by Alex Wells
Mag heard Clarence start moving behind her and saw Odalia’s eyes go a little wider, her finger start to tense. She didn’t let it get any further than that. Mag slammed into Odalia’s thoughts with every ounce of power she had.
Odalia froze, her eyes gone wide, staring, unseeing. Mag had to steady herself with one hand on the wall; she felt like she’d just jumped across a gully with no preparation and landed strange.
Clarence moved around her, his expression dark. He pried the gun from Odalia’s stiff fingers. “She gonna shoot you?”
“She still wants to,” Mag said. She could feel that too, the anger and hatred that she’d never known was there, under Odalia’s nice expression. Her skin crawled in response. “You go on and tell us, Odalia. Tell us what you done.”
That hate and anger kept pounding at her with each word Odalia spoke, giving lie to her toneless recitation of facts. It had never been like this before, but she’d also never leaned on anyone who hated her so personally before. It wasn’t like the Mariposa guards at all.
But Odalia kept talking, a litany of things large and small, what she’d told the company at this or that time, how she met with Bill or with one of the shift sergeants for Mariposa, how much information she’d passed on to them. It was damn near everything she’d ever been told. “They got people they’re lookin’ for,” Odalia said, when Mag pressed her about Coyote. “Them so-called mercenaries. They want your friend, but they’ll take any of her people. I knew he was her right-hand man, and they’d want him too. Just like they want any witch we can give ’em without causing a fuss.”
The only relief was that Odalia didn’t know of any other spies. Though that might not mean a thing, since Mag figured you’d have to be damn stupid to let all your double agents know who the others were.
Clarence, who had listened to it all like a man getting gutpunched repeatedly, finally spoke up. “Why’d you do it, Odalia?” His voice was low and ragged.
“I earned what I got with my sweat, and I made sacrifices for my family. I want a better life for them. They said I could get another promotion, a place in Newcastle where my boy could go to a real school, not just the company school,” Odalia said. And some of her hate finally managed to creep into her voice. “I ain’t losin’ that for a fuckin’ witch. Should’ve gave her over to the Weatherman when we had the chance. Should’ve gave ’em all over and taken care of our own, not risked our families for the fuckups in Rouse.”
“It’s about solidarity, Odalia,” Clarence said. And now there was something hot as blood in those words, like he’d finally found his mad again.
Mag felt the words before Odalia spoke them, and hated her for their mockery. “You can’t eat solidarity, Clarence.”
His lips curled back in a snarl and he punched her, a solid blow that knocked her over. Mag felt the echo of the pain, the sick crunch of fist connecting with the side of the head. It wasn’t her, she reminded herself, trying to step back from it and still keep Odalia unmoving. It hurt, but she burned away any thought of pity with the fire of Odalia’s own hate.
“What’re we gonna do with her?” she asked. She knew what she wanted to do, she was so angry. But she’d promised herself to never go off half-cocked the way Uncle Nick had, that night so many months ago.
“If it was me, I’d fuckin’ shoot her here myself. But we ain’t the only judge and jury, and we ain’t helpin’ any of our own if we just make her disappear like we’re the damn greenbellies.” Clarence looked coldly down at Odalia, who had begun to tremble as she fought against Mag’s control of her body. There didn’t seem to be a drop of pity in him either. “Let her be judged by the people she was so happy to betray.”
15 Days
Clarence’s kitchen was utterly silent as Odalia finished her litany of traitorous actions. Only after the last word had been spoken did Mag ease up her control. Her head didn’t hurt yet, somehow, and that both surprised and frightened her. The air in the kitchen was hot, close, almost humid, and smelled of unwashed bodies and rock dust. Miners were pressed in together like they’d been vacuum packed, the only clear space a tight circle around Mag, Odalia, and Clarence. Odalia was tied to Clarence’s most solid kitchen chair, wrists and ankles. Mag hadn’t wanted to take any chances with her control faltering and Odalia escaping.
