---    Burn the Past

The windstorm had died down and the local star was rising above the horizon by the time Shannon returned to the claim site.  Parking the truck next to the front door, she unloaded the supplies they had bought in town into the house.  Food rations, water, and a months worth of mining explosives.

She spent the next several hours making the house look lived in.  She restocked the pantry and cold storage, washed all the dishes stacked on the counter, put them away in what felt like an appropriate cupboard, and gathered up all of the laundry.  Lastly, she carefully arranged several hundred very heavy bags in strategic places along the walls inside the house.

She then set about scouring the house for anything that would identify that a child had lived there.  Sorting the laundry for tiny clothes, old baby supplies, photographs, receipts, mementos, books, and toys.  Merissa had very little in the way of actual toys, though Shannon did find a small wooden statuette of a mephitine, hand carved from the broken handle of an old mining shovel.  'Probably Dolan', she thought to herself.  And the doll.  The little girl had left the little orange fox in the truck, and Shannon had not discovered it until she retrieved the gun from behind the seat, while unloading the vehicle.  

By mid-day she had gathered everything that she could find into a large bag and took it out to the back yard.  Not far from Dolan's grave was a large metal container that had been used to burn refuse for years.  Originally a water barrel, the metal sides were now scarred and flaking from the heat of repeated fires within.

Using some of Merissa's clothing as kindling, she soon had a fire started, and began feeding it the collected evidence.  While she waited for each batch to burn down, she used the broken tip from a mining drill to scratch Dolan's name into his unmarked headstone, complete with the Oroyo family crest.  "That should piss someone off", she said out loud to no one.

Next she removed her Ident card from her wallet, and replaced it with Miranda's.  Then when the fire was at its hottest, she smashed her own Ident card and her data pad with a hammer, and tossed the pieces in.  It had taken every ounce of restraint to prevent herself from searching through the pad to see what names Miranda had chosen.  With the pad destroyed, that particular temptation for her curiosity was laid to rest.

The family photo was another matter.  Miranda had given it up begrudgingly, because it was the only remaining memory she had of Dolan and their daughter together.  For Shannon, this was the only image she had ever seen of her half-brother.  He was not at all what she had expected him to look like.  She had thought he would look at least a little like herself, but perhaps younger and a little stockier, but he didn't.

The word 'unremarkable' kept entering her mind as she looked at his image.  Had their paths crossed anywhere else, she would never have recognized him for who he was.  There was no sign of the tell-tale Oroyo stripes to expose his lineage, nor did his markings resemble his father's, and that alone had probably helped keep them hidden as much as anything else.  Even so, she was proud of Dolan for having managed to remain hidden for so long, with no outside help, from two of the most powerful families in Federated space.

Lighting the corner of the photograph, she stared intently at it, trying to memorize every detail of their faces as the leading edge of the flame slowly marched across its surface.  She held it by the corner until all trace of the image was erased, leaving only crisped and blackened ash, before flicking it away when it threatened to burn her fingertips.

The sun was setting when she reached the end of the pile.  The last item was the little orange fox doll.  She didn't know why, but this one item tore at her worse than any of the others.  Shannon had never had physical toys growing up, having spent the last decade of her natural life confined to a hospital bed.  This crude hand made doll, of a species Merissa probably had never seen, had been her favorite, and now it had to be erased from existence.

Sitting next to Dolan's grave with the doll in her hands, she manipulated its tiny arms to make it wave.  Staring into its eyeless face, Shannon wept.  She wept for Merissa, she wept for Dolan, she wept for her own childhood.

---

She awoke with a start.  She had fallen asleep, the doll still clutched in her hands.  It was dark and the fire had burned down to embers.  Cursing herself, she rubbed her eyes and found them dry and crusted.  Peering around in the darkness, she managed to find Dolan's headstone and seated it properly atop the cairn.  Placing her hand on the stone, she prayed this was all going to work.

Reentering the house, she turned on the indoor lights, grabbed the gun from the table, and stumbled her way back to the bedroom.  Collapsing onto the enormous bed of pillows, she was thankful that they had been communal sleepers, and that she hadn't been forced to chop up and burn a child's bed.  Secreting the gun under the pillow her head was on, she curled an arm around another and passed out.

