It’s not a question and I try to hide my surprise at being caught out so quickly. “Well, I’m officially here to do a piece on the human women who have married alien miners. The readers back on New Earth will find that story super interesting. But, yes, it’s true that I’m also investigating the cold case. I want to find the truth about what happened.”
He’s quiet for a moment. When he speaks again, his words are measured. “Truth is a valuable thing on Timbur, Ms. Vieira. We’ll see what kind of truth you’re looking for.”
I can’t tell if that’s a warning or a welcome.
Maybe both.
He gestures for me to follow. “We’ve prepared a room for you at our compound.”
My brow furrows. “I thought I’d be staying in employee housing near the mine entrance.”
“That housing is currently at capacity and my family prefers to extend our hospitality directly. You’ll be more comfortable with us.”
Translation: You’ll be where we can watch you.
Honestly? I’d do the same thing in their position. A journalist shows up wanting to dig into your family’s worst tragedy? You’d want to keep eyes on her too. “That’s very generous,” I say. “Thank you.”
He inclines his head again and leads me out of the station to a waiting transport vehicle. I climb in, stowing my bag at my feet. I look out the window as he pilots us away from the processing center and into Timbur proper.
The colony is... not what I expected.
Industrial, yes. Mining equipment and worker housing and functional structures built for purpose rather than beauty. It’s much smaller and rougher than back home, in Singapore, but still very nice. It’s basically a small town built around the opening of the Illibrium mine. We pass public transport which seems to link all the areas of the town.
“Normally, you will use the public transport.”
I nod in agreement.
“The compound we live in has changed over the years,” he says, breaking the silence. His eyes stay on the road ahead. “When my brothers and I were first assigned these quarters, they were... inadequate.”
My journalist instincts perk up. “Inadequate how?”
“The worst housing on Timbur. It was meant as punishment.”
“Punishment for what?”
“That’s part of what you’re here to investigate, isn’t it?”
“Hopefully.”
He grunts and doesn’t bother to answer my question. “The compound is different now. We’ve expanded and made improvements.”
“You’ve made it nicer?”
Something softens in his expression. “Yes, we have. I’d say it’s because of the same females who you are here to interview. One of my brothers has been assigned to assist you during your stay.”
“Assist me?”
“Guide you. Ensure your safety. The mines can be dangerous for someone unfamiliar with Timbur.”
Babysitter. Handler. Spy.
I manage to keep my expression pleasant. “Which brother?”
“Texon. We call him Trunk.”
Something in Chief’s tone makes me pause. A hint of... something. Almost apologetic.
“Should I be concerned?”
