Deep Claim Read online

  Deep Claim

  Elsa Jade

  Copyright © 2019 by Elsa Jade

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Cover Design by Victoria Cooper

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  Published by Red Circle Ink, Portland, Oregon USA

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  For information about all books in the Obsidian Rim series go to: https://obsidianrim.com

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  Deep Claim: Edge of Sunrise / Elsa Jade. -- 1st ed., Book 12 in the Obsidian Rim series, Book 3 in Edge of Sunrise

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-941547-33-5

  Print ISBN: 978-1-941547-38-0

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  About the Author

  SNEAK PEAK - MERCENARY ETHICS by Shona Husk

  The Obsidian Rim Series

  Also by Elsa Jade

  The Q miners of Ydro-Down have won their freedom…but is the fight ever truly over?

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  Jashanna Riz has always been a hardrock miner, bashing the precious spacetime-folding qubition out of unforgiving stone. With her bashing prowess, she fought for her home at the front line of the rebellion against QueCorp’s cruelty. But now a band of mercenaries roams the passageways, a grating reminder that Ydro-Down is still in danger as the miners struggle to hold onto their home.

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  Fenn Alexos rejected a safe and quiet life and was spiraling into the darkest thrills of the Obsidian Rim before the mercenary Nazra Company conscripted him, giving him a place to channel his worst impulses. Serving on a mining moon is obviously deep and risky, but until he’s assigned to Jashanna’s repair gig, he had no idea how thrilling it would be.

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  Sent out into the remote mountains to rekindle a lost signal, they’ll find a dark secret that will finally free Ydro-Down along with a chance to choose their own path—and a hope that hints of a sunrise to come.

  Chapter 1

  It was payday on Ydro-Down—the first ever for the once enslaved miners on the little moon—and Jashanna Riz was ready to celebrate.

  Almost ready. Humming to herself, she edged around the large pot still’s condenser coil to the tap. She closed off the valve just long enough to swap the collector for an empty flask, and the raw, biting stink of fresh alky tickled her nose.

  The simple nutrient paste that provided the bulk of calories to Ydro-Down’s miners also served as a convenient mash for ethanol fermentation. The resulting alky—sunshine, they called it, because it brightened even the darkest days, oh, and it burned like solar radiation—wasn’t much more refined than the food version, but it was shamelessly strong.

  Jashanna appreciated that.

  As she poured the pale golden liquid into the keg she’d rolled across the floor earlier, she peered into the big cask. Maybe half full? Or half empty, depending. Soon to be empty-empty, after she took it back to her waiting friends.

  They’d waited so long for this day—a day when their labor was finally paid and they were free. Free from the cruelty of the QueCorp overseer who’d all but imprisoned them, free from anyone watching over them…

  A prickling at her nape made her squint in suspicion. Carefully, she capped the keg—no sense losing all that slow, hard work—and palmed a nearby copper pipe. An alky still offered more than one way to get smashed…

  “This is restricted space.” The challenging voice was gruff but light, like fine-grit sandpaper. “What are you doing down here?”

  Pivoting to face the intruder, she slanted her weapon crosswise over the chest pocket of her coveralls, ready to lash out hard.

  It was one of the mercenaries hired to guard Ydro-Down. Unremarkably lean and not particularly tall—certainly not taller than her—generically dark-haired and stereotypically shorn, nondescript in charcoal-gray fatigues with the merc company logo on one narrow shoulder. She didn’t remember his name if she’d even heard it.

  Aside from twice-daily meals and occasional safety drills, the mercs had been keeping mostly to themselves. Partly it was because everyone was so busy. The miners had to keep working the most profitable veins to pay for food and defenses while also maintaining the basic terraforming duties for air and water, plus reversing the centuries of waste and damage done to their small homeworld. The mercs weren’t just sitting around either. The moon with its invaluable ore was a tempting target for every pirate and every corporation, not to mention their previous owner.

  But the flat gray of the merc’s cold gaze reminded her of the other reason they didn’t mingle.

  The miners had lived under guard for too long not to bristle at the sight of armed mercenaries blithely strolling the tunnels bored out with their own sweat and blood. Not even guards who were supposed to protect them instead of imprison them.

  She glared at the nameless merc. “Up.”

  Those dark gray eyes blinked, briefly disguised behind the fringe of stubby black lashes. “What?”

  “Not down here. Up here. We’re only one level underground so this is up compared to most places on Ydro-Down.”

  His eyes slitted to only the barest glint of frosty chill. “Why are you here? This sector is assigned to Nazra Company.”

  She pursed her lips. Most quarters on this level had been the guard billet. So it made sense, putting the Nazra mercs where the former guards had been. While the merc ship patrolled in orbit, their ground crew needed ready access to all the outpost’s most vulnerable points, same as the QueCorp guards had.

