Deep Claim

by Elsa Jade

  “I checked them, and they’re fine. Temp power packs are holding.” He seemed to focus on his hands. “This? This is all from you.” He let out a shuddering breath. “I thought you were dead.”

  She touched her forehead where the slick line of med gel had hardened, sealing off the cut underneath. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Head wounds bleed a lot.”

  He glared at her. “You think I don’t know that?” He wadded the bloody rag into a ball and threw it on the floor with a muttered curse she couldn’t decipher and pushed to his feet to stomp away.

  With her sore head, she couldn’t twist all the way around. “Don’t run away now,” she complained. “Just because I crashed the runabout and almost killed us and probably doomed us to an unmarked grave here in the depths.”

  He returned with a beverage cube, open and fizzing with the sparkly scent of an energy tab. “Here,” he said gruffly. “This is my fault. I should’ve brought better armament and weaponry. You hired Nazra to protect you, and I didn’t. Ask Kemet for a discount.”

  She choked on the sweetened drink. “For a disc… Vac it, I’m not worth some percentage by carcass weight. I’m all or nothing, merc.”

  He stared at her, a strange brightness swirling in his tarnished eyes, like flares of precious metal in the dust. “All,” he whispered.

  He loomed over her, his stance and the tension in his wiry body making him seem bigger than he really was. “If you’ll give it to me.”

  “Give…” She blinked at him. As his hand rose to hover beside her cheek, her body caught on before her rattled brain made sense. “Ah. Fenn, no.”

  He froze, his fingertips just beyond the curve of her cheekbone, so close she swore she felt the charged subatomic particles jumping between them. “No? But I thought…”

  “Share,” she corrected. “Not give. Or take. Share.”

  When she tilted her head delicately into the cup of his palm, the breath left him as explosively as another laser round in the rock, as if something had cracked open within him. “Oh,” he breathed. “Yes, share. But I don’t know…how, how much. I’ve never…”

  Reaching over to touch the seam of the tough fabric down his thigh, she traced her fingers downward to wrap behind his knee. With little tug, she had him straddling her. Just as well her safety harness was still engaged or she might’ve done more.

  “How much is up to you. And me. Together.” She rested her hands on his hips and leaned her head back against the cushion with a sigh. “It’s like following a vein of Q.” She closed her eyes. “Gotta go delicately, have the touch. Too hard, too fast and it might blow.”

  “That doesn’t sound…all bad.” His breath feathered warmly across his lips, and she smiled.

  He was close, so close. The small hairs at her nape prickled in anticipation. This was almost as good as a Q payday. “That vein, might be deep and wide, might be tricky and disappear on us. We see how far it goes. But, really, any little bit makes the worlds turn.”

  When his lips brushed hers, light as a photon and piercing as a laser, she forced herself not to groan again, in yearning this time as pleasure rushed through her. He was new to this. No, more than that, he’d rejected it, feared his feelings enough to burn his brain. But they’d almost died, after discovering that chamber of slumbering pseudo-corpses, so of course they needed this stolen moment of life.

  And if her fingers flexed a bit on his narrow hips… Well, she wasn’t made of stone.

  Hesitant at first, he kissed his way in an arc across her mouth, growing bolder on the return pass over her lower lip. He sucked the plump flesh between his teeth and nipped lightly.

  Unable to help herself, she bucked her hips up into him, and even the confines of the harness couldn’t keep her entirely still. “I thought you said you’ve never done this,” she gasped.

  “Not with anyone else. I’ve seen… I wondered…”

  “Dreamed?”

  Fenn shook his head, the denial brushing his lips across hers with extra friction. “Afraid to do that,” he admitted. “I thought it would trap me to one person, one planet, one future.”

  He’d sacrificed his feelings for his freedom. She dug her fingers a little harder into his hips. When Gavyn had told her of the imminent rebellion, warning that she would be risking her life, she’d thrown herself into the fray wholeheartedly. But what if he’d told her she’d be risking that heart? Would she have let herself become an assassin like Ahmya or a mercenary like Fenn if it meant losing the very thing she loved to save it?

