CLAIM JUMPED
“Phoenix, I didn’t murder Gus,” Jun pleaded, squeezing her hands tightly between his. “Whatever else I did, I didn’t murder him. You do believe me, don’t you?”
As Phoenix leaned forward to softly kiss her husband on one cheek, she wondered if she did believe him, but she said what he needed to hear. “I believe you, Jun.”
The jury was out, but neither of them had any doubt what the verdict would be. In a few short hours, Jun wouldn’t be able to remember anything. No matter what he’d done, Phoenix could give him this small comfort…even though she wondered if he deserved it.
* * *
The case had started out bad, gotten worse. The facts were plain and simple: Jun East and his partner, Gus Ganon, were working their isolated claim: the asteroid listed in the catalog as NG721, but which they called Nugget. It was a sizeable bit of rock, particularly notable for a vein of silver, along with a second vein of high-grade iron.
On the fatal day, the partners had gotten into an argument. The vid feed from the camera monitoring the ore processing and smelting machinery showed what had happened in vivid—if silent—detail. The silence was because the crushing stage was deafening, so the boys had long-ago disabled the audio. Like everyone in the courtroom, Phoenix had watched the unfolding scene with fixed attention.
Jun stood in the processing room. He was a handsome man in his mid-thirties, broad-shouldered and muscular, because not all his work could be done wearing an exoskeleton, like the one he was wearing today to help him shift the bricks of processed metal from the conveyer. He wasn’t unduly tall, but then height wasn’t an advantage for a miner or really for anyone who lived in a contained environment, as most spacers did.
Because he was wearing ear protectors, Jun didn’t hear when Gus entered the room, though calling it a “room” was a stretch. Like most of the chambers on Nugget, it was a repurposed area, in this case, one of the early excavation areas, so the walls were rough rock and its shape irregular.
Gus strode over to Jun, every line in his lean, wiry body showing his tension. He moved to where Jun could see his face, then tapped one ear as a signal that he wanted to talk. Jun nodded, touched buttons on the wrist-mounted remote he wore to shut down the ore crusher. Then he removed his protective earmuffs, slinging them around his neck as he prepared to listen to what he partner had to say.
Gus, in turn, had slid open the cover on his data tablet, called up a file, and then angled the tablet so Jun could see what was displayed. It didn’t look like much, several columns of numbers, but Jun’s reaction made clear that whatever these numbers were, he was horrified to discover that Gus had seen them.
Gus said something to Jun. Jun replied angrily. Gus snapped the tablet cover closed and began to stalk from the room. When his back was turned, Jun struck, grasping Gus with the grippers on the exoskeleton, grippers meant to handle heavy blocks of refined metal and buckets of unprocessed ore. What would have been a solid grasp from a man’s hands smashed Gus’s collarbone. Blood spurted forth, flesh and fragments of bone oozing up through the metal claws.
Gus opened his mouth in a soundless scream. Jun panicked. Raising his partner’s writhing, screaming body in the exoskeleton’s claws, he held it in midair, staring in shock. Then, almost certainly realizing that Gus was doomed, he slid his ear protectors on before turning back on the power to the crusher. A machine built to pulverize ore makes short work of a human body. Temperatures needed to separate ore from waste rock render a person into nothing in no time at all. Jun might have gotten away with it, might have cleaned up after himself, made some excuse for Gus vanishing, but the bad luck that had plagued him from the moment Gus confronted him continued.
The door opened, admitting a stocky woman clad in an EVA suit with the hood off and the gloves dangling loose at her wrists. Her name was Tisi Tone, and she was the owner of a shipping company. On the fatal day, she was due to deliver supplies to Nugget, and take away a load of silver bricks. When she hadn’t raised either Gus or Jun, she’d docked, let herself in, and gone to the processing room, thinking that the partners were getting together the cargo.
She arrived in time to witness Jun sliding Gus’s mangled body into the hopper. Without a pause, she pulled her sidearm from its holster. Within moments, Jun was in custody.
The video image ended there, and Napier Oakes, the prosecutor who was trying the case on behalf of the Rolling Rock Asteroid Belt Conglomerate Government, took up the account.
“Although the tablet itself was destroyed along with Gus Ganon’s body, forensic techs were able to retrieve the data from the database on NG721. What Gus confronted his partner with was evidence that Jun East, far from being a simple miner, was actually involved in hacking and fraud on a grand scale. In an attempt to cover up his criminal actions, Jun murdered his partner.”
Over and over, Jun denied having killed anyone. Chanel Sulwyn, his defense counsel, did her best, but with that recording, with the blood and tissue samples the forensics team collected and analyzed, there was little she could do but attempt to get the sentence changed from murder to manslaughter.
Sulwyn emphasized that Jun’s crimes had been of the Robin Hood sort. Not all miners owned their own claims, as Gus and Jun did. Many worked for large companies. These companies paid in scrip that could only be redeemed at company stores. Jun’s crime had been altering the electronic scrip records so that, as he himself put it when questioned, “The miners would be paid enough to balance the horribly inflated prices charged by the mining companies.”
