by Cathy Pegau
She relinquished the bag. “Long. It’s good to finally be here.”
Gennie’s smile became a knowing smirk. Neither of them was glad to be there, for their own reasons. “Do you have any other luggage?”
Natalia shook her head. “I like to travel light.”
“I know what you mean. Come on, we’re parked out front.”
“Parked?” She followed Gennie around the building. Being of similar height and build, Natalia caught up to her in a few strides and shoved away the thought of how their bodies had fit together the other night. “You have transportation?”
They descended a short flight of stairs to what amounted to an open field. A few battered ground cars occupied the dirt lot, not an air car among them. Gennie veered toward a two-meter-tall, six-wheeled mini-lorry.
“Got in early. Saw the advert on the community board in the station.” She shrugged. “Figured we might need a personal vehicle.”
“I haven’t seen one of these in years,” Natalia said as they approached.
Made for hauling small to moderate loads, the snub-nosed SV-1500 could have been anywhere from ten to fifty years old. The windscreen on the driver’s side of the two-passenger cab was cracked. The solid-mold tires showed decent tread depth, and the cargo area seemed intact, but the scrapes, dents and indeterminate original color told of its use in the hardscrabble life of a pirq miner. Keracite fuel cells in the stubby nose ran what should be a near-silent engine, depending on maintenance, that produced little more than water vapor as waste.
Gennie went around to the back and tapped in an access code on the tailgate keypad. A click sounded. No light, no other indication the lock mechanism had released. The flexible metal door rattled as she rolled it into the roof. A dusty toolbox and two mismatched, worn canvas bags sat in the cargo area. Gennie set Natalia’s bag inside.
“I assume it runs.” Natalia dropped her pack beside the other bags.
Gennie gestured for Natalia to get in on the passenger side. “The guy drove it here, so I figure it’ll do for the time being.”
Natalia levered the stiff door handle; it opened with a rusty squeal. Black upholstery, worn and faded to gray in places, covered the bench seat. Cracks and tears attested to the vehicle’s age, but overall it was in good condition. The control panel consisted of a U-shaped steering wheel, a forward/neutral/reverse gear shift and four buttons. The labels on the buttons had worn off, but Natalia remembered the configuration: wiper, headlights and heater lined up above a single start/stop button. Foot-operated throttle and brake pedals completed the whole of the vehicle’s simple operating mechanisms.
“Not sure I can get the CMA to reimburse you the credits on this one,” Natalia said.
Gennie laughed and settled into the driver’s seat. “I didn’t expect to be. But you may be stuck with it when all this is over.”
“Thanks.”
Gennie chuckled again as she pressed the start button. The engine whined and sputtered but didn’t catch.
“Pump the throttle a couple of times then hold it down while you push the start. The 1500’s fuel cell converters get a little balky with age.”
“And you know this how?” Gennie asked as she followed Natalia’s directions.
The engine caught, rough but running. Photosensors in the roof activated the headlights. The button on the panel was an override for the automatic setting.
Natalia smiled at the memory of her father grumbling about the family vehicle. “We had one when I was a kid. Drove it from time to time. Had the same problem.”
Gennie made an effort to keep a more neutral expression, but there was enough of a twitch for Natalia to read the surprise on her face. “You were a pirq?”
“Until I was sixteen.”
Gennie quirked an eyebrow at her. “What happened at sixteen?”
What happened was she’d reached majority. She and her sister had gone to live with an aunt and uncle they barely knew after their parents died. The day after her sixteenth birthday, they’d decided Natalia was old enough to be on her own, as they had plenty of mouths to feed. Practicality trumped familial responsibility for some pirqs.
Bekka had begged Natalia to get out of the life if she could. She didn’t want to lose Natalia to the void like they’d lost their parents. Natalia pleaded with Bekka to come with her, but the girl refused. Her bond with their new family had been stronger than Natalia’s.
Instead of going to work in the mines, like the rest of her cohorts, Natalia had hitched rides to Pandalus and worked crap jobs until she could apply to the CMA academy at eighteen.
Bekka had married a hauler when she was twenty. Last Natalia had heard, the couple was up north, in Dunlin. Were they still? She should have done a lot more to keep in touch.
“Things changed,” was all she told Gennie.
The other woman stared at her for a few moments. Realizing Natalia wouldn’t elaborate, she put the 1500 into gear. The old engine wheezed and complained, but it didn’t cut out as they bumped over the uneven surface of the lot and onto the road.
“The site is about three klicks away.” Gennie overcompensated, steering around a pothole. The lorry jerked sharply left to right, throwing Natalia against Gennie’s shoulder then the door. “Sorry.”
“Want me to drive?” Natalia asked, bracing her hand against the front panel.
Gennie shot her a stony glare. “Steering’s a bit stiff. I’ll get it.”