  She traced her tongue over the swollen curve of his upper lip even as she forced herself to release her grasp. Not so long ago, he’d been wormy, and then he’d been staring down the barrel of a laser cannon. Yeah, she had her thirsts that she never hesitated to quench, but not at the expense of the tender new growth of who he could be if he ever let go of his past and his guilt. She might only be a hardrock rebel with a single payday under her belt, but she could grant him that freedom at least.

  After one more lingering kiss, she released the buckle on her harness and stood up. For a moment, his thighs, still clamped around her, held tight. Then, with a sigh of his own, he let her go and slid to his boots in a faint puff of dust.

  The loss of his weigh and the pressure of him against her belly almost made her stagger, as if she’d taken a swing with her pickax and somehow missed the wall. A whiff heavy with the metallic tang of Q dust teased her nostrils. Maybe she was a little wormy after all.

  “We can’t do this,” she said softly. “This isn’t the time.”

  Fleetingly, he pressed his knuckles to his mouth—erasing their kiss, or holding it in? Then he cleared his throat. “Right. We have to get that message to the Nazra. It’s not just you and me and the sleepers. They need to know someone sneaked through the planetoid defenses.”

  “But you scared off that ship,” she said.

  He shook his head. “They’ll be back. Once they realize we stole the hostages, they’ll come screaming back. We did all their hard work hauling out the caskets, and they’ll want to neutralize the immediate threat—us—before they make their escape.”

  She wanted to argue that they’d won this little battle, but even though she had been known to beat her head against solid rock more than once, they didn’t have time for that right now.

  Threading her way through the crowded hold, she wrestled with the hatch. One of the strut mechanisms was bent, but she was annoyed enough to make it work. With a resentful squeal, the hatch released. The stink of scorched stone rushing in made her cough.

  “High particulates,” Fenn noted, his voice muffled.

  She wrinkled her nose and glared at him through his mask—that she’d told him to have at all times. “See what you can do about getting a signal out while I check the runabout.”

  Yanking her own air filter over her face, she hopped out of the vehicle. As he’d noted, they’d landed upright, which was something at least.

  She craned her neck to look up the slope they’d tumbled down. She swallowed hard. It was steep, steeper than she’d guessed as she’d trundled over it, fleeing from the attacking ship. The jagged rock and the interference, worsened by the dust, would’ve hidden them well for any overhead surveillance, but also made escape more difficult. Her head pounded with a mix of pain and vertigo.

  And some other strange feeling. Loneliness, she realized. She’d been sent off by herself to work once or twice, had even come this far when she fixed the relay station the last time. But knowing no one knew where she was or what had become of her… All her life she’d been connected to the other miners, via comm if nothing else. Now it was just her and that open sky so far above.

  A clang from the runabout brought her whirling gaze down from the peak. Her and the sky and six semi-frozen hostages, of course. Plus Fenn, right there, and that was reassurance and frustration rolled into one enigmatic, tarnished silver package.

  She forced herself back to the inspection. The runabout was made for heavy
labor under harsh conditions and, with the exception of a few new dents and scratches, looked intact. The heavy treads were all on solid ground, but when she eyed the pitch, her breath hitched again.

  As if he’d sensed her despair, Fenn appeared in the open hatch. “No chance of a signal from here, but we already knew that. It’s possible we could launch a beacon, grab the Nazra’s attention. But I’d want to be higher before we try that. Preferably someplace where we could also shelter from that other ship.”

  She grimaced. “That ship may not have pinged us yet, but they have to know we haven’t gone far. If we make it to the ridge here, chances are they’ll be waiting, and they’ll pick us off before we can send up the flare.”

  He nodded. “Best bet would be to get some distance.” He jumped down from the runabout and joined her in staring at the big machine. “How far can it take us?”

  “We can traverse this, no problem.” She angled her hand to show him the lay of the mountain. “Make it to that berm there, with a bit of white-knuckled steering. That vein”—she traced her line finger along a darker line in the rock—“contains a magnetite isotope. Not worth much but plays havoc with sensors. It’ll disguise our presence, at least until we climb above it.”