This wasn’t even a fraction of the miners, but it was a representative from each work gang, people to vote and stand in place of their fellows. When no one still spoke, Clarence said to the men and women squeezed into the room: “This is our decision. What do we do with her?”
Silence, then murmuring, though too much of a jumble of words for Mag to pick any one thing out with her focus elsewhere. Then one man, his cheek blackened with bruises, said, “I say we shoot her. We ain’t got the time nor the supplies for mercy.”
Odalia laughed sharply, if unsteadily. “You ain’t got authority over me.”
That drew a volley of yelling. “Like you think you got authority over us?” one of the female work gang leaders shouted. “Where’s your fuckin’ blue suit, Odalia?”
“I been a good crew lead–”
“You ain’t thinkin’ of anyone but yourself!”
Mag closed her eyes and listened to the shouts rather than the words, the sound of the miners working themselves up to the inevitable. But then she heard Odalia say, “And I ain’t the one you should be shootin’. You got a damn witch makin’ me like a puppet, you know that?”
It made her blood run cold for a brief, awful moment as the room went silent again. But she’d known this was coming, Mag realized. In some deep part of her soul, she’d known it would come as soon as she’d agreed with Clarence on getting the work gang leaders. She could have tried to stop it, by gagging Odalia, by keeping a grip on her mind and her mouth, but she hadn’t done that either.
Her entire life had been hiding, ever since Papa had gotten killed. She’d taken his vision and run with it, and gotten them this far. And she was damn tired of hiding. She wanted to stand, and fight, and die on her own terms.
Mag opened her eyes to find the entire room staring at her. Clarence had shifted slightly, to cross his arms, but also to stand a little closer to her.
She’d survived the lab under the TransRift building. She’d survived getting drowned in the Weatherman’s eyes. She’d survived TransRift murdering both her parents. She wasn’t going to flinch now. “I am witchy,” she said evenly. “But I don’t think you ought to go shootin’ me.”
“See, she admitted it!” Odalia crowed.
Mag ignored her and continued. The people in front of her were suspicious, she could feel that. But she’d also laid the groundwork for this already, when she’d fought to make them all see the company’s witch hunt was a bad thing. “The witchiness I got lets me do things like make people tell the truth. That’s how me’n Clarence got her to confess, after she pulled a gun on me.”
“Or maybe you’re just puttin’ words in my mouth,” Odalia screamed. “She’s probably followin’ orders off the company, playin’ us all.”
Mag snorted, staying calm in the face of the uncertainty she saw before her. When would she have to stop justifying herself? “That’d be fuckin’ stupid, now, wouldn’t it? Company kills witches, for one. Makes us disappear just as bad as they do anyone else.” She bit down on the phrase “normal folk.” No, she wasn’t going to agree with them that she was broken or different in a way that meant it was okay to kill her. “And if I was puttin’ words in her mouth, why the hell’d I be lettin’ her scream about it now? If I was workin’ for the company, why would I do this instead of just playin’ you all one by one till you’re waltzin’ into their arms?” She huffed a sound too exasperated to be a laugh. “They think we’re stupid. Well, we ain’t. None of us are. Sure as hell ain’t stupid enough to fall for a lie that can’t even hold up to a few questions.”
“She’s manipulatin’ you all!” Odalia shouted, desperate.
“If I was gonna be witchin’ anyone right now, it�
��d be Odalia again to get her to shut her damn mouth afore she gave me a headache,” Mag said flatly.
A laugh rippled through the kitchen. A man in the back of the crowd said, “I trust you, Mag.” More agreement came, and Mag felt her stomach unclench.
Next to her, Clarence said, “Then let’s get back to figurin’ what we’re gonna do with the real problem.” He raised his voice to be heard over Odalia shouting about how they were all fools who were going to die.
One of the gathered miners took a handkerchief out of her pocket, and moved into the clear space so she could stuff it into Odalia’s mouth. The woman gave Clarence and Mag each a polite nod. “Couldn’t hardly hear myself think.”
“What are you thinkin’, now?” Clarence asked.
