Deep Claim

by Elsa Jade

  Just as Fenn ignited the tracks with a deafening roar that filled the mouth of the cavern.

  She roared back, refusing to give in, but another note sang piercingly high above hers as the winch cable snapped from the strain. The line whipped savagely through the air, a vicious whistle, as she was thrown to the ground. But she was too focused on the teetering mass of the runabout.

  The back end of the vehicle hung suspended in the air. But where it had caught, the tread bit deep, gouging up chips of stone and smoking from somewhere within its mechanisms. Fenn fired off another strut, trying to wedge the runabout into the mouth of the tunnel as the tracks shrieked for a hold. Chunks of rock ripped away under the grappling struts, falling out of sight into the chasm.

  She couldn’t hold it, wasn’t strong enough—

  But she was never going to let empty air and gravity defeat her.

  One groping hand found the severed winch cable. Her fingers burned where friction had frayed the plasteel. The twist of sharp wires pricked deep, but she didn’t let go. With the winch tow in one hand and the harness line in the other, she hauled backward with all her strength and sheer stubbornness. Fenn needed just enough leverage for the runabout to seal its grip. Or he would fall into the chasm…

  She refused to let that image take hold. Only she would decide what she let take hold. The spinning treads matched her furious, shattering cry—

  And the runabout tipped forward into the shaft. The vehicle jolted forward as the track teeth caught and pounded forward. Muscles cramping with exhaustion, she tried to curl away, hands over her head, as the reinforced composite lunged toward her.

  But the composite teeth stopped just short of her bloody fingers, so close that the heat from the strained mechanism rolled over her anyway. She lay back with a groan and closed her eyes.

  “Jash!”

  More heat. Gentle fingers this time, framing her face. She let her lashes flutter open.

  Fenn stared down at her, his expression aghast and admiring. “I almost ran you over.”

  “Next time, I’ll drive.”

  “Next time we take the shuttle.”

  She closed her eyes again. “I’ve never been on a spaceship.”

  “I’ll take you. Where do you want to go?”

  “Like to start by sitting up.” With a long-suffering sigh, she looked up again. “But I seem to have turned to nutrient sludge.”

  Looping one arm behind her, he levered her carefully upright. “Oh, Jash,” he whispered. “What’ve you done?”

  “Saved your full-moon ass,” she noted. “The sleepers too.”

  “Your shoulders… The harness cut right through your coveralls.”

  She grimaced. Considering that the mine uniforms were tough enough to last through turns of crawling around sharp stone, that said something about her effort. “Get me up.”

  “You’re hurt—”

  “And will be worse if we don’t make it to the pickup before we are caught.” With what felt like her last erg of energy, she flung one arm behind his back. “Now up.”

  Grumbling under his breath, he lifted her to her feet. He freed her from the harness and held her steady while she locked her knees.

  She felt as bad as the runabout looked—battered, dusty, and still slightly smoking. “Step one,” she muttered. “A bit longer and harder than I expected. “

  “Boss says any fight where you walk away, you won.”

  “Ain’t walking,” she objected. “Matters more, is the runabout still rolling?”

  She hobbled beside him around the vehicle. The winch cable had severed close to the ledge above, which meant they still had most of the line, but they’d left behind most of the grappling apparatus to make room for the cryo-units. Maybe they could print something if they had the need and the time… She swallowed hard. They’d wasted far too much time. The treads had taken serious damage, but the tracks had held.

  Fenn swore. “The struts are vacced. I shouldn’t have fired them so hard, but I thought we were going to fall.”

  She shrugged her shoulder against his. “No more crawling down walls, I guess. Did you like it that much?”

  He grunted, not quite a laugh. “Good point. Shall we cut the weight then? Might move us a little faster.”

  But would it be enough?

  They ditched the broken struts and, after a quick discussion, the winch too. They wouldn’t have time to test the line that obviously had failed them once already.

  “So we run, light and fast,” he said. “We stay out of reach of trouble.”

