by J. N. Chaney
“Gods, Flint! What does this… I mean… how could a…?”
“What’s a starship doing buried in the ground all the way down here? Your guess is as good as mine, Rach.”
“And with artifacts in it?” She paused. “You don’t think this ship—”
“I don’t think anything right now,” I replied, cutting her off. “Not until we get a scan of this thing and try to figure out what we’re actually looking at.”
For her part, Rachel sounded extremely interested in the presence of a starship down here. Granted, so was I. It was strange—absurd even. But the tone in Rachel’s voice made me believe that she was extra excited. Like she’d been hunting starships for a while and this was her first successful find.
I looked at the kid. “Monty, did you try and break through any of those other panels?”
He nodded so forcefully that his mask slid around on his face a little. “But I couldn’t get any of them to budge, not like that left side did.”
“My guess is that those are storage lockers built into the side of the hull, maybe along a bulkhead. It’s hard to say.”
“So…” Monty said, “you’re saying there’s an entire starship right there?” He pointed at the hole.
“I don’t know, kid. Maybe it crashed and this is just a piece. For all we know, it crashed here a thousand years ago and this spot used to be on the surface.”
“Or maybe it got dragged down here,” Monty said, his voice turning to a whisper.
I shined my light in his face. “What’d you say?”
“The monsters of the deep,” he said, as if reciting a line from a horrific bedtime story. He blocked my beam with his hand. “They’re what made all the tunnels.”
“Monsters,” I repeated, unconvinced.
Monty nodded. “I never believed any of the elders. Mrs. Boneshaw mumbles about them all the time. But she’s convinced these tubes weren’t made by lava… they were made by the creatures that once lived down here.”
How was someone supposed to respond to conjecture like that? I’d seen some pretty crazy-ass stuff in my day. But monsters who bored giant tunnels in a planet made of solid mineral deposits? I tended to agree with Monty—no way.
“We won’t know anything more until we scan it,” I said at last. “But, for now, we need to get these four artifacts back to the ship.”
“You think it’s safe if I keep digging through it?” Monty asked.
“Safe?” I looked back toward the hole as Rachel climbed out. “Hard to say, kid. There could be a container of one thing or another on the other side of any of those panels. One nick and kaboom. Plus, we have no idea how old that thing is. The fact that you’re not dead already seems cause enough for mild celebration. Like I said, let’s run a scan and have Lars—”
“Hey! Who’s down there?” shouted a voice from the tunnel’s mouth.
“Overseers!” Monty yelled. “Hide!”
But there was nowhere to hide. I glanced down at the artifacts on the ground. A beam of light was moving toward us, and there was no way we’d be able to get the devices back into the opening in time without betraying the existence of Monty’s find. Rachel tried shoving the rock back over the hole, but the overseer appeared before she was done.
“Well, what in Orion’s asshole do we have here?” the man asked through the external speaker on his mask.
“How dare you question me,” I said, stalking out of the low-ceilinged tunnel toward him, hand reaching around my back for my RP11. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
“I don’t care who you are,” said the overseer. “You’re doing something shady, and… Hold on. What are those?”
Monty tried to use his body to cover the artifacts, but the kid was too skinny, and Rachel wasn’t in a place to assist him, having just finished moving the rock. I felt my hand tighten around the pistol’s handle. I’d have to do this fast. And then we’d need to run—the gun’s report would echo down here for days.
“And where did you find them?” The overseer eyed me suspiciously.
Godsdammit, we’re blown. And this guy knew it too.
The overseer raised his shock rod toward me with one hand and tapped his ear with a finger. “Broogman to base, I’ve got—”
The man never finished the call. A shovel came down on the man’s head so hard that he dropped like a sack of flour and collapsed on the floor. But he wasn’t simply knocked out—the shovel had struck him at an oblique angle, the side of which sank at least three centimeters into his skull. There, standing behind him, was an old woman with a wooden cane resting against her hip.
“Been wanting to do that for forty years,” she said from inside her own mask.