  He angled his gaze to her. “Is there anything you don’t know about this place?”

  “Why people can’t just leave us alone,” she grumbled. Then she shook her head. “I know it’s the Q’s fault. And I can’t even hate it. Yeah, it’s the thing that kept us captive, but it’s the only thing that will make Ydro-Down our home.”

  “It’s the mirror of having everything, so you think you can’t ask for what you really want.”

  She squinted at him. “That…doesn’t seem at all the same.”

  “It is when it buries you alive.”

  After a moment, she lifted one shoulder in concession. “I guess that’s why we carry det cord and grenades.”

  After a moment of his own, he laughed and put his hand on her shoulder. “Not sure that’ll break us free, but at least we’ll have a chance.”

  With her inspection complete, they buckled into the cockpit again, and Jashanna aimed at the heights. As she gripped the controls, her fingers trembled. She paused after igniting the engine to shake out her hands.

  Fenn touched her arm again. “Got this.”

  Did she? Did they? Their situation was more precarious than one deadly steep hillside. She brushed her knuckles across his where he held her arm and then returned her grip to controls. “I’ll try not to roll us. Again.”

  “At least not in the runabout.” The corner of his mouth curled in just the faintest wicked grin, and she blinked. Well, she’d said he was a fast learner.

  She eased the runabout out of the divot where they’d landed, aiming for the flatter surface of the berm above them. Ydro-Down was a planetoid crudely assembled from the uncaring forces of a rough galaxy—accretion, tectonics, geothermals, the strange, mercurial energies of qubition itself.

  And of course centuries of abuse by QueCorp. The same jagged, tortured environment that made the mining moon so dangerous also made it relatively simple to get around—mountains for anchoring, cave systems for access, pathways twisting and hard but there for anyone who dared. Just as she’d joined Gavyn’s revolution without hesitation, she’d always faced the challenges of her world bravely. But for some reason, now, the specter of death lurked in every shadow and winked at her with every glint of refractive mineral in the rock.

  It was full dark and they still hadn’t reached the berm. Her head pounded as if they were continuously rolling down the hill as she strained to peer out the front court, struggling to find the possible routes that wouldn’t crumble beneath them. It felt as if they’d been traveling forever when Fenn put his hand over hers again.

  “Stop,” he said softly. “It’s too dark to see.”

  Shaking him off, she passed one hand across her eyes. When was the last time she’d blinked? “We can’t stop here. It’s too exposed. And this is the best time to move since the shuttle can’t use sensors and won’t be able to see us in the dark either.”

  “Fine. I’ll scout ahead. You follow.”

  “Fenn—”

  “It’s what you hired me to do,” he reminded her.

  She couldn’t do this alone. She couldn’t hold the runabout to the mountain with sheer grit. Giving him a curt nod, she slowed the runabout to a halt. With breather in place, he jumped out the hatch, and she lost sight of him until he took a position at the front. Through the view screen, he looked so small against the hard darkness. With his lume stick on its lowest setting, he looked like a Q ghost, haunting the hills.

  She reminded herself that she didn’t believe in ghosts. All the evils she’d ever known had been done by people. The dead, she had to believe, wanted nothing more than to sleep.

  Meanwhile, the sleepers in the hold behind her likely had no choice in the matter. And her pain and exhaustion, bad as it was, would have nothing on theirs. Narrowing her focus to ghost Fenn and his meager light, she continued on through the night. Never mind the frigid heights above or the deadly tumble below, never mind the riches of ore hidden deeper than that, all that mattered, was following Fenn to someplace they could hide and get their message out.

  Despite their agonizingly slow pace, when he halted and turned to face her with his palm out, she nearly ran him over, her muscles too stiff and sore to respond to her commands. She cursed under her breath and had an apology ready on her lips as he strode into the cockpit.

  He pushed back his filter. “We’re here.”

  She stared at him numbly. “Here? Where?”

  Without answering, he strode to her seat and reached past her to put the runabout in neutral. She watched unmoving as he powered down and locked the treads. It wasn’t until he unfastened her harness that she stirred.

