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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations and events are either a product of the author’s imagination, fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any event, locale or person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright 2011 by Dellani Oakes

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Gone But Not Forgotten


Tortured winds ripped through the mining camp clinging to the inhospitable cliffs and crags of Saltulle. The hurricane force winds drove the blinding rain in horizontal sheets, stinging exposed skin. At times, the rain turned to sleet capable of sheering flesh from bone. When it wasn't raining, the wicked dessert heat baked a man dry in hours. Scorching sun, torrential rain and gales were everyday fare on Saltulle.
Synonymous with Purgatory in miners' vocabulary, Saltulle excelled in two things: providing the Mining Guild with ores and gems unavailable almost anywhere else and turning out the most experienced miners in the galaxy.
Edmund DuLac and his wife, Mary, had lived for nearly eighteen years. All three of their daughters were born on Saltulle. Matilda was fifteen, Brigette twelve and Amie eight.
Ed went through his morning routine automatically, fixing coffee and waking the girls. Mary hated rising early, but Ed's day began at 0500 each day. He usually had to drag Matilda up too, but the other girls were early risers like their father. Ed made breakfast while Brigette made lunches for three girls and one miner, who could eat as much as all of them combined.
Today was special. The atmosphere of the small, sturdy house was charged with anticipation. Even Mary and Matilda were up for it was Matilda's first day of work. Ed had pulled a few strings and gotten her hired as a log runner. Her training was over, now she was a full fledged Miner One, lowest rank in the Galactic Mining Guild.
Log running was a relatively safe job for a teenager, for it merely involved going from one base camp to the next and logging their hourly dig rate. This job was done by comunit most places, but Saltulle's environment made standard communication virtually impossible. Special underground lines were in place for extreme emergencies, but nothing short of life threatening condoned their use.
Matilda felt awkward in her stiff, new uniform. The khaki colored, ill fitting jump suit; heavy, steel tipped boots, safety goggles, hard hat and gloves were common to all miners.
Ed gazed at his tall, athletic daughter, grinning approvingly. Her sisters giggled at her and her mother smiled her support. Matilda tried to smile, but her nervousness prevented it.
"My baby girl, a miner like her old man. I can't tell you how proud I am, Tilda." Her father clapped her on the shoulder as he would have a son. "Following in her daddy's footsteps."
Breakfast was cleared away and the two younger girls left for school, still giggling. Matilda took her lunch in its insulated thermal box and followed her father to work. She had to check in with the supervisor before starting her day.
The mining supervisor was a man who had known Matilda her entire life. His name was Ivan MacHale, but the girls always called him Uncle Mac. Her father warned her repeatedly to call him Supervisor MacHale and not to slip if she knew what was good for her.
Knees shaking, hat and goggles in her hand, she was given her first assignment. Her lunch and portable computer logs packed securely in a heavy floater cycle, she followed a flashing yellow arrow on her console to Mine Base One, about twenty clix away.
The floater cycle handled like a lumbering elephant. However, it remained stable in all but the most severe weather. Each cycle was equipped with state of the art weather gear so she should have plenty of advance warning before a storm hit.
She was about two clix from Mine Base One when her spine tingled unpleasantly. The hair on her neck rose and her nerves jangled, making her very alert. Curious, she checked her weather report, but saw nothing unusual. It was a calm, clear day on Saltulle. Absently, she noted her relative position on her map and continued to Mine Base One. 
It took about thirty minutes to complete her survey and log the numbers. The base was below quota by about twenty percent. Part of her duty was to interview the superintendent and mine leader to determine cause.
"To be honest, Log Runner DuLac, the site is damn near played out." The superintendent, a man named Murdock Pickford, handed her a hand held scanner, showing the most recent scans of the mining site.
Part of Matilda's training over the last six weeks had been familiarizing her with site scans. Even to her meagerly trained eye, something was out of place.
"What's this?"
She pointed to an erratic peak in the scan. It was dark purple, jagged and taller than all the rest. Murdock leaned over her shoulder, looking at the scan.
"I don't know, never saw anything like it before."
"Mind if I have a copy of this? Might help out at main base so you don't get hammered on the low productivity."
Superintendent Pickford smiled and copied the files to her log. It wasn't her job to condemn or judge his people. All she did was record the information and take it back for some bureaucrat to peruse, categorize and file. The twenty percent drop could hurt. Miners had lost their ranks for less. Since he didn't particularly want to be busted down to Miner One, he was grateful to Matilda for taking the initiative to add his file to her log, as he was not in a position to ask her.
She left soon after and headed for the next mine base. Her path took her past the same spot where she had her odd feeling, but it didn't return.
The rest of the day was fairly routine. Mine Base Five had increased production by five percent. Base Seven had a flooded lower level and had to shut down. Base Four had experienced a collapse, but the miners escaped. Her information tallied automatically, she merely conveyed it to her supervisor after her collections were complete. Tired and hot, she headed back to the mining base.
Her father met her at the floater cycle dock with a hot cup of joe liberally sugared and nearly white with milk. She still wasn't used to the drink miners used to remain alert. It was rather like coffee with chicory, but the resemblance was slim and not terribly pleasant. Joe beat synthstims, an illegal and dangerously addictive drug some miners used to increase production. It worked well for awhile until the body literally fell to dust.
"Hi, baby girl, how was your day?"
Matilda's lopsided grin mirrored his own. "Not bad, Daddy. I want to show you something from Base One, though."
She pulled out the scan, handing it to him. He read it carefully as she unloaded and secured her floater cycle.
"You say this is from One?"
She nodded distractedly, trying to fasten the last hook in place.
"When was it taken?"
"Dunno, Murdock didn't say, just it was recent. Why?"
"Anything odd there? Anyone sick?"
"No, Daddy, everything was fine, production had dropped a little. I thought maybe it would help them with Uncle Mac if they sent in the scan."
Ed frowned, pinching his lower lip with his thumb and index finger as he concentrated.
"Will it help? I hate to see anyone busted for poor production." She waited for an answer but didn't get one. Her father took the scan to MacHale's office, shutting the door with a snap.
Everyone in the loading area watched in stunned silence. They all knew Ed could be very single minded when he wanted, but no one had ever seen him like this, especially his daughter.
Not knowing what else to do, she took her cup of joe and sat in the lounge area while the shifts changed. With a start, she realized she had to report to the log keeper before going off shift. A glance at the clock showed her she had plenty of time. Grabbing her logs, she started on her way to the keeper's office when MacHale called her name.
"Miner One DuLac, my office."
She looked helplessly at her logs.
Her father, seeing her predicament, beckoned to another miner to take them from her. A handsome, blond haired young man walked forward, taking the logs.
"No worries, Tilda," the young man said. "I'll take care of these for you. If Mac wants you, best hop to." He winked.
"Thanks, Bobby." She smiled nervously and started toward the office.
Bobby followed her with his eyes, amazed at how confidently she moved. She had no clue the effect she had on him. A year younger than he, they had grown up together. He'd worshiped her most of his life.
"Thomason," the log keeper yelled at him, apparently having said his name more than once. "Come here, numb nuts, I want to get home on time for once!"
Sighing heavily, Bobby wandered into the office, shuffling reluctantly to the desk, where he set down the logs. The older man gave him a scathing and penetrating look, then caught Bobby's expression.
"The DuLac girl?"
Bobby blushed, suddenly finding his toes very interesting. 
"She's gonna be a hell of a looker just like her mama, mark my words. I had an eye for Mary once. Wouldn't even give me the time of day once Ed showed up."
Bobby shoved the logs across the long desk and left the room. He found some pointless task to keep himself busy outside Mac's office, so he'd still be there when Matilda walked out.
Matilda entered Mac's office reluctantly as if she were personally responsible for Base One's deficiency.
"I won't mince words, Log Runner DuLac," Mac said forcefully. "This is damn important. Has anything been out of sorts at Base One?"
She waited a few moments before replying, framing her answer well. "No, sir, nothing I'm aware of. Everything was dead normal aside from the low productivity."
"Anything odd anywhere else? Think hard. Was there even one tiny thing unusual about your trip out there at all?"
"Well, actually—it hardly seems important, but on the way there, I got this funny feeling."
Leaning forward, both men exchanged an enigmatic look. Matilda focused on the memory.
"What was it like, Tilda?" Her father prompted gently.
"Kind of a tickle along my back, like ants up my spine."
"I thought so. Didn't I tell you, Mac? She's a sensitive! I told you it was there!"
Mac sat with a thump, his knees had completely given out.
"It fits, Ed. You've been saying for the last five years you thought there was some here, now we have proof. The Guild has to take us seriously now!" His blue eyes flashed with excitement.
Matilda looked from one man to the other in utter confusion. "What are you talking about?" 
They stared at her, having forgotten her presence. Mac nodded at Ed, gesturing for him to explain.
"Well, it's that purple peak," Ed began.
"Tell her about the stuff last year," Mac interjected.
Ed held up his hand to silence him, shaking his head. "The purple peak is indicative of something Mac and I have been telling the Guild about for years now. Between that and your experience, we now can prove we're right." He paused, taking a deep breath. "Trimagnite, Tilda."
"Here?" Her mouth dropped open and her knees buckled.
The men nodded happily.
"Are we gonna be okay?"
She knew the effects of Trimagnite exposure. Anyone associated with the Mining Guild learned early that prolonged exposure caused illness, insanity and death.
"Oh, we're fine. It's only a problem with it's dug up. We have to contact Aolani and have them send a Trimmie crew. This isn't something we are prepared for." Ed said.
"Solar flares are expected, Ed. We won't get a message out for thirty-six hours, not that far anyway." Mac replied.
