by J. N. Chaney
“No, Mrs. Boneshaw’s your princess. I’m your goddess.”
“Wait, I called you both—”
“Sure did.”
“Lars?” I asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Remind me to lay off the myst.”
“As you wish, sir.”
The elevator car slowed and then jerked to a halt on the bottom floor.
“To the left, sir,” the AI instructed. “Toward the RTV port. Seventy-three meters beyond that, you will find the entrance to the barracks in which—”
“What did you say?”
“The barracks, sir. The enclave where all the miners—”
“No. Before that. The RTVs.”
“I fail to understand what end your limited intellect is trying to reason toward, sir.”
“Somehow, I don’t think you were trying to insult me, buddy. And yet you still did.” I set off at a run toward the beginning of the mine’s underground transportation system. “I have an idea.”
“Sir, if you are thinking that the RTVs have a route to the surface, I regret to inform you that all stops along the tunnels large enough to accommodate them are underground.”
“Sure, sure,” I said, starting to breath heavier.
“Whatever you’re thinking, Flint,” Rachel said, “you’d better do it fast. I have an entire town here starting to get worked up over this emergency alert.”
“Lars, about that. Can you shut off the klaxon?”
“Of course, sir.”
A beat later and the infernal warning pulses stopped.
“Thanks, pal.”
“At your service, sir.”
“Sir, please be advised—”
I rounded a corner, coming up on the main hub for the transports, when I saw two overseers look up at me. I skidded to a stop, pulled my pistol from behind my back, and started back pedaling. Bullets ricocheted off the stone around me, spiraling off into the tunnel I’d just run through. I took cover around the corner as the men started heading toward me.
“Dammit, Lars! You could have warned me!”
“I attempted to, but you talk too much.”
“I talk too much? You think I talk too much?” I leaned around the corner, pushed my pistol away from my chest, and sighted in on the foremost thug. He was running with his weapon in low ready position. I squeezed the trigger then a single round leaped from my weapon and struck the man in the upper chest, just below the throat. Since it was obvious he wasn’t wearing body armor, I knew the bullet would crack his sternum, pierce his lungs, and probably nick his spine if I was lucky. Either way, he was down, crashing to the floor in an instant.
The second overseer leaped over his former partner, but managed to raise his weapon and fire off another string of bullets. I retreated, but only for a second. As soon as the burst ended, I leaned out again and fired, putting two rounds center mass. The man clutched his chest and fell forward, landing not far from the first body.
“You are clear to proceed, sir,” Lars said.
“Now he tells me…”
I ran to the dead men and stripped them of their weapons, slinging the rifles over my shoulder. We’d need to arm as many of the miners as possible. Up ahead, I saw the first of several vehicles, doors open and ready to take miners to their shifts. But as I approached the line, I looked into the tunnel’s inky blackness in the opposite direction.
“Lars, where does this tunnel lead?”
“It’s a dead end, sir.”
“I assumed that, pal. But what I mean is, these cars had to get down here somehow, right?”
“Correct, sir. While the track does end about one hundred thirty-two meters around a bend to the left, there is a vertical shaft that extends all the way to the… Oooh.”
“Oooh is right, pal.”
“What’s oooh?” Rachel asked. “I’ve never heard Lars say oooh.”
“Oooh,” I said, “is figuring out how these cars got down here in the first place. The answer is—”
“They descended down an access chute.”
“Hey, that was my line,” I said.
“Which means—”
“No, no. I get to say it,” I said, interrupting her. “They could—”
“They could ascend when they need to be repaired or swapped out,” Rachel concluded.
“Dammit, Rachel.”
“Sorry.”
“Mr. Reed is right,” Lars said. “Or—rather—Miss Fontaine is right. While the shaft was sealed after their installation, there does seem to be a proprietary mechanism for opening the chute, allowing the pods to ascend and be serviced.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Flint?” Rachel asked.
“Load the passengers up and return to sender,” I said, turning back to count the RTVs. “Lars, how many we got in the system?”
