by Amy Pennza
He smiled. He did so love a challenge.
Porter stepped up beside him, his gaze following Ivar’s to the garbage crew on the ground.
“Well?” Ivar asked.
“I still don’t know,” his second-in-command murmured. “If she’s a spy, she’s either a really good one or a really bad one.”
“What does that mean?”
Porter looked up, his expression thoughtful. “She seems genuinely terrified, although she’s doing her best to hide it. And I don’t think she was acting when Dario had her up on that platform. You saw her. She was ready to pass out. Still… Why would the Council send a woman who looks like that down to the surface?”
Ivar scratched at the stubble on his jaw. “She said she tried to steal a drug.”
“The Council sent her here for attempted theft?”
“It’s odd, I’ll grant you that.” Ivar shrugged. “She mentioned a fiancé. Said she didn’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t going anywhere, so I dropped it.”
“Mmm, very effective interrogation technique—stop asking questions as soon as it seems she has something to hide.”
“What do you suggest? Tying her up and asking, ‘Are you a Council spy?’”
Porter just smiled.
They fell silent as they gazed down at the pit, which glowed red now that the suns swelled above the horizon.
“She asked what you did to get sentenced,” Porter said eventually. “Asked several questions about you, actually.”
Pleasure curled in his chest. “What did she want to know?”
“How many slaves you own.”
Hmm. He’d hoped for something a little more personal.
“She also asked how many mines are on Tolbos.”
“What did you tell her?”
“Well, I didn’t draw her a map, if that’s what you mean.”
Ivar grunted.
They both watched the crew pick its way across the mounds. After a minute, Ivar said, “You gave her the salve?”
“And the pants.”
Ivar glanced at him. “I don’t recall telling you to do that.”
“You’re probably right. Much better to send her to the pit in nothing but a shirt.”
“I didn’t want to send her at all.”
“She’ll be all right. Talitha keeps the pit workers in line. She’ll protect Nadia from the men.”
Ivar recalled how Nadia had snapped her teeth at Dario’s hand, her face contorted in rage. “Maybe somebody should protect the men from Nadia,” he said under his breath.
Porter raised his eyebrows. “You think she’s dangerous? Like an assassin? She had the perfect opportunity to get close to you, and she turned it down for days spent in the sweltering sun picking through the nastiest collection of crap in the universe.”
“Don’t remind me,” Ivar muttered.
Porter glanced pointedly at Ivar’s hips. “Feeling a little frustrated, are we?”
“If the Council wants me dead, assassination by blue balls is certainly a creative way to do it.” Down in the pit, Nadia stumbled to one knee. He jerked. She struggled back to her feet and continued walking. He exhaled.
“Want me to pull her out?” Porter said quietly.
“You know I can’t do that.”
“It’d be a risk, but isn’t it a risk to turn her loose out there? Who knows what she’ll see. If you think she’s a spy—”
“I didn’t say that.” Ivar looked at him. “You don’t think she is.”
“I said I wasn’t sure.” He took a deep breath. “Ivar, just make sure you’re thinking with your head and not your c—”
“Do not say cock.”
He raised his hands. “I’m just saying her story has some holes. You should question her again.”
“I intend to.” He pointed toward the crew. “I want a full report every hour. If she so much as mentions the words ‘mine’ or ‘kaptum,’ I want to know about it.”
“You got it, boss.” He walked to the doorway. Just before he ducked through the curtain, he said, “At least put a hat on that thing, Ivar, if you don’t plan on wearing pants today. Don’t ask me how I know, but a sunburned dick is no fun.”
8
“You there, Red! Pick up the pace!”
Nadia gritted her teeth and stepped over a puddle of green ooze that had leaked from a large barrel. The thick slime flowed like a dozen tiny rivers over heaps of garbage—some loose, some locked in titanium containers she recognized as starship disposal pods. The garbage pit had looked sprawling and massive from Ivar’s cliff, but viewing it from a distance didn’t give a real sense of just how deep it was. Up close, it was a shifting, undulating sea of refuse that could easily swallow a person whole.