"Oh, dammit, I forgot!" He slapped his forehead in disgust. "Wil!" Ed yelled suddenly.
"What?" Mac looked puzzled.
"Should have thought of it before. He's due in for a run. He can take a message to Orion personally."
"The Lone Wolf?"
Ed nodded.
"Brilliant! Send him to me as soon as he arrives. Once he makes his drop, he can head back."
"He's expected for dinner, Mac. Mary will have our hides if he doesn't stay. She's been cooking and cleaning house for three days!"
Mac cringed silently. "All right, in the morning then."
"He'll be here early. He's always up with the sun." 
"Remember, not a word to anyone, either of you, except for Wil." They said their goodbyes.
Ed and Matilda walked out of Mac's office talking in low, excited voices. Ed's arm was protectively around his daughter's shoulders as their heads leaned toward one another.
Bobby looked on wistfully, silently envying their close relationship. His parents were dead, but even before Saltulle had killed them both, they hadn't been really close. His dad drank too much and finally was in danger of losing his position, so he turned to stims in a desperate gesture to provide for his wife and son.
His mother had been a log runner for the outer regions, far too dangerous a job for the young miners like Matilda. A freak squall on the way to the remote Base Fifteen had taken her and her sled apart. They never found the body.
He cleared his throat without really meaning to attract their attention. Ed slipped off quietly, kissing her cheek tenderly in parting. A warning look at Bobby nearly drove the boy away, but he had made up his mind. He was asking her for a date.
"Tilda, what did Mac want? Not in trouble I hope?" His voice sounded too high to him, making him flinch inwardly, but she didn't seem to notice.
She grinned, dark eyes sparkling. "No, it's all good. Just some stuff about Base One's quota, he needed some clarification. Down by twenty percent."
He whistled softly. "Not gonna be good for the superintendent then."
"Not serious, the area is pretty well played out and he had scans to show it."
He nodded, accepting the information. That was happening a lot now days. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he leaned back on his heels, then bounced up on his toes, trying to find words.
"I, uh, wondered if you'd like to go to the vids this Saturday?" Tri-D vids were shown every weekend for free in the base center. It was about the only thing to do for entertainment.
"I'd like that. Oh, no, I can't! It's my birthday. You could come by the house. My mom's fixing a big dinner and my uncle is coming to visit... well, he's not my real uncle...." She trailed off lamely.
Bobby was momentarily stunned, but regained his composure quickly. "I'd like that," he said softly. He was thinking rapidly, wondering what he could possibly get for her in so short a time.
"I need to head home," she said lamely.
"Can I walk with you? It's on my way." He mentally kicked himself for that, he should have led her to believe he was going out of his way for her.
"Sure, I'd like that." She flashed that smile that set his soul on fire.
They checked out together and walked in awkward silence a few minutes each grasping at subjects to talk about. Suddenly, Bobby struck on an idea.
"You did really well in class the other night." He was referring to the martial arts class they attended three nights a week.
"Thanks. I was a little worried about the test, especially when you guys were running at me from every corner of the room."
He chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling with the memory. "You sure took us all out fast enough."
He rubbed his jaw teasingly. She blushed, she had elbowed him roughly aside when he tried to attack her.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hit you that hard." She held his chin in one firm, long fingered hand, examining his jaw with a professional aplomb. "It didn't bruise too badly, at least."
"Hard headed."
He knocked on his skull with his knuckles. On a sudden impulse, he turned his head, kissing her hastily on the lips. She leaned unexpectedly toward him, returning the kiss ten fold. His lips tingled and he felt his heart flutter. She had that effect on him, like he couldn't breathe. He held her tenderly, but firmly as his mouth explored hers. Eventually, they parted slightly, both suddenly, inexplicably embarrassed.
They walked in silence once more and he reached out, twining his fingers with hers. A couple houses down from hers, they stopped to kiss again and he felt he never wanted to let her go. Her mother saw them from the front window and called her inside.
"Night, Bobby. See you tomorrow."
"See ya." He grinned sheepishly, snuggling his ears into the collar of his jump suit. Nights on Saltulle were chilly.
Light streamed from the back door as her little sisters opened it and rushed out surrounding her, bombarding her with questions.
"Who was that?" Amie started.
"How was work?" Brigette countered.
"So, who is he?"
"Did you have a good day?"
"His name is Bobby, work was fine."
"Do you like him? Did he kiss you?" Brigette changed subjects once her question had been answered.
"Are you gonna date him?" They leapt around her in circles, their hands joined as if playing Ring Around the Rosy.
"Tilda's got a boyfriend, Tilda's got a boyfriend!"
"Oh, hush, you two!" She shoved them vehemently apart, charging for the back door.
Rushing headlong, blindly trying to get away from her sisters and sort out her emotions, she barreled into a solid, male body which was far too large for her father. Stopping suddenly, she glanced up into the dark, imposing eye of Uncle Wil. She reddened to the roots of her hair as she tried to duck around him.
Wil dodged left and right countering her movements playfully. Laughing happily, he finally relented, picking her up and setting her down on the other side of the kitchen near the door to her bedroom.
"Good to see you, birthday girl." He chuckled deep in his chest.
Matilda had seen people shy away from this large, sternly imposing man, but to her he was comforting, warm and genuine. Uncle Wil was as much a part of their lives as the grass, trees and mines.
"Happy Birthday, Tilda," he said quietly, his penetrating dark orb riveted on hers.
As a child she had been fascinated with that eye patch and his deep, jagged scar. Now she hardly noticed them.
"Not until tomorrow," she replied timidly.
"Well, I'm not going to be here tomorrow, honey."
"You promised!" Amie yelled, always minding everyone's business but her own.
"I know, smidgeon, but Uncle Wil got called away on important business. I'll be here tonight, then I have to leave tomorrow."
He tossed Amie high in the air, catching her with ease as she giggled and shook her golden curls.
"Me next," Brigette demanded.
Wil caught Amie, swinging her down to the floor. She hung from his forearm like a trapeze. "Fuss budget, you're getting too tall. I'd break your mother's furniture and she'd break my b..."
"Wil!" Mary interrupted dangerously.
"Behind," he finished with an impish wink.
"Dinner!" Mary announced, deflecting further conflict. "Girls, wash. Men, wash too, I know how you two are."
"Aw, Mary, you take all the fun out of digging in the dirt," Ed laughed, kissing her cheek.
"Don't try to bribe me with kisses, you reprobate! I know you love your digs more than me."
He popped her on the fanny as she went to the stove, then dutifully washed his hands.
Conversation at dinner was minimal until dessert. Over coffee and pie, Wil and Ed lit a couple of aromatic cheroots and talked shop until time for the girls to go to bed. Amie went down first, then Brigette. Matilda begged to be allowed to stay up.
"After all, tomorrow is my birthday and I'm practically an adult!"
Wil glanced at her, head to one side, then exchanged a look with her father.
"She has a point," Ed added, interrupting his wife's protests.
"This conversation kind of includes her, Mary," Wil said firmly.
Mary threw up her hands in submission. "Don't stay up late," she scolded her daughter. "And you two, clean up after yourselves!" She stalked from the room calling over her shoulder
"Goodnight!" 
"I'll wake you when I come to bed," Ed winked at her luridly.
"Very likely you will, Edmund, but don't expect much!" She threw a dishtowel she had been taking to the wash at him and walked off, muttering all the way to her room.
"So, Tilda, tell me specifically what you felt on your way to the camp." Her father seemed calm, but excitement seethed under the surface.
She described the sensation as accurately as she could. Wil sat quietly, smoking thoughtfully, listening with an intensity she had never seen.
"Do you remember where you were?"
"Yes, it struck me as odd, so I glanced at my position."
"When you crossed it later, did it happen again?"
"No, just once. Why?"
Wil looked slightly discouraged. "Still moving," he told Ed. "But it gives us something to go on. You ever thought of mining Trimagnite? You'd be good at it, as a natural sensitive."
"No daughter of mine will ever be a Trimmie," Ed said with finality.
"Trimmies are seriously spooky, Uncle Wil." She shuddered reflexively.
"No they aren't, baby, they are just like you and me. The rest of us just think they're spooky because we don't understand them."
"One guy I met said the walls spoke to him!"
She'd met an old Trimmie in a local pub when she was twelve. He'd made a terrifying impression—wild eyed, gray haired, muttering to himself about the voices.
"Maybe they did. Some people are taken that way. You felt that tingle, others hear it resonate or sing, I can smell it. Does that make us spooky too?"
"No, I guess not."
"Honey, working that stuff is enough to make anyone a little crazy."
She could not meet the weight of his stare anymore. Blushing deeply, she looked away. A gentle, light fingered touch from his hand brought her eyes back to his.
"Tilda, I need you to show me the spot tomorrow."
Matilda glanced at her father for confirmation. He nodded slowly, giving his permission. "I don't have a cycle."
"It's all right, I have one. We'll fly out there after I meet with Mac."
"Okay."
"You'd better go to bed now, missy," her father said firmly.
Matilda rose quickly, nearly knocking over her chair. She kissed her father on the cheek and leaned over to kiss Wil goodnight. For the first time in her life, she felt oddly self-conscious around him.
She made her way to bed, fumbling with her pajamas. Bobby's kiss had left a memory on her lips. His face flitted before her as her eyes drifted shut, feeling his arms around her. In her dreams, however, the blue eyes turned dark and foreboding. Cute, immature teenage features took on a hard edged, lean and hungry look. Bobby's face melted away, replaced by Wil's.
Wil walked toward her, arms enfolding her, bringing her into his masculine embrace. Full lips pressed on hers, making her weak in the knees, and warm in all kinds of deliciously unfamiliar places. Suddenly, she was falling and he was yanked away. She reached for him, calling his name.