---    Vigil

It had been nearly three months since Shannon had seen Miranda and her daughter safely off planet.  She had returned to town every two weeks to pick up more food, and check the news feeds.  Old man Varian at the supply house had recognized her immediately, calling her Melinda, just as he always had with Miranda.  Her conversations with him, while limited in detail, and questionable in accuracy, helped solidify her disguise in town, and were probably the highlight of his week.

She had taken to wearing Dolan's work clothes, which helped her blend in with the rest of the populace.  With effort, she could squeeze into Miranda's clothes, but they were so snug in places, she was afraid it might attract the wrong kind of attention in a mining town with one fuel station, one general store, and six taverns.

Back at the house, boredom was a frequent guest, which she first tried to placate with sleep, exercise, and food.  Fear of exhausting her supplies too quickly put an end to that folly, so she shifted to maintaining the homestead.  Making it looked lived in as much as possible, by moving the vehicles around the property every few days.  She even managed to fix the derelict power loader in the shed and drove it to the mine face.

The mine itself had been a disappointment.  She had imagined a rough cut cavern, hand carved with picks and shovels, disappearing into a hillside.  Its dark entrance leading to a maze of twisty little passages, all alike.  Instead it was just a large wall of rock, where a seam of ore could be seen criss crossing its way through the worthless stone.  The rock face had been repeatedly blasted apart with explosives, then the debris carted away to be sorted, before being taken to the processing facility in town.

After dark, she spent most of her time re-reading Miranda's meager collection of books, and watching the security monitors.  Finding those had been a pleasant surprise, and explained how Miranda had known she was coming.  The displays had been tucked away behind the bookshelf in the corner of the room, and Shannon had only found them while doing the detailed sweep for any evidence of Merissa's existence.

The monitors offered a full three hundred sixty degrees of coverage around the crater, and were able to see just over the rim.  Their optics, located atop the same towers supporting the wind turbines, had taken a beating over the years from the constant dust storms.  Their imagery was hazy and low in detail, but the thermals worked, and motion could still be discerned.

The approach road from town was easily visible, as a nearly straight line trailing off to the horizon.  At night, when the storms reduced their severity, a faint glow illuminating the dust clouds could be seen where the settlement lay, fifty kilometers away.  Sometimes she could even make out the faint pinpoint of light from the weekly supply ship's engines as they arrived and departed.   

---    Weston

The vehicle turned out to be easy to spot.  It stood out for all of the wrong reasons.  The shiny new executive shuttle was having trouble traversing the rough cut road from town.  Rocking and bouncing as it tried to pick its way along the smoothest path, and failing.  The occupants would probably be nauseous when they arrived.

Having waited so long for this moment, Shannon found herself getting impatient.  At one point she considered getting in the truck, and driving wide circles around them as they approached.  She suppressed the urge and tried to think of something that would distract her, and help her relax till they got here.  'I need chocolate', she finally decided, and put the kettle on.

The vehicle eventually parked parallel to the front of the house, opposite the front door.  The rear section, larger than the front, had a pair of double doors on one side, and a drop gate on the back.  Dark figures began to stream out and surround the house.  It was difficult to get an accurate count with the sand scoured optics but Shannon could tell it was more than five.  She set out a few more cups, then sat at the kitchen table, holding a steaming cup of her own, and waited.

---

The door burst inward as a heavily armored guard slammed into it with his shoulder.  The door offered no resistance, and the guard ended up face down on top of the door in front of Shannon, as she sat at the table.  He quickly scrambled on the ground, pivoting into a semi-prone position with his weapon trained on her.

"It wasn't locked", said Shannon calmly, as she sipped from her cup.

Four matching armed and armored guards filed in after and over the first, two taking positions on either side of the door, the other two sweeping the interior door and bedroom.  It was impossible to know for certain what species the guards were under all of that armor, but given their size, Shannon guessed that they had to be Ursids.

"House secure, no sign of the male", said one of the guards through his comms.

"You guys are a little late for that.  Dolan died six months ago.  Have some cocoa?  I made plenty", said Shannon, indicating the steaming pot on the stove and several waiting cups on the counter.

"Oh Miranda, I am so sorry for your loss", came a familiar voice from the doorway, as an aging male Mephitine entered through the door, holding a handkerchief over his muzzle.  "I apologize for dropping in like this but.."

Shannon nearly coughed on her cocoa, her eyes bulging as the older skunk entered the house.  "Weston", she said in a whisper.

