by Cathy Pegau
The canyon spanned two klicks across and two deep against the craggy mountains. She drove to the left, toward the nearest of the four tunnel entrances more or less evenly spaced around the slope and lit by bright white floodlights. Several outbuildings and huge bins for keracite ore surrounded the entrance. Loaders and crew transporters rumbled in and out of the dark holes.
The void. Gennie envisioned low-ceilinged, dank spaces where you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. Walls angling closer and closer until they squeezed your arms to your sides, until your ribs ground together and crushed your organs. Her pulse pounded in her ears and her mouth went dry.
“Are you all right?”
Natalia’s voice snapped her back to the interior of the lorry. They idled beside one of the outbuildings of Tunnel One, its neon orange number scrawled on each wall and piece of equipment. The air inside the lorry felt thick and hot in her lungs. Gennie toggled the switch on the door to lower the window. The motor whined, and the plasti-glass lowered a few centis, allowing the chilled air to seep in.
She drew in a deep breath to clear her head. The quiver in her gut and the pounding in her head subsided. “I’m fine.”
“Want me to drive?”
Gennie turned to Natalia. Her blue eyes studied Gennie, judging whether she was fit to do something as trivial as drive a damn lorry. “I’m fine.”
She pushed on the throttle and shoved the gear shift. The lorry lurched forward, the steering control jerking in her hands. Natalia braced herself against the front panel and the door, but she didn’t utter a sound. Gennie turned the lorry toward the center of the small town.
Chapter Five
Gennie jerked the lorry around a pothole, throwing them both side to side again. Maybe Natalia should have insisted on taking over after their stop by the first tunnel. She’d noticed Gennie’s gaze stray toward the tunnel entrance, her hands tightening around the control yoke as she’d paled. In the poorly heated vehicle, beads of sweat had dotted her hairline. It seemed to Natalia that Gennie had been moments away from throwing up when she’d asked if she was all right.
The other woman’s physical and emotional condition had belied her reply. She hadn’t been fine at all. Speaking that aloud, however, was out of the question. Natalia knew what had put Gennie into such a state. The idea of the void.
Growing up, Natalia had rarely seen much in the way of reaction to closed spaces. Most pirqs seemed to be immune to claustrophobia. Even in the wake of disasters like the shaker that took her parents, the thought of entering the mines had never troubled Natalia as much as it had Bekka.
If the mere thought of the tunnels brought on such a response, there was no way Gennie was going to be any help underground. Fine. They’d make sure she could work the investigation from the surface. Adaptation was the name of the game in undercover work.
Gennie pulled up in front of the blue dorm, one of three eight-story buildings identical except for their color. She hit the brake so hard the lorry tires squealed, and they slid the last meter or two.
“Sorry,” she muttered, throwing Natalia a look that was more challenging than apologetic.
Natalia opted not to respond. It was obvious Gennie was upset by her earlier reaction to the tunnel. Embarrassed, even. No need to make her feel worse. They may not have the same philosophy on what merited right and wrong, considering Gennie’s recent employment with Guy Christiansen, but they had to work together now. Harping on her fear would get them nowhere. For better or worse, they were partners in this, and partners didn’t hold each other as emotional hostages.
She opened the door with a squeal of rusted hinges. It took more effort to shove the thing shut. She and Gennie met at the back of the lorry. While Gennie unlocked the tailgate, Natalia scanned the buildings and street. A typical pirq town, Grand Meridian consisted of prefab buildings hauled in on humongous lorries that doubled as ore bins on-site—which gave everything carried inside one an indelible coat of black keracite dust. Buildings were raised in a matter of days as miners temporarily traded their cutters, picks and loaders for hoists, impact wrenches and power drivers.
When the pirqs recovered as much deep keracite as they could, they’d collapse the tunnels behind them, deconstruct the town and move on to the next site. Total depletion of the ore took years, generations in some cases. Occasionally, buildings were left standing, abandoned to the elements or the rare squatter. Natalia had visited a couple of old sites over the years and felt a little sad seeing the dilapidated structures. But pirqs thought nothing of where they’d been, only where they were headed next.