She woke with a start. Someone stood in the doorway. At first she thought it was her father who usually heard her nightmares and came to reassure her, but it was too tall, broad shouldered and muscular to be her father.
"You okay, Tilda?" Wil's soft, deep voice held a note of concern. "I heard you calling my name."
"I'm okay, Uncle Wil. It was just a bad dream."
"Want to talk about it?" He eased into the room, thinking how furiously un-understanding Ed would be if he caught him there.
"I don't remember it," she lied poorly.
Wil sat on the end of her bed. "Why were you calling me?"
"It was so real..." She could not look him in the face. "I felt like I was falling and you reached out to grab me, but you got yanked away and I fell.... It felt like forever...."
"I see."
He didn't really see at all. In fact, he had no idea how to handle this, but it seemed like the right thing to say, being vaguely non-committal. She made him feel awkward and shy around her self-confidence, like a teenager on his first date. He had to keep reminding himself she was a child. He was godfather to her little sister, for God's sake!
She was staring at him with that disconcerting expression which made him feel as if she stripped away layer after layer of his psyche.
"You all right, Uncle Wil?"
The sound of her voice startled him as he was still trying to sort out what he felt.
"Yes," he croaked slightly, clearing his throat. "I was just thinking what this might mean. I think we'd better be extra careful tomorrow when we go out. I'll double check the floater cycle and call up a weather report. Don't worry, Matilda, it was just a dream."
He leaned forward, forcing himself to kiss her on the forehead. His heart lurched uncomfortably and there were stirrings in him which no full grown woman had ever woken.
"Night, honey," he reminded himself she called him Uncle Wil for a reason. Her father was his closest friend.
He tried to forget the expression in her eyes, the curve of her lips, but he burned inside. He needed the touch of an experienced woman to purge these impure thoughts he was having. He walked to the seedy side of town near the spaceport and seduced the prettiest, most willing woman he could find—tall, with long dark hair and deep and disturbing eyes. He refused to admit to himself that he chose her because she reminded him of Matilda.
After spending several hours in her company, he dressed and left, returning to his ship. The cycle glimmered in the cargo bay, reminding him of his promise. He gave it a cursory perusal, checked the weather forecast and lay down, commanding the ship to wake him at 0500. He knew Ed would wonder why he had gone out when they were expecting him to spend the night. Plausible excuses were in short supply, but one finally came to mind. If he told Ed half the truth, that he had been with a woman, Ed would accept that.
* * *
Matilda woke the next morning to sunshine and blue skies peeping in her window. She loved Saturday, it was her one day to relax and sleep in. She heard voices in the kitchen, her sisters giggling happily and whispering.
Dressing rapidly, she crept toward her door wondering what they were doing. Attempting to catch them at something, she swung her door open swiftly, but no one was there. The back door was unlocked and the house empty. Creeping out the back, she heard voices and followed the sound.
"Shh, you'll wake her, Amie," Brigette cautioned.
Amie giggled again, unable to control herself.
"Wake who?" Matilda stepped forward.
The girls jumped guiltily.
"Oh, you spoiled our surprise!" Brigette pouted, pointing to a half finished sign. It read, "Happy Brithday, Tilda," in big, red letters, dripping paint onto the front stoop.
"It's great, girls. I love it!" She spun each around in turn, laughing.
"We were gonna decorate it with balloons and stuff," Amie said pitifully, "but we didn't have time."
"It's okay, I have to go out with Uncle Wil, you can finish it and I'll be surprised all over again when I get back."
"Promise?" Amie sniffled.
"Promise," she answered, crossing her heart. "Where are Mom and Dad?" She asked, realizing she had not seen her parents yet.
"Mom is at the store, Daddy and Uncle Wil went to work," Amie replied.
Matilda remembered their appointment with Mac and nodded.
"Oh, that Bobby boy stopped by as Mom was leaving for the store." Brigette winked.
"Really?" She tried to sound casual, but the blood rushed to her face as she remembered their kiss and her dream of Wil. "What did he want?"
"He said you didn't tell him what time to come by tonight for your party. Mom told him 7:00."
"Oh, good. Thanks." She suddenly felt gawky and foolish, as if her clothing no longer fit and her shoes were too big. She bumbled back into the house and sat at the table. She was still sitting there when her mother got home and a few hectic minutes were spent putting groceries away.
"Matilda, are you all right?" Her mother felt her forehead.
"I'm fine, Mom." She pulled away testily. "Mom, how old were you when you started dating?"
"About your age, why?"
"Well, I think Bobby likes me."
Her mother gave her an appraising look. "He has for some time, Tilda, you just didn't see it. Based on that kiss I saw last night," she paused, raising an eyebrow. "It's past just liking. You be careful, missy. Boys have only two things in mind at that age. One is food, the other is sex."
Matilda wanted to melt into a puddle of embarrassment. "Mom!" She was shocked and horrified to be having this conversation with her mother.
"Every man from the time he hits puberty is motivated by those two things. The sooner you realize that the better."
"What lies are you telling about men now, Mary?" Her father said.
Ed and Wil had entered so quietly, she hadn't heard them.
"I told her the God's truth, Edmund. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach, and a bit further down. Which takes precedence depends upon how recently he's had one or the other, don't you think, Wil?"
He held up his hands before him like a shield. "I'm not going there, Mary. I'd lose. I won't disagree with you."
Ed laughed loudly, smacking Wil on the shoulder. "You coward! You'll face an enemy bare handed, but you won't argue with a woman half your size!"
"I try to make a firm policy never to bite the hand that feeds me, especially when she is such a fine cook."
He kissed Mary's hand, gazing into her gray eyes. Mary blushed and shoved Wil away.
Matilda excused herself and dressed for their trip. First, comfortable jeans which fit her very well, emphasizing her slender hips and firm thighs. Her shirt was a long sleeved, plaid cotton worn over a white tank top. Gloves and helmet were standard issue. No one left them or their goggles and filter masks behind. Thick soled boots completed her outfit. It wasn't fancy, but it was the best she could do.
Brigette tapped on her door and poked her head in. "Uncle Wil says, are you ready?"
"Be right there." A dab of her favorite perfume behind each ear and she was.
Wil was waiting outside on a bright red floater cycle. He grinned widely, as if he hadn't a care in the world.
"Hey, baby girl," he borrowed her father's nickname. "Ready?"
In reply, she hopped on the back seat of the cycle, strapped in and gave Wil the coordinates of the spot she had felt the Trimagnite's pull the day before.
"If you feel anything at all, say so. I don't care how dumb or trivial it seems. If your nose itches, tell me."
"Okay, Uncle Wil."
They took off smoothly. Wil's cycle was heavier than the Guild's but more powerful and maneuverable. It was also completely silent. All they heard were the stones, kicked up by as it glided by.
"I think you're old enough to call me just plain Wil, don't you?"
He glanced over his shoulder at her when she did not reply right away. She nodded and was opening her mouth to reply, when they hit a patch of turbulence, a small dust devil that was easier to go through than around. Conversation was impossible and she had to throw her arms around Wil and hang on, afraid she'd fall off.
A year ago this small gesture wouldn't have affected her, but as her body changed and blossomed, she was very conscious of her growing breasts pressed against his muscular back. It felt strange. She was aware, too, of how comforting his body was near hers. Not in the way of a child with her favorite uncle, but as a woman with a man.
The effect on Wil when she clung to him, was electric! An insignificant thing set his heart pounding and his adrenaline rushing.
"She's a child," he reminded himself. "My best friend's child."
He fought for self control and concentrated on maneuvering the cycle through the dust devil. He successfully got himself under control until the wind shifted, bringing with it the scent of her perfume.
It was expensive, something he'd bought for her mother, but in her peculiar way, Mary had said it wasn't her style. She gave it to Matilda, not because Mary didn't like the scent, but because she saw the expression of longing in her daughter's eyes when she looked at the tiny, blue crystal bottle and experienced the fragrance. 
It mixed with a woman's chemistry and was guaranteed to smell different on everyone. Wil's sensitive nose loved the exotic aroma and he enjoyed picking out the subtle differences between them. He suppressed a sigh of contentment as her scent wafted toward him.
"A child...." echoed in his mind.
She stiffened suddenly, as they approached the site. Still several clix away, she was experiencing something. Taking careful note of the coordinates, he stopped the cycle and turned to her.
Her face was pale and drawn, dark eyes wide with confused terror. She clung to him as if she were drowning and only he could save her. He'd seen the look before on the face of sensitives. The pocket must be very close. He sniffed, lifting his head, filtering out her scent.
Standing with difficulty, as she refused to release her hold, he slid away from her gently. Her hand shot out, grabbing his shirt in a vice grip, pulling the hairs on his chest. Tortured eyes sought his.
"Don't leave me," she gasped. "What is it? Why do I feel...?" She couldn't put the feeling in words.
Holding her hand, he walked a few feet from the cycle and sniffed again. There it was! The tang was unmistakable; like lemon oil, cloves and sweat with an overlay of metal. He drew a breath through his mouth, tasting the air as it traveled across his tongue.
"It's a big one." He went back to the cycle and she trailed him silently, wide eyed like a frightened puppy.
Wil took a sophisticated scanning device and made detailed readings of the area. Matilda sat on the sled, shivering, although it was a hot day. Absorbed in his work, Wil didn't notice right away. He spoke to her, but she didn't respond, and he grew concerned.
"Matilda?" 
He glanced at her, immediately worried. She was going into Trim shock. He marked the post with a guild beeper and gathered his equipment. He picked her up, plopped her on the seat in front of him and turned the cycle toward Mine Base One. He radioed ahead and Murdock met them personally. Wil had been friends with Murdock for years.