The garbage crew supervisor—a woman named Talitha—had appeared in the doorway of Nadia’s cave early that morning, a smirk on her face, and ordered Nadia to follow her. No “good morning,” no breakfast—not even a chance to wash her face. Without a mirror or even a brush, Nadia had quickly finger-combed her hair into a loose knot, then slathered the salve Porter had given her on all the exposed parts of her body. Stomach churning with nerves, she’d followed Talitha to the pit.
At first, Nadia had been relieved her supervisor was female. It had taken less than ten minutes in Talitha’s company to realize her mistake.
Tall and muscular, she had straw-blonde hair cut close to her head and dark brown eyes under straight eyebrows. She might have been attractive but for the constant snarl that twisted her mouth.
She also had a prosthetic arm, although it didn’t seem to slow her down. On the contrary, it was the most impressive prosthesis Nadia had ever seen, which meant it was almost certainly made of kaptum. A matte-colored silver, it began just above her elbow and ran smoothly to her fingertips—its shape and function a perfect replica of a biological forearm. Nadia had seen her use it to pull the cap off a canteen with no obvious effort.
Talitha’s voice echoed over the pit once more. “Move your ass, Red! You’re slowing everybody down!”
Nadia lurched forward. Every step was like walking on sand; she’d find purchase, then the garbage would shift and sink, and she’d lose her balance. Her thigh muscles burned, and sweat dripped down her face. She tried to take another step, but her boot was stuck. She looked down. Her entire right foot was enveloped in oozing, rotting waste. She wrapped both hands around her thigh and pulled. Her boot came loose with a squelching sound.
“Red! Move it!”
Nadia growled low in her throat. “Easy for you to say.”
Talitha rode in relative comfort in a vehicle—this one with a raised seat that allowed her to see far ahead of the crew. A trailer hitched to the back held the crew’s finds. Every so often, she’d spot something valuable in the stinking piles and order someone to go fetch it. She crawled along behind them, her critical gaze never failing to spot when someone was slacking.
The back of Nadia’s neck seemed to burn from the woman’s stare—yet every time she turned around, Talitha was looking somewhere else. More than once, the faint prickling feeling of being watched had been so intense, Nadia had jerked her head up, convinced she’d find Talitha’s gaze on her, but it hadn’t happened.
Nadia stumbled and went down on one knee. Pain sliced through her leg. She gasped and clapped her hand against her calf. The other members of the crew stepped nimbly around her and continued scavenging.
So much for teamwork. She staggered to her feet.
“Keep it moving, Red!”
Nadia rubbed at her calf where blood had seeped through a gash in her pant leg. It wasn’t a deep cut, but any open wound was dangerous around so much toxic waste. Judging from what she’d seen of the mountain mine so far, it likely didn’t have a doctor or proper medication. That would be just her luck, dying of a simple infection thousands of light years from home just when humanity had finally managed to cure most diseases.
A crunching sound behind her made her turn. Talitha approached and stood over
her. “You don’t start moving faster, you’re not going to eat tonight.”
Nadia straightened and returned the woman’s hard stare. “I cut myself.”
Talitha shrugged.
“I won’t be much use on your garbage crew if my leg gets infected.”
Talitha held up her metal hand. Her pointer finger blazed a bright, glowing blue, and a faint curl of smoke rose in the air. “You want me to cauterize it?”
“N-no.”
“Good. Then get back to work.” She crunched back to the vehicle.
Warmth trickled down Nadia’s calf, and for a horrifying moment she thought she’d lost control of her bladder. She looked down and sagged with relief. Just blood. The vehicle rumbled behind her. She limped forward.
The next few hours were a procession of heat, misery, and emotional exhaustion. Porter’s salve worked for a while, but by the time the suns were directly overhead, her skin tingled and burned. The heat turned the shiny goo into a slippery mess that dripped into her eyes and found its way into her mouth and nostrils, until she could no longer discern between the sour-smelling salve and the rotting scents of the pit.
