Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Trunk
The first thing I notice when we step inside the Minecorp admin building are the smirks.
Every Xylan we pass takes one look at Ines, then looks at me, then back at her. I can practically hear what they’re thinking. Their grins say it all.
Another human female trailing after a Fever Brother.
I glare at a passing miner who doesn’t bother to hide his amusement. He quickly looks away.
How do we even meet so many humans? We live on a remote mining planet at the edge of the Four Sectors. Humans are one of the rarest species in the known universe, and yet somehow my brothers keep finding them. First Leah, then Lila, Roxy, Jana and Naomi.
And now this journalist follows me through the crowd like I’m her personal guide.
Which I am. Because I was assigned to be.
A group of younger miners from another crew nudge each other as we walk past. I bare my fangs slightly and they scatter.
Ines doesn’t notice. She’s too busy staring at everything around her with those sharp hazel eyes, taking in the organized chaos of shift change.
Sweaty Margol miners fill every inch of the admin level, their deep voices rumbling through the rock-walled hallways.
She’s tiny compared to everyone else. It’s like watching her walk through a dense forest, or a city with towering skyscrapers.
“Thank you for bringing me here so I can fully understand how Illibrium is mined,” she says, turning to look up at me. “I will be including this in the piece. Readers will find this part fascinating. It really is amazing how you mine these rare crystals that can power whole planets.”
I grunt. Professional. She’s being professional. Why does that irritate me?
We reach the lift station and I guide her through the crowd to the doors. The lift arrives and a group of miners exits and we step inside, the only two going back down. The gray interior swallows us as the doors clang shut. I tap the control panel, entering the code for level 2400.
The lift begins its descent.
Her stomach must be tingling from the motion because she places a gloved hand against her abdomen. Numbers click past on the display as we go deeper into the bowels of the planet. The hum of equipment fills the silence between us.
“How deep does the mine go?” she asks.
“Deep enough.”
She waits, clearly expecting more.
I sigh. “The lowest active level is 4200. We’ve mapped shafts that go deeper, but they’re not currently being worked.”
“And how do you know where to dig?”
“The crystals tell us.”
Her brow furrows. “They tell you?”
“We have a connection with them. A fever bond. Each of us bonded with a personal crystal when we reached puberty. They guide us to where the mature Illibrium is ready for harvest.”
“That’s incredible. The crystals actually communicate with you?”
“Not in words. It’s more like...” I pause, searching for the right explanation. “A feeling. A pull. We know where they want us to go.”
She nods slowly, and there’s something in her expression that surprises me. Not skepticism. Genuine fascination.
The doors slide open.
Level 2400 stretches before us, dim and vast. Distant pinprick lights from head lamps dot the darkness, and the sounds of work echo through the tunnels—drilling, the rumble of equipment, voices calling out instructions.
The temperature here is comfortable. Not too cold and not too warm. The Illibrium regulates it somehow, though the science team has never been able to fully explain why.
Ines steps out of the lift and looks around. Her eyes adjust slowly to the dimness. Humans can’t see in the dark like we can. But there’s enough ambient light from the crystals embedded in the walls to guide her.
“This way,” I say, and start walking.
The tunnels are much taller than my head and wide enough for heavy moving equipment. Our boots crunch on the rocky floor. Some sections of the tunnel are smooth, cut by boring machines, while others are rough and natural.
She reaches out and trails her gloved fingers along the wall as we walk. “The crystals are everywhere,” she breathes.
“This is a working level. The Illibrium grows in veins throughout the rock. We follow the veins, extract what’s ready, and leave the rest to mature.”
We turn a corner and the tunnel opens into a larger cavern. Here, the crystals are embedded in every surface—walls, ceiling, jutting from the floor. They glow white and blue, like a starry sky brought underground.
Ines stops walking. “They’re beautiful,” she whispers. Her face is lit by the glow. The soft light catches the curve of her cheek, the shine of her dark curly hair. She looks almost ethereal standing there, surrounded by Illibrium.
I force myself to look away.
“Can I touch one?” she asks.
I hesitate. Not everyone is allowed. The crystals can be temperamental with strangers, and we’ve had incidents where they’ve gone dim for days after being touched by someone they didn’t like.
But she was tested at intake. Strongly compatible, they said.
“Yes,” I tell her. “Go ahead.”
She approaches the nearest crystal carefully, reverently. It juts from the wall at shoulder height, smooth and sleek. She reaches out and gently runs her fingertip along its edge.
The crystal glows brighter under her touch.
She hums with delight. “It’s cool,” she murmurs. “I expected it to be warm.”
“They warm when they’re being harvested. At rest, they’re cool.”
“Thank you,” she whispers to the crystal.
“We should keep moving,” I say, my voice rougher than I intended.
She drops her hand reluctantly and follows me deeper into the mine.
As we walk, I find myself talking more than I planned to.
Explaining the work. The drilling, the precision blasts, the careful extraction.
How we use old-fashioned mining techniques because the Illibrium is temperamental and can’t be rushed.
“We work with the crystals, not against them,” I tell her.
“Force and speed doesn’t work. Not just anyone can be a miner. You have to earn their trust.”
“How long does that take?”
“A lifetime. Our father was a miner, as was our grandfather and great-grandfather. It’s in our blood. The crystals know us. They chose us.”
