The Iron Admiral: Conspiracy (2 page)

The ship had landed on a platform above purple and green forest that spread to the horizon on three sides. Blues and greens seemed brighter, somehow, and reds and oranges more subdued. To her left a sheer rock face rose into an overcast sky. That would be the extinct volcano where the mine was situated. Below and to the right, a short distance away, she caught a glimpse of buildings clustered around a cleared area.

A man came out of a lift on the opposite side of the platform and approached, smiling one of those broad, false smiles that didn’t reach the eyes. “Welcome to Tisyphor. I’m Gerrit van Tongeren. You must be Mister O’Reilly and Miss Marten.”

Sean plastered on an equally broad smile, took the proffered hand and shook it. “Pleased to meet you.”

“If you’d like to come this way.” He herded them into the lift and pressed the button for the ground.

When the door opened, he gestured at an open-topped skimmer standing in the road. “Hop in.”

She sat in the back, while Sean sat beside van Tongeren. They drove along a road through the jungle toward the cluster of buildings she’d seen from the platform. The place was so different to home; strange trees with speckled trunks and leaves like enormous hands hanging down. The clicks and whirrs of wildlife filled the air and a few winged insects drifted amongst the overhanging branches, bright wisps of color against the foliage.

The vehicle pushed through a transparent barrier. She felt the substance, whatever it was, mold briefly around her body and then spring away. The temperature and humidity dropped as though they’d driven into a refrigerator. Wow, that was better. She hadn’t fancied working in a steam bath.

“What was that?” she asked.

“The settlement’s built in a climate-conditioning bubble. Pity it doesn’t extend as far as the mine,” van Tongeren said.

“Is there a tavern here?” Sean asked.

Van Tongeren’s eyebrows arched. “Of course, but don’t you want to see your house?”

“Ally can do that. I’m parched.”

Allysha rolled her eyes. Typical. “That’s okay. Maybe you can drop him off.”

Van Tongeren stopped the skimmer outside a welcoming looking place where scattered tables and benches were interspersed with plants in colored planter boxes. The sign over the door proclaimed the ‘Miners Refuge’. Bouncy, repetitive music played too loudly. Sean alighted and van Tongeren drove on to a stand-alone prefab house just off the main square.

She walked through the rooms. A pre-fab, sure, but neat and clean, the furniture modern and functional.

“Only one bedroom. Is this for both of us?”

“You were listed as a married couple.”

“Estranged. I don’t want to share with him. Is there anywhere else?”

“Well… you could bunk in with some of the other girls in a dorm…?”

She shook her head. Not a chance. “He can bunk in with somebody.”

“We don’t have much spare space. Maybe I can put him in the ptorix quarters.” He muttered the words, almost to himself.

Ptorix quarters? That sounded interesting. “You have ptorix quarters?”

He rubbed his hand over his lips. “Well… there’s what used to be the ptorix mine manager’s quarters in the mine itself.” His lips curled in distaste. “Not ideal, but we fitted it out for humans so we could use it while the real accommodation was built.”

That sounded good. She could live in a ptorix apartment, especially if it had some human furniture. “I’d like to see that, please.”

Van Tongeren drove back the way they’d come, passed the landing platform and pulled over next to a shiny new human door in a towering rock wall. Allysha eyed a remnant of lichen-encrusted carving and swirling, dancing symbols on the door surrounds, leftovers of a ptorix past. He pressed a switch and the door slid away soundlessly to reveal a well-lit tunnel, clearly newly worked. A tingle of disquiet disturbed

her thoughts as she followed him into the mine. A ptorix tunnel would have been decorated but the rock was bare, not even weathered. Van Tongeren turned left into a side passage. Thirty meters along he ran up a flight of flowing steps on the right until once again they stood at the pointed arch of a ptorix doorway with a very human door carved into its center.

He opened the door for her. “We had to whitewash the walls. Those complicated patterns they use are so hard on the eyes. We fitted it out with proper furniture and a bed and such but none of our people wanted to live here after we’d built the settlement. Understandable, really.”