"What's wrong?" Murdock's eyes held deep concern for Matilda.
Wil looked around, his penetrating gaze deterring interference from others. He leaned over to Murdock and whispered, "Trim shock."
"Trim shock?" The other man was appalled.
Because Trimagnite played havoc with the nervous system, sensitives sometimes reacted badly to a pocket, particularly when a large one was near the surface. The effects could be permanent unless treated quickly.
"First time out, it's my fault. The pocket is huge! Where's the doctor?"
"Watson's in his office, sober for once."
"Let's get her there immediately." He lifted Matilda up as if she weighed nothing and followed Murdock to the doctor's house which doubled as an office.
The old man clicked into high gear when he heard what the problem was. "Get me a double shot of joe," he told Murdock.
"That helps Trim shock?"
"Hell no, it's for me! Hurry! Tell me exactly what happened. Wil."
Wil reported in clear detail.
"Dammit, man! You know better! What the hell's wrong with you? You could have killed her!" He punched the dark eyed man in the gut before turning to Matilda.
Wil's features remained immobile as the doctor worked.
"Tell me something I don't know, Walt. Trust me when I tell you nothing you say is any more damning than what I'm telling myself. I'd no idea she was so sensitive."
He smacked himself in the forehead, groaning loudly, his throat constricting in a mournful howl of anguish.
"God, Walt, shoot me! She's a kid, not a full grown woman. I didn't think!"
"How old?"
"Sixteen, today."
"How long was she out there?"
"About thirty minutes."
The doctor shoved past him. "If I thought it would do any good, I would shoot you." He popped Wil's cheek along the scar. "I know just how much good that would do. Be useful, take off your shirt."
"What?" Wil's agonized stare hadn't shifted from Matilda's pale face.
"Shirt off! The only thing that can save this girl is you."
"Huh?"
"Try not to sound as stupid as you are. I know what's inside you, remember? I helped put it there."
"What about blood type, Walt? If it's different...."
"Let me worry about that."
The doctor took some ultra sophisticated equipment from a locked cabinet in the corner of his office. Wil had his shirt off and the doctor shoved him into a chair.
"This will make you light headed," the doctor began.
"I don't get lightheaded, Walt."
Watson gave him a long, patient look.
"This will make you lightheaded. Argue with me and I'll see you never wake up, clear?"
"Crystal, Doc." Wil sighed and settled back in the chair.
He felt a sharp stick in the crook of his arm and jumped in surprise. Hardly anyone used conventional needles any more unless they were very backward technologically. This set up hardly qualified. The needle led to a flexible, clear tube a centimeter or so in diameter. This in turn emptied his blood into a high speed centrifuge where it separated and became a silvery liquid which dripped into another tube, ending in Matilda's arm. A third line brought the red blood cells back to Wil, filtering through a needle in his neck.
"Your healing ability is partially genetic and partly what we did to you. I can filter your blood, but it's still in the serum. That's what we're feeding her. You'll get your red blood cells back. Drink this."
He handed Wil a large thermal bottle of cold liquid. It was roughly two liters of fluid.
"All of it?"
The doctor nodded, not taking his eyes off Matilda.
"Think of it as a really big shooter. You're losing a lot of fluid, that replaces it."
Sighing resignedly, Wil picked up the bottle and drank. In disgust, he spewed, wiping his lips roughly with the back of his hand.
"This tastes like lizard piss!"
"You're an expert on flavors? You've sampled some lizard piss, have you?"
"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I have," he replied testily.
The doctor shrugged. "Chug it, won't taste it as long."
"Thanks, you're a real saint." He held his breath and guzzled the vile stuff down as quickly as he could. He fought the strong urge to vomit, glowering at the doctor, who ignored him.
The color was returning to Matilda's pale cheeks and Wil was beginning to feel dizzy, when the doctor shut off the tube leading to her arm. The centrifuge shunted the red blood cells back at Wil. When it finished, the doctor disconnected it too.
A few minutes later, Matilda sat up looking confused. "Why am I here?"
Dr. Watson checked her carefully. "Do you know where you are?"
"Base One, you're Doctor Watson."
"I was the doctor who delivered you, young lady."
"Why am I here? Where's Wil?"
The doctor stood aside to show her Wil's inert form.
"What happened?"
"Little accident on the ranges, you'll both be fine. He's just having a short nap, he's been waiting for you to wake up." He tapped Wil sharply on the shoulder, "She's awake."
Wil stood and moved slowly toward her. His walk was always so smooth, like water over pebbles. This time, he hesitated a foot or so from her, seeking balance.
"You look better now."
Taking her hands, he raised them to his lips, kissing them tenderly.
"What happened?" Matilda asked.
Wil and the doctor exchanged a furtive glance, but she missed it. The men had decided not to tell her everything.
"We hit a dust devil."
She nodded vaguely, remembering that much.
"It spun us off track and we almost crashed. Sort of puttered in here, Doc patched us up."
"Did we find the pocket?"
Wil shook his head. "I'll look for it again next trip. Right now, you have a party to attend and I have to get back to Aolani."
"I wish you could stay."
He touched her cheek with as fatherly a gesture as he could. "I'll be back soon. I still owe you a birthday gift. I was going to give you the floater cycle, but it's pretty banged up." He had taken out his self loathing on the hapless device. "I'll get you a brand new one. What color do you like?"
Their eyes met, his one orb a glittering obsidian.
"Black, I want a black one."
"You've got it." His smile held a wistfulness that only someone who had known him as long as Walt, would see.
As they headed home on a Guild cycle they had borrowed, Wil reflected on everything Walt had told him.
"She must never know any of this, Wil," Dr. Watson had cautioned him. "Never tell her parents either. This didn't happen and that chemistry set doesn't exist."
"She's a part of you now, Wil. Your blood is in her veins. I don't know how it will affect her, we will only know that given time."
Wil realized Matilda had spoken to him and he tried to give her his attention, but he was still feeling the affects of the transfusion.
"If there is Trimagnite, who gets the bonus?"
He chuckled, considering the answer. "Well, it's sure not gonna be me, I'm not Guild. I'll talk to Orion. I think every full member should get an equal share, don't you?"
She grinned, just like her old man. "That would be great! How much do you think it will be?"
He laughed outright. "No idea, why?"
She shrugged. "I just thought it would be nice to have a little extra spending money, that's all."
Their ride continued in silence as he rushed her home for her party. At the door, she and her sisters begged him to stay.
"I can't, girls. I've wasted enough of the day already."
He saw Bobby walking down the sidewalk with his gift in hand and Wil had no intention of intruding on that relationship. However, he wanted to talk to Bobby. He knew the boy slightly, and was aware of his family situation. Bobby was a good kid. Matilda could do a lot worse, but not any better.
Matilda dashed into the house to change as Wil stopped Bobby at the steps. The two younger girls wanted to eavesdrop, but one look from Wil convinced them to go inside.
"Hi, Robert." Wil kept his voice light.
"Mr. VanLipsig, hi. You're not staying?" He sounded rather hopeful.
Wil lit a cheroot and offered one to Bobby, which he declined. Wil smiled warmly, something he rarely did. Bobby had just scored points without knowing it.
"You know Matilda's special to me, don't you, Robert?"
There was no need to go into how she was special. Let the boy make his own assumptions.
"Yes, sir."
"I don't want to see her hurt, you follow?"
"Yes, sir."
"I have not forgotten being seventeen, and I have been reminded today on what a basic level we men think. Still follow me?"
Bobby frowned. "Not entirely, sir."
"That young lady is naive, innocent and unsullied." He left the rest unsaid. "If a man, such as yourself, were to hurt her in any way, I'd take it personally. Now do you follow?"
Bobby swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."
"What are your intentions regarding her?" Wil's onyx eyed gaze riveted the boy to the spot.
"I'd like to date her, sir, if she wants. If her parents don't mind... or you...."
"You ever been with a woman before?"
Bobby blushed, dropping his eyes from Wil. "No, sir. But...."
"You'd like to be," Wil finished for him.
"Who wouldn't?" He said eagerly, catching himself before he said too much.
"I'm not your father or hers. I can't tell you what to do. I can't lecture you about the evils of teen sex, because I'd be a liar. What I will say," he paused, taking a thoughtful puff of his cheroot, "is if your relationship develops in that direction, you be gentle, thoughtful and considerate. Do I still make myself clear?"
Bobby looked puzzled as if the last thing he had expected Wil to say was this.
"Yes, sir." He looked wistfully at the house, Wil's gaze unwittingly matching his own.
"I promise to treat her with respect, sir. She's the finest girl I know, and the only...." He gulped down his emotions. "The only one who never made fun of me for what my father did," he whispered shyly.
Wil considered his own life, artificially extended, full of wrongfulness and deep regrets. He clapped Bobby on the shoulder, giving him a push toward the door.
"You better get inside now, son, they're expecting you."
Bobby turned once more to see Wil staring at the house where happy voices echoed.
"Thanks for understanding, sir."
"Call me Wil," he replied softly, turning the cycle around and took off toward his ship.
* * *
Months passed and the Trimagnite pocket was capped and harvesting began. True to his word, Wil had told Orion to split the profit. Everyone from the supervisors down to the lowliest Miner One got an equal share.
Wil appeared very little, and when he did arrive, it was always a turn around trip. More often than not, he would even politely refuse a dinner invitation. When Ed finally approached him, he came up with a lame excuse about not wanting to intrude. It was nonsense and they both knew it, but after seeing the agonized look in Wil's eyes, Ed didn't pursue the matter. Whatever demon Wil was fighting, Ed wouldn't put him in an uncompromising position.
"The invitation is always there, my friend."
"Thanks, Ed. That means a lot to me."