That Jun himself took nothing was a point in his favor, but one that, in the end, was not enough to save him.
* * *
By the time the jury went out, Phoenix felt as if she, as well as Jun, had been on trial.
When presenting his case, Oakes hadn’t been willing to stop at the obvious scenario: that Jun had been involved in fraud and theft; that Gus had apparently caught Jun, confronted him, then paid with his life. His voice silky and insinuating, he’d made much of the fact that Phoenix had been romantically involved with Gus, that she’d met Jun through Gus, then, after a whirlwind courtship, had married him.
The way Oakes had presented events, Phoenix had been transformed into a succubus who had seduced Jun away from his “partner.” On Oakes’s lips, the word that simply defined a business relationship became a synonym for “spouse.” Phoenix was the homewrecker, the destroyer, the one who had driven her man to murder.
It helped Oakes’s case that Phoenix was gorgeous. Pixy small, with a figure her close-fitting EVA suit showed off to full advantage, she had adorned her depilated head—for like most who spent a lot of time in space, she viewed hair merely as an inconvenience that clogged filters—by having an elaborate coif tattooed onto her scalp. This depicted her namesake bird resting its head atop her own, its feathers trailing down and to the sides of her head before vanishing beneath her collar, inviting speculation as to whether the bird’s embrace continued beneath.
Nor did it help that Phoenix herself was a skilled miner, although she favored prospecting over actual mining. That preference had been turned against her. She’d been presented as a wanderer, a flitter, more at home in Mustang’s pilot chair than at her spouse’s side. It had even been implied that if anyone bothered to search, they’d probably find she had an undeclared lover or three dotted around the Belt.
All untrue. The deceiver had been Jun. Faithful to the terms of their wedding vows, Phoenix didn’t doubt, but not honest, or at least not honest in the way the law designated honesty. She wished Jun had confided in her, but out of a misguided belief that he was keeping her “safe,” he hadn’t.
* * *
“We find Jun East guilty of the murder of Augustus ‘Gus’ Ganon,” Judge Quenby boomed, obviously enjoying the sound of her own voice, “and sentence him to serve a term equivalent to the lifespan during which his late partner could have been expected to benefit the community.”
Phoenix had been expecting this. Hard labor had long been the “humane” penalty, one made easier to accept once some genius with more talent than common sense had invented the device commonly called a “slave driver,” which enabled the will to be overridden, while the skills remained intact.
Phoenix had been expecting this sentence. What she hadn’t expected was for it to hurt so much. As she rose from her seat, she resolved that she was going to clear Jun, and—she had to be honest—herself, as well. And if she couldn’t clear him, somehow she’d set him free.
* * *
Goodbyes were brief, since statutes against cruel and unusual punishment had been interpreted to mean that a sentence should be carried out as quickly as possible. Why not? If there was a successful appeal, the unjustly condemned could be released, compensated for his time at guild rates minus a set amount for his room and board, then sent on his way. Meanwhile, why let him feel anguish? Why let the community go uncompensated for one minute less than necessary?
The rationale made perfect sense until you were the one watching your husband being led out the door, knowing that if you chanced to encounter him again, he’d have no idea who you were. Phoenix didn’t want to take that chance. As soon as she and Jun had shared a final kiss and the prison guards had led him away, she all but ran out of the courthouse, down the steps, to where Mustang waited in the slips reserved for those called in as witnesses.
She glimpsed Tisi, whose testimony had been so damning, a few slips down, apparently reveling in being interviewed by the numerous newsbots that floated around her like planets around their primary star. When they saw Phoenix, several newsbots unceremoniously abandoned Tisi and sped toward her. Phoenix flung herself into Mustang’s cabin. The ship’s AI didn’t wait for her to give the command. As soon as the restraint harness had dropped over her shoulders, Mustang bolted.
Phoenix let the ship have his head, and leaned back in the seat that was the key element of her home: pilot’s chair, office, entertainment center, gym, bedroom, and lab—bathroom and shower, too. The ship had cost—if not the Moon, as the old saying went—then a very nice asteroid that, a decade later, still produced pay dirt for one of the companies, ironically, Jun had been defrauding.
And worth every cred, Phoenix thought, and affectionately patted the seat.
Mustang—the AI—got them out of the vicinity of Rolling Rock City in record time, without violating any of the many safety regulations, then spoke. Sometimes Mustang affected a deep, nasal voice that was his idea of how a stallion would sound if it could talk, complete with a variety of snorts, whinnies, nickers, and even hoofbeats. The fact that he chose to address her in a neutral, vaguely masculine voice told Phoenix how deeply concerned the AI was.
“Did it bug you as much as it did me?”
“What? Jun getting life?”
“Not that. That was a given if he was convicted. No. The way Oakes went after you.”
Phoenix forced a laugh, which came out more like a groan. “Well, I can’t say that was exactly fun, but compared to what Jun came in for, I guess lascivious slander isn’t much.”