Natalia turned her attention to the passing landscape and filed away another tidbit of information about Genevieve Caine. Proud, not a woman to ask for help unless she absolutely needed it. Coming to Natalia had probably been one of the most difficult decisions she’d made. But her true reason for wanting the Reyeses off her back was still a mystery, one Natalia wanted to unravel before Gennie disappeared from Nevarro.
The road curved around a tall prominence and into a box canyon. Another klick ahead, the pirq town appeared to jut out of the rocky ground. Judging by the lights, a dozen buildings made up the center of town, with several more scattered beyond the perimeter and into the lower hillside. The outlying structures were probably family homes; most of the unmarried or childless pirqs tended to live in the prefab dormitory-style housing.
Harsh white lights lit the entrances to four mining tunnels cut into the mountain. Three shifts for each twenty-six-hour day were the norm for larger pirq sites, and it was likely Grand Meridian followed that standard. Haulers and loaders rumbled to and from the five-meter-high openings. Deep within the mountain, miners dug into keracite ore with hand picks and massive, multi-headed cutters. Each shift for each tunnel worked to out-cut the other, which made for greater profits as well as competition among them.
“The office is the first building on the left,” Natalia said.
“I know. I studied the layout on my way here too.”
Of course she had. Genevieve Caine wouldn’t stroll into any situation unprepared.
The SV-1500 bumped and shuddered its way into the canyon. Gennie’s brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to avoid the worst of the uneven road. Natalia couldn’t help smiling. Had Gennie ever driven something like the 1500 before? She’d bet not.
Gennie stopped the lorry at the corner of the building, under a floodlight, and cut the engine. The headlights dimmed to off. She turned in her seat. “I’m not a Revivalist. Any helpful tips?”
“Not all pirqs are Revivalists. You don’t have to pretend to follow the tenets i
f you don’t want to.” It had been years since Natalia had personally concerned herself with Revivalist doctrine. A few cases for the CMA had required interactions with followers of the low-tech sect, but most of her dealings didn’t include them.
Gennie rubbed her palms along her thighs. “It would be easier to intermingle with the majority of the town if we were.”
Genuine interest filled her dark eyes. She may not have wanted to join Natalia in Grand Meridian, but now that she was here Gennie would do what she could to get the job done. Would pretending to be a Revivalist miner take more or less effort than pretending to be attracted to Natalia and tying her to a bed? She probably didn’t want to know the answer to that.
Natalia levered the door handle and pushed. “We’ll get a feel for the people. Best to start off more conservative. Once we’re comfortable with the miners and others, we can change tactics as necessary to get information. Whatever’s happening in the mines, they’ll know.”
“Sounds good,” Gennie said as she opened her door. “But I won’t go underground.”
They slammed their doors at the same time, staring at each other over the roof of the 1500.
“Why not?” She needed Gennie as backup, especially in the often dangerous environment of a keracite mining tunnel.
In the bright light of the overhead fixture, Gennie’s cheeks darkened. “I’m claustrophobic. I’ve tried every mental training exercise, drug and nanobot treatment available. Nothing works for longer than a few hours.” She shifted her gaze from Natalia to one of the dark openings in the mountain. “I’ll do what I can to help, but not in there.”
* * *
Gennie swallowed hard as she moved around the back of the lorry toward the office. Natalia’s long-legged stride brought them together in two steps and she caught Gennie’s upper arm. Gennie stopped, heat on her cheeks and neck. She’d told no one about her fears. Not even Simon. She met the blonde’s eyes, stilling every other movement of her face and body, not about to let her see any more than necessary. The only way Natalia would know how much the idea of the mine scared her would be if she could hear Gennie’s heart pounding.
“Why didn’t you tell me when we were making plans?” Natalia’s fingers briefly squeezed her arm.
“I haven’t had a major attack since I was a kid. I didn’t think it would be a problem.” She kept her gaze on Natalia, unable to look at the tunnel opening.
Her blue eyes flashed, and her voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “We’re working at a damn mining site, looking for evidence from the mines. Where the hell else would we be working?”
Gennie gently pried Natalia’s fingers from her arm. “I have some meds with me, but they won’t do for a long shift. There are other places to work.”
Natalia removed her hat and raked her hand through her long hair. The silky strands fell back into a sexy tousle. Gennie focused on her angry eyes, determined not to let the rest of the woman distract her. Or influence her decisions.
“You sure as hell better hope so.” Natalia turned toward the office door.
She strode up the three steps without looking back. Gennie waited to follow until Natalia was inside, giving herself a chance to shake off the last few minutes. She didn’t care if Natalia was torqued about not knowing Gennie’s fear. She was more upset with herself for having revealed it. Weakness was potential for manipulation.
Gennie took a deep breath of frigid air and walked up the steps. The electronic sign on the door scrolled Main Office and the hours of attendance in orange. She pushed the door open, affecting a smile as she went in.