After several such conversations, Ed was determined to get to the bottom of it. Wil had made half a dozen different excuses and Ed knew they were all bogus. He decided not to take another one for an answer.
"The girls are asking to see you, Wil. Mary made your favorite, chicken and ham pie with all the trappings."
"I'd be imposing, Ed. I don't want to intrude."
"Since when does family impose? Look, Wil, whatever is troubling you, let's talk about it. We can work through this together."
"Thanks, Ed, but it's just not that easy." "I'm in love with your daughter"? Clearly, he couldn't say that. Ed would never understand.
"It's Amie's birthday, Wil. She's your goddaughter, you can't miss it."
No, he couldn't, he hadn't forgotten the obligation.
"I'll be there, Ed. I"m sorry, I've had a lot that I've been dealing with. Tell Mary and the girls I'll be there."
"Party starts at 1900, don't be late," Ed said quietly, walking away.
Something was strained between them and Ed desperately wanted to find out what so they could discuss it. In Ed's mind, no problem was without a solution, you just had to look harder for some than others.
Wil showed up for Amie's party with an outrageously large stuffed toy for her, new chronograph for each of the other girls, a pearl necklace for Mary and a bottle of Morwellian brandy for Ed as a peace offering. He knew he had deeply offended this hard headed, generous man, but his emotions were in turmoil. Never having been very good at dealing with his feelings, he tended to avoid awkward situations, hoping they would go away. Unfortunately, they rarely did.
After the party, to which Bobby had also been invited, Ed and Wil sat down to open the bottle. Wil ceremoniously broke the century old wax over the cork and poured their drinks into two of the tiny glasses which came with each bottle. Morwellian brandy was incredibly potent and was carefully consumed.
Ed made a toast to Mary and the girls, which Wil joined self-consciously. Ed eyed his friend a long time, setting his glass down with a click.
"Something on your mind, Wil? My granddaddy used to say someone was as skittish as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs."
Wil forced a grin. "Sorry, Ed. I'm just afraid I if I really tell you the truth, you'll never allow me back here."
Ed's brow furrowed deeply. "This sounds serious, Wil."
Wil thought it was even more serious than Ed knew, but he had to say something before losing his nerve.
"I love her, Ed," he mumbled.
Ed stiffened. "You're telling me you've been avoiding us because you are in love with my wife?"
He rose from his chair, pointing at the door. His face was red and his hand shook. Wil vaulted upward, calming hands on Ed's shoulders.
"No! No, it's not Mary I love, Ed. It's Matilda.... I'm in love with Matilda."
Where it had been red with fury, now Ed's countenance went stark white. His breath came in sharp gasps, like a fish out of water. Clasping his hand on his chest, his knees gave out and he collapsed in the chair.
"Swear to me, Wil, nothing ever...."
"On my honor, Ed, I swear! Never!"
He ran work hardened fingers through his dark hair, setting it on end. His eyes held the wildness of a mad man who's been trapped by circumstances. He turned anguished eyes on Ed's pale face.
"Nothing has ever happened between us. But I—this is ripping me apart, Ed. I've never loved anyone the way I do her. It's like someone tore my heart from my chest and cut out my lungs!"
Ed said nothing for a long time. Wil sat opposite him, leaning forward with elbows on knees, clasped hands seeming to beg for forgiveness, dark head bowed as if in prayer.
"Wil, soon this won't even matter. Saltulle is all played out, there's nothing left. Even the Trimagnite is gone, every drop. We'll be leaving in a few weeks. Mary and I are going to Solaris and Matilda's stationed somewhere else. Don't try to find her. If you love her and if you have ever respected me, you'll let her go."
Wil's heart sank to his feet. He gulped painfully, his heart seeming to rise in his throat. "I promise, Ed. I promise to try to forget her, but one day we'll find one another again and for my sake I hope it's soon. A man can't live forever without his heart."
He rose silently, placing a steady, comforting hand on Ed's shoulder as he walked toward the door. He wanted to leave a note, tell Matilda how he felt, but knew Ed would never forgive him if he did. Instead, he headed to the space port and boarded his ship alone.
* * *
Matilda woke on a morning six weeks later and realized not only was it her seventeenth birthday, but it was her last day on Saltulle. Her family was headed for a mining colony on Solaris in the Zapata system. She was going to a mining colony on Parisium and Bobby was going with her.
After three years, if she worked hard enough, she would be eligible for transfer to officer's training. That program alone took an additional three years and the most she could hope for was Commander on a mining vessel. If she were extremely lucky, eventually she would be given a Captaincy, but she doubted it. In the entire three centuries of its existence, there had been three female captains in the Mining Guild.
She dressed quickly, anxious to spend time with her family. Solaris was a long way from Parisium and she did not foresee any chance for visits. She had Bobby, that would have to suffice.
When she got to the kitchen, there was a flurry of activity. A banner across the doorway said, "Happy Birthday, Tilda!" This time her sisters had enough time to finish it and had liberally decorated it with oblique balloons and slightly psychotic clowns.
Her mother had fixed a special breakfast to which Bobby had been invited. He was sitting, tipped back in his chair, talking to her father. He stood when she walked in. His kiss was carefully platonic, although their relationship had progressed to the next level. Matilda suspected her father knew she and Bobby were lovers, but he said nothing. He liked Bobby, who was steady and reliable. They had talked about marriage, but never formalized it, leaving it nebulous. For some reason, she never felt quite as strongly about their relationship as he did.
"Happy Birthday, Tilda," he said softly, kissing her again.
"Look what we got you!" Her sisters chorused, grabbing her by the hand and dragging her to the table. A small stack of presents were by her plate. The largest was from her parents. It was about 11" x 10" and flat. It contained a holographic photo frame loaded with pictures of her family from her parents' wedding to their last big event, Amie's seventh birthday.
All of them were clustered around Amie at the end of the table as she blew out candles. Behind and to the left was Wil, seen in profile, a sad smile on his full lips. Matilda paused, gazing at the photo, for he had not been looking at Amie, but at her. She lingered over the photo for a moment, then set the frame aside to look at her other presents.
The girls had made her cards and gifts. From Amie, she had a bracelet made of stones and chunks of metal she had found lying around. Amie had no way of knowing that those scraps were worth a small fortune anywhere but Saltulle. Brigette's gift was two fold. First an autograph book all of them had signed. It also contained messages from everyone she had been able to charm in to sighing it, which was virtually everyone in the town. The other half of her gift was a diary.
"That's so you can write down all the exciting things that happen to you," Brigette said proudly.
"Thanks, girls."  She hugged each of them. "This is the best birthday ever."
Bobby smiled secretively. "I'll give you mine later after we get on board the ship."
Surprised and curious, she gave him a long, appraising look.
There was one package left. It was long and thin, wrapped in metallic paper which caught the light sending rainbows and light birds around the dingy, barren room. It had no card, but Matilda know instinctively who it was from. Inside was a small card which said simply, "From Uncle Wil. Happy 17th," in his spiky scrawl. Beneath the card was a delicate, simplistic, resplendent and extremely expensive necklace. It was a thin, flat silver chain, layered like fish scales, that caught the light in rainbow colors. It was the prettiest thing she had ever owned.
After breakfast, they washed dishes and put them away in the cupboards.
"Mary, I swear, I don't know why we bothered. This whole house will be space dust soon," Ed said brusquely.
"I know," she sighed wistfully, "but it doesn't seem right leaving it a mess."
On the ship, Matilda stood at a porthole with all the other young miners. None of them had ever seen a planet destroyed and an air of excitement charged the ship. The fact that their birth place was about to implode did not really disturb them. It was the Guild's way; use it up, suck it dry, blow it up. The fiery implosion shook the planet as it collapsed upon itself. Then the clean up began, conducted by the gargantuan ore ships. The transport ships, fully packed with their human cargo, set course headings and took off for various parts of the galaxy. 
Bobby stood at her elbow watching the death of Saltulle. As they made their way back to their quarters, he took a small box from his pocket. As soon as the door shut behind them, he held her hand, gazing deeply into her eyes.
"Matilda, I have something to give you, but there is a condition attached."
Her smile was inquisitive. "Oh? What condition?"
He opened the box and inside was a silver ring with a large, blue stone, Azurite, one of Saltulle's major exports. The deep blue facets caught the artificial light, winking at her from deep in the center. She gasped.
"I mined it myself and had a couple of the guys cut and mount it for you. Read the inscription," he said eagerly. He was so excited he could hardly contain himself.
She took the ring and looked inside. It said, "All my love, Bobby."
"It's beautiful! I don't know what to say."
He kissed her tenderly. "Try yes."
Her glittering smile wreathed her features so her face seemed to glow from within. "Yes, oh yes, Bobby!"
* * *
Their trip to Parisium was spent in happy, self-absorbed solitude. Nothing could intrude on their happiness. Most of their conversation centered around wedding plans which ranged from simplistic and conventional to really complex and bizarre. It was fun fantasizing because most likely they would have a civil ceremony with a few close friends.
The trip took seven weeks and when they walked off the shuttle onto the surface of Parisium, Matilda wasn't sure what to make of it. To say she was horrified with what she saw might have been an overstatement, but she certainly was shocked. Her first impression was that everything was gray—sky, ground, buildings. There were only a few scattered dead trees and no grass to be seen. The normal sights and sounds of the spaceport greeted them, but everything was covered and muffled in a thick layer of dust.
"Yech, what is this stuff?" James Stanley asked as he dropped his duffel on the ground at his feet. James was Bobby's closest friend.
"You didn't read the information on Parisium too carefully," Jane Springer said haughtily, carrying herself with disdain. "This is the byproduct of Parisium's main export, Chaxite dust."
"Chaxite?" James asked. "What's that?"
