by Elsa Jade
Jashanna reached across the gap between their seats and laced her fingers gently through his. The width and warmth of her big hand somehow seemed to engulf him all. Her brown eyes were steady and serious. “Are you wormy again?”
The laugh burst out of him from someplace he thought was burned out even before the procedure. “No. Just…refining my thinking, maybe.”
She gave his hand a squeeze and let him go. “Yeah. Being out here will do that to you. This is pure. This is where you can’t be anything but yourself.”
He curled his fingers inwards to hold onto the lingering sensation of her touch. He stared up at the peaks that seemed to reach up higher than the thin atmosphere, piercing holes in the sky. “I wish I’d figured that out without fighting so hard that I poisoned everything good along the way.”
Jashanna’s gaze rested on him with compassion but not absolution. “I guess you’re fighting to make it right the same way Ydro-Down is fighting to stay alive. Dig deep. Find what matters. Use it for good.”
His jaw tightened with the stupid, stubborn defiance that had gotten him exiled. Why couldn’t he listen when he knew she was right?
Because burning out his brain had been easier than admitting his mistakes.
“I just wanted to be who I was,” he said stiffly.
She gave him that one-shouldered shrug that made him want to grab both her arms. “Well, you are now, so…” She left the challenge hanging there like ribbons of slicing metal in the whirling wind.
He glared at her. “You’re not going to leave me any wiggle room?”
“Plenty of room out there. I can toss you out again, if you like.”
He thumped back in his seat with a grunt. “And here I said you were soft and sweet.”
Her laugh rang out in the cockpit. “Nobody’s ever said that about me. Not even when I shared my sunshine.”
He’d known there was no way back, and he’d joined Nazra company fully intending to die somewhere on the Rim. But maybe now he could see through the thin, dusty atmosphere that there might be another way forward.
Chapter 7
As they climbed into the foothills of the Sultanas, the runabout engine began to strain, but just as Jashanna was about to suggest that they might need to get out and push, Fenn tapped the screen. “No ping from the relay,” he reported. “But we’re getting a reading from just ahead.”
“It’s the service station. The relay is higher up on the ridge, but the station is lower to avoid the worst of the storm winds.”
Fenn wrinkled his nose. “I’d hate to see worse.”
Steering in the direction he pointed, she nestled the runabout up close to the station hatch and checked the sensors. “Air is good at the moment,” she reported. “Low particulates and suitable oxygen-nitrogen mix.” She glanced at him. “Bring your breather though. Always.”
As he pulled on his dusty boots, she averted her gaze from his narrow, delicate feet. Really, she didn’t mind that he’d apparently been assigned female at birth, but maybe she should’ve at least noticed enough to ask if she was using the right pronouns.
As hard as she hacked through life, she could go easy too, when she wanted.
But Fenn Alexos had her questioning whether she needed her ax or her whistle. Maybe some combination of the two? What would that be, a whax?
Grumbling at her pointless preoccupation, she swung down from the runabout and sucked in a deep lungful of air. The fitful breeze was still scented with the mineral tang of the earlier dust storm.
“Is that a good idea?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “What, breathing?”
“You said it was low particulates, not no particulates.”
She shrugged. “When everything is trying to kill you, a little dust just doesn’t seem that menacing.”
Fenn jumped down beside her. Beyond his gender expression, it was hard to think of him as “the merc” now that he’d confessed some of his sins. She’d always had a soft spot in her head for bad boys and worse girls. And she couldn’t even blame chronic Q exposure for that weakness, not when she indulged it so happily.
But as they made their way to the station, she frowned to herself. Her appetites hadn’t mattered when she was just a miner, digging her own early grave. Now that they could make their own choices, Gavyn expected them to make good choices. And consorting with a mysterious and mystifying mercenary was probably not that.
Just as well that he’d explained he didn’t want the same as her—couldn’t want anything. Even if part of her was tempted to dig deeper, to see if some surgical bot’s knife could cut out human hungers once they’d been aroused. Because all of human history seemed awash in irresistible hungers. And what Fenn Alexos seemed to most want was to not want. How had that ever worked out for humanity?
Right now want meant nothing. They needed to find the glitch in the relay and get back to work. Since work was all she’d ever known, there was a certain comfort in the clarity.
They circled the station once, doing a visual inspection. Although the hut looked more weathered than she remembered from the last time she’d been here—not surprising considering the harshness of Ydro-Down—at least it was still standing. Although if the hut had blown away, that would’ve at least been a clear indication of the trouble.
The lock wasn’t electronic, rather an old physical tumbler type, and Fenn raised an eyebrow.
“Electronics fail, which is why we’re here,” she reminded him. “A big strong tumbler never does.”
“Easier to pick a lock like this,” he warned.
“Only if you know the trick.” She flashed a grin at him. “Do you?”
That tarnished silvery gaze rested on her a long moment with a sizzling charge that would’ve scrambled any electronic lock. “Been awhile. Might need a lesson or two.”
Hoo. Just as well she was the big strong type herself.
