Moonful of silver, p.9
Moonful of Silver, page 9
Esteban laughed. “You think Lunar HQ would’ve approved those kills? She just took out our main competitor and gave us all their spoils. Tell me, when was the last time you went against a trader’s crew?”
“That’s not the point.”
“No? Then what is?”
“You’re letting her see too much. What’s next? Will she be coming with us when we ride tomorrow?”
Tomorrow. Ride. Nameless stopped at the basalt wire and waited.
“Of course not. A scanslinger would be useful to us. But one act of loyalty isn’t enough to bring her along.”
“Amen.”
“But the stranger’s not the only one with things to prove.”
Nameless pulled at the rope, allowing the thin gravity to do most of the work as she ascended.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means—I know what you’d do for a bottle of whiskey. And who has more whiskey than the traders? You were at the refinery when the basalt was being mixed. Pablo was supposed to keel over in front of my eyes. Only he didn’t. Did he?”
“You can’t suspect I’d—”
“I have a long memory. You were an easy sway. So don’t test me. Understand?”
Nameless gripped the ledge and hoisted herself up, recoiling the basalt rope and extracting the magnet from the side of the dome.
“When was I ever disloyal? First, you give my room away, and then you insult me to my face. We should just kill her. Kill that scanslinger and make it look like an accident. Just like you did with—”
“That was different. And you know better than to talk about it.”
Nameless stepped into the bedroom and sealed the panel back in place.
“I was there when you needed a friend,” Diego said. “Don’t forget it.” Footsteps quietened and the door swooshed once more.
“Get him sober before tomorrow,” he said to Alessandro.
“Ramone will take care of him, Boss.”
“I don’t want to see him until 09:00 Earth-time.”
“Sure.”
“And Alessandro. You’re certain those door logs are working?”
“Absolutely.”
Esteban sighed. Paranoid much?
“Good. See you tomorrow, amigo.”
“Aye, Boss.”
Nameless removed her helmet and placed it beside her bed. Fear—that was the captain’s tool. Except, from the sound of things, he was as much a slave to fear as his men. Trust would never grow when people were afraid. Respect was not the same as dread. And dread was trapped in Tranquility’s air. She didn’t know the history of this place, but one thing was clear—whatever Esteban had done, it was still here, carried with them. The past wasn’t like a collar hack, or a name on a jacket that could be scratched away and erased. What had he done? What was Esteban’s crime that he so feared its memory?
Nameless watched Maria work in the dome below. She seemed so innocent. So untouched. As if Esteban and his crew were on another world, and she belonged solely in hers.
If only that were true.
Nameless picked up her complimentary bottle of booze and drained a swig, then settled onto the bed and let gravity lull her into its warm embrace.
Tomorrow. 09:00 Earth-time. Esteban and his crew would ride. And she’d be waiting for them to find out where.
ESTEBAN
Past
Esteban advanced into the tunnel, his headlamp barely illuminating the blackened maw. The deeper he pushed in, the more it felt like the gullet of a great beast. The tepid air being pumped in had evaporated the ice crystals embedded in the regolith, creating a glistening layer on the jagged basalt walls. A distant drilling rumbled through the void as though the beast hungered. Esteban took shallow breaths, pretending not to notice the tomb-like odor.
When Lunar HQ had drilled to the Moon’s core, they’d uncovered veins of valuable ores. All Lunar HQ cared about was the core. And that left the colonies free to excavate laterally. Profits from the samples of ores they’d tunneled in Tranquility V never seemed to yield enough to earn them a raise, yet people still worked in hopes of a payoff.
Estupido. They’d put their faith in the wrong person. He would save them, though. Pretty soon, I’ll be out raiding—bringing back ores and water—and Benito will have nothing to say about it.
“Come on.” Esteban waved for Benito to follow him into the mine’s depths. “It’s this way.”