“But why did Oakes bother? I checked your background files and cross-referenced them with Oakes’s résumé. He’s only been out in Rolling Rock for two years. Unless you’re hiding something from me, it’s highly unlikely that you encountered each other in the years before I met you.”
“You’re right, I never laid eyes on him until court,” Phoenix replied. Unasked, Mustang had sent her a cup of black coffee and a thick slice of pound cake. She sipped the one as she reviewed her recent excursions. “Last two years, I’ve either been out trying to strike pay dirt, or visiting Jun…and Gus. Heck, the boys even did most of the shopping. You haven’t needed an overhaul. I’ve met with some company types, but pretty much been riding the range.”
“Yet, given a perfectly good case,” Mustang persisted, “based around the undeniable evidence that Jun was involved in some petty theft, and Gus caught him at it, Oakes decided to spend most of his designated time building a case around jealousy, hinting at you playing the two men off each other.”
“Which I didn’t,” Phoenix said. “Heck, Gus and I were cooling even when he introduced me to Jun. I’d wondered if he’d introduced us because he thought we might clinch, and Gus liked the idea of keeping me—I am a damn fine prospector, thank you very much—in the family, so to speak. I said as much when I was on the stand.”
Mustang spoke in an eerily accurate echo of Oakes’s rolling oratory. “How many a man has, once he has given something away, realized that he has lost a treasure? Perhaps Gus hinted at his lingering affection? Perhaps he suggested a triad? We will never know what he felt, but looking at the witness, we cannot imagine his heart did not carry a flame for the lovely Phoenix.”
“Horse-hockey!” Phoenix let herself show the anger she’d hidden in court. “When Oakes went on like that, I wanted to shake him, but the judge had already made clear that ‘irregularities’ would not be tolerated. I didn’t see how getting cited for contempt would do Jun—or me—any good.”
“Unfortunately, your restraint could have been taken,” Mustang interjected, “as an admission that the prosecution was onto something. And there’s another thing that’s bothering me: the judge’s behavior.”
“What did Judge Quenby do?”
“While we’ve been chatting, I’ve analyzed the courtroom proceedings. Chanel Sulwyn was repeatedly told not to speculate, but Oakes was permitted to heap up sufficient lascivious innuendo to make his subtext clear to the dullest juror before being told to get back on track. I’ll shoot you the details when I have them charted, but I think the judge was bought.”
“Judge and prosecutor both?”
“And maybe part of the jury.”
“But who’s going to gain from getting a miner brain-slaved? Sure, Jun had some excellent skills, but he wasn’t unique.”
Except to me. Except as a person. Except as the hardworking idealistic idiot I loved enough to marry, in the “till death do us part” romantic way. I’m realizing more and more, now that he’s been taken from me, that I meant it then and I still mean it. Jun’s alive, and I’m gonna get him back. While I’m at it, I’ll find who killed Gus, because he was our friend, as well as Jun’s partner.
“Are you sure Jun wasn’t specifically targeted?” Mustang persisted. “Maybe someone needs a bunch of miners for some secret project?”
Phoenix shook her head. “All of this is just to recruit Jun? Easier to pay him. Sure, he and Gus owned Nugget free and clear, but that didn’t make them rich.”
“I remember you telling me that Gus had suggested they issue shares so they’d have the ready cash to hire help, but Jun wasn’t interested.”
“Part of Jun’s fear of big business,” Phoenix explained with a sad smile, rolling her empty coffee cup between her palms before stuffing it into the recycler. “Jun was certain that as soon as he gave anything away, it would be used as a hook to yank away the rest.”
I wonder if that fear was why Jun proposed a life-contract marriage. I wonder if, rather than loving me, he was afraid of losing me. But, no. Stop being stupid. Don’t let your hurt get in the way of your head.
Mustang said, “Another argument against my proposed Recruitment Motive is why kill Gus? Better to get him as an accessory to Jun’s crimes. That wouldn’t get Gus brain-slaved, but he’d probably have been sentenced to a year or so of remunerative labor. All right, if we discard pushing Jun into involuntary servitude, what’s left?”
“Let’s see…” Phoenix stuffed the uneaten pound cake after her coffee cup. “We can rule out someone having a grudge against Gus, killing him, then framing Jun. Oakes went out of his way to establish that no one had anything against Gus. Neither of them owned much—except for Nugget, of course, but there’re a lot of asteroids out there. Why commit murder to get this one?”
“Hang on, don’t toss that so fast.” Mustang nearly whinnied in excitement. “Getting ownership of Nugget would explain the attack on you, as well.”
“Why?”
“With Jun out of the way, you own his share of Nugget. Do you know who Gus’s heir would be?”
“I’m pretty sure Gus mentioned a brother, but that brother wouldn’t get Nugget. Jun’s paranoia again. When the boys bought Nugget, Jun insisted that they will each other their share. When Jun and I got married, they amended the agreement so that I would inherit his share. Gus wasn’t thrilled until we added a clause that he would get first right to buy me out.”