“I’m thinkin’ shootin’s too good for someone who was gonna sell us out,” she answered. “But it’ll do.”
“Make her an example,” another man in the crowd said. There was a murmur of approval there.
“Vote it,” Clarence said. “Show of hands. For betrayin’ her people to TransRift, who agrees she should be executed?”
All but two people voted for it. Odalia made a muffled shriek around her gag. Mag wondered if she ought to feel happy, but what was there to be happy about, voting on the life of another person? She was angry, she thought Odalia had earned what she had coming to her, but that didn’t mean she was going to feel good about it. Looking around, she might have been the only one that reluctant except for the two nay votes out of nearly twenty.
Mag crossed her arms over her chest. “We want her to be an example for our people, or for the bluebellies?”
“Don’t rightly know what you mean,” Clarence said.
It itched to have all that attention on her again, but Mag pressed on. “We worried about our own people goin’ spineless, or do we want to make sure TransRift knows we’re gonna find every last one of their spies, and that we ain’t fallin’ for it no more?”
Clarence looked around the room, reading the faces, the people nodding or shaking their heads. “My people are solid,” a woman said. “I ain’t got no worries about them.”
They’d all thought Odalia was solid too, Mag thought grimly. Anyone could be wrong. But she didn’t want to sow more paranoia. That would also do the company’s work for them. “Then we send her back to them.”
“In pieces,” a man added, to grim muttering.
Mag took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “If’n you’ll trust me, I can do you one better’n that.”
Clarence turned his gaze on her, brows up. She offered him no answer with her expression. But he still said, “All in favor?” and raised his own hand first.
It was a smaller majority, but still a majority. Mag looked down at Odalia, feeling the weight of the room on her shoulders. “Last thing anyone in Ludlow will ever ask of you, and then you’ll be free. You’re gonna take a message back to your paymasters, from us.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
13 Days
Shige felt the tension the moment he stepped off the special train and into the thin shade of the awning at Ludlow’s rail depot. The hot, dry air of the morning still felt dense and electric, like he’d stepped into an active war room in the government offices on Earth. Then, as the deep thrum of the engine behind him stilled, the motors winding down, he noticed the silence: no drive chain for the mine, no murmuring voices typical of a healthy town.
The small depot platform was almost empty, except for the town’s chief of security – Longbridge, according to the general Ludlow personnel summary he’d read on the way here. As Shige moved forward to shake hands with Longbridge and introduce himself, he noted a line of guards stretching down the street, rifles held at the ready. On the other side, he spotted a few of the miners, silently watching.
“Perimeter guard?” he asked, his hand still trapped in Longbridge’s bone-crushing grip. He was more than happy to let the man flop his arm around like a dead fish.
Longbridge finally released his hand. “Something like it. Nine days ago, the rats made a major push. Weld let ’em have the ground because he didn’t want any trouble. Keep things calm until you got here.” Cool disgust filled his voice.
“A move you disagree with, I take it?”
Longbridge eyed him warily. “Far be it from me to question Corporate policy.”
“I think you misunderstand me, captain. Corporate policy cares very much about results.” Shige smiled.
Longbridge didn’t smile, exactly, but he relaxed. “Pit boss is dickless, and Clarence Vigil’s got him running in circles. That fucker’s pulling all the strings.” He curled his lips around the clipped words. “You shouldn’t even be here. I could’ve fixed this the day they tried to get it started, if he’d let me.”
“Your restraint in following orders is appreciated,” Shige said. “Let me assess the situation, but then I’d like to speak with you again before I depart. It is in the best interest of the company that this disruption is brought to a swift close.”
“I don’t have anything on my dance card but watching these lazy pieces of shit wander the street instead of working like God intended. You can be certain I’ll have the time.” Longbridge escorted Shige the short distance from the train depot, past the company store, to the Corporate satellite office. “We’ve ceded them the entire rest of the town,” Longbridge muttered, as they walked. “Dickless.”