What was that saying her father had told her? Once the keracite’s played out, there’s nothing to hold a pirq down. Most pirqs didn’t wait that long before moving on. That was the lifestyle, the way she and her family had lived from the time her thrice-great grandparents had come to Nevarro.
Though there was often a core group of managers and miners who traveled together, organizing the site setup and getting the first tunnels blasted, pirqs came and went, leaving jobs open. Natalia had counted on the loosely knit, nomadic tendencies of the culture to allow her and Gennie to find work and a place to sleep.
The three dorms—blue, yellow and red—were typical of the plain, unadorned buildings found around the Reserve. No need for fancy or frivolous when all a miner required was a warm bed and daily meals. About a third of the windows were lit, suggesting some workers were home and awake versus those who were on the job, or sleeping until the night shift started. Mines operated all twenty-six hours of the Nevarro day, every day, except for Worship. An hour was absorbed by transition time between nine-hour shifts. At some sites, depending on the percentage of Revivalists, even Worship saw the ore flowing on the conveyors.
Down the road, a company store would provide basic human needs of goods, food and alcohol. A once-white building with the red cross had to be the emergency response team and medico. Nothing worse than a minor fracture could be tended there. Other illnesses or injuries were typically transported to larger facilities.
A third building, designated The Hole, was the combination restaurant and bar the office man had spoken of. Even with the doors and windows closed against the chill of the evening, Natalia heard the deep bass of music from within. Apparently not all of the workers were home or sleeping. She wondered if they had decent whisky.
“Here.” Gennie held out Natalia’s bags. Their fingers brushed, and Gennie’s cool fingertips feathered over Natalia’s skin. Gennie didn’t release the bag. Natalia raised her gaze, and their eyes locked.
God help her, Gennie was a stunning woman. Long, dark lashes surrounded deep brown eyes that drew Natalia in. She had a mouth that tasted so sweet, a mouth she wanted to taste again. She wanted to brush her lips against Gennie’s throat, her breasts...
Natalia gave herself a mental shake. The heat that flushed her cheeks must have mirrored the coloring on Gennie’s face. Damn the void, the woman was having the same thoughts. Gennie averted her gaze and let go to lift her own bag out of the back.
Natalia breathed slowly to relieve some of the quiver in her chest. Sharing a room might prove challenging.
She hefted one bag and slid the strap of the other onto her shoulder. Side by side, they climbed the three shallow stairs to the prefab building, but neither spoke. Back at the office, Gennie’s confusion about the room had been plain enough. Natalia would explain it soon. She might not like the reason, but that was too damn bad.
The reception area of the dormitory was painted blue, like the exterior. An excess of paint, or had someone figured it would be easier for miners to remember the color of their dwelling if they saw it inside and out? To their right the image of a figure climbing stairs adorned a heavy-looking door. On the opposite wall, a swinging door labeled
Dining, and beside it a board with scraps of synth paper tacked to it served as the dorm’s message center. Pirqs tended to prefer writing over comms. It was something Natalia and Gennie would have to get used to.
A high counter separated the room from a small office area. Behind the counter was a scuffed door with Manager in faded black lettering.
They stepped up to the counter. The SI on the battered desk looked the same generation as the one in the main office they’d just left. A swivel chair with an obvious seat impression had been pushed away from the desk. Beside a button on the counter, a smudged, handwritten sign with curled edges read, Ring for Assistance. Natalia rang.
A muted buzzing sounded beyond the door, followed by a muffled shout. Male or female, Natalia couldn’t tell. After a few moments, the scarred door swung open. A woman with short gray hair, wearing a sleeveless button-down shirt and trousers held up by suspenders, shuffled out to the counter. She had a length of a black cheroot clamped between her teeth that produced a pungent smoke. Natalia recalled her parents and their friends being partial to the flavored tobacco.