Weston nearly dropped his handkerchief, the surprise on his face, quickly fading to a malicious grin. "Oh ho, you aren't Miranda."

The guards arranged in a semi-circle, keeping their guns trained on Shannon, as Weston pulled out one of the kitchen chairs, spun it about, and straddled it backwards with his hands resting on the back.  "Hello, Shannon."

Shannon regained her composure, inclined her head in acknowledgement, and finished her drink.

"And what are you doing out here on the ass end of space?", asked the older skunk.

"Beating you to the punch... again", replied Shannon.

Footsteps could be heard on the roof, and suddenly the security screens in the corner went dead.

"I came here to warn Dolan and Miranda that someone would be coming for them.  Sadly, Dolan was already dead when I got here."

"And Miranda?", asked Weston.

"Tried to kill me actually", said Shannon, pointing at the ceiling.

"Smart girl", said Weston, as he admired the blackened scorch marks.

"Smart enough to leave when I gave her the option", said Shannon.

One of the guards who had proceeded to the bedroom, returned to the main room carrying Miranda's slug thrower, which Shannon had been sleeping with under her pillow.  The guard cleared the weapon and handed it to Weston, who held it at arms length like it was a piece of soiled clothing, quickly handing it off to another guard.

"And where did she go?",  he asked, wiping his hands on his handkerchief.

"Don't know, and don't care.  Gave her a pile of coin, and told her to get out while she could, and to specifically not tell me where she was going."

"And you stayed here?", asked the older skunk.

"Wanted to make sure she had plenty of head start", said Shannon, "I must say, you coming here yourself is a surprise.  As if your being here would have somehow helped convince your son to return."

Weston frowned.

"Oh, I see.  You didn't volunteer for this.  You must have made grandmother very angry to get shunted out here", smirked Shannon, "You might get your suit all dirty."

Shannon could see the anger building up inside him.  She knew Weston had an enormous ego, but it was soft and easier to bruise than ripe fruit.  She was about to poke at him again when she saw his frown melt away and fade into bemusement.

"But why would I care where Miranda went?  She isn't family, and means nothing to me", he said, daubing at his nose with his handkerchief.  "Why would she need a head start?   Unless.."

Shannon froze mid-swallow, looking at Weston over the top of her cup.  She tried to remain motionless, to give nothing away, but she could feel her pupils dilating.

"Unless she wasn't alone", he concluded, his face breaking into a toothy grin.  Weston hopped up from the chair and sent it spinning to one side.  "Bring her", he ordered and turned, nearly tripping on the remains of the front door.

Two guards rushed to Shannon's sides, each grasping a shoulder.

"Easy boys", she said, putting her cup down and raising her empty hands. "I can manage myself."

The guards returned to training their guns on her as she stood and began following Weston.

"If she runs, shoot her", said Weston calmly, as though he was accustomed to saying it often.

---

Weston lead the way back to the vehicle, flanked by two guards, followed by Shannon and two more guards behind.  The shuttle sat with its side doors yawning open, while Weston's driver stood, holding the passenger door open to the forward section.

"The last time we met, I told you that I would have your tail one day", sneered Weston as he reached the van.

"And I told you, that you would never have it while I lived", replied Shannon.

"Well it looks like one of us is going to be sorely disappointed", replied the old skunk.

"On that we can both agree", said Shannon, as a dead-man switch dropped from her sleeve and into her hand.

The two Ursid guards at her shoulders immediately took defensive postures and began backing away from her.  "She's wired, take cover, pull back!"

Weston quickly ducked behind the shuttle's door, pulling his driver in front of him like a shield, but then slowly re-emerged, chuckling to himself.  "Empty threat, Shannon.  We both know that you aren't going to kill yourself, just to stop me from taking your tail."  

"You are right, I wouldn't", admitted Shannon, "but I would die a hundred times over if it kept you and the family from finding your granddaughter."

Weston's laughing stopped abruptly as his eyes popped in surprise.

"Its the house!  Oh Gods, she's wired the whole house!", came a panicked shout from within.

"See you soon, Dolan", whispered Shannon, as she opened her hand.


---

Officials in the small mining town could often predict how soon a new shipment of ore would arrive, and from which mine, by watching for increased activity on a set of seismic sensors.  The Uwuru mine had been inactive for several months, so it came as a complete surprise when the origin of a shock wave, strong enough to rattle the windows in town, was pinpointed there.