The Ghost Mine

by Ben Wolf

  “Maybe you should give me that stun gun mod after all.”

  Garth eyed him. “So you can do what? Stun one guard and get your ass kicked by the next one? It’s got a three-second recharge period.”

  He had a point. Justin wasn’t a fighter by any stretch of the imagination. He’d proven that against Dirk at Club Gemini. “I guess we’ll have to figure something else out.”

  “You know…” Garth rubbed his stubbly chin and stood. “I may have an old wig somewhere around here. It wouldn’t be much, but it might get you a few extra steps.”

  Garth searched through boxes and piles of junk but came up empty-handed.

  “Where’s the suit?” Justin asked. “I should probably put that on.”

  “Hanging in the entryway closet. It’s in a black garment bag. Had it cleaned awhile back and haven’t worn it since.”

  It’s clean? Thank God for small blessings. Justin headed over to the closet. The door slid open on its own, and somehow the junk packed into the closet didn’t topple onto Justin’s boots. Sure enough, wedged between a coat and a hooded sweatshirt hung a black garment bag.

  As Garth headed into his bedroom to look for the wig, Justin pulled the bag out, shut the closet, and laid it on the couch. He opened it and raised his eyebrows. A black suit with a subtle windowpane pattern. It would cover Justin’s work clothes nicely. He pulled the pants from the hanger and held them up.

  Hopefully Garth has a decent belt I can borrow. Even over his own pants, he’d probably be swimming in them.

  Justin kicked off his boots and tugged the pants on over his denim. It felt weird, wearing two pairs of pants. Almost like having two sets of skin. He fastened the pants in the front, pulled up the zipper, and found two extra inches between the suit pants and his jeans.

  Definitely need a belt.

  A white dress shirt hung with the suit, so he peeled the coat off the hanger, put the dress shirt on over his t-shirt, and then donned the suit coat next. It felt like wearing a parachute around his waist, but it fit him okay in the shoulders.

  Garth emerged from his bedroom with a long, white wig in his hands. “Hey, not bad.”

  “You got a belt?”

  “Check the bottom of the bag.” Garth held up the wig. “I found it.”

  Justin blinked at him. “It’s white.”

  “Yeah. I went as a nasty Santa Claus to a Christmas party at a previous job. The next week, I got fired. They said there wasn’t a connection, but I may have had too much eggnog and started mackin’ on the boss’s niece, if you know what I mean.”

  Justin retrieved a black belt with an adjustable slider for the buckle from the bag and started to loop it through the trousers’ belt loops. “What am I supposed to do with a long-haired white wig? And there’s another problem. I’m wearing work boots. They won’t go with the suit.”

  Garth shrugged and headed over to his desk. “I’ve got a solution for both.”

  “What?”

  Garth sat down and opened the lower right drawer. It squeaked open, and Garth pulled out a small yellow can and tossed it to Justin, who caught it. “Shoe polish. Rub it on your boots, cut the wig shorter, and rub it on the wig.”

  “Won’t it rub off?” Justin set it next to him on the couch and tightened the belt around his waist.

  “Does it matter?” Garth shook his head. “Just don’t touch your hair or your shoes. And I don’t care about the suit. Go swimming in it, if you want. It doesn’t fit me, and it probably never will again. A little black shoe polish on the cuffs won’t ruin it anyway. It’s already a black suit.”

  What more could he have asked for? Justin huffed. As far as disguises went, this was terrible, but it was all they had on short notice. “It’ll have to do.”

  A half-hour later, the clock read 1550 hours, and Garth affixed the now-black wig to Justin’s head and straightened it. He stepped back with his hand on his chin.

  “Well?” Justin asked.

  “You look terrible.”

  Justin exhaled. “We are so screwed.”

  “No, terrible is a good thing. You look like a miserable ACM office employee.” Garth smiled and rubbed his shoe polish-stained hands together. “It’s perfect.”

  “Are you going to communicate with me at all while I’m doing this?”

  Garth tilted his head. “What for? You know what you have to do.”

  “I don’t get an earpiece or anything?”