Pit is the perfect word for it, she thought as she trudged forward. Her boot squished. She looked down. A dark shape scuttled over her foot. She yelped and lurched forward—and the ground gave way.
She plunged. The sound of tumbling garbage roared in her ears. She flailed her arms. Her feet hit something solid, and she jerked to a stop—the impact sending twin jolts up her legs. A jumble of objects crowded her—metal, a black shoe, more metal… Something poked her back, and she jerked away. The garbage shivered and pressed closer, squeezing her chest until she wheezed. She threw her head back. “Help! Help me!”
“Quiet!” Talitha’s voice drifted down.
Nadia squinted up. There was a narrow opening. She reached for it.
“Don’t move!” Talitha barked. “You’ll make the whole thing collapse.”
Nadia froze, even though every instinct commanded her to reach—to swim up to the distant red light shining above. There was a thud, then a narrow rope slithered down. She grabbed it. “Okay!”
The rope tightened, and her body lurched upward. Garbage shifted and fell away. Above her, someone grunted. Inch by inch she rose, her shoulders brushing the hard, sticky mess around her.
Finally, her head broke through the top, and hot air hit her face. She let go of the rope and collapsed on her side, panting.
A low murmur brought her head up. Booted feet surrounded her. She followed them up to a dozen hard faces. The pit workers stood around her in a semicircle. She struggled to a sitting position. One of the men, his face badly scarred, gave her a scathing look. “Stupid bitch.”
She scrambled to her knees. “What the—”
“Watch it, Red,” Talitha said. She emerged from the far side of the group and stood over Nadia, her tall body casting a long shadow over the pit. “Stay off the wet areas. They collapse.” She looked at the men. “Don’t just stand there. Move it!”
Nadia seethed as the woman stalked off. Talitha could have told her that before! The men shuffled back to work. She clambered to her feet.
“You okay?”
She looked up. One of the workers lingered. Like the man who’d insulted her, he was scarred—the right side of his face like melted wax. It was as if someone had drawn a line from his forehead to his chin. The left side revealed concern; the right nothing but ripples of shiny white tissue.
“Yes,” she said. “Thank you.”
“You sure? That was a nasty fall.”
“Yeah, I…” In her mind, she saw the dark shape flit over her boot. “I just thought I saw something move. It startled me.”
“Could have been a roach.”
“A cockroach?” Revulsion, thick and heavy, made her stomach lurch.
He nodded. “You’ll see them here and there. They die pretty quickly after they’re dumped. They won’t hurt you.”
She tried to smile. “Well. That’s good, I guess. Thanks.”
“No problem.” He turned and walked a few steps, then looked back. “Talitha’s kinda scary, but she’s all right.”
“Kinda.”
The unblemished side of his mouth lifted in a smile. He nodded and walked away.
She glanced at the crevasse she’d fallen into. She was never sleeping again. Her nightmares were going to be filled with giant, mutated cockroaches. She shuddered. She could have died down there. Anger licked through her. “Stay off the wet areas,” she muttered. “Thanks.” She picked her way across the garbage to join the rest of the crew.
They’d worked another hour, and the pain in her leg had faded to a dull ache when Talitha’s voice boomed across the pit. “Ten-minute break!”
The men dumped their finds in the trailer and formed a line next to the vehicle. Nadia limped to the end. Please let there be food. Tears of relief pricked her eyes when Talitha pulled a basket from the back seat and began distributing small parcels wrapped in rough-looking paper.
Nadia’s heart pounded as she neared the vehicle. Would Talitha turn her away? The woman had hounded her all morning. Nadia’s hand trembled as she held it out, but Talitha slapped a parcel in it without comment.
The men sat in clumps under the shade cast by the vehicle. Unsure what kind of welcome she’d get if she joined them, Nadia wandered a distance away and sank to the ground. The paper was twisted at the top to form a bag of sorts. She undid it and stared down at several pale white cubes.
“Council rations.”
She looked up and saw the scarred man who’d asked if she was okay. “Yes…I know.”