Jane rolled her eyes. "Must you be so ignorant? Chaxite is that white powder used as the base of most medications in the known universe."
"Oh," he replied foolishly. "Then why is it gray?"
"Hello! Because, idiot, Chaxite is generally found near deposits of coal, and black and white make...."
"Gray," James shrugged. "Could do with a good vacuum, couldn't they? Why don't they clean it up?"
It was Jane's turn to shrug. "Don't care, I suppose. We will have filter masks and dust gear in our stasuits. It won't matter."
"Is it inside too?" Matilda whispered to Bobby.
"I hope not," he mumbled. "I already feel grit in my teeth."
"Everyone inside!" A supervisor in fully self-contained stasuit called from behind them. "New gear is issued in building one, then progress to building two for room assignments."
They responded automatically to the voice of authority, trudging through the ankle deep dust to the first building. Inside, they found state of the art electrostatic grids which zapped each of them when they entered. The dust fell from them and was sucked away by silent vacuums under the floor.
"Gear on the belt," an attendant said in a bored voice. "Step through the gate one at a time."
As each stepped through the gate, they felt another neutralizing charge and saw more dust fall. It was incredible how the stuff got into everything so quickly.
They progressed down the hall to the first room, amazed by the stark sterility of their surroundings. Everything was pristine white and sparkling. It was a harsh contrast with the filth outside. They found the room where the attendant was issuing their new gear. A few rooms down, they were given a crash course in wearing it.
"Never, ever go in the mines without your gear. Do not spend extended periods of time outside without your gear. This stasuit and filter pack must be cleaned or replaced every sixty days. Failure to do so could have dire consequences."
James snorted derisively.
"You find something funny in what I'm saying, young man?" The older, black woman gave him a withering stare.
"No, ma'am." He suppressed a grin. "But is it really so dangerous?"
"Would I be spending my valuable time telling you all this if it wasn't? Cause trust me, honey, I got lots of things I'd rather be doing than saving your scrawny ass."
Her dark eyes were penetrating and even James was beginning to catch on. Bobby nudged James to keep him moving.
"Shut up and move, would you!"
Room assignments came next. Couples were housed on the first three floors, singles paired up and were on floors four through eight.
"Take a key and move on," the attendant here said. "One key per person."
Before leaving the building, they received directions to their building and then put their stasuits. These were checked and rechecked at the door. Corrections were made as needed, none too politely.
"We start Monday, Tilda," Bobby sounded apprehensive.
"Bobby, I hate this place," Matilda shuddered, clinging to his arm.
"So do I, honey. It will be all right, we won't be here all that long." 
They found their room without any difficulty. James and his girlfriend, Stella, were next door. After unpacking their scant belongings in the cheerless, tile and metal room, they went to the cafeteria in the basement. Each dorm had its own to minimize exposure to the outdoors. The food wasn't too bad, at least it wasn't gray.
* * *
Monday dawned and the only difference was that the sky was a lighter shade of gray than it was at night. Darkness took on a lurid cast in the light of the orange gas lights scattered about.
Decked out in their gear, the four of them approached the mine with trepidation. They had been assigned to a team with six other people. After three weeks of training, Matilda would be taking over. She was terrified.
"I don't really see why you get to be in charge," Jane complained for the hundredth time. "I scored higher than you on the aptitude test."
"Only two points," Stella quipped, liking Jane's discomfort.
"Because," James was only too happy to be the one explaining this time, "she out ranked you on Saltulle. Foreman DuLac, remember?"
Jane stalked away in a huff. James and Stella laughed after her.
"She can have the job as far as I'm concerned," Matilda commented. "Do you know how many rules and safety regulations I have to memorize in the next three weeks?"
"You can do it, Tilda. I'll help you," Bobby told her, squeezing her fingers.
"Thanks! I can use all the help I can get!"
Their shift went quietly and they learned more about Chaxite than they ever hoped to. Getting home that evening, after dinner and a hot shower, Matilda sat down with her regulations. Bobby came in and sat across from her, gazing at her intently.
"What?" She felt flustered and confused by his look.
"We need to decide something, Tilda. When do we want to get married? There's an actual minister here, we could have a church wedding."
"I really can't think about it until training is over."
"What will be the next excuse, Matilda? We could've married on the ship, but you didn't want to. Do you even want to marry me?" His eyes filled with angry tears.  He blinked them away.
She took his hand in hers. "Yes, Bobby, I do want to marry you. I love you. But I want to be able to enjoy our wedding and our time together afterwards and until I get through this training, I can't. We can get married right after as a celebration, okay?"
He smiled weakly. "Alright, I guess I can wait. I'm holding you to this, Matilda DuLac." He reached for her rule book. "Here, let me have that, I'll quiz you."
They spent the next three hours studying the rules until both of them knew them by heart.
* * *
They were scheduled to go deeper in the mines than they had ever been thus far and the entire team was apprehensive. Matilda wasn't supposed to be in charge, but was told by her trainer that she'd lead the team in. He'd provide back up in case of an emergency. Matilda tried very hard not to panic as she went through the sequence of regulations pertaining to deep drops.
All of them were issued safety lines. These were attached to titanium rings set in concrete blocks, anchored to the rock at the top of the shaft. Each miner was equipped with climbing gear and a comunit so even if they got lost, they could be tracked.
Parisium was too primitive a base to have elevators in the shafts. It was just as well, for the power went out regularly and the generators were not strong enough to raise a cage. The ladders were sturdy and firmly attached to the side of the shaft. The stone was very soft, so the walls had to be constantly hewn and the ladders re-secured.
Bobby went down first, Matilda followed and the rest of the team came down in pairs. At the bottom, they stood in a tight group, the lights on their helmets the only illumination. It was cold down here, far more than any of them had anticipated. An involuntary shiver took them all by surprise before the monitors on their stasuits clicked on the thermals.
"Oh, I have to contact base," Matilda remembered suddenly.  
Soon, she hoped, this would become automatic. New duties were always hard to get used to. A quick report of their position and condition of her miners and they were told to release their safety lines and tie off at the ring for the next level down.
Their lines could be released by a remote button on their belts. The ropes wound up automatically, but if the hooks fell on anyone from fifty feet above, it would be her responsibility.
"Stand back from the shaft and release by the numbers," she ordered.
One by one, the miners released their lines. Each had been assigned a number from one to ten and they released in that order. When all of them were free, they reconnected in reverse order from ten to one.
Matilda, who was last to connect, was responsible for seeing each of them secured properly. If they weren't, she had to instruct them to reconnect. Each rope was emblazoned with a team number and when she checked, Bobby's line was twisted and kinked, impeding Jane's rope.
"Numbers three and four, reconnect reverse numbers," meaning Bobby first, then Jane.
"You could use our names, Number One," Jane said haughtily.
"Give it a rest, Number Three. She's doing it by the regs. Just disconnect and hook up again so we don't stand here all day," James fussed at her.
Sulkily, Jane disconnected her line, found an empty spot and reattached. Bobby was working the kinks out of his line when they felt a tremor. It was powerful enough for them to lose their footing. Bobby's line was being stubborn, the latch wouldn't release for him to connect to the loop.
"Three, Bobby, secure!" Matilda felt panic rising in her, but she fought it down. "Base, this is unit 4-6-2, experiencing tremors in sector four!"
Crackling static. "Hold position, 4-6-2. Area below is unstable."
"Bobby, get your line," James urged, trying to help him.
"It won't release, I can't get it!"
"We'll double on mine," James suggested. "They are rated for four hundred pounds. You don't weigh over two hundred and neither do I."
"Tilda?" They needed her decision, it was her job.
"Do it, James. Bobby, keep trying to hook up."
A sharp nod and both young men worked furiously to secure James' rope to Bobby as well. Another tremor shook them and several of the members fell to their knees. They heard debris fall down the ladder, blocking their ascent.
"Base, this is 4-6-2, the shaft is blocked. Do we continue down?"
Static.
"Hold... Unstable... hold pos-...."
"We can't stay here," Matilda decided. "I don't care what they say, we have to move."
"You heard Base," Jane objected. "They said hold."
"They said something, but what? They could have said do not hold," James argued.
"The ladder is blocked, the floor could give way any second. I'll make this democratic. Hold or move?"
Another tremor shook them and part of the ladder fell loose from the wall. A unanimous "Move!" and the all tried to go in different directions at once.
"Stop!" Bobby bellowed. "What do we do, Tilda?"
"We've got to get to another ladder and hope we can get back up. These passages go in a grid. Next ladder is one click north. Follow by the numbers."
"I don't want to be last!" Stella wailed.
"Don't be a baby," Jane growled. "If it makes you feel better, I'll go last and you come up by James."
They traded spots. Matilda nodded a silent thank you. It was the first time Jane had shown any team spirit.
Part of the wall in the tunnel had collapsed, but it was passable. They struggled through in an organized manner. The next ladder was blocked too, but they re-secured their lines quickly and started down the next passage. Bobby's line still refused to open, so he and James remained roped together.
The next ladder had fallen out of the wall and the safety ring wasn't terribly secure, but their lines were not long enough to reach the next ladder.
"Tie off, reverse numbers," Matilda said automatically. Jane clicked on first.
"Wait!" Stella yelled. "I'm ten!"
"I'm ten now, you're three. Shut up and wait your turn."
Stella was in a panic and shoved Jane aside. Both women lost their footing and fell. The floor, already unstable, collapsed. Jane dangled from her rope, but Stella's wasn't attached. Screaming, she flailed around trying to attach her line, but it fell out of her grasp. James lunged for her, forgetting he and Bobby were roped together. The floor couldn't take their combined weight and crumbled.