  She squinted at him. “Never tried that before,” she admitted. “Does it usually work?”

  He huffed again, this time it was definitely more of a laugh.

  Which was not exactly the answer she’d been hoping for.

  The old tunnel was a drift cut, running at a moderate slope into the mountain. With only one route down, at least at the moment, Fenn set the runabout to autopilot and dragged her toward the bunk. “Strip,” he said.

  “I thought we were staying out of trouble.” She smirked at him.

  He shook his head. “You’re definitely trouble,” he scolded. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  Since she couldn’t reach the deep abrasions herself, he bent her over the bunk, the coveralls dangling low around her hips.

  She glanced back at him, fluttering her lashes more deliberately than when she’d nearly been passing out from exertion. “This seems dirty to me.”

  He tsked. “Don’t try to tempt me.” Breaking out the cleansing wipes, he turned back to her. “This is going to sting.”

  “It always does.” Balancing her chin on her stacked forearms, she gritted her teeth as he swiped out the dust and specks of shredded canvas out of the lacerations where the harness straps had dug in.

  “First you cracked your head when we crashed, now this.” His voice was low, sounding almost as beaten as her backside. “I’ve done a terrible job watching over you.”

  “Because you’re short,” she muttered into her wrist while he slathered the med gel sealant everywhere. “You got nothing over me.”

  He gave the upper curve of her butt a reproving smack to signal he was done. Done with his ministrations—and maybe done with her? She wouldn’t blame him, not when she’d done so much falling and bleeding on him. From the first time she’d tumbled off the mess hall table into his arms, he’d been trying to catch her, and all he’d gotten so far was nearly killed.

  She swayed as she turned to face him, partly because of the rough ride—the runabout tracks weren’t quite tracking right—partly exhaustion…and partly hoping he’d catch her again.

  Instead, he pointed at the bunk. “Up you go.”

  She wrinkled her nose. So much for falling into his arms. “You coming too?”

  “Someone has to drive, eventually. And you need to let that med gel finish setting.”

  A numbing chill had spread through her, as if all six of the cryoed sleepers were watching and judging her. How dare they, when she’d rescued them? Or at least half rescued them…

  It was just the analgesics in the gel. He’d used so much they probably didn’t have any left. “It’ll take care of itself,” she told him.

  He reached out to brush the back of his knuckles across her cheek. “How about, just this once, let me take care of you? Is that so hard?”

  Was it? She swayed again, leaning into his caress for just a heartbeat. “Wake me at the end of the shaft.”

  His smile flashed, deep and wicked. “No shafts here.”

  She clambered into the bunk, wishing he was next to her but still laughing.

  Chapter 12

  The black void of the tunnel ahead was illuminated only a meter ahead by the runabout’s running lights, but Fenn didn’t bother toggling the brighter floods. What was ahead didn’t matter since there was nowhere else to go.

  It was apt enough, though, considering it was how he’d lived his life—achingly aware of the downhill slide, resigne
d to rock falls and pitfalls, but unable to see any farther ahead than the meager visibility produced by his own headlong flight.

  Yeah, much too apt.

  Except even at his lowest moments, he’d never been responsible for anyone else’s fate. Through all his turns with Nazra he’d only been one of the crew, never in charge, never even really been left on his own, beyond the occasional guard duty. Even with the engine redlined past its top speed, thanks to losing all the extraneous weight, powering the forward lights, the darkness stayed oppressively close, dumping every single kilo behind him wouldn’t change the weight of the rock all around. The six anonymous hostages in the hold felt as ghostly as the memories of the family and life he’d left behind. And Jashanna…

  Ah, his bold and tender mining woman. She was like the essence and the danger of the deeps come to life, and who wouldn’t be enthralled by such a glory?

  One of the autumn feast days at home had roots in an ancient tale of a subterranean goddess who became enamored of a glowing youth who was the embodiment of spring, and she kept him imprisoned by her dark delights for half the year, only letting him rise when the world threatened to die without his light.