They glided through the tunnels, taking it slow so as not to propel themselves into the rocky walls. Esteban’s heart thumped and his stomach clenched. No way was it guilt. Benito deserved this. He’d had it coming for a long time.
It’s only nerves. Messing this up would have serious consequences. It’ll work. It must.
The farther they went, the cooler it got. Esteban swallowed his jitters and rubbed the goosebumps from his arms. Darkness consumed them, leaving only the bright headlamps and jumbled shadows.
After a few turns, he found the tunnel he’d set up earlier. “This way.” He ushered Benito down. “Go a few yards and check out the beams on the left. One seems to be leaning too far, like it’s bending.”
Benito eased inside, trailing his fingers along the wall and rotating his head as he investigated every support.
Esteban followed, still pointing. “That one.”
“This one?” Benito scanned the beam up and down. “It looks alright to me.”
“You gotta get close.”
Benito leaned in. Esteban grinned as he removed a scanner from his pocket.
“I don’t see anything.”
“No. You don’t, do you, brother?” Esteban cycled through the scanner’s frequencies.
This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? What he’d dreamed of. Revenge. It tingled his fingertips as the weapon revved through its cycles.
Benito turned, but it was too late. Electricity pulsed from his collar, scorching his neck as he choked. He convulsed in violent shudders before his eyes emptied and his body floated flaccid to the floor.
Esteban knelt beside the dead man and shoved him over, admiring his handiwork. Benito’s mouth was parted, creating an expression of eternal bafflement. The rest of his face sagged. Except for his lifeless eyes, he looked like Diego after a dozen shots of whiskey.
Not so guapo anymore, are ya? What would Mama say?
The niggling in the back of Esteban’s mind told him this was wrong, but he shoved it away and slammed the metaphorical coffin shut. “You did this to yourself, hermano.”
He adjusted Benito’s collar, hiding the overload, and made it seem as though it’d shorted out. This would make sense after an impact. The collars were designed to withstand a lot, but not the force of several tons of regolith smashing down all at once.
Satisfied, Esteban backed away and out, feeling along the stone until he came to another tunnel. His heart rate spiked. This next part was riskier. Even with his knowledge of explosives, predicting the outcome of a collapsing mine was more luck than science. But he couldn’t set it off from outside—not without raising suspicion.
Esteban pressed against the wall, squeezed his eyes shut, and triggered the bomb. A thundering crack popped his eardrums. Rubble ricocheted off the walls like a hailstorm. Dust billowed. Seconds later, utter silence.
He poked his head around the corner where his brother lay covered in only a smattering of grit. Silt. That’s not enough.
His legs buckled as the ground shook. The ceiling over the body crumbled, followed by thunderous rumbling and a deafening crash. Esteban protected his head as sharp stones pelted him. Some cut into his skin. A boulder struck his hip and he toppled over. More tumbled around him. Even with the lower gravity, the downfall was deadly.
La polvo! He had to get out of here. He scrambled to his feet and lunged forward, only to hit unyielding stone. Silt. Too much dust coated his headlamp. The dull glow revealed only smog-like air thicker than in any Earth city.
Coughing, he inched his way along the wall. A vibration continued to roll, rising and falling like seismic waves. He had to get out of here before the whole thing plunged him into his own grave. Each step sent a jarring pain through his hip, but he moved as fast as possible.
He came to another tunnel on the left, but wasn’t the exit to the right? Estupido! He should’ve made a better escape plan. He paused to catch his breath and think. If he headed the wrong way, he risked dying or getting trapped. That couldn’t happen. Not after all the effort he’d put into finally beating his big brother.
“Help!” he called out, hoping someone had felt the commotion and was heading over. “Help me!”
His headlamp flickered and died, leaving him in utter blackness. He shouted until he was hoarse. No one was coming. Maybe the exit had collapsed too? His heart rate spiked and his head spun. A sob caught in his throat. He choked it out and coughed. The dust was too much. He couldn’t breathe. His collar was unresponsive, not regulating oxygen into his lungs.