“Mrs. Boneshaw,” Monty exclaimed. “You…” The kid looked at the body and the blood pouring from the overseer’s fatal head wound. “You’re going to be in so much trouble for that!”
“Not as much trouble as you’re going to be in for discovering all those trinkets,” she said, pointing her cane at the artifacts behind his back. “Tapped into your channel and heard the whole thing. But by the sounds of it, you have yourself some friends who seem to have all our best interests in mind.”
“Yes… yes, they do, Mrs Boneshaw.”
“Then it seems we best get a move on. This dim-witted toad of a monster’s ball sack won’t stay hidden for long.”
“Mrs. Boneshaw, your language—”
“Don’t you tell me what I can and can’t say, runt. Might I remind you of what happened last time—”
“I got it, I got it,” Monty said, slipping around me. “They’ll be coming to investigate his call any minute.”
“Which means we’ve got to hide the body,” Rachel said, also moving out of the tunnel.
“I have just the place,” said Mrs. Boneshaw. “Then we need to get out of here.”
“We need to get all of you out of here,” I replied.
15
“Damn, this guy ate too much,” I said, hands slung under the dead overseer’s bare armpits. I could only imagine the amount of times I’d need to wash my hands to get the smell off. Monty and I shuffled down the main tunnel, carrying the corpse toward a maintenance shed about a hundred meters away. Rachel cradled the artifacts in her arms while Mrs. Boneshaw led the way with a flashlight.
“So what’s your story, lady?” I asked the old woman.
“Been down here since the beginning of time,” she replied, casting me a wry old smile. “Least that’s what the young’ins say about me.”
“I can’t imagine why,” I replied. “Born down here?”
“No,” she replied. “Had a life once. Back on Galago. Even had me a man.”
“What happened?”
“I found a better one,” she replied.
It took me a second to catch her joke. This lady was a piece of work. “I mean—”
“I know what you mean, star captain. Pirates captured the transport ship I was on. Took most of us hostage, at least those who didn’t fight back. The ones they didn’t keep as slaves they sold to the highest bidder at Bauer Ditch auction.”
I knew the auction she spoke of. Everyone did. It was a slave outfit that constantly moved from system to system, avoiding the law. They bought and sold just about anything that could be stolen, but specialized in buying and selling people with only fast credits in mind.
“And the mine’s owner,” I said. “He won the bid, I take it.”
She nodded. “That they did.”
“Got their credit’s worth too,” Monty said, slightly out of breath. “Mrs. Boneshaw here can outwork most people and then some.”
“Always figured it didn’t matter who I was working for,” said the old woman, “so long as I could be proud of my work and look myself in the mirror each night, knowing I’d done my best.”
“Can’t fault you for that,” I said.
“Of course not. The alternative is becoming a bitter old bitch. And nobody, I mean nobody likes them.”
I chuck
led. “Agreed.”
“And now,” she said, arriving at the shed, “it’s about time someone showed up and helped us escape. And you seem like good enough candidates.” She worked the lock off and swung the doors open. Inside was a stack of jackhammers, supply tubes, oxygen masks, and toolboxes.
Rachel set the artifacts down and helped Mrs, Boneshaw clear a path through the equipment just wide enough for us to pull the body inside. Then we covered it with random equipment until it was pretty much hidden. Rachel also found an old satchel large enough to hold the artifacts, then stuffed the devices inside.
Mrs. Boneshaw closed the doors and returned the lock. “So, what’s the plan?”
“The plan?” I asked.
“Sure, the plan. How many ships you got? How many crew? You got an army up there waiting to charge in? If so, make sure to leave a pistol for me.”
Monty raised his hand. “Mrs. Boneshaw—”
I cut Monty off. “Ma’am, I’m not sure how much of our conversation you overheard on comms, but we don’t have those things.”
“Pistols? That’s fine. Rifles will do.”
“No, an army, I mean. Reinforcements. It’s just us.” I nodded at Rachel.
“The hells it is,” she replied.
“Mrs. Boneshaw,” Monty pleaded, “please listen—”
“You mean to tell me I just killed an overseer all for… all for you two fancy-ass starship flying elites to tell me you’re going to rescue us with fairy dust?”
