The Constable Returns by J. N. Chaney

Author:J. N. Chaney [Chaney, J. N.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Variant Publications
Published: 2019-05-24T22:00:00+00:00

13

The lights belonged to a mining operation. An illicit one. Which is a hard thing to have on a planet with no formal governing structure, but the captive labor used in the mines made it a universally applicable label.

I counted five buildings. The leftmost looked like an upgraded portable survival/housing module. There was a small pit in the center of the camp, but I couldn’t determine its use. To the north was a barracks complete with two guard towers, one on each side. The rightmost building was the source of the steam, some kind of power plant inside.

The mine entrance was open but had a large shutter affixed to it. To the south of the pit was a tented series of tables and stalls. Workers sorted through chunks of earth separating viable ores from the dross. All around the operation, makeshift towers housed men with rough attitudes and guns. The workers appeared malnourished and many had poorly dressed wounds and bruises.

The moment we came over the ridge, close enough to see what lay in the cutdown valley below, lookouts had sounded alarms. I looked to Marcella and shrugged. “At least we’ll survive the night. Maybe.”

She gave me a wry grin. “You can know your terrain and be handy in a mud pit, but I know people. This will be fine.”

It was an interesting moment, seeing her smile and exude a form of charm. It was also comical, as she was covered in a fine layer of red and gray mud and had no idea. Her hair was dusty, and she was a far cry from the sophisticated woman I’d first seen at the Prime Lady. There was an endearing quality, but I suspected only to me.

The guards pounded toward us, rifles in hand, and started shouting orders. Three guards formed a loose semicircle around us.

“Get on the ground, hands behind your heads!”

We kneeled, relieved to be off our feet after hours of walking, but I couldn’t conceal a wince from the pain that came with the motion.

Satisfied that we were passive, the men stood ready but silent until their superior arrived. He sauntered up and regarded us with a mocking sneer. Long dark hair hung down his back. He was wearing an open shirt with a long blue coat and sported two pistols on his right hip. “What do have we here? Some escapees? No. Don’t recognize them. I would certainly remember seeing this one before, even with the grime.”

He approached Marcella and caressed the side of her face with his fingertips. “Sweetheart, you are just a mess, but I’ll be cleaning you up, don’t you worry. You can call me Pyke. I’m the foreman around this operation.”

She remained motionless as he walked around her. When he had finished his survey, she spoke. “We were in a crash. My pilot made an error and smashed into the side of a canyon. It was terrible. I would have died if it weren’t for this young man, the mechanic’s nephew. He pulled me from the wreckage.

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