  “An earpiece? So if you get caught, they’ll have something to trace back to me?” Garth shook his head. “You don’t need it. You’ll be fine.”

  Justin sighed and stared at the Nebrandt plant sitting on the Plastrex coffee table. He picked it up and held it in his hands. He couldn’t really take it with him. Not in the cup, anyway. So he grabbed a rusty safety pin off of the coffee table, pricked the Nebrandt plant off at the base of its stem, and pinned it to the suit’s lapel.

  “If I don’t make it, will you promise to scramble my file anyway?” he asked.

  “No-can-do, comrade.” Garth shook his head. “The whole point is that lowering the sub-network shields will help disguise what I’m going to do for you.”

  Justin sighed. “Fine.”

  “All you have to do is touch the screen, and the upload package will begin. Even if they realize it’s you, you can still make a break for it.”

  Justin glanced at the clock. 1557 hours. “I need to get ready to go.”

  Garth headed over to his desk chair. “And I need to blind the cameras to your approach.” He stopped. “Oh, hold on a sec.” He dug into his pocket and tossed something to Justin.

  He caught it. An identification card. Etya’s picture anchored the lower left-hand corner. “What’s this for?”

  “You’ll need it to access the elevator and maybe some doors here and there. I’ll have to open Rodney’s office or Bartholomew’ offices remotely, and that’ll raise some issues, so it’s better for you to use this where you can so I don’t have to open doors for you.”

  Justin nodded. “And since Etya is sitting in a meeting right now, they’ll know she couldn’t have been opening these doors herself.”

  Garth gave him a thumbs-up. “Exactly.”

  “Got it.” Justin tucked it into his suit pocket. “Anything else?”

  “Don’t get caught.” Garth smirked.

  “Thanks.” Justin sucked in a deep breath, let it out, adjusted the Nebrandt plant on his lapel, and headed out of Garth’s suite.

  Somehow, Justin made it out of the corridor, past three sets of security guards, and to the grav lift that led to the admin offices. It hadn’t been overly difficult—he’d just walked at a normal pace with his head slightly bowed, and miraculously, they had all ignored him.

  As he headed toward the grav lift, it opened. A few admin types stepped out and walked past him without giving him a second look. The indicator on the grav lift pointed down, so Justin let the doors close.

  Footsteps sounded behind him. Heavy footsteps, but just one set. He didn’t turn to look. He just kept his head down and stared at his stupid boots and the black shoe polish all over them.

  The footsteps stopped a little behind him and to his left, and he cursed in his mind. Go somewhere else. Go anywhere else.

  Should he leave? No. He’d just ride the lift up with whoever it was. Everything would be fine.

  The lift chimed, and the doors opened. It was empty.

  From behind him, a familiar voice said, “Your wig’s coming off.”

  Wide-eyed, Justin turned around.

  Then Stecker slammed him against the wall.

  22

  Stecker’s thick forearm dug under Justin’s chin and into his throat, and his other arm pinned Justin’s robotic arm to his chest. His right shoulder burned.

  The edges of Justin’s vision started to get fuzzy. He strained against Stecker’s forearm with his left hand and tried to get free, but Stecker wouldn’t move. Justin managed to create enough space to snag a fraction of a breat
h but not enough to beg Stecker to relent.

  “Figures I’d be the one to find you lurking around here, and disguised, at that. Aside from the hair, you clean up pretty nice, Barclay.” Stecker grinned at him. “Gerhardt’s gonna love this.”

  Stecker’s forearm pressed harder against Justin’s throat, darkening his vision further.

  Then Justin remembered Garth’s modifications to his arm. He was stronger than this.

  Justin pushed his right arm against Stecker’s grip and easily moved both Stecker’s arm and his own arm away from his chest. The act lowered the amount of pressure on Justin’s throat a little bit as well.

  Stecker gawked at him and tried to pin Justin’s prosthetic arm to his chest again, but he couldn’t, so he drove his forearm harder into Justin’s throat.

  Justin choked, and the corridor lights began to dim. He grabbed Stecker’s right wrist with his prosthetic hand and pulled his forearm away enough to sidestep.