I explain the crew roles without thinking about why I’m sharing so much. I tell her that Hook, Claws and Rook are drillers. Heavy and I are blasters. Scar is in charge of debris removal. Chief oversees everything—safety, data, coordinating with the mining techs.
She asks specific questions that show she’s actually listening, not just waiting for her turn to speak. “So the crystals have to approve of you?”
“Something like that.”
I catch myself. Realize I’ve been talking too long, sharing things I don’t normally share with outsiders. This is exactly what journalists do—they make you comfortable, make you forget they’re recording everything, and then they use it against you.
“We should get to lunch,” I say abruptly.
If she notices the shift in my tone, she doesn’t comment on it.
The cafeteria on ground level is busy with the lunch rush. The smells hit me as soon as we enter—spicy meat, fresh bread, the sharp tang of ale. Human food, prepared by a human chef.
Jana stands at the first station, directing her staff with practiced ease. Nells and Roda move around her, plating food and serving the long line of hungry miners. This is Jana’s domain, and she runs it like a well-oiled machine.
Some of my brothers are already at our usual table. Heavy sits with his back to the wall, watchful as always. Cannibal has three plates in front of him and is working through them with single-minded determination.
Ines takes in the scene. She sees my brothers too and has to note that they are loud and physical, shoving each other and arguing about something I can’t hear from across the room. Cannibal gestures with a fork, meat juice flying. Heavy rolls his eyes. Someone laughs.
This is a family. Not just a crew.
I guide her to the table and she slides onto the bench. I take the seat next to her, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from her small body. Her scent fills my lungs again. I breathe it in deeper than I should.
She’s still not compatible.
“Hook’s Bride, Leah, works at the mine too,” Cannibal says to Ines, barely pausing between bites. “In the tech department. You should interview her.”
“I’d like that,” Ines says. “Is she here?”
“She’ll be by later. She takes lunch at the end of the rush.”
The conversation flows around us. My brothers ask Ines questions about New Earth, about Singapore, about her work.
She answers easily, comfortable with the attention.
She makes Cannibal laugh with a story about a food market in her home city.
She asks Heavy about his mining equipment with genuine curiosity.
I watch her and find myself leaning closer without meaning to. Our shoulders almost brush.
Jana appears at the table, her apron off, her shift apparently winding down. She slides onto the bench across from us and Heavy’s hand immediately finds her waist.
“You wanted to interview me,” she says with a warm smile. “I have some time now, if you’d like.”
Ines pulls out her tablet. “Thank you. I appreciate you taking the time.”
“Of course.” Jana settles into Heavy’s side. “What would you like to know?”
“How did you end up on Timbur?”
Jana and Heavy exchange a look. Something passes between them — a shared memory, maybe. Or a shared wound.
“I was a chef at the Hunter Station,” Jana says. “That’s where I met Heavy. He was visiting his brother Daxon.” She pauses, her fingers finding Heavy’s on the table. “We claimed each other that night. And the next morning, he was gone. Just a note on my pillow that said ‘Goodbye.’”
Ines’s stylus hovers over her tablet. “He left?”
“I thought he did.” Jana’s voice is careful. “Two months later, I found out I was pregnant. I tracked him here to Timbur and got a job in this cafeteria so I could find him and tell him he was going to be a father.”
“And when you found him?”
Jana’s laugh is soft and sad. “He walked through my food line on my first day. Looked right at me.” She shakes her head. “He had no idea who I was. Glared at me like I was a stranger. I thought... I thought he’d just used me and walked away. That everything he’d said that night was a lie.”
Heavy’s jaw tightens. His hand grips Jana’s harder.
“But that wasn’t what happened,” Ines says quietly.
“No.” Jana looks up at my brother. “Someone attacked him that night, after he left my quarters. Wiped his memory. Left him to wake up in a drunk tank with no idea what had happened. He came back to Timbur not knowing he had a Bride. Not knowing I was carrying his child.”
“He was dying,” I tell her, the words rough in my throat. “I remember those months. Watching my brother fall apart from Claim separation syndrome. When a mated male is separated from his Bride, he dies. His body knew he had a mate somewhere. His mind didn’t.”
Heavy speaks, his voice low. “I still don’t remember that night. There are gaps. Whole chunks of my life that are just... gone.”
“But his body remembered me,” Jana says softly. “Even when his mind couldn’t. Eventually, it pulled him back to me.”
Ines is quiet, her stylus still. But I can see her thinking. Her eyes have that sharp, focused look I’m starting to recognize. “The attack on Heavy,” she says carefully. “Was it ever investigated?”
“Minecorp said it was random,” Jana answers. “A bar brawl gone wrong. Case closed.”
“And you believe that?”
Heavy’s voice is a growl. “No.”
The word hangs in the air.
I watch Ines’s face. Watch her connect the pieces and want to take this thread further.
“This interview was supposed to be about human brides on Timbur.” My voice cuts across the table, sharper than I intended. “Not about my family’s tragedies.”
Ines meets my eyes.
She doesn’t back down, but for a long moment, we just look at each other.
Then she nods. “Of course,” Ines says smoothly, and pivots without missing a beat. “Jana, tell me about adapting human recipes for Xylan palates. I imagine there were some interesting challenges.”
She gives me exactly what I asked for. Backs off the cold case questions and returns to the puff piece like the sharp turn in conversation never happened. But I saw her face in that moment before she pivoted. This female is not giving up. She’s just changing tactics.