  Though only one level down from the surface, the rooms weren’t much bigger or nicer than the miners’ quarters, since QueCorp had treated its groundside employees almost as badly as its indebted workers. None of the miners wanted to sleep where their abusers had bunked, so Jashanna had moved the once illicit still there.

  Just because she had bad memories didn’t mean everything at this level was vacced. After all, the still was here, and everyone loved her sunshine.

  She forced herself to lower the pipe. “This is our world. We made it, all of it. There’s nothing here—no drift, no dump, no dead end—that isn’t ours.” She levered her chin higher, the better to glare down at him. “Including your contract, merc. So vac off with your restrictions.”

  Determined to ignore him, she flushed the flasks and tubes and checked the fuel levels before adjusting the thermostat. She’d inherited the elaborate apparatus from her friend Tillerson after he’d died in a cave-in. She’d also taken his place in Gavyn’s mutiny, but sometimes she thought the still was the better deal. At least her sunshine had never killed anyone… Well, maybe it had made them want to die the next morning, but that was different.

  Despite all that, the copper pipe was always close at hand.

  She trusted the rebellion leaders, she did. From the beginning, Gavyn Grey had fought for freedom not just for himself but for all of them. He’d risked his life.

  Of course he’d also risked everyone else’s.

  Now they were supposed to enjoy the fruits of their fight. Not literal fruit, of course; real fruit was expensive, and they didn’t have that many disposable credits yet. Instead, their first independent trade of qubition had bought t
hem…more fighters.

  Although the gray-eyed merc couldn’t be much of a fighter. He was so small, she might’ve knocked him halfway across the room if the alky had actually made her sneeze.

  At least his lesser size meant he was out of her way as she worked. But from the corner of her wary gaze, she noted that his gray stare never wavered. Fah, if he wanted to stare, let him. She could take the heaviest stare, no problem.

  Because now she was free.

  Except she couldn’t just walk away. There would be more paydays, more celebrations now that Ydro-Down was theirs, and they would need more alky.

  “If you’re going to stand there, bring me that mash,” she ordered.

  Without replying, the merc followed her gesture and heaved the fermenter off the counter with a muffled grunt. When she lifted the lid, he finally said, “Nutrient paste won’t have enough sugar.” His gray gaze lifted to hers. “You need some sweetness.”

  At this close distance, the striations of lighter gray in his irises gleamed, like silver hidden by tarnish. When he blinked slowly, the dark fan of his lashes added a delicate shadow to the smoky quartz hue of his skin. She’d had little enough sweetness in her life…

  Surprised and a little annoyed, she snatched the container from his arms and dumped the mash into the pot. Fragrant steam rose up in gentle whorls, like a warning of the pure fire to come. “It’ll be fine.” Only because she’d already learned—after one nasty failure—to add a few stim tabs for their extra biri-biri sugar.

  Before his death, Tillerson had contemplated experimenting with the different cavern algae that had colonized the dead moon behind the pickaxes of the first diggers. “Can’t be worse than sunshine,” he’d said with a sniff. But Jashanna wasn’t going to mess with…well, not perfection, by any means, but it did take the edge off the black.

  And they all needed the break. Her friends had fought and some of them had died, and they’d been struggling ever since. Today was the first time, really, that they had concrete proof of their efforts. With credits in their accounts, they were no longer trapped. The first payment wasn’t much, but there’d be more. And someday… Well, someday was someday, but today was definitely a celebration.

  Tomorrow was also a new holiday. Though the miners were quietly snickering at the proposed Moonwide Hangover Day, Gavyn had called for a day of contemplation and memorials for those who’d died on Ydro-Down during the rebellion and in the turns of slavery before.

  Those memories were partly why everyone was drinking, so that the snickers didn’t morph to sobs.

  With the next batch underway, she reluctantly turned to deal with the merc. “None of this sunshine is for you.”

  His mouth was a flat line. Except for the dainty arch of his slightly too full upper lip. “I don’t do sunshine.”

  “Yeeeah,” she drawled. “I see that.”

  “I’ll take you back down now.”

  “Take me back…” She straightened to her full height, furrowing her brow furiously. “Little man, no one takes me anywhere.”

  His expression—or lack thereof—never changed. “Ydro-Down’s administration made Nazra responsible for security. Nazra made me responsible for security in this sector. And so—”

  “Freeze it,” she growled. “I’m leaving anyway.”

  Hefting the keg over her shoulder, she strode toward the short, silver-eyed blockade. If she had to go through him, she had the extra kilos of the keg to make her point.

  Obviously he recognized her advantage in the moment because he stepped back to let her out. She kicked the door closed behind her.

  He frowned. “Aren’t you going to lock it?”

  “Are you going to steal something?”

  Finally showing some emotion, he stiffened, as if in affront. “I don’t steal.”

  She stalked past him. “You’re a merc.”

  Expecting that unquestionable point to end the conversation, she continued on.

  But he fell into step beside her. “That’s not my expertise.”