“Work with me on this,” Mustang said, adding the sound effect of racing hoofbeats beneath his words. “There’s one circumstance where the provision to inherit wouldn’t hold true: if you were complicit in Gus’s death. A murderer cannot benefit from her crime. So if later evidence showed up that you goaded Jun into killing Gus, neither of you would inherit Jun’s share. Then Nugget would go to whoever is Gus’s heir.”
Phoenix didn’t need to look at the med readout at the corner of her panel to know her heartrate had just jumped to a dangerous level. She gripped the arms of her pilot seat.
“Could there be something on Nugget? Something someone else wants, someone who wants it enough to kill Gus, frame Jun, frame me? Damn! If that’s true, we’ve got to get there and find out before they take it, or before charges can be brought against me.”
“Shifting to gallop,” Mustang said with a wild whinny. “You get some sleep. I’ll wake you when we’re there.”
* * *
Mustang woke Phoenix well before they arrived. “Long-range scans showed anomalies,” he announced as she was scrubbing grit out of her eyes. “Thought you’d better see. Putting on your screen. Coffee’s almost ready. Rye or wheat toast?”
“Rye,” Phoenix replied absently, her gaze skimming the sensor report. “Thanks.”
The singleship Mustang had been designed as Phoenix’s ideal of what a prospector’s ship should be. She’d insisted on the best scanners that could be fit in the ship’s relatively small profile, and hadn’t even winced too much when her mech-tech offered her some scavenged from a military “scout”—which she had taken to mean “spy”—craft. She’d never regretted it, because those sensors had kept her from wasting time and fuel investigating a promising asteroid whose promise proved superficial.
This time, I think those sensors may have saved my life. There’s a ship inside the hangar bay, and that bay should be empty.
“No one should have been able to get in there,” she said to Mustang. “After the on-site murder investigation, I wiped the codes and sealed Nugget. Didn’t want gawkers or reporters in there.”
“How good are the protocols?” Mustang asked. “Nugget’s not my department.”
“Good,” Phoenix said. “Better than good. Only three people knew the cycle: me, Jun, and Gus.”
“Could Jun have given away something when he was interrogated?”
“No. I thought of that. I supervised the investigation, then changed the codes after. I didn’t tell even Jun that I’d done it.”
“Well, no one should be in there,” Mustang said. He paused, and Phoenix knew he was going to try a joke. “I guess you locked the barn door after the horse got out.”
“Ha-ha…Or someone set a Trojan horse to let them get in no matter what I did. It wouldn’t have been easy, but neither would framing Jun. Damn! I should have wiped the whole system and reloaded from scratch.”
“Give yourself a break. Your husband had been arrested for murdering his partner, who was both of your close friend—and, as Oakes wouldn’t let you forget, your own former lover.”
“Is there a reason for bringing that up?”
“You know there is. We talked about how there might be an attempt to frame you, too. What if this is part of it? Who would guess that you’d turn around and come back so soon after the trial had ended. Many humans would avoid a place with such painful associations for a long while after.”
“Or go get drunk or whatever.” Phoenix’s breakfast had appeared, and she made a sandwich from rye bread, fried eggs, and slices of sharp Swiss cheese, and then ate half while she thought about how best to explain. “They probably didn’t consider that my reaction to getting publicly shamed would be to run to my ship.”
“Or on your ship being so insightful,” Mustang added, very pleased with himself. “So, let’s assume they don’t expect you here. Still, I don’t think going in the front door is a great idea.”
“Me either. But I don’t want to delay. Plot us a course that will use the local rocks as cover, then bring us in.” She finished the other half of her sandwich. “Pull up the specs for Nugget.”
“Done, and doing.” The AI’s voice sounded flatter than usual.
“And thank you very much. I’m sorry I’ve forgotten my manners, O best and brightest of companions.”
“I like that. You can heap on praise anytime.”
“Sure, O Faithful Steed. Now, some peace and quiet, so my slow human brain can process. I’m going to trust you to handle everything else—including getting me another breakfast and more coffee.”
“Do I get an extra nosebag of oats?”
“You do, but you get something even better.”
“What?”
“You avoid the likelihood that if I fail, you’ll get mind-wiped like poor Jun. You don’t think that whoever is after me is going to leave you around as a witness, do you?”
There was a long pause, especially for the AI. “Would you believe I’d overlooked that?”
“Yeah, I would.” Phoenix patted her armrest, like she might have the neck of a real horse. “You’ve been so busy looking out for me that you didn’t realize that, in doing so, you’re also looking out for yourself.”
“Consider me reprimanded, and my enlightened self-interest activated. Let’s find out who drygulched Gus, framed Jun, shamed you, and had the gall to decide I could be sent to the knackers!”
* * *
The design specs proved extremely useful. Like many asteroids, over its many repeated journeys around the Rolling Rock belt, Nugget had been repeatedly holed, dinged, and dented. Like any sensible, economy-minded asteroid miners, Gus and Jun had repurposed various of these dings and dents. The largest had become the hangar bay, which had been fitted with doors, so that it could also serve as a secure storage area for the processed ore. Others had been used to hold for various other necessities.