  Stecker readjusted and somehow got behind Justin. His right arm now curled around Justin’s throat from behind, but Justin fought the grip with both of his hands.

  He really wished he’d had the stun mod installed in his arm.

  Justin pulled Stecker’s arm away enough that he could lower his chin, and then Stecker’s pressure went there instead. It hurt his jaw, but at least he wasn’t choking anymore.

  “Let me go, Stecker,” he managed to grumble, still fighting Stecker’s arms.

  “No chance, kid,” Stecker grunted back. “Everyone’s after you.”

  “Give me a chance to exp—”

  Stecker’s arm snuck back under Justin’s chin and cut off his windpipe. He felt like his head was going to pop.

  Justin dug his prosthetic fingers under Stecker’s wrist and yanked, and he bought himself some breathing space. Stecker’s other arm tried to come in, but Justin’s left arm caught his wrist and held it there.

  Another hard yank, and Justin twisted free of his grips and faced Stecker, who stood with his back to the wall. The wig flopped off his head and landed on the floor.

  He opened his mouth to say something, but Stecker’s boot hit Justin flat in his chest. It was more of a push than a kick, but it sent Justin back into the opposite wall.

  Stecker didn’t advance, though. Instead, he retrieved his baton and extended it. Arcs of purple electricity swirled around its shaft.

  Justin caught his breath and swore. Garth should’ve given him the damned stun mod. He’d never beat Stecker in a fight. Not a chance.

  Stecker took a quick step forward with the baton held high.

  Justin dropped to his knees and held his hands up. “I surrender. Stop.”

  Stecker did stop, but he kept holding the baton high, ready. “Good choice.”

  “Hear me out. This mine is dangerous. They’ve framed me for what’s happened, and I only came back to warn them.”

  “Cute story. Turn around.”

  Justin kept his hands up, but he didn’t turn around. “I’m on my way to turn myself in to Carl Andridge and his men. I found out he was in a meeting right now, so that’s where I was going.”

  Stecker glared at him. “Turn around.”

  “Why? If you cuff me, my arm can break out of it. We both know it’s stronger than you expected.”

  “Think that through again, kid. Your strong, metal arm is going to be cuffed to your weak, flesh-and-bone arm. You’re right that something’s gonna give, but it won’t be the cuffs.”

  Justin cursed his own stupidity. “Look, just listen, okay?”

  Stecker raised the baton.

  Justin ducked and shielded himself with his arms. “Okay, okay! I’m turning around.”

  He did, and before long, Stecker had him restrained with old-fashioned steel handcuffs. Stecker patted Justin down from head to toe but found only Etya’s identity card. Justin didn’t have anything else on him.

  Stecker turned Justin around and pushed him against the wall. “What are you doing with Dr. Stielbard’s card?”

  “I stole it from her,” he lied.

  “Yeah? How’d you get out of the medbay without being seen?”

  Justin had always liked and respected Stecker. He’d been consistently good to Justin, so Justin decided not to mouth off to him like he would’ve done to Gerhardt. But he also couldn’t rat on Etya and Garth. “The same way I broke into the mine.”

  “So that was your doing after all, huh?”

  Justin shrugged. “Innocent until proven guilty, right?”

  Stecker huffed. “Depends on the planet.”

  “Look, Stecker. The mine is unsafe. We’re all at risk.”

  “And why is that?”

  Justin hesitated. He wished he hadn’t, but it was too late now. Nonetheless, he needed to phrase his next words carefully. “The science says it’s not safe. Dr. Stielbard wrote a report on it. The whole mine is at risk.”

  Stecker studied him. “Is she involved in this?”

  “What? No.” Justin hadn’t hesitated that time. He’d just returned Stecker’s stare and answered firmly.

  “You’ve got her card, and now you’re mentioning some report she wrote.”

  “I told you, I stole her card. She’s careless with it. I’ve been watching her.”

  “And how do you know about her report?”

  “Huh?”

  “Simple question. How do you know about her report?”

  “I worked in the science office for half a day after my first incident. I saw it, and I read it.”

  Stecker studied him. “And you’re sure she’s not involved?”