“Mind if I sit?”
“Not at all.”
He settled next to her, unwrapped his own parcel, and popped a cube in his mouth.
The small chunks were precisely formulated to provide the necessary amounts of protein and vitamins to keep an adult healthy. They had a thirty-year shelf life and took up little space, which made them ideal for both colonization and starship travel. They were also flavorless. “Do you eat these all the time?” she asked.
He laughed. He’d sat with his left side facing her, so she saw nothing but a wide smile and a bright blue eye crinkled at the corner. “No, thank goodness. The Council drops other stuff, depending on how much kaptum we mine.”
“Does this mine usually do well?”
“We have our ups and downs.” He pulled a canteen from his cargo pocket and offered it to her. “I’m Rogan, by the way.”
“Nadia. Thank you.” She put the canteen to her mouth, then lowered it without drinking. “Should I… Is it safe?”
“It should be okay.”
She stared at the canteen. “That doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.”
He laughed again. “Sorry. A few sips won’t hurt. Most people get acclimated pretty quickly.”
They ate in silence for a few moments. His long body cast a welcome shadow that shielded her from the unrelenting suns.
“Why is everyone here so tall?” she asked.
He gave her a puzzled look. “Don’t you know? It’s the low gravity. Everyone gains a couple inches in the first few months.”
Of course. Moving was much easier on Tolbos than on Earth or on the starships that simulated Earth’s gravity. She’d noticed it when she left the transport pod. She’d literally walked with a spring in her step. She must have already adjusted, because the bouncy feeling had worn off. Tolbos wasn’t that much smaller than Earth, and the difference in gravity wasn’t as extreme as, say, on Mars, but it was obviously enough to make lasting changes in a person’s skeletal system.
“I guess I’m really stuck here for good then,” she muttered. There was a reason the colonists on Mars had to commit to lifelong service on the red planet. After a few years in the low-gravity environment, they literally couldn’t adjust to the pressure placed on their bones on Earth or the starships. Of course, that didn’t mean they couldn’t be sent to Tolbos, where the differe
nce in the atmospheric pressure wasn’t as dramatic.
“It’s not so bad.” He dusted the crumbs off his hands. “If you work hard, you move up eventually.”
She gestured around the pit. “How long have you been working here?”
“Two years now.” He touched the scarred side of his face. “I had a bad run-in with kaptum, like some of the other guys.”
“Wait.” Ivar had said the pit was the most undesirable job, and that everyone started there. “You worked with kaptum? Did you get sent back here?”
He shook his head. “I had a different master before Ivar. He forced everyone into the mines right away.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I dunno. Impatience? Cruelty?”
“But they auction the new prisoners. Why buy slaves just to kill them?”
He shrugged. “The pharaohs weren’t known for looking after their slaves, and they still managed to get their pyramids built. In this place… Well, we depend on the Council for everything. If they don’t drop food, we starve. Some warlords won’t waste resources on a slave who can’t pull kaptum. I guess it’s like throwing someone who can’t swim into the deep end. If they don’t make it…” He cleared his throat. “A lot of people didn’t make it.”
Her stomach clenched. She’d been captured and sold her first day on Tolbos. What if she’d been tossed in a kaptum mine at the end of it? Raddoc’s needle sharp smile rose in her mind. She touched Rogan’s arm. “I’m so sorry.”
He looked down at her hand. She flushed and withdrew it.
“I’m just grateful to be alive,” he said. “Kaptum is… It has a way of knowing when you can’t control it.”
“Someone told me it has a mind of its own. But I’m not sure I believe that.”
“You should.” His expression turned serious. “If you’re lucky, you have a knack for handling it. If not, best to stay away from it completely.”
She let her gaze wander over the pit. Two years in this place? And then what? Ivar had said he couldn’t give her an easy job to start—that his men would revolt if he skipped her “ahead in the ranks.” Just how many ranks were there? How many jobs stood between her and mining kaptum—assuming she was even capable of handling the capricious metal?