Stella fell, her face a mask of fear and panic. Her line snaked down behind her. She never made a sound. James and Bobby dangled by the line as the others scrambled to help them back up.
The safety ring groaned as they swung over the pit, bending in its concrete block. James hung still, watching where Stella had fallen, but Bobby, dangling beneath him, desperately tried to take the hands of the others who had lain down to distribute their weight around the hole.
The two strongest men were on the edge of the hole as the rest of the team moved off down the other tunnel to reach the ladder. Matilda pulled up Jane and together they held the men's belts.
"Call base," Jane grunted.
"Base, this is 4-6-2." No answer. "Base, this is 4-6-2, do you copy?"
Static.
"4-6-2," the speaker crackled loudly. "...position? Ladders collapsed... to ladder seven."
"We're at ladder seven, Base. Floor is collapsing. One member down, two in trouble!"
"Say again, 4-6-2." 
She repeated herself more slowly.
"Cannot get to you, 4-6-2, you're on your own."
The floor was cracking where the two men were lying, trying to bring Bobby and James up. James still hung limply, but Bobby struggled to reach the men above.
"James! Help me!"
"She's gone," James stared wide eyed, unable to focus on anything else. His hand moved slowly toward the release button on his belt. "I've got to find her, help her."
Bobby saw the direction of his hand. "James, no!"
He yelled, fighting to reach safety, pounding James with his fist in a desperate attempt to break his trance.
The floor gave more, causing the men at the lip of the hole to falter and slide back just as Bobby's hand brushed the air where they had been. A look of anguish crossed his face as he looked up at Matilda one last time.
"I love you," he whispered as James' hand reached the release button, sending them both to oblivion.
"NO!" Matilda screamed, throwing herself toward the hole.
Both men and Jane had to drag her away as the floor continued to fall inward. The entire center of the room was gone and deep rumbling warned of further cave in.
Screaming, weeping, Matilda followed the other three to the ladder, falling over obstacles in the dark, tripping on her own feet, hysterical with grief. She knew she had to get the rest of the team out, but she could hardly breathe. Panic took hold of her as another tremor, longer, deeper and more urgent shook the ground under their feet.
The other members stood by the ladder, uncertain what to do. "Up the ladder, reverse numbers!"
She had enough where-with-all to know she had to be last. Jane went first and the rest followed, hesitating over the gaps in their ranks, noticing and mourning those missing.
There was one person left, the largest man in the group. Mike delayed before going up. "You first, Matilda."
She shook her head. "By the numbers, Mike."
He forced a grin. "Yes, ma'am."
He put one foot on the ladder and the shaft began to crumble. He leapt back, knocking her aside as the soft, black dust fell over them. She had a moment of panic and she knew no more.
* * *
Matilda woke with a start, gasping for breath, the darkness thick around her. She couldn't move, her arms and legs pinned down. The weight was excruciating and she wished she had stayed unconscious. A minute or two later, she realized what had woken her.
"4-6-2, this is Base. 4-6-2, this is Base. Can you hear me?"
She moaned, her entire body felt broken.
"4-6-2, Matilda, this is Jane. Can you hear me? Mike? Answer me!" Her voice held an edge of desperation.
"It's me," Mike croaked. "Matilda is here, I can feel her next to me." He tapped her left arm.
"Can't see..." Matilda groaned.
"The tunnel fell in on you. A team is on the way. Can you move?"
"No," Matilda said after a few moments of trying.
"Negative, Base," Mike sounded less wounded than she.
After a few more minutes, she realized part of the weight on her was Mike's body. She moaned again.
The pain was incredible and she slipped once more into unconsciousness. When she woke again, she was in the Guild infirmary. Sterile white walls met a black and white tile checkerboard floor. Muted voices and the sounds of food carts greeted her ringing ears.
She couldn't turn her head as she was in a neck brace, but her peripheral vision showed her the bed next to her was empty. The sheets looked rumpled, so someone had been using it.
The toilet flushed and Mike hobbled out on crutches. His smile was warm and friendly, tinged with sadness. Reality struck home as she remembered Bobby's last words as he fell. Tears ran down her cheeks and she sobbed, mourning his loss and that of their friends.
"They are still looking, Matilda."
"He fell too far, Mike. I know it. Their bodies will never be found." She rubbed her eyes with the back of her right hand. The left was in traction. "What happened?"
"They hit a pocket of Essine gas when they were digging. That entire side of the mine went down. They've had to close the whole site."
"Tests and scans are supposed to be done for Essine...."
He nodded sadly. "Someone screwed up."
"I'll have their job for this!" The pain increased with her anger.
"They're dead, Tilda. Just like Bobby."
"Not just like! At least their death was quick! He fell and there was nothing I could do! Just stand there and watch!" It was then she noticed her ring finger was bare. "My ring!"
Before she could get more worked up, he handed her a small plastic bag with her engagement ring. The band had been sliced and it was covered with muck and crusted blood.
"They had to cut it off, but the nurse made sure to save it. You can get it cleaned and repaired, it will be good as new."
Her lip trembled and hot tears spattered the bag, puddling in the folds and creases.
"It doesn't matter. Put it away."
He did as she asked and waited for the food cart to stop by. There was nothing left to say. No words could make her feel any better.
As the weeks passed, Matilda's body healed, but her soul was hollow. She was released from the clinic to new quarters she was sharing with Jane.
"Commander Torry wants to see you in his office, Matilda," Jane told her.
Curious, but barely interested, Matilda limped slowly over to the base commander's office. Commander Fred Torry was a tall man and rather heavy set with steel gray hair and eyes. He stood when she entered, coming around to where she was standing, leaning heavily on her cane.
"Please sit down, Foreman DuLac. No sense keeping you on your feet. However, I wanted to tell you the news personally."
"What news?"
He handed her a square black box hinged in gold. Inside was a medal. "For Valor and Duty," was embossed on the edge. Inside were the insignia of a Base Superintendent, a substantial promotion for her.
"We are very proud of you, Superintendent DuLac." He leaned forward and shook her hand, then helped her pin on her new insignia.
"Thank you, sir," she said softly, hardly knowing what else to say.
Rising with care, she hobbled out of the office and back to her room. After digging around in her drawer, she put something small in her pocket and left again. Jane and Mike followed her to the pit which had once been the south end of the mine.
Security officers tried to stop her, but the determined expression on her face quelled any protests. Jane and Mike caught up with her at the very edge of the pit.
Without a word, she took the box with her medal and flung it away from her. Watching it fall, she drew a small object from her jacket pocket, kissed it and threw it down as well. The meager, gray light of the weak sun, caught in the deep blue facets of her engagement ring as it turned over and over, falling in slow motion.
"I loved you, Bobby," she whispered. "Goodbye."
Without another word, or backward glance, she walked slowly back to her room, where she lay down and tried to forget.

The End

Gone But Not Forgotten is a prequel to my science-fictions series. Book one, Lone Wolf, came out in the fall of 2011 and is available at all online outlets. Below is an excerpt from Lone Wolf. I hope you enjoy it!



LONE WOLF

Once he was up and dressed, Marc was all business. It seemed odd for him to be so professional when they had just been so intimate, but she knew something was bothering him.
As Matilda followed Marc to the docking bay where the ship was locking on, she noticed he was armed. The energy weapon he wore was hardly standard Guild issue. On the maximum setting, it could take down a 300 pound man, putting a sizable hole in him.
"Expecting an army? You can kill a xar beast with one of those."
"I wish I had something bigger. If I order you to fire, Commander, you fire. No questions. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
Marc opened the door to the docking bay. The other ship had attached and the airlock was pressurizing. As the door spiraled open, Matilda sensed a shudder pass through Marc. He raised his weapon, covering the entrance.
Slowly, with a casual air, a man entered the airlock. Nearly as tall as Marc, he was leaner of build. His curly, dark brown hair fell to his shoulders. He stood still while Rubee scanned his identification tag before releasing the force shield in front of him.
He wore a black eye patch over his left eye and a scar ran from his left temple to the corner of his lips. It was an old scar, worn and somewhat sunken. A slight stubble of beard shaded the lower half of his face, all but the scar line, leaving a pale crescent in the dark. His uncovered eye glittered, black and dangerous in his ruggedly handsome face. Holding his arms from his sides, he waited as Rubee scanned him for weapons. Finding none, she gave clearance for him to pass.
He stepped forward, lighting a dark, thin object. The pungent odor of a cheroot filled the confined space. Squinting past the smoke, he gazed into Marc's eyes. Marc's weapon remained pointed at the other man's head, his calm expression strangely predatory.
Their visitor sized Matilda up with a glance, dismissing her as non-threatening. He puffed on his cheroot thoughtfully. A crooked grin cracked his face in half, the scar pulling his left lip up at an odd angle.
"Marc, it's been a long time." He held out his hand.
Marc remained aloof, not taking his eyes off the visitor, lowering his weapon or acknowledging the proffered hand.
"Kind of a cold reception, isn't it?" His voice was rasping and low.
The smile was replaced by a slight frown, a hint of sadness in the obsidian eye. Then the same placid expression took its place. Nothing in Marc's face betrayed what he was thinking or feeling.
Marc spoke calmly. "Commander Dulac, please show Colonel VanLipsig to the lounge."
"Of course, sir." Looking puzzled, she did as he asked, feeling his eyes on her.
Marc followed, covering the man from the rear. When they had seated themselves, Matilda ordered three cups of joe from the synthunit. Marc kept his weapon out on his knee with his hand resting upon it. The other fellow leaned back, seemingly unconcerned and at ease. Taking a sip of the joe, he grimaced, glancing down at his cup before matching his gaze with Marc's.