  “She’s not. It’s just me. I’m just using her information.” Justin raised an eyebrow. “But I think she’d agree with me, if it came to it.”

  Stecker spun Justin to his left and pointed him toward the grav lift, which had long since closed. “Only one way to find out.”

  Did that mean what Justin thought it meant? Was Stecker taking Justin up to the meeting?

  Stecker scanned his identity card, and the grav lift opened again. He shoved Justin inside and commanded the lift to go up to the top floor of the admin offices. Justin smirked to himself. He wouldn’t have needed Garth’s help with the lift after all.

  The clock in the lift displayed 1607 in glowing red numerals. In three minutes, Garth would execute the order to lower the sub-network shields. In three minutes, Justin had to touch Bartholomew Morgan’s screen, in his office—with his hands cuffed behind his back.

  The lift slowed to a stop, and the doors opened. A huge office, its walls made of darkened privacy glass, took up the majority of the floor, but a trio of smaller offices accompanied it. Justin eyed them, but he couldn’t make out any of the names near the doors.

  A receptionist to Justin’s right asked if she could help, but Stecker waved her off and ushered Justin around the right side, toward the huge office’s entrance. The name on the door read, “Bartholomew Morgan.”

  Justin smiled to himself. Stecker was escorting him to his goal.

  Stecker pressed his card against the scanner to the side of the door, and it opened.

  The sounds of conversation ceased as Stecker pushed Justin inside.

  There, around a massive, glass-topped table shaped like a teardrop, sat Bartholomew Morgan, Oafy, Gerhardt, Etya, Shannon, Harry, and a few others Justin didn’t recognize.

  Carl Andridge stood halfway between the wall and the table, and Noby, his massive guard, stood behind him.

  Justin’s eyes locked with Shannon first. She gawked at him for a moment, then she folded her arms and leaned back in her chair, glaring at him.

  The clock on the wall displayed 1609.

  He intentionally avoided eye contact with Etya so as to avoid any sense that they might be colluding. It wasn’t too hard, since Justin couldn’t figure out where Bartholomew’s screen was. He glanced at the desk at the far end of the room, beyond the table. It didn’t have a screen on it that he could see. Bartholomew wasn’t holding one, either.

/>   Where is it?

  “Mr. Barclay?” Carl Andridge smiled at him. “What a wonderful surprise. I was afraid you’d spread your radiation-mutated wings and flown the coop.”

  Justin ignored him and looked to his left. A pretty secretary, or whatever she was, stared at him the same way almost everyone else in the room did: wide-eyed and with raised eyebrows.

  A screen sat atop her desk, but that couldn’t have been the one Garth meant, could it? Why hadn’t Garth specified? Did he not know?

  “No response, Mr. Barclay?” Carl waved at him, and Justin turned. “Over here, friend.”

  Justin thought of Keontae. “We’re not friends, and you can blow me.”

  Carl tilted his head, but that smile stayed on his face. “You’re probably right. We were just discussing you. Quite convenient of you to show up like this.”

  Justin kept looking around the room, but he tried not to make it too obvious. “You know I have a knack for ending up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “And you, sir? You found him?”

  “He was trying to access the lift to get up here,” Stecker said.

  Carl turned to Gerhardt. “He is one of your guards, right?”

  Gerhardt nodded. “The best one.”

  Justin just kept searching the room. Nothing else could’ve been the screen. It had to be the one on the assistant’s desk. But could he break away from Stecker and reach it in time? Especially with his hands cuffed behind his back?

  “Well, now that you’re here, that resolves one of our major issues.” Carl’s smile persisted. “You found us, so now we don’t have to find you.”

  The clock had shifted to 1610 hours. Garth would have the shields ready by now.

  Justin tensed, ready to skitter over to the desk and touch the assistant’s screen, but he caught Etya staring at him, her human eye intense and probing, and her cyborg eye dead, yet equally probing. He looked at her, glanced away, and looked at her again.

  She sat with her elbows on the table, her hands clasped, except for the index finger of her robot hand. He hadn’t noticed it at first, but it pointed straight down.