Chapter 1

Chapter 1

M attie kept her hands steady on the controls of the vibro-drill, concentrating on extracting a promising chunk of rock from the side of the lava tube. The red dust, a constant companion, danced in the low gravity as she worked, settling on her skin and her coverall and working its way into her curly brown hair, but she ignored it as she continued the familiar process.

The whirring of tiny metal wings cut through the hum of machinery as Sylvester, her cybernetic canary, came to rest atop a nearby boulder, his bright yellow metallic plumage reflecting the dim sunlight that filtered into the mine. His inquisitive chirps punctuated the monotony of her labor, a comforting sound in the vast, quiet expanse of the Martian frontier.

“Find anything, Sylvester?” she asked without looking up.

He fluttered down next to a pile of discarded stones, tilting his head and peering at them with his specialized optics. They were designed to seek out any trace of desirable minerals and a series of rapid tweets immediately drew her attention.

“What is it?” she asked, crouching beside the pile.

He hopped closer, watching intently as she picked up a jagged pegmatite, turning it in work-roughened fingers. A quick survey revealed a pocket of embedded lithium—an increasingly sought-after prize. Mining the lava tube had been somewhat of a gamble—neither of the other sites she’d chosen had been particularly productive—but it already seemed to be paying off.

“Excellent,” she said, smiling at him. “What would I do without you?”

He chirped again, preening beneath her hand as she set the lithium-rich stone aside and gently stroked his head. These moments of shared triumph were a reminder of the bond they shared. While she had been perfectly fine working her claim alone, she had jumped at the chance to participate in the initial test program with the canaries, and Sylvester had rapidly become a companion as much as an assistant.

She stroked his head one last time, the metal cool beneath her fingertips, and returned to work. The only sounds were the hum of the drill, the scrape of metal against stone, and the occasional chirp from Sylvester, signaling another potential find. She made a note of each one but remained focused on her own work, following a promising vein of ore that snaked through the jagged rock in front of her.

As she extracted a fragment with practiced ease, her thoughts drifted unbidden to the past, to the mother who had abandoned her so long ago. She couldn’t have been more than two or three, but she could still remember the day her mother left, still remember watching her walk away, ignoring Mattie’s cries. As Mattie had grown older and realized how difficult life must have been for her mother with an unlicensed child. She’d tried to forgive her, but it was a pain that had never truly faded, a wound that had scabbed over but never healed.

The huge government-run orphanage where she’d been left wasn’t the worst place to grow up — she was adequately fed, clothed, and educated — but it was a barren, impersonal place. Perhaps because of that early betrayal, she’d never really allowed anyone to get close to her. Instead, she had learned to rely on herself, to trust in her own strength and resourcefulness. But there were still moments when the loneliness crept in, when the weight of her solitude threatened to crush her. The canary had eased those moments.

Sylvester, ever attentive, cocked his head and trilled softly, pulling her away from memories of the past. She gave him a rueful smile, grateful for the presence that grounded her when ghosts of the past threatened to disorient her, then forced the memories back into the recesses of her mind. There was no use dwelling on the past, not when the present demanded her full attention. She had a job to do, a life to build on this unforgiving planet.

As she tried to turn her attention back to her work, the distinctive sound of mechanical hooves echoed across the barren landscape. Sylvester fluttered from his perch, circuits whirring faintly, to land on her shoulder. She looked up, her eyes narrowing as she spotted a familiar figure riding towards her.

J-418, the cyborg ranger in charge of the territory where her claim was located, rode towards her on Trojan, his cybernetic horse. The horse’s dark brown metal limbs gleamed in the harsh Martian sunlight, his movements fluid and graceful despite his artificial nature, and J-418 sat tall in the saddle, moving easily with the horse.

Trojan came to a halt outside the entrance of the lava tube and J-418 dismounted, his movements smooth and precise. The horse whinnied softly, his mechanical ears twitching as the ranger patted his neck before walking along the lava tube towards her while Trojan ambled at his heels like a loyal hound. As he drew closer, Mattie could see the determination in his eyes, the set of his jaw. She knew that look all too well—it was the look of a man on a mission, a man who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath, her fingers instinctively curling around the handle of her tool. “What now?”

Part of her wanted to turn away, to return to work and pretend he wasn’t there. But another part of her, a part she tried to ignore, was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. There was something about him that both intrigued and unsettled her, a sense of kinship that she couldn’t quite explain. As he approached, she couldn’t help but notice the way his powerful muscles moved beneath his dusty, worn clothes. The sunlight slanting into the tube glinted off his cybernetic hand, a stark reminder of his otherness, but it did nothing to diminish his rugged good looks.

A familiar tightness gripped her chest at the sight of him, her gaze lingering a moment too long on the hard line of his jaw and the dark eyes that held so many secrets. Her heart ticked up a notch, betraying her with its unsteady rhythm. She hated that she noticed how the sun also caught in the golden flecks of his irises or how his faded black shirt outlined the firm set of his shoulders.

She quickly masked the momentary lapse with a stern expression, tucking away emotions that had no place in her life. Sylvester flew back to his boulder and tilted his head, studying the ranger with a curiosity that mirrored her own carefully concealed intrigue.