The door opened without the faint pop she was expecting, and she frowned. If the airtight seals had failed, even a little, enough dust could have sneaked in to gum up the works or build up an electrical field to short the connections. A system-wide problem like that would take more time and effort to fix. Grumbling to herself, she took a half step forward —
And was halted with one boot raised, Fenn’s firm hand on her shoulder.
He’d caught her once when she fell off the mess hall table, but she’d told herself he’d just made clever use of her own weight and momentum. This time, he used nothing but his own power to stop her.
It was…a new feeling.
“I go first.” His voice was soft and unwavering.
Jashanna slanted a glance at him. “Why?”
“The signal was out. The door was breached. There are scuff marks in the sand at the threshold.”
In consternation, she glanced down. His grip still held her with one boot awkwardly suspended. But underneath, helixes of sand seemed to form an echo of her footprint. Had that been her, or…? “Maybe it was just the wind.”
“It’s never just the wind.” He gave a gentle tug that nevertheless moved her backward and placed him directly in the doorway.
She wasn’t going to protest, not with that suspicious mark on the floor. After all, she was the miner and he was the merc.
Pistol in hand, he slipped past her into the interior of the hut. The brush of his body against hers sent a tingle through her that should’ve been pleasurable, considering the casual flirtation in the runabout. Instead the touch sent only a chill across her skin. Compact, deadly, with a matte metallic sheen—man and weapon were too alike for her peace of mind. Even the oversized riot rifles that the guards brandished, mostly for intimidation, hadn’t triggered the same alarm in her. Maybe because none of the guards had looked as frighteningly competent as her merc.
Why hadn’t she brought a weapon besides her fists? How was she supposed to back him up if he was in danger?
Shrugging the carryall off her shoulder, she quickly rifled through it for her biggest spanne
r. It would crush a skull, although she’d have to get close enough to do it.
Fear clogged in her throat, thicker than blood. The coppery tang of blood choked her. She’d bitten her lip. She stood frozen in the doorway, neither in nor out, painfully aware that she’d made herself a big, stupid target but unable to force her muscles to move, vac it, move.
Would there ever come a time when Ydro-Down wasn’t tinged with blood?
Before she could force herself forward, Fenn returned. “Nothing here,” he reported. “No power either.”
Shame rushed through her, more nauseating than the blood. “Of course there was no one here,” she blustered. “Gavyn is just paranoid. And apparently so are you. We’re free. We’re safe.”
Fenn gave her a steady look. “None of those are mutually exclusive.”
Blustering more, she pushed past him into the hut.
It seemed smaller inside than she remembered, although last time she’d done the work alone since QueCorp hadn’t cared about her safety any more than it cared about her freedom. Fenn’s silent presence as she scanned the dead comm panel grated at her already raw nerves. “Can you go look for invaders outside?” she snapped. “I’m trying to work here.”
He gave her another look. “That is your job,” he said mildly. “Just like going in first is mine.”
Was he excusing her cowardice? With steely resolve, she focused on the failure with the relay.
Her own failures would have to wait.
It wasn’t long before the mystery of the dead relay distracted her from her embarrassment. When Scraff had originally sent her to the site of the abandoned test dig to set up the relay station, the overseer had been as obtuse and cruel as usual, refusing to tell her why she was doing the work but threatening dire consequences if she failed. But she remembered this particular task because for once, where she usually had to make do with secondhand and repurposed materials, Scraff had given her more than sufficient resources to wire and power the station. Of course she pocketed the extra materials, for secret use among the miners, but she’d done a quality job and it shouldn’t have failed—at least not so utterly—even under the harsh conditions of Ydro-Down.
Grumbling to herself, she checked all the systems and connections, but found no obvious damage or error. “There’s nothing wrong,” she complained. “Everything is properly queued, intact.” She shook her head. “There’s no reason we’re not getting a signal.”
“Is the power on?”
For a heartbeat, she glared at the innards of the panel she’d disassembled. Then, she glared at Fenn. “Of course it has power.”
He shrugged. “You said you had to power down the runabout during the dust storm to prevent the intakes from clogging. And there’s been a lot of storms recently, Grey said.”
“The station is sealed to prevent any contamination.”
He gestured silently at the dust at the entry.
If the broken seal—whether from age and strain or deliberate invasion—had allowed enough dust to enter the hut, the static charge might’ve triggered a protective shutdown. It should’ve reengaged after the charge cleared, but if the incursion had been severe enough, or lasted too long, the automatic restart might’ve gone off-line itself.
On Ydro-Down, she’d learned nothing was ever trash, but sometimes when things broke bad enough, they just needed a little extra care to turn on again.
With more grumbling, she returned to the main panel. Just as she’d noted before, all the systems and connections were a go. But the initiating charge was dead.
She nodded at Fenn. “You learn fast,” she granted.
“That or die.” He shrugged. “Can you fix it?”
“I’ll have to print a new switch since this one is burned out. But the runabout has a suitable printer on board. Just take a little time, is all.”
He stood at her shoulder, staring at the switch. “What caused the problem?”