  As if she cared about his despicable mercenary capabilities. “Why are you following me?”

  “I’m escorting you out of restricted space.”

  That brought her to a halt. Unhindered by the weight on her shoulder, she whirled to glare at him. “All this belongs to us miners, remember? If someone needs a shot of sunshine, that’s theirs too.”

  He lifted one eyebrow. “You wouldn’t share with me,” he reminded her.

  “Everyone but you.”

  She wanted to stand there indefinitely, taking up his “restricted space”, but there were payday party people who needed her alky. So she finished with a particularly aggrieved scowl and walked on.

  He followed her as far as the main corridor that led back to the mess hall and then stopped on the verge, apparently at the edge of his sector. She kept going, refusing to glance around the bulk of the keg on her shoulder. Probably he was going back to drink the raw sunshine. Served him right if those silvery eyes went blind.

  Yeah, so she peeked back, but he was gone.

  Just as well. Her friends and her freedom were waiting.

  As she entered the mess hall, carefully maneuvering her wide shoulders through the uncommon press of bodies (and despite her care accidentally jostling a few), a rousing cheer and then a dozen hands buoyed her. Surrounded by friends—and empty mugs—she and her keg went around, dispensing more cheers and golden sunshine.

  Qubition might be the lifeblood of Ydro-Down, but for today, gold was its heart and soul.

  “A song!” her friend Lalabey called. “A sunshine song from Jashanna!”

  After two mugs, or maybe three, herself, she was happy to indulge them. More hands boosted her onto a table, and she produced a whistle from her shoulder pocket with a flourish. As she piped the opening notes, the mess hall reverberated, happiness and relief ripping through the recent despair like their powerful whompers broke through solid rock.

  With the melody of her whistle echoing, she sang the chorus.

  “—Cuz I’ve got friends in outer space

  Where the Q burns hot and sweet

  And the sunshine chases the black away

  But I’m losing days…

  Black holes suck and so should we

  Cuz I’ve got DICs and a cruiser for three…”

  At the mention of digital interstellar credits, the mess hall crowd hooted, and Jashanna paused to lift her mug high in exultation. Sunshine was good, and freedom was better. The miners of Ydro-Down were tough enough to take anything—

  Unfortunately, the table she’d clambered on for her triumphant payday serenade wasn’t as tough as her friends.

  With a disapproving and discordant craaack, the heavy composite split down the middle. The miners singing along with her scrambled back, once-distilled alky sloshing. For a breathless moment—she had been singing very loud, and sunshine alky was breathtaking—she teetered with one boot on each side of the rift.

  Windmilling one arm, she struggled to stay upright with her drink still in her mug. She’d lived a lifetime as an indentured laborer with no hope of paying her debt. She’d endured a rebellion and survived a treacherous counterattack from their cruel overseers. It would be a crying shame to die of a cracked skull now.

  But the gravity of Ydro-Down, light as it was, didn’t care much about her wishes—did anybody?—and she resigned herself to a painful tumble as she went over backward…

  But a strong hand caught her arm, plucking her out of the collapsing impromptu stage.

  She was a miner, with all the implied breadth and weight of her involuntary career choice, but with a clever twist, the hand fisted in her coveralls spun her momentum to carry her clear of the wreckage so she didn’t smash to the ground.

  Instead, she only stumbled to one knee, barely brushing the reinforced pad of her plasticanvas work pants against the rough stone floor.

  She managed to keep her mug upright on her own.

  After taking a triumphant
sip, she lofted the mug, and the room exploded with applause and raucous cheers. A few people bustled forward to shove the broken table aside to let the payday party continue.

  Meanwhile, the bruising grip of long fingers dug into her armpit. That brutal hold that had saved her skull was now pinning her in place down almost on one knee. Not where she wanted to be ever again. Jashanna tried to straighten.

  Her thigh muscles tensed…

  But she didn’t move.

  With a startled glance up, she met a tarnished silver stare.

  Her own eyes narrowed. “Let me up, merc.”

  “Think you can keep your feet on the ground now?”

  “I’m a miner. My feet are always on the ground.” With a flex of her legs, she powered upright despite his hold. “Hands off.”

  “My hand kept your head on your shoulders.” He jerked his chin at the sheared edge of the table where she would’ve fallen.

  “It’s payday,” she growled. “One time my head gets light.”

  “Maybe lay off the alky.” He plucked the mug from her hand and took the drink she’d denied him before. His mouth twisted hard. Except for that traitorous little upper curve that looked too soft for a merc… “Yeah. If by light you mean on fire.”

  If anything was burning, it was her temper. She snatched the mug back. “Get your own, little man. You’ve already stolen our DICs.”

  That flat gaze turned to black ice. “Stolen? We’re on the line to die for you.”

  “Not for me. For Q. The Rim spins for Q.”

  They glared at each other for another seething heartbeat. Then he abruptly spun on his heel and stalked away.