  “We’re in an alcove here,” he told her. “Protected from above, good footing even if the wind blows. The sun will be coming up soon and we can hide here, but I think we’re close enough to the ridgeline to send up a flare.”

  She let out a harsh breath that felt as stale as if she’d been holding it since he left runabout. The scent of raw stone and the chill of night rolled off him, and she shivered. “You must be half frozen.”

  “The Nazra uniforms are all-purpose. I’ll be fine.” He took her hands, clenched in her lap, and eased her fingers open.

  As he unfurled each stiffened joint, she hissed. He must’ve been wearing gloves, because his skin was warm and soothing on hers.

  She pressed back in the chair. “I’m fine too,” she insisted. “We need to get out there and send up that flare.”

  He shook his head. “It’s pitch black and the temperature is dropping. Anything we do that generates heat or light is a chance for that ship to catch us. Powered down, with interference around us, we’re good for the night. I have a drone, smaller than my fist, practically invisible when it’s running in solar mode. At first light, I’ll send it up, and it’s signal should be strong enough to reach the Nazra.” He gave her an enigmatic look. “Take this chance to rest.”

  She let out another breath, softer this time. Rest? When was the last time she’d done that? She spent her whole life bashing rock and then a much shorter but more intense period battling QueCorp, and so far a shorter and somehow even harder time trying to dig out from the rubble of bashing and battling. “Rest,” she murmured. “You mean sleep like those helpless hostages in the deeps?”

  He’d still been kneading her sore hands, but now he gently rolled her fingers around the outside of his fist, as if he was molding her around him. “Maybe,” he murmured, “maybe you don’t need to be strong right now. You brought us this far, and our hunters can’t find us, at least for now. Maybe you can lay down the load, just for a little while.”

  Even as she closed her eyes, she answered, “I’m not weak.” Although she had to admit, the denial sounded a little breathless. She tightened her hands over his. “And
if I was, who would pick up the slack?”

  “Maybe me?” With his fists inside hers, he drew her to her feet as if she was hitched to him.

  “You?” She meant it to sound like a scoff, but it sounded more like a sigh.

  “Don’t laugh,” he chided. “Let me prove it to you.”

  She didn’t go slack, but she didn’t really help him either as he guided her back to the bed. “Just a few hours,” she mumbled. “Then back to work.”

  He lifted her into the bunk when she fumbled, and she rolled to her back with a grunt of thanks.

  She stared up at the ceiling. For all the time she’d spent in tight tunnels, it seemed too close. “Too small,” she whispered. “Smaller than a stasis unit. Like a grave.”

  “You’re fine,” he said, running a gentle hand over her brow where she’d bumped her head. She wasn’t sure if he was echoing the words she’d said to him or reassuring her. Maybe both. “We’re alone, safe. Sleep easy, and I’ll wake you in the morning.”

  But when he straightened to take a step back, she reached up to tangle her fingers through his, preventing his escape. “Stay,” she murmured. “Since we’re stuck until light, will you stay?”

  His fingers tightened around hers. “I thought you said it was already too small.”

  “Small is cozy with the right person.” She smiled at him.

  The corner of his mouth quirked again in that sexy, almost wicked way of his. “Nice spin. You’re wasted on bashing rock. You should be in sales for Ydro-Down.”

  “I’m not trying to sell you anything,” she countered. “Sharing only, remember?”

  The smile faded from his lips, but the silver in his eyes seemed to brighten. “I remember,” he murmured. “It is getting colder…”

  “Colder, and no one can find us,” she said solemnly. “This is a good place to hide.”

  He nodded slowly, as if she’d said something brilliant, the whole time shedding the outer layers of his merc fatigues.

  Under all the tough, matte black material, he was still built like a successful ag planet native—well boned and grown out from generations of proper nutrition—but with the sleek, diligently honed muscles of someone who made their living on the darker edges of the Rim. And yet… There was still that soft overlay of flesh that hinted of the life he might’ve known, with nu-soy and children and programming the weather regulator for a gentle light rain. Instead, he was hunkered down here, on the edge of violence and death and rock, with her.