“Miss Carson,” he greeted her, his voice roughened from dust or disuse. It reminded her of wind scraping against rock, a sound that was both unsettling and familiar. She straightened, brushing the dust from her hands.

“J-418,” she responded curtly.

The warmth that spread through her in his presence was a discomfort she wasn’t willing to dissect—not when loneliness was a constant companion, whispering to her in the cold Martian nights.

Every damn time , she thought, refusing to acknowledge the flutter in her stomach. He just shows up, stirs the dust, and leaves before it settles.

His visits were seldom without cause, but they had an unfortunate tendency to disrupt the carefully constructed routine that insulated her from the past she’d rather forget.

She sighed as she watched him remove his hat, revealing hair as dark as his eyes despite the silver sprinkled through it. His movements were purposeful, calculated, but not mechanical despite his partially robotic body. There was an undeniable humanity to him — a contradiction that she could appreciate but never allow herself to explore further.

“Got a reason for trespassing, or is your navigation system on the fritz again?” she demanded.

Masking her attraction behind a facade of annoyance, she folded her arms across her chest. The action felt defensive, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Am I interrupting you?”

“You’re always interrupting me, J-418. But I suppose that’s just your way.”

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “This is my territory, Miss Carson. Everything in it is my responsibility.”

“And everyone?”

His eyes flicked down over her, leaving a trail of warmth behind, and she had the foolish impulse to try and brush away some of the dust covering her.

“Yes.”

She looked away, her cheeks flushing at the unexpected warmth in his gaze.

“What do you want, J-418?”

The question came out more breathless than she intended and it hung between them until Sylvester interrupted their standoff, fluttering down to perch on her shoulder again. She reached up to stroke his head, finding comfort in the familiar gesture.

J-418 reached into the pocket of his shirt and retrieved a folded piece of paper. He offered it to her, waiting in silence, his features unreadable as he assumed his usual stoic mask.

She stared at it warily, recognizing the official paperwork but reluctant to accept whatever new rules the government was forcing upon her. Rules created by faceless bureaucrats who had never set foot on Mars, who had no idea what it meant to fight for every breath, to struggle to survive in a harsh, unforgiving environment. Rules made for a world she no longer belonged to, not since she’d left Earth for a mining claim in the Martian desert.

“What is it?”

“New mining regulations. They’re being updated in the database, but you need a copy to be in compliance.”

His voice was even, professional, as she gave him an exasperated look.

“More regulations?”

“The lithium production is becoming a concern,” he replied calmly, although she noted the hint of a challenge in his gaze. “With the terraforming efforts still underway, they don’t want to disrupt the planet’s ecosystem. Just be glad they aren’t raising the price of the mining permits again.”

“Small blessings,” she muttered, her frustration getting the best of her.

He gave her a sharp glance at that, but she ignored it, choosing instead to snatch the paper out of his hand. Unfolding it, she scanned the document quickly, her mouth thinning.

“What the hell is this?” she asked, holding up the offending sheet. “No blasting without a permit? A permit from whom?”

“From me,” he said, his gaze locked with hers. “It’s a safety measure, so we can monitor the use of explosives.”

“I’ve been on this claim for two years and I haven’t heard a word about this before now.” She could hear the irritation in her own voice. “Do you expect me to just fall in line and let you monitor my work?”

“Yes. This is for your protection.” There was no emotion in his response.

“Well, I don’t want to be protected, not like this,” she snapped.

“You don’t have a choice, Miss Carson,” he said, his voice still level. “The rules are in place to protect everyone, and they will be enforced.”

She glared at him, her temper rising at the ultimatum.

“Well, I still say it’s a goddamned inconvenience. I won’t spend half my time filling out some useless form to get permission to do my job,” she said.

His mouth tightened.

“I’m sorry if it inconveniences you, but the regulations are there for a reason.” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, his voice dropping to a low growl. “And you will follow them. This is not open to negotiation.”

She bit her lip, suddenly feeling like a small child being scolded for misbehavior. She looked away from the intensity of his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact.

“Fine,” she finally muttered, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “I’ll play by your stupid rules, but I reserve the right to complain about them every step of the way.”

A smile flickered across his face, a brief flash of humor.

“Of course, Miss Carson. That’s part of your charm.”

He placed his hat back on his head as she watched him, a strange sense of loss washing over her at the sight of it.

“Why do you keep doing this?”

He paused, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Doing what?”

“Showing up here.”

“It’s my duty. Would you prefer I didn’t?”

“It might make my life easier,” she said, sighing.

He shook his head slightly.

“No. I don’t think it would.”

Before she could respond, he had turned on his heel, striding away with long, purposeful steps. She stood watching him leave, unable to look away as Trojan followed obediently at his heels, the dust kicking up with each step.

“Damned stubborn cyborg,” she muttered, as he left the tube and mounted in a single powerful motion.

Sighing, she turned to Sylvester.

“Well, Sylvester, I guess that means it’s back to work. There’s no rest for the weary.”

As he fluttered his wings in agreement, she picked up the vibro-drill and moved to the next area she had marked out, determined to lose herself in her work and not dwell on the complications that J-418 had brought with him.