Allysha gazed around at arched doorways and curved walls and ceilings. Typically ptorix, but fitted out for humans. The living room contained a dining table and four chairs, a sofa, a couple of comfortable looking chairs and a Holovid setup. She glimpsed a large bed and a wardrobe in the second room.

Here and there the original decoration on the walls was just visible through the whitewash, ornate and organic. Oh, the vandalism, the wanton, mindless destruction. But then again, she could see the patterns the way the ptorix did and humans would just see a complex, shifting, disconcerting mess. Or so she’d been told.

An archway inside the bedroom led to a washroom containing a large bathing pool and a ptorix-style toilet—usable by a human if you knew how. The bathing pool was empty. These people probably didn’t know how to find the faucets let alone operate them. If she stayed here, she’d have privacy, be close to work and away from Sean. They’d all think she was crazy but that was okay.

“They must have filled the bath with buckets,” van Tongeren said behind her. “We have proper ablutions blocks quite nearby so we didn’t refit—it would have been an enormous job.”

“I’ll stay here,” she said.

His expression hardly changed but she’d caught the glint that said he thought she was insane.

“If you’re sure.” He lifted his shoulders in the briefest of shrugs. “I’ll have your luggage delivered.

There’s a canteen here of course. I’ll show you that and the control room where you’ll be working. Is there anything else you’ll need?”

“Just access to your IS from here. A data point is fine. And you’ll need to give me administrator rights to all your systems.”

He nodded. “I’ll have it arranged.” After a moment’s hesitation he added, “I can’t do that for the ptorix systems.”

She grinned. “No, I guess not. I’ll manage that myself.” She could have given herself administrator access to the human systems, too. But he didn’t need to know that.

“I’ll leave you, then. I’ll introduce you to Emment the shift manager tomorrow morning. He can take you around so you can give me a solid estimate of cost and time if that suits?”

“Sure.”

She closed the door behind him. Ignorant schlon. She wondered if all humans who came from human planets were as intolerant as him. At least at home humans and ptorix got along. Most of the time, anyway. Although even on Carnessa the relationship she and her father shared with Professor Xanthor and his family was vanishingly rare. Her father. It had been five years, now. She missed him so very, very much.

****

Sean knew van Tongeren had arrived without even looking. The pretty barmaid took out a cloth and started wiping the benchtop instead of leaning over to talk to him.

“A word, if you please,” van Tongeren said. He led the way to a bench outside the tavern where the music receded to a background thumping. “It seems to me you and your wife don’t get on, O’Reilly. Is that going to be a problem?”

Fuck. He’d hoped they could paper over the cracks; for now, anyway. No chance of winning her back this time. If she hadn’t come back early and caught him with Nessa, it would have been okay. “Don’t worry about Ally. She gets like that sometimes. She’ll get over it.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

Sean shrugged. “She will.” He hoped.

“If she’s as good as everyone seems to say, I’ll want her to move on to the other work as soon as possible.”

“I told you, it won’t be a problem.”

Van Tongeren leant back in the chair and smiled. “Would I be right in assuming you don’t want me to discuss the other matter with her?”

“Not if you want it done. Just leave it to me.”

The other man’s smile widened; a calculating, evaluating smile that had nothing to do with humor. “Just bear in mind, you get paid for thewhole job. Or not at all.”

Sean’s heart jolted. He didn’t like the way the fellow said that. But it would be all right. All he had to do was make sure Ally went on to van Tongeren’s other task. One way or another.

Allysha hung the last of her shirts in the decidedly un-ptorix, pale-grey polyplast wardrobe in the

bedroom. It was so incongruous, so out of place in this quintessentially ptorix room. Now what? Back to the bar? She better tell Sean about the living arrangements, at least. Besides, a walk would do her good.

She strode along the road, grateful to pierce the bubble into cooler, drier air. The sweat dried on her face, a welcome relief from the enervating atmosphere. The tavern’s music provided her with an

audio-beacon. She followed her ears to the ‘Miner’s Refuge’.

She paused at the doorway for a few moments. A few men sat at tables scattered around a stone floor

and a pretty girl leaned on the well-stocked bar in the corner, flashing her generous cleavage to the male patrons perched on bar stools. To one side, two potball tables had attracted a group playing or watching play. No sign of Sean. Oh, well; she might as well have a drink, maybe meet some of the locals.

