her words for a minute. “Who chased you? We’ve kept and sheltered you. We should know.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to put anyone in danger. I can go.” She sat up, but he pushed her back down.
“When I think you should go, I’ll tell you. Tell me who he was.”
“I don’t know. He had a SecDept uniform and flitter and the lady I stayed with one night said a report had been put out on me for stealing. But I didn’t steal anything! I only took Joel’s pack and some of my clothes.”
“Let’s see them.”
Eleanor brought over the pack and bit her tongue; her situation allowed her no way to protest the intrusion.
Frank took his time. He pulled out her clothing and piled it, folded, to the side. Then the map. He smoothed it open, found where they were, and gazed at it for a few more moments, his face expressionless.
He put the map to the side with the clothes and next removed the logbook. He read through it and Eleanor sat and tried not to fidget. The sounds of camp grew quiet as people bedded down for the night.
Finally he pulled out the vidplayer. He tapped it against his leg and stroked the top. “This thing.”
“You know what it is?”
“Nope. But Joel found it on his last trip out, showed it to me passing back through. He thought the world of the thing, thought it meant something. No one else did. Didn’t keep him from showing it to anyone he could get to listen.”
Eleanor’s shoulders slumped. All this time of trying to hide the vidplayer for nothing?
He put the player to the side with the other items from her pack. “Is that it?”
“One more thing.” She pulled the necklace over her head, handed it to him. “This was my mother’s. I took it back from my Aunt. She might have called the Guard because of it, but it should have been min
e.”
Frank handed it back. “Doesn’t matter. We’re not collaborators with the SecDept.”
He stood. “What happens after we get to camp is up to you.” He left the kitchen area, and one by one Eleanor replaced the items into her bag.
After the supply train had arrived, Frank had given her over to Jenna, a tall woman with sienna skin who ran the camp’s one inn. Plenty of light came through the high dormer window of her narrow bubble room and the bed and chair had been crafted with skill. After she had put her things away, Eleanor found Jenna downstairs, behind the desk.
“Thanks. I’m not sure how to pay you for this. Frank loaned me a little money, but that’s all I have. Is it enough?”
The older woman shrugged. “You can stay here the first night, the room’s empty anyway. I can let you know who might need some help in camp to pick up some cash.”
By the next morning a pile of notes waited for her. People needed errands run, things washed and mended, some cleaning or a bit of cooking. She gaped at Jenna with her mouth open.
“Frank said you used to work in a bar. I figured what you’d be able to do and let folks know. Most people are too busy to turn around twice out here. Give them the chance at getting a few more things done and they’re thrilled. You could set up a nice little business here, if you cared to.”
Eleanor’s head swam. Do more or less what she’d been doing at home, but here and get paid. And not have to worry about Susan, or... She stopped herself. She had been planning a new life, a life without her father. What kind of daughter did that make her?
Jenna reached across the desk and shook her with one hand. “Stop. Whatever you’re thinking about, it’s not doing you any good.”
Eleanor blinked.
“So,” the older woman continued, “Let’s have a look at those slips and I’ll tell you about the people and you can decide which jobs you want and which ones you don’t.”
The offers were plentiful enough for Eleanor to be selective. “That one’s looking for a wife. I’d not take it unless you run out of others.” And Jenna put that slip to the side and selected another. “They’re good people. Both working in the field and no time to keep up with anything.” And their slip would go to the top of the pile.
Eleanor found herself caught up in the daily life of the camp, hearing all the details and scandals before ever leaving Jenna’s office.
When they finished the stack, Jenna glanced at the clock. “Time to get some lunch. I’ll show you the meal hall – it passes for a restaurant in these parts. You keep up with all of that,” she waved at the slips, “you won’t have time to do your own cooking.”
Outside she took her first good look around. Here the bare minimum of land had been terraformed, unlike the fields that surrounded Prime. Beaten paths through the dust crisscrossed between buildings wedged into nooks in the foothills like a mad game of cat’s cradle. Uniform, hastily constructed sprayfoam domes left grey and unfinished. Windows carved out with hand cutters and fitted with ship-tight precision. No large machinery could be relied upon to work here so close to the magnetic field of the mountains. The camp had been placed right at the edge of the field; things would work here, but no further. Rocky spurs loomed above and placed the camp in constant shadow. Despite it all, the three hundred or so men, women and children gave the camp the same sense of bustle as Prime.
When they entered the meal hall people glared at her with suspicion, but Jenna’s wave appeared to be enough of an introduction. Most returned their attention to their food.
She and Jenna checked the board for options, grabbed bowls and trays and found a place to sit. Her ears burned as snippets of conversations reached her.
“Guard chased her into the Namok.”
“Not the girl’s fault. No telling what SecDept is up to, ever.”