  Fenn had never liked the story. The metaphor seemed heavy-handed to him, an unfair condemnation of flighty, reckless young men so easily led astray by the aforementioned dark delights.

  And yes, he’d proved himself to be exactly that reckless young man, which meant only that he appreciated the story even less. Especially since he’d never quite understood why the winsome young man hadn’t chosen to stay with his dark queen.

  Annoyed with the distant memories when the threats were very now and real, he checked the map again. So far, the survey of holdings compiled post insurgence had proved accurate—cryo hostages aside—and the main tunnel was leading them to the open-air quarry.

  The quarry was centered in the col between two peaks where valuable minerals had settled in the depression. The hollow had been made deeper when miners a century ago had excavated down to bedrock. Even on a map, the sight of that exposed pit made him twitch. While the sensor interference bouncing around the surrounding ridges would provide some defense, they’d be vulnerable to visual sighting by anyone with sharp eyes.

  Despite that, there was no other way to go but through. Wasn’t that always the case?

  Restless, he pulled up the specs on the runabout’s fuel mixture, tweaked the ratios—efficiency wasn’t their main concern at the moment—and squeezed a little extra speed out of the trundling vehicle. The memory of Jashanna curled just beyond the treads made his stomach clench harder than the threat of the fall had done. If he’d been just a nanosecond slower…

  But he hadn’t. His restive impulses had their benefits.

  With the quarry nearing, he set the runabout back to autopilot and went to the small galley to warm up two beverage cubes. While they heated, he checked the indicators on the stasis units. While they’d been secured and cushioned much better than he and Jashanna during the various tumbles, the readings on the temp power were getting worrisome. There was a technique to reversing cryo, none of which they could offer here. This treasure was even more fragile and unstable than the qubition that had made Ydro-Down such a worthwhile holding.

  Since he couldn’t do anything about the casket batteries, he retrieved the beverage cubes and cracked them open to add an energy tab to both. Then he went to wake Jashanna.

  As far as he could tell, she hadn’t moved from when he’d laid her down on her belly to let the med gel harden. Her face was turned toward him, her lips softly parted on deep, even breaths, the directness of her gaze only partially softened by the black fan of her stubby lashes — behind that lush thicket, the motion of her eyes indicated some urgent dream. Was she falling into an abyss? Seeking the heights of orgasm? Whether good or bad, he couldn’t wait for her dream to end.

  Gently, he whispered her name. The faint hitch in her breath warned of her waking, but he leaned forward to brush his lips lightly over the full curve of her cheek, hoping the little gesture might at least sweeten her waking.

  Not a dark queen, but a woman of flesh and soul who deserved better than this frantic race through the bowels of a dead moon.

  When he straightened, her eyes were open, if still slightly heavy with sleep. And her smile held a sweetness with none of her usual fire, as if for the moment her defenses were as low as the charges on the runabout. “Where are we?” She murmured.

  “Buried alive under thousands of tons of dirt and danger,” he told her.

  She rolled to her side. “Oh good, I didn’t miss anything.” She rolled to her side and grimaced. “Ow. I wish I’d missed that.”

  He handed her the beverage cube. “Dinner. With energy tab and a painkiller for you.” When she took a breath, he scowled at her. “Don’t tell me you’re too tough. I already know you are.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I was just going to say thank you,” she complained. “Now I feel like I should’ve blustered a little more.”

  “I’ve seen what you can do,” he reminded her. “And if you said you didn’t need me, I would’ve believed you, and then where would we be?” When she drew another breath, he interrupted, “Don’t pout at me when you know I’m right.”

  “I was just begging for a kiss.” She pursed her lips a little plumper.

  He leaned forward to bestow the requested kiss, adding a slip of tongue and the lightest nip to her lower lip that made her breath catch.

  She made another little noise in the back of her throat as he straightened. “You taste sweet, like biri-biri.”

  “I found a pouch in the galley. Figured now was the time.” Since they might not have another.