"I know we parted under difficult circumstances, but is this really necessary? I'm here to do a job, nothing more." He carefully kept his hands in plain view, moving slowly, talking with deliberate ease.
Marc looked at him blankly. "I thought you were dead, Wil."
VanLipsig nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "You were sure you killed me." His voice was flat, toneless, unemotional. He shrugged casually, tilting his head to the left. "I got better." There was a flash of a chilling smile.
"The reports...."
"The reports of my death were greatly exaggerated," VanLipsig quipped, dark eye glittering mischievously.
Marc's fist dented the metal table with a furious blow. "Dammit, Wil! Can't you stay dead?"
VanLipsig threw back his head, laughing caustically. The laugh became a long, high pitched, chilling howl. Matilda felt a shiver run through her to the very bone. She did her best not to show it, but a subtle shift of her bearing betrayed her. His gaze penetrated her soul, laying it bare, finding it wanting.
"Aren't you going to introduce me to the lady, Marc?"
"No."
Marc hid his anger, but Matilda knew he was furious. His attitude toward VanLipsig was puzzling. They seemed to have known one another for years, obviously parting on less than amicable terms. Though VanLipsig seemed to harbor no ill will, Marc certainly did.
"May I present myself, ma'am? I'm Colonel Wilhelm VanLipsig, also known as the Lone Wolf. Perhaps you've heard of me?" He attempted to look humble. "Pleased to make your acquaintance." His glance flicked to her name tag and insignia, dark eye lingering hungrily on her chest. "Commander Dulac." His mouth formed the words, enjoying the feel of the consonants on his tongue.
He waited patiently for a response. Getting none, his eye locked with hers, curious, intrigued. "Do you speak?"
Matilda studied him quizzically, raising an eyebrow. "There seemed little to say."
Wil chuckled deep in his throat. It was a seductively menacing sound. He put his feet up on the table between them, relaxed, but all business.
"So, what's this load I'm supposed to pick up?"
Matilda glanced at Marc, his blank face betraying nothing. He gave no indication that he was going to speak, so she took over the conversation.
"Trimagnite."
VanLipsig, who was staring openly at her full breasts, raised an eyebrow. He grinned wolfishly, dragging his gaze to meet hers.
"Really? Nasty stuff." He sounded almost gleeful."How pure?"
She met his eyes with a challenge as his smile became predatory. Her personal scanner showed him the basic specs. His brow furrowed slightly as he read, then he handed it back to her, whistling softly in surprise.
"Show me the full scan." All joking aside, he stood expectantly.
Matilda ushered VanLipsig to a console and typed in the commands. He leaned over her right shoulder, his face mere inches from hers. His scent tantalized her. It was  disconcerting, made all the more disturbing because he was dangerously handsome, well built, virile, wickedly seductive and extremely close. Forcing herself to look back at the screen, she felt his warm breath on her neck, tickling her skin in a very sensuous way. 
He leaned forward, tapping the console, watching as the view and number readout changed. The very air between them was charged with energy. His shoulder brushed hers from behind, making her shiver
VanLipsig put his hand on her shoulder, brushing her neck slightly with his thumb, leaning in as if to kiss her. He checked himself abruptly, nearly brushing her ear with his lips. His breath stirred wisps of hair, tickling her neck.
"I'm sorry, Commander. Are you cold?" His raspy voice seemed loud, although he whispered.
She ducked out from under his arm, stepping aside. "No, I'm fine. Really. Thank you."
Marc stood a few feet away, his eyes on the other man, saying nothing. The muscle in his jaw worked rapidly, bulging and relaxing as he fought for control.
Wil seemed unaware of them both as he read the screen, making mental calculations; sensuous lips moving as he spoke to himself. He nodded, clearing the screen, turning to them with a dazzling smile.
"No problem," his smile broadened, but didn't reach his eye. "I'll just get my bots to work, then."
He made for the door, but Marc stopped him with a powerful arm across his chest. Wil halted, pressing aggressively against Marc's elbow.
"Old man, you know that's dangerous." Wil's body stiffened defensively.
Marc glared at him, cold fury erupting. "By God, Wil! I killed you, you bastard!" Marc pounded the table next to him, scattering the cups of joe.
Wil didn't even blink. "I told you, I got better."
Marc's huge fist shot out suddenly from shoulder height, all his weight behind it. Wil caught Marc's fist, twisting up and away from his jaw, forcing Marc's arm to bend back on itself, elbow by his ear.
"Don't make me do this, Marc. "
Wil held Marc's arm, their muscles swelling and knotting as they fought for control. Marc tried to free himself from the other man's unyielding grasp. Suddenly changing tactics, he swung at Wil with his left hand. With an audible crack, his enormous fist connected with Wil's face. Neither man seemed to notice. Marc drew back, swinging again from the left.
Wil dropped Marc's right hand in order to block the blow. He grabbed Marc's arm in an elbow lock. Using the force of the attack, he spun Marc to face him, slamming his fist into Marc's abdomen.
Instead of recoiling from the blow, Marc moved in, utilizing Wil's momentum and his own greater weight, to put his opponent off balance. He threw Wil to the floor, hitting him with a bone grinding body slam.
Wil exhaled sharply as he grappled with one hand in Marc's hair. Wil forced Marc's head back at an odd angle. Marc's face grew dark red as he gasped for breath.
Matilda reacted instinctively, her weapon trained on Wil automatically. Stance defiant, her eyes glittered with dark fire.
"Let him go," she spoke quietly, teeth clenched.
Wil held Marc's head, but stopped twisting.
"Why don't you put the gun down, Ma'am, before you hurt yourself?"
Wil's face registered momentary surprise when she didn't immediately comply. Instead, her grip shifted on the weapon, her aim true, right between his eyes. The astonishment was quickly replaced by a placid expression. VanLipsig allowed himself a glance in her direction. Her face held a determination equal to his own. Slowly, he let go of Marc, who straightened up, shaking his head.
"Move away from him."
VanLipsig stood in one fluid motion, taking two steps back. His hands were shoulder height, out from his body. He made no sudden movements, his demeanor passive.
"Now would one of you testosterone glutted males tell me what the hell is going on?" Her dark eyes flashed dangerously.



INDIAN SUMMER

My other novel is an historical adventure/ romance set in St. Augustine, Florida in 1739. Gabriella, the daughter of the Spanish governor, and her fiance Manuel Enriques, are instrumental in uncovering a British spy. This excerpt is taken from a point in the story where they lay a trap for the spy when something goes horribly wrong.

There was a nagging feeling of dread rising in my mind. I felt hot then cold all over as if I were taking sick again. I had the feeling that Manuel needed me, something was horribly, terribly wrong. I couldn't suppress it, for it seared my soul. My dreams nagged my thoughts, causing shivers of dread down my spine.
Without saying a word to anyone, I wended my way as quickly and quietly to the door as I could. It was hardly more than three minutes after Manuel left, and yet he was nowhere in sight. He must have taken his buggy. Having no such vehicle available to me, I ran to the fortress with as much speed as I could muster. I was grateful to Grand-mère for the dress as it provided more mobility than any of my other outfits would have.
The hair rose on my arms as if I were cold, my breath came in shuddering gasps and yet I ran until I thought my lungs would burst. It was then I saw it, a flicker, a flame and suddenly the entire southeast bastion of the fort seemed to be on fire!
Silhouetted against it, I saw a man. My dream came rushing back of an instant and I knew it to be James the spy! I couldn't contain my anger. It drove me onward, compelling me to be hasty, chiding my slowness. Anger burned within me, hot and fierce as the signal fire before me, filling me with a fury driving away my fear.
I finally reached the gate, passing the ladies and the buggy without fully noticing. I saw no sign of Manuel, James or anyone else. In fact, the postern gate was open and unguarded, just as in my dream! I stifled the shriek I felt rising in my throat. Fear gripped me, cold unreasoning fear. Dread of ghosts of dead soldiers floated through my mind, making me shiver again.
For the first time in my life, I didn't know what to do. I couldn't think or make any decision. I stood there stupidly, gaping at the sight in front of me, riveted to the spot. That was my undoing. Stealthily out of the shadows, James was upon me. He grabbed me in his strong arms, holding me to him, using me as a shield, a gun pointed at my head!
An involuntary scream ripped from my throat! James chided me, goaded me on, pulling my hair, waving the gun before me!
"Go ahead and scream, lass. Scream for all you're worth! It will bring him to me. I've waited, plotted, planned for this moment. Before the sun rises, he'll be dead and you, my lass, you will be mine!"
He planted a rough, brutal kiss on my cheek, nipping my ear, causing me to scream again. I writhed away from him, but he held me fast. He shifted his hold upon me, crushing me against his pelvis. I could feel the lust in him. It disgusted and terrified me. He seemed to feed off my fear, growing more bold.
"That's it, that's it! He'll be here any minute that upstart Spanish bastard!"
He was turning around from side to side, holding me in front of him, pulling my hair to keep me on my feet, for I was near to fainting. A shadow moved stealthily toward us. I hoped James had not seen. Perhaps I only hoped so much that it was Manuel, I imagined it. But no, I heard a pistol being cocked and knew James heard it to. From our left, Manuel emerged quietly from the shadows, pistol in hand.
The light from the signal fire threw wavering shadows and highlights over his face, making him look demonic, his handsome face contorted into an unyielding mask of cold rage and hatred. His hand was steady, pointing the gun at James, who tried in vain to keep me in front of him. Manuel lifted his chin standing still.
"Let her go, James, or I shall drop you where you stand."
"If you shoot me, she's dead." He put the gun up against my head.
"Don't be so sure of that, Doctor."
I could hear panic rising in James' voice. His breath coming in fast gulps, hot on my neck. "Drop your gun. I'll let her go if you drop your gun!"