“Got a ‘cast from my brother, the one on Danbro. They’ve had four ships not arrive, no one knows where they’ve gone. They’re running low on medicine again.”
More muttering. “Not that we’ll ever hear about it from Claro. Don’t care what they’re promising now. Politicians’ll say anything during election season.”
Bitter laughter.
As the afternoon wore on people came by, introduced themselves, and she felt the awkwardness fade.
That night in her small room she traced the path from the camp to the scratched up area on the map. She put it aside and read through Joel’s journal again. She shook her head over the last few entries. No matter how often she read them, they still made no sense.
Eleanor passed the vidphone in the lobby of Jenna’s inn every night, every morning, resolute in her decision not to call. At the meal hall rumors flew of surveillance on areas suspected of unrest, but by the week’s end, Eleanor couldn’t stand not knowing.
The call took forever to connect, but the sight of Doug’s face when he appeared made her smile, a message from home in his wide green eyes.
“El? I’ve been worried sick! I didn’t mean-”
She broke in, “Doug, I don’t have very long. But, I’m sorry.”
His eyes dropped away from the screen. “That’s not important, we’ll figure it out. Come home.”
“My father, is he . . .” She trailed off, not able to finish the sentence.
Doug understood. “He’s okay. Mrs. Jameson decided your dad’s her next project. Said she owed it to your mom. Did you know they were friends back in the day?”
She would have, if she’d paid better attention to her father’s stories.
“She’s over twice a day at least, bustling down the street with a basket of food and who knows what. Force of nature, that woman”
“And Susan?”
Doug hesitated. “I don’t know the story, but she’s painting and putting up curtains. Says she’s going to make it a decent place.” He shook his head. “Not sure if that’s what people want, but that’s what she’s determined to give them.”
The news didn’t anger Eleanor as much as she had thought it would. She had her own business now, something hers alone. As long as her father did well, Susan could have the joy of running the bar.
“Please come home. It’ll be better now. Please.” He looked away. “I miss you.”
Eleanor felt her tears start. “I miss you too. I wanted you to know I’m all right.”
Doug drew a deep breath but Eleanor cut him off. “I have to go. Take care. If you can, give my love to my father.”
She broke the connection without waiting for his answer, knowing that any longer would weaken her. She climbed the wooden stairs to her room and prepared for bed. For the first time in many nights, she didn’t look at the log or the vidplayer, but lay staring at the ceiling as the twisted wings of the pendant cut into her hand.
Chapter Eight
Adam listened to the argument inside Chief deBaca’s office. It wasn’t loud enough to make out words, but the chief sounded angry. He didn’t recognize the other voice.
When Adam entered, he wished he’d been on patrol when the summons came. deBaca scowled. To her side sat another woman. Short steel-grey hair, plump cheeks and a sharp gaze that made him want to back out of the room and close the door behind him. The woman in Doug’s story from the day Eleanor left.
“Sit down, Officer Cole,” deBaca snapped. “We’ve gotten wind of that girl you lost.”
“The Weber girl? How?”
“She called her boyfriend yesterday.”
No way SecDept would have implemented that sort of surveillance to catch a petty thief.
“Is what she stole that important? Chief, I don’t think that report from the woman at the bar is trustworthy. She can’t give me a clear description of the item, or explain when or how it came into her possession.”
The grey haired woman broke in with a wintry smile.
“It isn’t your place to question orders. The girl you lost has been found. We’ve done the work for you, go pick her up. Or aren’t you even capable of that?” Her soft tone slid the knife of her words deeper.
Adam expected deBaca to crush this usurpation of power in her own office, but she ignored it. He saluted and closed the door to deBaca’s office behind him as if it were made of glass.
The Doyle family had asked Eleanor if she could come by twice a week, do some shopping, a little cleaning and prepare a few meals they could heat later. The light work surprised her, but when they dragged themselves home the first night, she understood. The Doyle’s worked a stake close to the camp, but every week they had to go deeper and deeper down into the rock using hand cutters to get the thorium.
“Why not move further out into the mountains, areas that haven’t been worked yet?”
Mrs. Doyle shook her head. “Wish it was that easy. The further out you go, the harder the trip gets. Flitter engines don’t run in the mountains because of the magnetic field. In case of rockslide, we’d be too far from help. And the territory isn’t very well mapped out there; the satellites have never given clear shots. Some folks tried to work claims out deep, but they came back quickly or not at all.”
Eleanor recalled the direction her map indicated. “So, most people don’t ever get more than a day or so from camp, ever?”
Mr. Doyle finished pulling off his boots in the mudroom and laughed. “Most people haven’t even gone further than half a day out. That’s long enough to be carrying your tools with you, with breathing through a wet sock.” He poked his respirator and continued. “And you don’t have any choice. Without the respirator, the dust from the mountains will kill you or drive you mad, one way or the other. The particles get into your lungs, cut you up inside.”
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