  “Gavyn must’ve sneaked it in.” She took a drink and sighed. “That’s good.”

  He handed her the coveralls he’d taken while she slept. “Got most of the blood and dirt out.”

  She gave them a little shake. “Where’d the holes go?”

  “Didn’t have to steer, so I sewed.”

  Her eyes widened. “Mercs sew?”

  “I learned back home among the daughters. I hated it, swore it was one of the reasons I left. But when I joined Nazra, it was a skill Boss Kemet demanded from her crew, said it teaches serenity, finesse, and a tolerance for endless, miniscule aggravations.”

  She nodded. “That’s why I’m better with det cord than thread. But my friend Laly has the flair, and your stitches are almost as fine.”

  “My sisters would be shocked to hear it.” He held out his hand to help her down from the bunk and then steadied her while she dressed. “We’re closing on the exit to the quarry. Should we stop here to recon?”

  As she tugged the coveralls into place, she pursed her lips. “Can’t trust scans in these hills. All we can do is look out and hope for the best. I say we keep running, fast and light, like you said.”

  Knowing she was listening to him, relying on him…

  Watching her smooth the tough canvas over her hips, he swallowed hard. “Maybe we pause at the brink.”

  “Look before leaping?” She gave him her one-shoulder shrug. “So unexpected it just might work.”

  He returned to the cockpit to check their progress, and she joined him shortly thereafter with meal pouches in hand. “Used the last of the biri-biri for zest.” She leaned over the pilot chair to kiss him. “And because I like the way it tastes on you.”

  He licked his lips. “Like summer.”

  “That’s where you can take me, to a place with seasons.” Her gaze was raised to the void outside the viewport, and the glow of the running lights turned her dark eyes to the rich brown of living earth.

  His sisters would praise her strength and surety as much as they’d scorned the turmoil he’d inflicted on their lives. But what he’d learned of fighting would save her, the hostages, and Ydro-Down. Was that enough of a step in the redemption he sought for his crimes against the galaxy?

  As the exit to the quarry approached, they checked the
caskets again and secured what was left of their supplies. Jashanna primed the comm to capture any incoming signal, whether from base or from their attackers, while Fenn laid out their weaponry.

  She joined him in looking over the pitiful array. “There was a time—oh, about three nights ago—when I dreamed the fighting might be over.”

  Had she been dreaming the same when he woke her? He longed to ask, but why remind her when it wasn’t a dream that could come true? Not when Ydro-Down had the qubition vital to the entire galaxy—and a mortal enemy in Ming Waller.

  He handed her his secondary pistol. “Maybe you can shorten it with this.”

  “Short is right.” She turned the snub-nosed weapon in her hand with the tentative gesture of someone who avoided shooting things. “I’ll stick with my spanner.”

  When she handed it back, he shook his head. “Small makes it easier to carry, hide, and bring to bear. It has a decent AI assist even without a system connection so at least you won’t shoot yourself. Keep it. And hopefully you don’t need it.”

  “I’m a miner, not a merc.”

  “Did you tell Grey to stick with mining instead of mutiny?”

  Grimacing, she shifted her weight from one boot to the other, as if the sway of the runabout had worsened. “He didn’t even ask me until the fight was underway.”

  Fenn gazed at her. “Well, I’m asking you.”

  After another moment, she thrust the pistol into her pocket. “A spanner hurts, but this… It kills.”

  He considered the hitch in her voice. “Yes. QueCorp wouldn’t have a qualm.”

  “Like you didn’t?” She glared at him. “Maybe that’s why I do.”

  The broken edge to her tone was fear and disgust of what might happen, not of him—he knew that. But it hit him harder than a strike from the spanner and the pistol together. The ship that had shot at them, whoever had taken the hostages to begin with—those crews were just better organized versions of the gang he’d joined, just the crueler mirror of Nazra. He couldn’t claim any moral high ground, not when he’d burned out his brain to avoid confronting his mistakes in his heart even while he paid for them with his body.