Shige could make no guesses if Bill Weld still had all of his attendant parts when he laid eyes on the man, but he certainly looked like he hadn’t been sleeping, surrounded by a chaotic avalanche of flimsies in his small office. He stood hastily when Shige entered the room, spilling his half-finished cup of coffee in the process. The brown liquid pooled on the uneven surface of his desk. “Sorry for your trouble. It’s not nearly so bad as it sounds.”
“Of course,” Shige assured him. He located a box of tissues and offered them over to Weld, then waited as the pit boss awkwardly mopped up the coffee. “And yours isn’t the only town having trouble. I’m visiting each as a matter of routine. We must be uniform in how we address this… dispute.”
Behind him, Longbridge made a rude noise. Weld seemed almost grateful, though, to be getting some sort of direction. He sagged down in his chair. “What’s Newcastle want us to do?” Then he stood quickly again. “Let me get you some coffee, too.”
“No need,” Shige said. “Please, sit. And before we discuss my end of things, I’d like to know what the situation is here.”
Weld blew out a puff of breath as he dropped back into his chair. “They were already riled because we had some surveying accidents. Didn’t think it had been so long since we sank a new shaft that they forgot exploration is a risky business. And we gave standard bonus pay out for it.”
“Your adherence to policy is commendable.”
“Fuckers were just looking for something to be unhappy about,” Longbridge said. “They don’t like risk, they should’ve transferred to farming.”
Weld shrugged. “Anyway, they didn’t take the new pay system well.”
“Even after you explained the benefits to them?” Shige asked, all wounded innocence.
“They didn’t give me a chance.”
“I’ll wager they’re upset because it interferes with all their black market nonsense they think we don’t know about,” Longbridge interjected. “Idiots. Should’ve let me put a few down on payday, and we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Weld shot Longbridge a cold look. “They’re decent workers when they feel like we’re listening to them.”
“Shouldn’t need us to kiss their asses to get them to do their job,” Longbridge growled back.
“Gentlemen.” Shige raised his hands. “I am not here to judge the actions of the past. Though I will say, we’re rather glad that your town is still peaceful. It’s not in our interest to lose able bodies at the moment, not with the push from Corporate.”
“Those able bodies aren’t doing anything for you now,” Longbridge po
inted out.
Shige continued on as if he hadn’t spoken, “Obviously, this work stoppage of theirs breaks the employment contract each and every one of them has signed with us. And as we are the only enforcement agency available…” he nodded to Longbridge, “…they will all have to be arrested. Rather than blacklisting, which would deplete the workforce too much at this time, Vice President Meetchim and Security Chief Lien have agreed that hard labor will do as a suitable punishment.”
“You going to send us a train to collect the ones we arrest?” Longbridge asked, a sudden, wolfish grin on his face. “And you realize, they’re going to resist.”
“I’ll arrange for trucks to bring the reinforcements in, and a train to follow. Less lethal means are preferred. This is a mental game, and we wish to cow them and remind them for whom they work,” Shige said. “Your handling of this will weigh heavily in your performance review this year. We need living, able-bodied miners for the new push.” Hopefully repeating that a time or two would get the security head to rein in his bloodthirst a little – though not too much. Either way, Shige won; if there was a massacre, the inspector would take a dim view of that upon her arrival. If all of the miners lived but were put on unpaid hard labor, that was also a violation of nearly every human rights code in the Federal Union, and she wouldn’t be pleased with that either. Though he hoped for the latter, so there would be plenty of miners to dig for Mr Yellow. The Weatherman was so very thirsty. Shige felt it, even now.
“Can we offer them amnesty if they surrender and go quietly to their new assignment?” Weld asked.
“Of course. Do you think any of them will take it?”
“I can hope.”
“Then you’re a fool,” Longbridge said. “It’s my job to enforce policy, not coddle entitled workers who want a free lunch.”
“Creativity is part of performance,” Shige said, smiling at him. “A more subtle approach might be called for. If, perhaps, you let them think my presence means Corporate is willing to entertain their demands, that ought to relax them a bit.”