“Dust,” she confirmed. “Just as you guessed.”
“And where’d the dust come from?” He tilted his head, his eyes half shuttered. “Everything has a cause, a start.”
True enough. She’d seen how the miners had wallowed in fear and resentment—loath to risk what little they had grasping after something they couldn’t trust—until finally, finally Scraff’s threats to harm the children being held in stasis to ensure good behavior roused them past the breaking point. Then the miners could take no more and joined together in revolution. “There’s always a spark.”
“So how did the dust get in?”
She shrugged. “I told you, it can show up in some pretty sensitive places.” She glanced around. “But if you think someone came here, who? Why?”
“Apparently they meant no damage to this station, since you found everything intact.” He shook his head. “But they didn’t leave any evidence which makes me think they didn’t want anyone to know they’d been here.”
“There’s nothing even here, really,” she said. “The test dig went nowhere, and the only reason the station stayed was to serve as a relay for the planetary comm.”
“Are we sure the dig went nowhere?”
“QueCorp never ignored a resource,” she told him. “If they’d found Q, we’d be digging here too.”
“Maybe not Q, but there are other valuables.”
“Not this far out on Ydro-Down.” She pushed her feet. “Let me start the printer working on the switch. I’ll show you what a dig looks like.”
The entrance to the exploratory dig was just down slope from the hut and marked with another hatch over the opened shaft.
Fenn studied the heavy black composite door. “Lot of security for a dig that found nothing of value.”
“QueCorp was always greedy even when there wasn’t anything to have. Just because it wasn’t theirs or didn’t exist, didn’t stop them from claiming it.”
“E-lock on this instead of tumbler?”
“Since there was nothing here, didn’t think it mattered much.” When they paused at the door, she frowned at the access panel. “Gavyn reset all the codes to public. He said that there’s nothing on Ydro-Down that doesn’t belong to all of us. Not sure why this one is still defaulting to locked.”
“Maybe because the power was out?”
“But Gavyn reset the codes before we lost the signal to the station. The hatch should’ve switched to the new code before the power went out.”
“Obviously it didn’t get the message from the almighty Gavyn Grey.”
She slanted an amused glance at him. “He fought off armed guards and a vicious overseer to steal an entire planet from QueCorp. I’d think a merc would appreciate the boldness.”
“That makes him a good fighter and a good thief, not a Q-powered godling.”
She laughed. “Gavyn is the last man on the station to consider himself a god.”
Fenn gave a sullen little shrug. “Just seems like you’d do anything for him. Being a follower won’t save you when a plasma cannon goes right through steel.”
She arched one eyebrow. “You should know.”
“I do,” he said grimly. “Which is why I’m warning you.”
“Even I don’t think I can stop a plasma cannon.” She jacked her tab into the panel and tapped the screen.
With a hiss, the hatch released. She smirked at him.
He shook his head. “How did you get QueCorp’s master codes?”
“Didn’t,” she said smugly. “When I did the work out here I added my own code. Followers know the value of having a back way for when it gets too crowded out front.”
Since her tester indicated higher levels of toxic vapors, they donned their breathing gear before entering. She had her lume stick out, but to her surprise, motion-activated lights flickered on at their approach. None of the diodes were missing or burned out as was typical for the rest of the outpost.
Fenn ran one gloved hand across the wall. “Seems smooth for an exploratory dig.”
She frowned. “Yeah.” She ang
led her tab toward him. “See? Map shows only a dozen pin shafts where they were chasing down possible veins of Q.” She looked ahead into the darkness. “Way too much vapor to be coming from pinholes.”
She stepped forward, and the next light flickered on.
Fenn balked. “We should send a crawler or drone.”
She grimaced at him. “Tech is expensive,” she groused. “This is what followers are for.”
“Jash—”
She plunged ahead. The lights kept going on ahead of her so she kept going. “Look. There are the pinholes. But the dig keeps going.”
“And we shouldn’t.”
“What happened to your yearning for adventure?”
“Burned out of my brain.”
That stopped her. She pivoted toward him. “Didn’t mean it as a slam,” she apologized. “Just wondering what’s down here. Gavyn and Rio have been re-mapping all the deeps to find out what we actually have, but we didn’t think there was anything here worth mapping.” She chewed her lip. “Maybe you’re right. We should get a crawler or at least a couple more bodies. Going deep by ourselves is a bad idea.”
Fenn stepped past her, triggering the next light.
She jolted after him. “Hey. I thought you wanted to wait.”
“My thrill-seeking impulses might’ve been eradicated, but my affinity for bad ideas remains.” He took another step into another pool of light. “Whatever unknown awaits, we should uncover it immediately.”
She hurried after him. “I’m sure that’s true of, say, toxic gas pockets and tripwires, but not of surprise parties,” she argued.
He paused. “You had surprise parties on a penal mine colony?”
“We were indentured labor, with no hope of paying our debts, but we took our little pleasures where we could.”
His tarnished silver gaze flicked her. “Little pleasures? Like surprise parties.”
She eyed him back. “Just saying not all surprises are bad.”