Jaydium Read Free

into the second pilot’s seat and pulled the harness straps around him. He took a few moments to study the panels, then began his inspection. Kithri watched him, liking the way he moved in the cramped space, sensing where the ’jet’s walls were without having to bang his elbows into them, liking the meticulousness with which he double-checked everything. But he’d had an unforgiving teacher — in space, carelessness was invariably fatal.
    He looked up as she folded herself into the seat before him, her shoulders between his knees. She didn’t touch him as she checked his work again. “All right, you pass,” she said, closed the door, and thumbed the engines into life.
    â€œWhat’s the drill?”
    â€œManual in the ’port and out past the hills. That’ll take us to the Cerrano Plain, a good three thousand miles across. Then into the Manitous themselves.”
    â€œHow deep into them?”
    â€œDepends on where the jaydium is. Could be as much as ten miles. You ever flown a tunnel?”
    Kithri nudged Brushwacker from its berth and along the runway leading east toward the hills. The tiny ship moved smoothly under her hands, as if it were a living thing that knew her touch.
    â€œNo, but I’ve heard they’re as predictable as a trader’s promise. A system of natural tunnels that run all through the mountain range.”
    Kithri laughed. “That’s not half of it. There’s no jaydium worth having on the surface, so you have to follow the tunnels deep into the mountain. They twist worse than a dish of noodles — one wrong turn and you’ll end up plastered against the wall.”
    â€œYou’re not the noodle type,” he said. “And neither am I.”

Chapter 2
    â€œAssist?” came Eril’s voice.
    The long muscles in his thighs flexed alongside Kithri’s arms as he settled the auxiliary foot controls. With an effort, she ignored the sensation. “Take us due east to the hills, then through them along the lowest route.”
    â€œSpeed?” There was no hint of excitement in his voice.
    â€œDon’t get us smashed.”
    Kithri rested her hands lightly on the controls, sensing the subtle changes as Eril eased into command and increased their speed. He flew with almost arrogant confidence, but he wasn’t greedy — he’d left a good twenty percent to her discretion.
    They reached the first wrinkle of hills at moderate subsonic speed. Eril guided the scrubjet along the narrow gullies where vegetation covered the jagged rock like splotches of green-black ink. At first his handling felt rough-edged, his reactions to the winding canyon jerky. Kithri nudged the stabilizers and tried to keep her muscles loose. He was doing a hell of a lot better than she had on her first try.
    She’d been eleven, less than a year on Stayman and still homesick for Albion’s flowers. That was before the war, when the Federation still manned the colony and provided services to the jaydium miners and their families. That was when they still had families. Her father sat before her in the pilot’s seat, his body a bulwark against this unfamiliar, desolate world.
    â€œAll right, Kithryne Sunnai,” he said. He was given to using her full name when he wanted her to pay particular attention. Sometimes when a topic was really important to him, he sounded like one of his own geology lectures. Even now, she could remember the rhythm of his words, his voice, his hands covering hers on the scrubjet controls.
    â€œStayman’s your world now, and you’ve got to learn her like the inside of your own room, learn her mountains, her Cerrano Plain, learn how to chip and run her jaydium. Learn the dangers of her coriolis storms and alkali pits. So you can take care of yourself when — if anything happens to me. This scrubjet will be your friend when there’s nobody else you can trust...”
    Had he known,