Voices echoed in the distance. Esteban jerked upright. About time. He groped toward the sound. His shoulders hunched, partly from relief and partly from the lack of oxygen, making it difficult to keep his balance.
“Anyone in here?” a woman’s voice resounded.
“Here,” Esteban tried to yell, but his throat was dry from all the regolith. Serious treatment would be needed to clear it all out, but that was a worry for another day. “Here!” he managed to croak.
“I hear someone!” the woman bellowed. More shouts followed. Despite the echoing, Esteban locked on to their location and crawled.
I see light. The tunnel brightened and the voices grew. He picked up his pace. The next turn blinded him. Bright bulbs spotted his vision. Esteban squinted at the silhouettes of three people wearing headlamps.
Gracias a Lunar.
He stumbled toward them. “My brother!”
The largest of the three wrapped his arm around Esteban’s waist and hauled him out.
“My brother!” Esteban rasped again, louder this time. “He’s in there.”
“We’ll go get him,” the woman said.
No you won’t. He’s been crushed. Esteban had been hurt more than expected, but his injuries would only add credibility to his story. He couldn’t have planned it any better.
A RUCKUS ERUPTED AS everyone tried to talk over one another. Shouts, curses, and pleas for reason rang through the small office, making Esteban grind his teeth. He stood behind Benito’s old desk, but the position didn’t lend the authority he’d hoped. With arms crossed, he scowled at the protesters and wondered which one to shoot first. Every other part of his plan had gone gloriously. Why weren’t these cabezas-de-polvo falling in line?
Hugo, the chief miner, shouted above the rest, wagging his finger at Esteban. “We haven’t even had his funeral and already you’re acting like his death is no big deal!”
Hugo. What a dusthead.
Esteban shifted his stance, feeling the snug weight of the pistol tucked behind his back. If Hugo didn’t yield, he’d use it—and Diego and Ramone would back him up with their scanners. He raised an eyebrow at Hugo, daring him to provide the opportunity.
“You don’t even care!” Hugo screeched.
Esteban placed his hand to his heart. “His death has shattered me! I loved my brother more than anything, but someone needs to make sure operations continue, and I’m the natural choice.”
“Maria’s his wife! It should be her.”
That they wanted Maria instead of him stung. But his aching bruises provided an odd sort of comfort. No one had thought to blame him for Benito’s death, so he assumed it would be a nonissue when he took over. And it worked until Hugo had opened his big fat mouth.
Esteban scoffed. “Maria? She doesn’t know how to run this place. She’s a botanist who’d rather tend to plants.”
“You don’t know how to run it any more than she does,” another worker called out. “It should be Hugo!”
Oh, sweet Lunar! Esteban had expected a few mumbles, but not for the workers to be so stubborn. Inviting Hugo and the top miners here to talk it out was supposed to have been a compromise to ease him into the captaincy—not make the situation worse.
Esteban resisted the urge to lunge over the desk and punch the man in the face. “Hugo didn’t invest his life savings in this place! As Benito’s brother, I am the most logical heir.”
“This ain’t a monarchy,” Hugo said.
“Well, it sure ain’t a democracy either. You don’t get to vote on what I do with my brother’s estate.”
“Maria should have a say!”
“Then why isn’t she here?” Esteban forced a frown to hide his smile. As far as everyone knew, she was too upset about the death of her husband to make an appearance. The grieving widow. He’d allow her to organize the funeral, but that was all. If she were lucky.
He’d tried to convince her she was being locked up for her own safety. They’re all in an uproar, he’d said. It’s too dangerous for you. Total lie, of course. The sabuesa-lunar saw right through it. He had the scratches to prove it. Fortunately, everyone assumed those were from the tunnel collapse.
As of this moment, she was in no position to protest his takeover. He couldn’t keep her locked up forever, though. They’d have to come to an understanding, and he’d rather it be sooner than later.
