Rauno sat under the shade of a massive boulder and took a long sip of water.
Something scurried near him. He didn’t begrudge sharing the shade with some creature so far from Earth, but he didn’t want to think about it too hard.
His wrist com beeped.
“Get moving!” Santos barked over the comms. “You don’t get a break for forty minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As he hefted the bulky ore-detector, he wondered how his ex-wife, Kate, was spending the money from the payroll robbery. She’d left him to be arrested on Odin III, a mining planet in the armpit of the galaxy. She’d escaped with the money on the evening FTL transport last year.
[~ed: as described in Episode 10]
Galactic Mining had agreed not to press charges if he signed a ten-year contract. They put him up in a barracks and fed him, and in return, he combed the barren desert for ore pockets.
Galactic always wanted new shafts, but wouldn’t risk a bot on a shit detail. Sand might clog the circuitry or the sun might fry the wiring. Parts from Earth were expensive. Galactic could always replace people.
Trudging through the sun was murder, but it sure beat sandstorms. At least he could see where he was going, and the night razors couldn’t sneak up on him. One of the predators had mauled some poor tech weeks ago.
Galactic had no fear Rauno might run. Where would he go? He had no money. He couldn’t exactly hop a transport—not without Galactic’s okay.
A piercing pain stabbed his head and vanished. God, did that damned machine he lugged around shoot out radiation? Fantastic.
The detector bleeped. A flickering green light.
He came to the crest of a hill. The detector screamed like a banshee.
He saw a mine entrance. Galactic Mining had driven him a hundred miles from the main mine into a supposed undeveloped wasteland, and turns out the company already had a mine out here?
Son of a bitch.
He was taking his damned break. He downed his water. His stomach cramped up. He sure didn’t feel like unwrapping the corned beef sandwich in his pack. He staggered to the mine to grab some shade.
A Galactic guard in mirrored sunglasses leaned back on a director’s chair under a corrugated metal awning. “Who the hell are you?”
“Detection patrol,” Rauno panted.
“We already have a mine out here,” the guard snorted. “First day on the job?”
“Galactic sent me.” Rauno stepped towards the shade. His head swam. The guard held up his hand.
Rauno stopped. “Please, I just need some water.”
The guard picked up his radio. He squinted at Rauno’s sweat-stained shirt with the stenciled ID number. “Apprentice A3562 is here.” The guard listened for a few seconds and turned off the radio. “That number’s accounted for. “
“All I know is that I need water and I’ve been in the sun all day.”
“Okay.” The guard stepped into the mine and returned a moment later with a metal quart-sized flask. He handed it to Rauno.
Rauno took a long sip of cool water. “Call Santos.”
The guard squinted. “Who?”
§
Galactic guards brought up the apprentice with Rauno’s serial number, who emerged stumbling out into the sun.
Rauno stared.
This was the last person on Odin III he had expected to see today. Or ever again.
Kate.
“How in God’s name did you get here?” he asked, fighting the urge to yell at her. “You were off-world.” Kate would have figured out a destination that did not have any sort of relationship with Galactic.
She stared at him. “I might ask you the same question.”
“You left me to the cops and the night razors,” he snapped. “You took the money—”
“Me? You abandoned me, you damned son of a bitch. I’ve got nine years left on this hellhole.”
“You made it to Rigel,” he said in a slow and measured tone. “I saw your video message in the Galactic Communications Office.”
“Stop your goddamned lies,” Kate hissed. “You sent me a goddamned message from Rigel.”
Nothing made any sense. Kate had escaped. His lawyer had told him over and over that his indenture could be knocked down to less than five years if he’d tell Galactic where Kate had gone. He would have ratted her out in a heartbeat if he’d just known where to find her after Rigel. Hell, she’d probably changed her name or her damned DNA.
Rauno heard the chopping of a helicopter. A minute later it landed. A severe-looking woman emerged, wearing a blue blazer and the golden Galactic lapel pin that signified upper management—right below the Board of Directors. Upper management would never go out in the field. They’d send some lackey.
The suit pointed a finger at the guard. “Get the apprentice back into the mines.”
The guard looked confused.
“Put our apprentice back in the mines.” The suit pulled a pulsating cylinder from her suit coat. She waved it over Rauno’s arm. It turned purple. “Idiots. Damned idiots.” She turned to Rauno. “You. Start marching west.”
“What’s going on?” Rauno asked.
“You don’t get to ask questions.”
They gave Rauno a couple of bottles of water. He left the mine that shouldn’t have been there and the apprentice who, by all logic dictated, should not have been on Odin III.
Twenty minutes later, he felt the stabbing pain again. Then his wrist comm buzzed.
Santos seemed relieved as she told him to wait.
The helicopter returned bearing the same severe-looking woman in the blue blazer with the upper management lapel pin. The suit did not recognize Rauno.
§
Rauno took a sip of beer at Weber’s Place—the best bar on Odin III. The bartender gave apprentices free drinks sometimes. The townspeople knew he had tried to rob Galactic and looked at him as some kind of Robin Hood. Nobody lost any sleep over Galactic losing money.
He had time to drink. Galactic had given him a week off. They’d poked and prodded and subjected him to every kind of medical test, but at least he wasn’t out in the sun.
“You know, you might have seen her,” Ingrid said, with the sympathy of all bartenders since men had dwelt in caves. He had been telling her his story.
“Maybe, but Kate wouldn’t have allowed herself to be captured.”
Ingrid placed another beer in front of Rauno. “You might have slipped.”
A grizzled retired miner, Daraja, had been listening. “You slipped. There’s no mine out in that area.”
Rauno sipped his beer. “How do you know?”
“I know.” The miner took another sip of beer. “And no suit would ever go to a site. You slipped. You went into another timeline.” He frowned. “Funny thing, though, there hasn’t been a storm in weeks.” Daraja raised his glass in a toasting gesture. “To Odin III.”
So, there was a timeline where he had screwed Kate over. Where he had gotten away with the money.
He didn’t feel as angry with his ex-wife anymore. The two of them had played a game. He’d lost, but could as easily have won.
If he ever saw the other Kate again, he’d tell her that.
New to Odin III? Find out what you’ve been missing!
Check out The Complete Episode Guide.
Coming Saturday: Episode 45, “Love and Mushrooms,” by Kimberly Ann Smiley
For the past few years Pete has been in the process of evolving into a fiction editor, God help him, first with The Pete Wood Challenge, then with Dawn of Time, then with The Odin Chronicles. Along the way he’s introduced us to the creative work of Roxana Arama, Gustavo Bondoni, Carol Scheina, Patricia Miller, Kimberly Ann Smiley, Kai Holmwood, Brandon Case, Jason Burnham, and many, many more. We suspect Pete’s real love is theater, though, as evidenced by his short movie, Quantum Doughnut — which you can stream, if you follow the foregoing link.
Pete Wood photo by Lee Baker.
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