“Fuel conduit,” she said aloud. “That’s my best way in.”
Mustang’s reply came after a pause, so the AI’s attention had been elsewhere.
“Yes. That should work. It’s a tight fit, but you’re small. Then what?”
“Then I find out who’s there, what they’re doing. If it’s at all iffy—which we’re both assuming it is—I make a record of it. Then I sneak back to you. We clear out and let the law take over.”
“If we can trust the law.” Clearly the prospect of being sent to the knackers had Mustang spooked.
“I think we can. Not Judge Quenby, certainly, but if the whole legal system is corrupt, then this setup wouldn’t have been necessary. One of the things you can do while I’m creeping around is some research into just who we might be able to trust. I was planning on starting with Chanel Sulwyn, but we’d better check in case she might have been bought, too.”
“I can do that.” Mustang sounded moderately more confident. “I downloaded a lot of material about the legal system when Jun was arrested. I thought we might be able to advise Sulwyn, but when that video was revealed, well, I guess I gave up.”
“You and me and him and her, all,” Phoenix said. “Don’t blame yourself. Now, let me get suited up.”
* * *
After the singleship Mustang, Phoenix’s most expensive business investment had been a very good EVA suit. Although spectrographic analysis and densitometer maps were useful, actual physical specimens were required to register a claim.
Phoenix’s suit had several useful bells and whistles, including a chameleon coat, because she preferred to see rather than be seen. She’d opted out of built-in jets, because they were killer expensive to repair and meant the whole suit would be in the shop if one went out. Temporary jets were cheaper, and a lot easier to replace, even if they didn’t look as good. Even better, especially for today’s job, Phoenix could unstrap the units after she’d landed, slimming her frame down, the better to get into tight places.
Never been in a tighter place than I am today, Phoenix thought as she drifted to a soft landing only a few meters from her target crater. I hope you appreciate this, Jun. Heck, Gus, I hope you do, too, because this’ll hopefully get the real murderer.
“Mustang,” she tight-beamed over her comm-link, “I’m going in. Eavesdrop as you can.”
Both she and the AI knew that it was possible they could be cut off from each other once she was inside and thick layers of dense ore-laden rock got between them.
I always meant to get a drone for Mustang so he could come along if he wanted. Definitely move that up on the shopping list.
Smelting ore required a lot more fuel than could be supplied by solar collectors. Jun and Gus had invested in a small reactor that, being sensible, they’d mounted in a hollow on Nugget’s exterior, where meters of solid rock provided shielding in case of a malfunction. As with the hangar, they’d built bay doors to protect the reactor from rocks and dust—as well as their more opportunistic neighbors. Phoenix had an access card, so she slipped in without triggering any alarms.
The power conduit had been laid in a tunnel wide enough to permit maintenance and upgrades. While not within anyone’s definition of “roomy,” there was space enough for Phoenix to pull herself along. When she came to the conduit’s end, she eased open the access panel enough to listen. Once she was sure she was alone, she dropped through and pushed down until her lightly magnetized boots caught hold of the metal flooring. She’d long been proficient in the art of glide-walking, and moved soundlessly to the door between the fuel room and the rest of the interior complex.
Once again, she eased open the door, listened, and reassured herself that she wasn’t about to bump into anyone before going out. Initially, Gus and Jun had camped in their ship, which was quite a bit larger than Mustang, but (or so Phoenix thought) not nearly as comfortable. They must have thought so, too, because as soon as they had raised enough credits, they’d created a small, sealed habitat. Then, over the years, in the way of burrowing animals of all sorts, they’d expanded their warren. Air and pressure had been the first big luxury, enabling them to work without risking the integrity of their EVA suits. Metal walkways connecting frequently used areas had been another quality-of-life investment. They hadn’t bothered with lighting throughout, though, settling for luminescent striping, color-coded by level.
Phoenix guided herself by these strips now. They were arrayed in a classic rainbow pattern: ROYGBIV. The first, central level was green, and as the dig had expanded, the spectrum provided a directional guide—a useful thing where “up” and “down” were optional concepts. She had emerged from the conduit on Green Level, which had largely been mined out and now contained living quarters, storage, and processing facilities—but no intruders.
The hangar bay held a sleek passenger craft. Phoenix made a note of the registration number before continuing her inspection of Green Level and confirming that it was empty.
She drifted over to the nearest cross-shaft and listened. Nothing. Not giving herself time to get nervous, she dropped toward Blue, choosing that direction because that was where the most recent work had been done. If there was a new find, it was likely that way. She paused at Blue and Indigo, inspecting for light or sound, but only oppressive darkness and silence met her. Then she dropped toward the newly opened Violet Level.
Phoenix hadn’t been down here since joining the boys for a ceremonial drink and coin toss when they’d opened the cross-shaft. They’d always done that, with whoever won the toss getting to choose which direction they would excavate—the new tunnels were too narrow to admit more than one person at a time. If one or the other hit something good, then they’d concentrate their attention that way.