Hugo and a handful of others continued to argue. Words like lazy, loser, selfish, and moondog came up, making Esteban’s blood boil.
“You don’t know a thing about running a colony!” Hugo repeated.
“Listen! Benito has been teaching me,” Esteban lied.
“I know more about the operations here than everyone else combined,” Hugo shot back.
“Now who’s being selfish?” Esteban balled his fists to keep him from shooting Hugo here and now. “You have no ties to this place other than being a worker, and yet you claim you should be in charge? This is my brother’s legacy!”
“You’re not fit to run it.”
“Hey! Rather than try to take what doesn’t belong to you, help me the way you helped Benito.” In truth, Esteban needed this man’s help. Diego and Ramone were loyal, but not all that bright. He had to have the brightest and hardest-working people on his side. If only Hugo would quit being so stubborn.
“I’m not serving you.”
“Then leave! Get work elsewhere.”
Hugo hesitated. “We won’t leave without a fight. Most of us don’t want you in charge.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“We do. We’ll wait to talk to Maria. See what she says.” Hugo turned to another worker. “Go find her.”
Esteban wrapped his palm around the grip of the pistol at his back. He already knew what she’d say. Besides, he didn’t want anyone to realize he’d imprisoned her. He gave Diego and Ramone a nod. They whipped out their scanners and aimed them at Hugo.
“If you’re not with me . . .” Esteban placed the barrel of his laser-pistol on Hugo’s forehead, “. . . you’re against me.”
Hugo’s eyes widened, then narrowed into a spiteful glare. He spat off to the side. “I guess I’m against you.”
Esteban bared his teeth. “Then I suggest you leave before I shoot.”
Since Benito had strict rules against weapons, Esteban doubted any of these other men had any, giving him the upper hand. More hired guns were already on the way, so if Hugo thought to go only to come back for a fight, he’d get one—and die.
I should kill him now and get it over with. He pressed the sight into the fleshy part of Hugo’s head. His trigger finger tightened. The room collectively held its breath.
Hugo finally got the hint. He turned on his heel and stormed out. Esteban won the battle. There’d be no more bluster from that idiot. But to win the war, he’d have to convince Maria to support him. Or at least pretend she was happy to be at his side.
With hips like hers, he could think of worse ways to spend his time as captain.
Alright, cuñada. Let’s see which way you’ll crumble. No matter. I’ll have you one way or the other.
LUNAR HQ
[Redacted]
You’ve lost your mind if you think Mallory Montoya is still alive.
I didn’t say that, did I? I just said that she could save us.
How, Ronin?
If she’s dead, she’s no use to anyone.
She gave us a way out of this. Can’t you see that? When she left.
You think we should steal some hovers and ride off into the badlands? Is that it?
. . .
I don’t believe it. You actually think we should abandon—
You’re not listening, Toku. I didn’t say we should take a hover into the badlands. I just said she gave us the answer. All you’ve got to do is think about why acted the way she did.
Alright. I’ll bite. Why did Mallory leave?
Because she felt responsible. We’d stalled the program, and the Moon depended on it. She went to help the badlands—the ones we’d condemned to a lifetime of being cut off from Lunar HQ.
The same way we’re cut off from Earth?
Exactly.
Wow. She really did predict the future.
That’s the trouble with prophets—they only seem that way in hindsight.
So you think it’s our fault? We’re responsible for this. Is that what you’re saying? Earth cut off communication because of something we did?
I don’t think any of this is about Earth. Are they at war right now? Who knows. But it doesn’t matter, does it? It’s not us who’ve been cut off from Earth. It’s them. Every person outside this room. Every individual on this Moon, whether they’re here at Lunar HQ or out there in the badlands. What we need to do is take responsibility. Do whatever is needed. Even if that means . . .
Alright. You’ve made your point.
. . . going against . . .
I said alright.
. . . Earth’s demands.