“Not fairy dust,” I said. “But we do have an AI.”
“Oh great,” the old woman replied, making no attempt to veil her sarcasm. “Now you have a fancy-ass computer program and you think you’re saving the galaxy. My stars, we’re saved now.” To herself, she mumbled, “Well, you had a good run, Meredith. Swore you’d always fight back from then on, and you did. Killed one too, right in the head. Least you can go out having done that.”
“Mrs. Boneshaw, we’re working on a plan,” said Monty. The kid looked to me and then Rachel.
“A plan?” the old woman asked. “That doesn’t involve no fairy dust?”
“Well,” I said, wiping my hands on my pants, knowing they must royally stink, “maybe a little fairy dust.”
Suddenly, Lars’s voice came over comms. “Mr. Reed, can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, buddy,” I replied, turning aside. “What’s up?”
“Sir, Mr. Oppenheimer is requesting your and Rachel’s presence in his office.”
“Tell him we’ll be there in a little while,” I said.
“I’m afraid he is quite insistent that you show up now.”
“Insistent?” I tried to resist my brain’s urge to jump to conclusions. On one hand, maybe Ozzie just wanted to see how the sample testing was going. Maybe he was bored and wanted to have more drinks. Or, more than likely, he was hoping to get some private time with Rachel.
But the pessimist in me felt otherwise, and the knot in my stomach returned. Maybe Lars had missed a security camera and Ozzie had overheard us. Or maybe he’d found a hole in our cover stories. Maybe he’d even contacted the McBride family and thrown my name around. The possibilities were endless, and I felt my anxiety level skyrocketing without having a single shred of evidence.
“Fine,” I said. “Tell him I’ll be up in a few minutes.”
“Just you, sir? He insisted that—”
“Rachel’s not going anywhere near that bastard,” I said, my temper flaring more quickly than I meant it to.
“Flint,” Rachel said, “while I appreciate you looking out for me, it might be better if—”
“Don’t do it, sweetie,” Mrs. Boneshaw said suddenly, placing a hand on Rachel’s arm. Rachel turned, looking as surprised as I was by the comment. “If your beau there is talking about Oppenheimer, that there’s a monster that rivals any of the ones down here. I’ve seen him do…” The woman shuddered and then seemed to choke on something. Once she’d composed herself, she said, “Don’t let him near you, darlin’.”
There was something about the way the old woman spoke that sent a chill down my body. I caught Rachel’s eye. “Why don’t you go back to the enclave with Monty and Mrs. Boneshaw. See if they can sneak you in so you can get the lay of the land. Start crunching numbers and work out how we get everyone clear.”
Rachel didn’t protest, which surprised me. I wondered if Mrs. Boneshaw’s words had the same effect on her that they’d had on me. “Sounds good,” she said. “You sure you’ll be okay?”
I nodded. “I’ll let you and Lars know if I need help.”
Surprisingly, that was it. No protest, no alternate ideas. Rachel just went along with it. Apparently, even she had her limits on how close to an evil man she’d play. I had a sudden urge to thank Mrs. Boneshaw. But I also wondered what, exactly, she’d seen Ozzie do.
We walked back up the main tunnel, heading toward our RTV, when a crew of miners appeared around a corner led by two overseers.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” asked the lead thug, calling the line of miners to halt with a raised hand.
This time, Monty raced forward. “We’re helping them with the mine samples for Mr. Oppenheimer,” he said, pointing back at me, Rachel, and Boneshaw. “These are the new buyers, Mr. Overseer.”
“Shut up, kid,” the thug said. I could see the man’s expression change even despite the glare of light on his mask. “I know who they are. I just didn’t want you bothering them is all.”
“I ain’t bothering no one, Mr. Overseer. I swear.”
The goon looked at me as we got closer. “He bothering you, sir?”
“No more than a rat like him normally does,” I replied in my most arrogant tone possible. “He may need a lesson when he gets back to you, however.”
The thug gave me a cruel smile. “Consider it done, sir.”
“That’s what I like to hear. I’m going to be running a tight mine, mister.”