Silly, I suppose, but that friendly competition kept them fresh. I remember that day. Jun won the toss and chose to go deeper into the interior. Gus tried to make out he was perfectly happy with the other way, but since the densitometer readings showed he was likely to hit a pocket pretty soon, he wasn’t thrilled. Still, they both knew it didn’t matter. They’d share equally in any profit.
To Phoenix’s astonishment, when she did hear voices, they were coming from Gus’s tunnel. Subconsciously, she’d expected the intruders to be inspecting Jun’s, since Jun had struck silver, the same he’d been smelting on the fatal day, and that’d been where new work was being done.
But could one of Gus’s pockets have held something of interest?
Gus’s tunnel expressed his personality. It was carefully cut, with shoring at appropriate points, as any experienced miner would do, but the shoring was almost always at maximum recommended distances, expressing his impatience with “fuss.” The tunnel was cut tall enough for him to stand with room to spare. Gus claimed this was because an old slag burn on one leg made it awkward for him to crouch, but Phoenix had always thought it was because Gus hated being uncomfortable. He’d been the one who insisted they keep modifying Nugget to make it more livable.
Jun would probably still be living in the ship and breathing bottled air, spending his money on tools like the exoskeleton—and probably giving away too much to whoever showed up with a hard-luck story. They were good for each other, balancing priorities.
Whatever the reason, today Phoenix was grateful for Gus’s indulgences. She took advantage of the minimal gravity and went high, pulling herself along the ceiling. No matter that humans now inhabited interstellar space, humanity hadn’t changed in that “up” was usually the last place anyone looked.
The voices grew clearer as Phoenix moved closer but were far from distinct. Instead of trying to understand what was being said, she activated her recorder. She might not be able to understand the words, but the audio pickups were a lot better than human ears. Looking for the first indication of ambient light, she moved closer.
Three voices. Higher-pitched. Lower-pitched. And…vaguely familiar? Trying to place that last voice distracted Phoenix so much that she reached, gripped nothing, and only then realized that there was no more tunnel roof.
Pocket. Jun told me Gus had encountered a large cavern a couple of shifts before Jun confirmed he had hit that rich silver vein, so they shifted operations over there. This must be it. This is a heck of a cavern. No wonder the voices were distorted. I bet Gus would have wanted to make it into a recreation area or something.
Smiling sadly at the memory of her murdered friend, Phoenix eased forward. A faint glow told her that artificial light was in use. Trusting her EVA camo, she gripped the uneven surface of the “roof” and crept to where she could get a look at the three figures clustered close together, apparently inspecting something.
Score one for Mustang. There’s definitely something here other than silver and iron. But what? And why didn’t Jun tell me about it? Was he going to surprise me? Or—the thought was unsettling—maybe he didn’t know? Did Gus discover something and held out on Jun? Possible, I guess.
The unsettled feeling that had been surging in Phoenix’s gut since she first heard the “familiar” voice grew. She felt suddenly desperate to get a better look at these three intruders. Staying “up,” she angled until she could see faces, then activated the distance vision on her EVA optics. All wore EVA suits, open, with the helmet back, collar loose, taking advantage of the interior atmosphere.
Higher-pitched was speaking, so she oriented on him first. Ground-pounder built, a grizzle-jawed male. Maybe retired? Likely military. There was something in his posture, even though his EVA suit was generic “rack.” Maybe too generic, like it was a disguise.
“The images you sent were promising,” Military was saying, “but this is even better than I dared hope. I suspect this is a cache from the last Incursion.”
“Incursion” was the polite way of referring to periodic attempts by various company interests within the Rolling Rock Conglomerate to take over a competitor by extralegal means. Every mining camp and rock habitat told tall tales of caches containing everything from combat drugs to weapons to extraordinary devices, even to singleships that would make Mustang seem a spavined hack ready for the scrapyard.
Deeper Voice—rich baritone to Higher Voice’s tenor—was elegantly androgynous after the current fashion for corporate types, which called for a lack of individuality that proclaimed loyalty to the company, rather than to the self. Corp was clad in a very fine EVA rig, the sort used by those who didn’t expect to work or fight, who wanted to forget that they were surrounded by vacuum.
“I concur, except that I’d hazard a few Incursions further back, based on some of the tech specs, but that hardly matters. This is excellent material, and so varied! Pity we can’t just take it now, but some of the best is too bulky. We’re going to need to bring in a cargo hauler, and that can hardly be expected to go unnoticed.”
“We’ve already discussed that,” said Familiar Voice, his tones tough and uncompromising. “If this stuff could be easily crated and taken, we wouldn’t have needed to get Jun out of the way.”
His EVA suit was miner-styled, belt loops almost empty except for orientation jets and a few other tools. Phoenix angled to get a better look at his face, suddenly placing the voice.
Is that Gus?
No, there was a physical similarity, sure, but so many differences, as well. This man was fleshier, softer, more stooped. Where Gus had shaved his head, this man had short, neat brown hair. His skin tone was darker, too. His brown eyes seemed smaller, surrounded by pouchy skin.