“You the gals Kirkpatrick just hired?” Her gravelly voice implied there was probably a certain amount of alcohol that accompanied the smoking. She flicked a glance at Natalia’s head.
“Yes, ma’am,” Natalia said, removing her hat. Some little behaviors were lost after a couple of decades. “He said you had a room for us.”
The woman nodded as she sat at the desk. She tapped the SI, and when nothing happened, gave it a firm smack on the console. “Damn useless machine,” she muttered around the cheroot. “Either stick with hard copy or upgrade the damn system to something that works.”
Beside Natalia, Gennie stifled what sounded like a giggle and coughed to cover it. Natalia suppressed her own grin. She’d told Gennie not all pirqs followed Revivalist ways, but it was unusual to find someone complaining about tech in public. Pirqs typically shrugged off such inconveniences and used the old-fashioned methods that had worked for a millennium.
The SI emitted a low whine as the screen came to life. The woman tapped a few keys and icons. “Here you are.” Her interior North Continent accent was similar to that of the office man, Kirkpatrick. “One room, is that right?”
Gennie said nothing. It was Natalia’s decision to have them room together, so she’d be the one to field the questions. “That’s right.”
The woman eyed the two of them, squinting through the cloud of tobacco smoke. “Not married. You two aren’t gonna be invitin’ any kind of trouble, are you?”
“No, ma’am,” Natalia assured her. “We’re just here to work.”
She frowned, her gaze going back and forth between Natalia and Gennie, openly appraising them. Used to such scrutiny in her undercover guises, Natalia let it pass. What did Gennie think of the assessment?
The woman shook her head and snorted. “Gonna be trouble with those bastards, even if you are just lookin’ to work.” She stood, pushing the chair back, and shuffled to one of the filing cabinets flanking the door. Withdrawing a ring of keys from her trouser pocket, she found the one she wanted and opened the topmost drawer. After rifling around inside, she turned to Natalia and Gennie with two key cards and a piece of synth paper in hand. “Both of you sign this,” she said, laying the page on the counter. “I run a quiet place. No running about like wild animals.”
“No, ma’am,” Natalia and Gennie said together. Natalia glanced at Gennie. She wore a perfectly sincere expression, but there was a glint in her dark eyes that seemed to promise mischief.
They signed the paper with the stylus the woman provided. She slid the two cards across the counter. “Number three-oh-six. Third floor. Room should be in order. I’m Evie, husband’s John. Let one of us know if you have any problems.” Her tone implied she’d rather not hear of any problems.
“I’m Natalia. This is Gennie.” There were nods of acquaintance all around. “We pretty much keep to ourselves.”
Evie eyed them again, the cheroot shifting from one side of her mouth to the other. “Gals like you tend to get all sorts sniffing around.”
“We’re not interested in making trouble,” Gennie said.
Evie set her bright blue gaze on Gennie. “You ain’t worked with pirqs, girl, if you think intentions alone will keep you outta trouble.”
Gennie frowned and started to say something, but Natalia grabbed her arm and steered her toward the stairwell. “Much obliged, Evie. We’ll settle in and maybe grab a bite of dinner.”
She shoved the door open and sent Gennie through first. The door closed with a loud clang in the cold, damp stairwell. Natalia held Gennie’s gaze but released her arm.
Gennie continued frowning for a moment before her features relaxed into a wry grin. “Quite the character,” she said.
“She’s right, though.” Natalia shifted the strap on her shoulder and started up the stairs. “Some pirqs might follow Revivalist tenets, but never assume any of them are saints just because they talk about God.”
Gennie’s footsteps followed, echoing on the rough walls. “I never assume anything about anyone.”
* * *
Standing at the door behind Natalia reminded Gennie of their encounter at The Hotel Carmen just a few days before. Gennie moistened her lips, recalling the taste of Natalia’s mouth, remembering how her fingers danced along Gennie’s skin. Not for the first time, she regretted drugging the other woman before they had the chance to go further.