The man sitting behind the desk in the windowless room glanced up. His short-cropped gray hair and craggy face put him anywhere between seventy and one-twenty Earth Standard. If he was a Revivalist—and his somber work clothes were no guarantee he was—he wouldn’t have had nano implants to reduce the effects of aging. If he wasn’t, he could be well over a hundred. He passed Natalia a piece of synth paper and a stylus.
“You two together?” he asked, reaching for another paper from a drawer.
Natalia nodded, her hair curtaining her face as she leaned on the desk to write.
“I’ve got a few positions available if you don’t mind getting dirty,” he said.
Gennie took the offered form.
“She doesn’t work the void,” Natalia said.
Gennie’s spine stiffened, but there was no derision in her tone. Without seeing her expression, it was merely a statement of fact to the man, though Gennie swore she heard the underlying frustration.
He grinned at Gennie. “Can’t say I blame ya.” His accent wasn’t the South Continent drawl she’d grown up with, but had a slight burr. “How’d ya feel about loaders and the like? Done that before?”
“Not really, but I’m a quick study.” As long as it wasn’t much more complicated than the 1500, she’d be fine.
The man’s grin faded. “Hmm. We’ll see what’s what. Fill that out, and I’ll look at the postings.”
For the next few minutes, Gennie and Natalia filled out employment forms side by side, in silence. Natalia wrote in quick strokes, as if she’d used paper and stylus every day of her life. The tools felt alien and awkward in Gennie’s hand. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually written something down. Though Natalia had said not all pirqs followed the low-tech Revivalist ways, there were likely to be more synth pages than data sticks in the foreseeable future.
Better get used to it.
As per the cover Natalia had provided the other day, Gennie lied on almost every question about experience and personal information. Especially when it came to next of kin. She listed Natalia as her only In Case of Emergency contact.
They handed the man their applications. He gave them a quick once-over. “I suppose you ladies need some rooms.”
“Just one,” Natalia said.
Gennie forced a smile at the man while resisting the urge to whip around to face her. One room?
“You gals married?” He glanced down at their paperwork, scanning the page for their status. Gennie hadn’t indicated any such thing on hers, and she doubted Natalia would have checked that box without warning her. The CMA agent was too good at planning ahead. But perhaps she was just as good at improvising.
“No,” Natalia confirmed, and Gennie gave a mental sigh. “Friends. We’d like to save a few credits on the room, if we can.”
He swiveled his chair around to a metal cabinet with three drawers and opened the bottom one. “Doubles go quick, but I think dorm three has an opening. Lemme look.”
While the man’s attention was on his files, Gennie and Natalia glanced at each other. Gennie let her curiosity show. One room?
Perhaps it was an obvious question to ask, even mentally, but it still surprised her when Natalia gave her a wry grin and shrugged as if to say, I have my reasons.
Gennie crossed her arms. She had an idea why the CMA agent asked for a single room, and not likely to try to make a move on Gennie.
“Here we go.” The man swiveled back toward them. “Yep, dorm three it is. Five creds a night, or thirty a week in advance if you want a discount. I’ll call ahead and let ’em know you’re on your way. John’ll turn the heat up for you.” He waved in the direction of the rest of the complex. “Big blue building. Just down from The Hole—that’s the bar and restaurant. Can’t miss either one.”
Natalia smiled at him and set her hat on her head. �
��Thanks. We’re obliged.”
Something about her was different now. The way her limbs seemed looser, the slight slouch to her posture, the soft burr to her speech. She was no longer Natalia Hallowell, CMA agent. She was Natalia Kuzmin, a pirq miner looking for a job.
“Tunnel Four has openings if you’re looking to work together.” The clerk started entering their information into an ancient SI unit on the desk. “They need a hauler in the void and a loader who can also keep track of numbers in the office. Day shift, eight to seventeen hundred. You start tomorrow, if that suits. Otherwise I have scut work in the kitchen or stock loader at the store or—”
“Tunnel Four’s fine,” Gennie said, not bothering to check with Natalia.
The man nodded. “Good. Dinner at the dorm runs ’til nineteen-thirty, but you can get some food at The Hole any time.”
“Thanks,” Natalia said again and gestured Gennie toward the door.
Back outside, they headed to the lorry without speaking. Natalia returned to the passenger side and got in, slamming the door. Bits of rust drifted to the ground. Gennie gritted her teeth as she circled around the snubbed nose but forced herself to act in a casual manner. What was bothering the agent now?
She settled into the driver’s seat and pushed the start. The engine coughed before smoothing out once again. Still, Natalia didn’t speak, nor did her body language reveal what she was truly feeling.
“Where to?” Gennie asked. Her voice sounded loud in the small space between them.
“Let’s drive around a bit, get the lay of the land.”
Gennie put the lorry in reverse, checked to make sure no one was behind them and maneuvered onto the road. The ride wasn’t as smooth as the luxury air car she’d flown while employed by Guy Christiansen, but she’d take a rough ride over that life any day. It had taken her too long to get out. Now she just wanted a safe, quiet place to raise her kids.