Familiar Voice went on. “Now that the trial is over, we can move ahead. Gus’s twin brother will show up to claim his inheritance. He’ll offer to buy out Jun’s widow at a fair rate. Phoenix Diaz will sell. She’s more interested in finding treasure than doing the hard work of extracting it.”
Twin brother?
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud, but Mustang’s voice replied, holding that weird muffled sharpness that meant he was using a tight beam.
“I can’t tell. Appearance is one of those things that means little to me. If this is an identical twin, then DNA would match. But that this is Gus seems a possibility worth considering.”
“But we saw Gus killed on that video!” she subvocalized back, even as her mind was spinning through possibilities.
“We saw someone killed,” Mustang replied sternly. “Jun denied over and over that anyone had been killed. No one believed him since there was ample evidence to the contrary.”
Phoenix forced herself to take several deep breaths. “All right. Recorded images can be faked. Tisi could have been bought. But what about the blood and gore, the flesh dangling from the exoskeleton’s claws?”
“Use that brain humans are so proud of,” Mustang prompted with an equine snort of disgust.
“Cloned,” Phoenix replied. “If Gus was in on this, he could have supplied material for culturing.”
“That’s better,” Mustang replied. “Now you’re thinking, rather than feeling.”
“So, if we allow that’s Gus,” Phoenix went on, her gaze locked on the trio below, “here’s my guess as to what happened. After Gus’s tunnel intersected this cavern, he found whatever they’re all gloating over. Either he didn’t want to share, or it’s something he didn’t think Jun would agree to sell. So he sniffs around and finds a buyer.”
Mustang interjected. “I’ve moved to the outer side of Nugget, approximately where you are. There are several hollows that could conceal an entry. Whoever put the cache there probably used a densitometer to locate a hollow near the surface, drilled through, put the cache in, then sealed the opening. For whatever reason, they never retrieved the stuff.”
“I think you’re right,” Phoenix agreed. “So, after Gus finds whatever it is, he frames Jun for his murder, and…now that I think about it, I never heard Gus mention a brother until over my last couple of visits. I always had the impression he was an only child, though I couldn’t swear to it. Gus must’ve been planning this for a while, but to prove it, I’m going to have to take him alive.”
* * *
The cavern was too large a space for Phoenix to control, so she opted to wait in the one area that Gus and his companions must pass through to return to their ship: the entry foyer between Nugget’s interior complex and the hangar bay. This had begun as a tunnel, then been expanded into the boys’ first camp. Later, when they carved out residential areas from played-out tunnels, it had become the entryway into Nugget’s interior, complete with a double airlock to protect their investment in air.
Although she’d delayed making her ascent until the intruders were departing the cavern, Phoenix waited longer than she’d expected, which gave time for doubt to creep in. What if Gus did have a twin? What if she was about to confront a grieving brother?
When the inner airlock began to cycle, with a weird sense of relief that it was time to act, she eased back next to a locker that provided ample concealment. Military and Corp were carrying battered suitcases. Gus—it must be Gus—was wheeling a dolly on which crates were stacked.
Phoenix waited until they’d all come in and the airlock into Nugget was sealed. Then, sidearm in hand, Phoenix stepped forth.
“Drop and reach!” she ordered.
Their reactions were interesting. Corp responded with the automatic response of someone accustomed to obey. Military paused, saw that Phoenix held a no-recoil beam cutter that would make short work of solid rock, much less his EVA suit, and dropped the suitcase. His hands went up so fast that they were above his head before the magnets on the suitcase’s base snapped onto the floor plates. Only Gus—it had to be Gus, right?—kept his hands where they rested on the dolly’s handles.
“You,” he said, looking at her as if trying to place her, then brightening, “I know who you are! You’re Phoenix Diaz, wife of the man who murdered my brother. I assure you, we’re not doing anything wrong. I have as much right to be here as you do.”
“Cut the patter, Gus,” Phoenix said. “I’ve figured out that you framed Jun. Save the song and dance for the courts.”
“I assure you,” the man continued, looking hurt and, for the first time, a bit frightened, “I’m not Gus. I’m his twin brother, Julius. I came out from Sirene—I’m an accountant—as soon as I was notified of my brother’s death. I was too late for the trial, so I came out here to retrieve some of my brother’s personal items. I was going to contact you to see about buying out your part of the claim. These two people”—he indicated Military and Corp with a wave of one finger—“are interested in buying Nugget.”
“Don’t move another finger, Gus,” Phoenix said. “After what you’ve done to Jun, I wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you, but I’d prefer to let the law do its job.”
“I suppose you could take me in,” said the man Phoenix was pretty sure was Gus, “but it’s going to be your word against mine. I assure you, I can support who I say I am. Can you support your accusation?”
Phoenix laughed, which sounded pretty crazed, but she was at her limit.
“I’m sure you can support your claim. You would have made sure of that before starting this scheme, but I think I can jump it, just like you tried to jump Jun’s.”
Without taking her eyes off Gus, Phoenix addressed the other two.