Natalia glanced at Gennie as she swiped the key card over the admit panel. Her cheeks flushed and her gaze flicked to Gennie’s mouth. Had she been remembering the same thing? Natalia looked away and opened the door.
Gennie would have been pleased about keeping the CMA agent off balance if she wasn’t off balance herself. It was obvious they found each other attractive, or her ploy at The Carmen wouldn’t have worked. It was also obvious, from the way Natalia acted, that attraction was where it had to end. Funny how she would have fucked Gennie’s brains out when she didn’t know her, but now that they were working together, Natalia threw up all manner of nonverbal walls.
Though, truth be told, drugging her and tying her up probably had a lot to do with Natalia’s attitude. Not to mention Gennie’s association with unsavory characters like drug dealers. If she learned the whole of Gennie’s past, Natalia would probably arrest her on the spot.
Gennie followed Natalia in and stopped just beyond the doorway in the dark room. Was the automatic light sensor not working? Natalia gave a soft grunt and reached out to slap the wall beside the door. The lights came on. Manual switch, not sensors. That would take some getting used to.
A few pieces of worn furniture, a cooling unit and a double-element cooktop in a corner filled the cramped living space. No CompuChef, of course. She wondered if Natalia cooked. To the left, a door stood ajar into a dark room that must be the bedroom. One door. One bedroom.
Gennie set her bags down and wandered around the living area. Everything looked clean, if used and ancient. Natalia headed straight to the bedroom and turned on the light.
“Two beds,” she said. Was that a hint of relief in her voice? Gennie fought the urge to suggest putting the beds together. Teasing the woman was fun, but how far could she go before Natalia got torqued? Probably not a good idea to test it. “No lav, though.”
Gennie turned from her inspection of the food prep area. “I know pirqs are tough and all, but I’m not going outside for that.”
Natalia laughed as she came back into the living area, and Gennie smiled. She had a great laugh that made Gennie’s stomach quiver. “No, there should be a shared lav on each floor. And laundry facilities. It’s more primitive than what you might be used to, but no one has to dig a hole for waste or beat their clothes against rocks.”
“When you were growing up, did you live in a place like this?” What had it
been like for Natalia to go from pirq miner to tech-savvy city-dweller?
“No.” She tested the cushion of the low couch and sat. “We had a little place on the edge of the complex just for us. Two tiny bedrooms and a tinier lav. Close quarters, but we managed.”
She ran her hands through her hair, giving it a sexy tousle. Gennie focused on the wall behind Natalia, though it didn’t take her mind off inappropriate things.
“We won’t be here for long,” Natalia continued. “We can handle it.”
Gennie nodded and scooped up her bags. “The faster the better, right?”
She wanted to get the evidence against the Reyeses as quickly as possible and return to her family. Mulling ways to make Natalia Hallowell squirm with pleasure was not on the agenda. Under other circumstances, she would have been a nice distraction. But circumstances left no room for playing with the woman, physically or otherwise.
The bedroom was half the size of the living area, with two narrow cots hugging opposite walls. At the foot of each cot, a squat set of shelves for personal items. “They don’t expect folks to make themselves too comfortable, do they?”
She felt more than heard Natalia come up behind her. Gennie’s body tingled yet again. No matter how hard she tried, Gennie couldn’t stop thinking about how Natalia’s breasts pressed against hers, and soft, whisky-tinged lips.
You’d better try harder, girl. Her inner voice sounded like Evie this time. That did the trick, for the moment anyway.
Natalia didn’t touch her now. She moved to the left, the hint of her spicy scent dissipated by the cool air. “Most miners are transitory. No sense in investing deeply.”
“In residencies or in each other?”
Her back to Gennie, Natalia shrugged. “Both.”
Seven or eight years ago, that pirq tendency would have been something she could relate to, embrace even. Then came Simon, and later, the twins. She’d learned she couldn’t go through life without investing part of herself, painful as that was much of the time.