She headed for the bar, trying to ignore the stares, despite the flutters in her stomach. There were hardly any females here, of course they’d look. The barmaid, busy talking to a man on a stool, straightened up when Allysha arrived. “What can I get you?”

“A citrose, please.”

“Sure.” She placed a brimming glass on the bartop. “My name’s Trina. There aren’t many women here,

nice to meet you.”

“Allysha. Nice to meet you, too. Have you been here long?”

Trina shook her head and leant her elbows on the bar, large breasts only just contained in a low-cut top.

“A few weeks. It’s been good.”

“Where are you from?”

“Chollarc—do you know it?” When Allysha shook her head she continued, “It’s the closest inhabited

world. They advertised positions here; short term contracts, good money, so I thought it would be

worthwhile.” A huge grin threatened to split her face. “And of course, with all these men here… I ignored the stories and gave it a go. It’s been great.”

Allysha sipped the citrose, cold and tangy and perfect after her walk from the mine. “Stories? What sort of stories?”

“Well, see, Tisyphor is part of Chollarc’s history.” Trina looked around her, and leaned forward, almost conspiratorially. “This place is really old. The toe rags used to mine jewels here and then take them back to Chollarc for processing. But thirty years ago, something happened and they closed it all down. It was empty until about five months ago, when they set up this new settlement and said they were going to

reopen the mine.”

“What was it that happened?”

“My dad said they found something in the mine and it killed everybody,” Trina whispered, round eyed.

“Some strange jewel that glowed and radiated everyone.”

The man on the stool snorted. “Strange jewel my arse. There’s this other story that the karteks broke down the fences and killed ‘em all. Just fantasy. The mine ran out, is all.” He stood, wiped his mouth on his sleeve and walked out.

Allysha kept her face straight.

Trina sniffed. “What would he know?” She flounced around the bar and went to collect empty glasses

from the tables.

Sure, there were radioactive minerals like uranium but strange jewels? The most likely explanation for why the place was deserted was the boring one—the mine was no longer viable. And yet. A tremor of

disquiet trailed down her spine. Silly. Why should she care? She’d be here for a few weeks and then

she’d go home.

“Hello, darlin’, c’n I buy you a drink?” The fellow leaned on the bar beside her, stinking of sweat and beer, still in his grubby working clothes. He tried to put an arm around her.

She jerked away. “Thanks, no.”

He leaned closer, his breath bad enough to knock out a bull. “C’mon. I just got paid. I’d like to share, know what I mean?” He leered at her breasts, raised a hand.

She jumped back, skin crawling. “Don’t touch me.”

He frowned, puzzled, and took another step toward her.

“Sorry, pal, she’s with me.”

The miner’s lips bared in a snarl. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. She’s here to meet me. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Allysha turned to the speaker, a man about her age, with dark hair and crinkly blue eyes wearing clean, dark pants and a blue shirt. She gave him a smile and tried to settle the hammering of her heart. “Hi. I was a bit early.”

The miner clenched his fists but one of his friends grasped his shoulder and pulled him away, not without a final, surly glare.

“Thanks,” Allysha said, her legs trembling. She wouldn’t be coming back here in a hurry.

“Are you new?” asked her savior.

She swallowed. “Just arrived.”

“Welcome to Tisyphor. My name’s Jarrad Korns.” He held out his hand and Allysha shook it, a nice,

firm handshake between equals.

“Hi. Allysha Marten. Pleased to meet you. Very pleased.”

“Why don’t we go outside? It’s very loud in here.”

She followed him out to a table on the paving and sank onto a bench opposite him. He hesitated, sizing her up. “You’re not a barmaid?” The question hung in the air between them.

“No. I’m a technical expert here to do a quick job on the computer systems.” He was nice looking, with an attractive smile and beautiful long, dark eyelashes.

He nodded. “Most of the women here are tarts although they call them barmaids. They earn most of

their money lying on their backs.”

“I’ll remember that.” His hands were clean, long-fingered. “You don’t look like a miner.”

“I’m not. I’m a biologist. I work in the medical labs here, looking into some of the local fauna.”