“General,” she said, probably promoting Military, “I’m sure you’re an honest man.” (She wasn’t, but what she was sure of was that he was solidly scared, not of her, but of what was going to happen if his part in this scheme came out.) “Peel off Gus’s suit. He’s got a nasty scar on the inside of his right thigh where he got hit with some hot slag, as well as pockmarks on his butt from an unfortunate encounter with a sander. Somehow I doubt that Julius ‘the Accountant From Sirene’ could claim the same.”
Military didn’t have a chance to obey before Gus—now definitely Gus—shoved the dolly at him and bolted. He slapped the access panel open, then dove into Nugget’s interior.
Phoenix cursed. If Gus got into the maze of tunnels, he just might make his escape.
Kicking off the wall, she dove after him. The interior was pitch dark, except for the glowing strips, but she could hear Gus breathing hard, his exhalations becoming fainter as he put distance between them.
Damn! If he gets into the lower levels, he can lose me, then get out via one of the service tunnels. Later, he can signal his pals to pick him up. I can’t let that happen.
She oriented on the closest cross-shaft, so certain that she had guessed what Gus would do—because it was what she would have done—that she forgot that this Gus wasn’t the man she thought she knew, but someone far nastier.
As Phoenix was rounding a bend, a whipcord-strong arm snaked out and wrapped around her, pinning her weapon arm to her side. Gus’s free hand wrenched her cutter from her hand, then pressed the tip to the side of her head.
“Gotcha!” he crooned triumphantly. “Now, what to do with you? Should the grief-stricken widow simply vanish? Naw. That’d delay probate. Maybe if you’d sign over your share of the mine to me, I’d let you go.”
Phoenix didn’t believe him, not for a moment. Gus’d get rid of her, far more irreversibly than he had Jun. So easy to make it look as if someone had broken into the mine, killed her, stolen some things, then fled.
“Why do you keep acting as if I’m here alone?” Phoenix asked, forcing herself to sound far calmer than she felt. “That no one would miss me?”
“You’re alone,” Gus said confidently. “You’re always alone. Even when you came to visit Jun, part of your heart was out there, yearning after the next find.”
“I’m never alone,” Phoenix said, hoping her bluff wasn’t going to be called. “Right, Mustang?”
The ship’s AI spoke through her suit. “Right, Phoenix. I’m here, and I’ve been recording this recent exchange. Even if he kills you, Gus is sunk. I can’t testify, but I can get the recording to those who can. Chanel Sulwyn is going to be really pissed when she finds out how she was played. I bet she’d even take the case pro bono.”
“Hear that, Gus?” Phoenix asked. Raising her voice, she called to the pair she felt certain were listening from a safe distance. “Hear that, you two? I’m sure you had no idea what a ratfink you were dealing with, did you? Mustang’s got video of you, as well as your ship’s ID. If Gus takes me out, you’ll go down with him.”
Self-interest won, bringing Military and Corp out of the shadows, along with the powerful lighting unit that they’d had down in the cavern on Violet. Military had a sidearm out, and looked very menacing.
Phoenix could hear Gus’s breath coming fast. Will Gus kill me anyhow? He’s got nothing to lose.
Unlike the others, she hadn’t opened her EVA suit. The hard coat wasn’t military grade, and certainly wouldn’t stop a beam cutter, but…
She didn’t let herself think, but went limp, dropping her head a few inches so that the cutter tip was no longer at her temple. Given the choice of keeping his hold on a potential hostage or re-orienting the weapon, Gus froze for a single crucial instant.
Phoenix flexed her knees so she could drop below the level of his chin then came up hard, smashing her EVA suit’s armored helmet into the underside of his jaw. She heard the click as his teeth connected, followed by the crack as his jawbone broke.
Even before Military stepped forward to help, Phoenix had flipped open the med panel on Gus’s EVA suit. With her left hand, she hit the tab that would dump an emergency-level dose of soporific pain meds into Gus’s system, while her right reclaimed her beam cutter.
Military took an involuntary step back but Corp, either cooler or simply dumber, smiled ingratiatingly.
“I believe you and your soon-to-be released husband will now be the sole owners of this claim. Perhaps we can do business.”
* * *
As a gesture of goodwill, Corp and Military helped transport Gus to Rolling Rock City, and freely added their testimony to Phoenix’s. As soon as Gus was identified, Jun was released. The compensation for Jun’s uncompensated service turned out to neatly balance the fines leveled for his hacking into store credit accounts.
So bribed, they left, Jun promising to mend his ways.
Several days later, Phoenix and Jun stood, arms around each other’s waists, examining the cache that had made Gus turn murderer. It included some nasty weapons they both agreed were better slagged, but there was also plenty that Corp would be happy to buy.
By mutual agreement, Phoenix and Jun kept back a very high-end drone. This, after being gussied up with a retractable ornament of a buckskin stallion, was presented to Mustang.
“For my faithful steed, without whom I never could have come to the rescue,” Phoenix said, kissing the drone on its nose.
Mustang, for once at a loss for words, proclaimed his delight with a very authentic whinny.
The End