“Rollson,” the man replied, stretching out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
I looked at his hand with disgust and pulled mine back. The thug thought better of his attempted handshake and resumed his grip on his prod.
“Another time, perhaps,” I said.
“Right. Yes, sir. Another time.”
“Now get those slaves to work. We’re behind schedule for the day.”
“Right away, sir.” The man gave an awkward salute that didn’t resemble any Union standard I’d ever seen and started the miners off marching again. The sad slaves didn’t even look up to acknowledge me. They simply marched forward, heading to their next shift. My heart sank as they passed. But not as much as it did with what Boneshaw said next.
“You just got them all whipped, ya’ know, don’t ’cha?”
“Whipped?”
“Beat, yes sir. Told them we were behind schedule, you did.”
Son of a bitch. I sure as hells did. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t even thinking about that.”
“Clearly,” Boneshaw replied. “But you’ll make it up to them.”
“I will?”
“You and your fairy dust, yes siree! You’re getting us all outta here once and for all. I can feel it.”
We marched on in silence, walking up to the RTV that had just delivered the band of miners we’d passed. It was empty now, doors ajar. As soon as we boarded and the doors closed, I yanked my damned mask off my head.
“Mr. Flint, no,” Monty yelled.
I turned around and saw the kid, hands extended toward me. He looked frantically between my mask and my face. That was when I took a breath and suddenly felt like the whole car got foggy. In slow motion, Monty pulled my mask back over my face and Boneshaw slammed a glowing red button on the side of the car. I felt my clothes flutter as a gush of air blew past my body, filling the car with something—more fog, perhaps? The air got hazier, and everyone’s faces started to glow.
“Mr. Flint, can you hear me?” Monty asked. But his voice sounded far away. I
wasn’t worried, though. In fact, I felt the least anxious I’d felt in… in… maybe my whole life. Come to think of it, I knew I’d been worried about something, maybe even a lot of somethings, but now I couldn’t remember what they were. All my worries were fading away, leaving only… happiness.
“Hi Monty,” I said. “You’re such a good kid.” And I meant every word. I liked this kid. Hells, I thought maybe I even loved this kid. Couldn’t be prouder of him if he was my own son. But his skin was so dark. Damn, maybe my skin was dark too. I looked at my arms, but they were glowing. I couldn’t even tell what color they were.
“Sit down slowly, Mr. Flint,” the boy said. “You took a hit of raw myst.”
“Are we in a fish tank?” I asked. “It feels like we’re swimming in here.” I put my arms out and started to stroke through the haze. I felt my body move along the current. “It’s such a peaceful place.”
“Easy, Mr. Flint,” Monty said, holding my arm. Suddenly, a woman appeared next to me, holding my other arm.
“You are beautiful,” I said. “Are you a princess?”
“You wish,” replied the woman with a cackle that seemed to fill the car with color.
Suddenly, I started to remember this woman’s name. “Mrs. Boneshaw?”
“The one,” she replied. I felt myself fall into a chair made of clouds. It was the most comfortable chair I’d ever sat in. That’s when another woman appeared. Her face was so striking that it felt as though my heart might burst.
“You,” I said, trying to utter the words that my heart wanted. “You’re a goddess!”
“A goddess?
Then I started weeping. “You’re the most beautiful being in the galaxy.” I reached out to touch her face, but it was glowing so brightly and my tears flowed so strongly that my hands missed, landing on something soft and plump instead.
“Flint,” the woman yelled, knocking my hands away.
The sound startled me and I jerked backward, falling deeper into the clouds.
Then, without warning, the princess—who I previously thought was capable of no wrong—drove a knife into the side of my neck. At first, there was no pain. It felt more like she had tickled me with her eyelashes. But I couldn’t ignore the knife. A prick of heat flared from where the blade’s point penetrated my neck. It started to spread, wider and wider, until it consumed my neck and shoulder. Before long, the heat had spread all the way down to my toes, and my body ached. I hated it. No, I despised it entirely. I wanted her to take the knife out, to let me go back to how I’d been moments ago.