“Fifteen, sir. But, with a maximum capacity of twenty-five people per pod, that leaves us—”
“Seventy-five people short,” I said.
“Correct.”
“Then we’re just going to have to cram ’em in,” Rachel said.
“Lars, what’s each RTVs ascent rate?” I asked.
“There are two ways the vehicles can be taken to the surface. One method is by way of mechanical winch, the other is by diverting significant power to a vehicle’s undercarriage repulsor panels and shutting down the top ones.”
“Which way’s the fastest?” I asked, feeling like I already knew the answer.
“The latter. However, it is typically used for emergencies only, or when a pod is being retired.”
“I don’t know about you, but I think both cases are true for us.”
“Agreed, sir. However, I feel it’s worth noting that, according to the schematics I have access to, diverting power to the vehicle’s repulsor panels in the measure we will need is an all or nothing action.”
“Meaning…”
“The ascent will be very quick.”
“Works for me.”
“And perhaps catastrophic given how much weight you’ll be attempting to move.”
I thought it through. “You’re saying these pods aren’t designed to ascend when they’re full of people.”
“Precisely, sir. I’ll need to accelerate the pods in such a way that they overcome the planet’s gravity, achieving the proper velocity before the panels blow out, but limiting the burst such that the pods don’t—”
“Blow out the ceiling of whatever building awaits us,” I finished.
“Precisely, sir.”
“And you can do that?”
“I am 78.91 percent confident in my ability to account for each pod’s total mass, distance traveled, and destination coordinates.”
“I was really hoping for 79 percent, but I suppose that will have to do.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, sir.”
“Gods, Lars. I was kidding.”
“Ah…” He paused, as if considering his next words. “You cheeky bastard, you.”
Lars’s deadpan humor aside, I took a second to process this crazy plan we were forming on the fly. “Anyone have any better ideas?” I asked.
“I don’t,” Rachel said.
“Nor do I,” Lars added.
“Then I say we go with this. How soon can you open the chute, Lars?”
“I can’t, sir.”
I froze. “What do you mean you can’t?”
“That’s what I meant when I said proprietary mechanism. The chute’s surface barricade is controlled by an independent system not tied into the rest of the mine’s control center. I expect this is because of how little it is used, and therefore—”
“So, what you’re saying is that one of us needs to go up and activate it manually.”
“That’s correct, sir.”
“And let me guess,” I added, “there are thirty flights of stairs to get up there?”
“No. But there is a wall-mounted lift platform capable of carrying one person to the barricade.”
&nbs
p; “Sounds like a delightful way to defy death,” I murmured. “Lars, can you make sure all the pods are lined up and ready to go?”
“Affirmative.”
“Rachel, I’m headed your way now.”
“Sounds good,” she replied.
“There are two other outstanding issues, sir,” Lars said.
“Let’s hear them,” I said, taking off toward the enclave’s main door.
“Once the miners reach the surface, I anticipate considerable resistance from Oppenheimer’s men.”
“I might have a bright idea about that, but I’ll need to get back to you.”
“As you wish, sir.”
“And the second?”
“Victor’s ship, sir.”
“What about it?”
“It’s a civilian light freighter, sir.”
I gave Lars a puzzled look even though I knew he couldn’t see it. “I don’t see the problem. Five hundred people is a fraction of that ship’s capacity.”
“It’s not the ship’s tonnage allowance that concerns me…”
“It’s where to dock it,” Rachel added.
“Dammit,” I replied, rounding a corner to face the barrack’s door. Just then, I heard an RTV arrive in the port behind me.
“Sir, miners are returning early due to the emergency alert.”
“Got it,” I said, looking for a place to hide. I darted to a cluster of crates and rusty equipment standing opposite the bookrack’s massive gate.
“Fifteen seconds,” Lars said.
I raised my pistol and considered my next actions carefully. The last thing I wanted was to jeopardize the miners’ lives. But not taking these thugs meant more for us to handle later.
“I count two overseers,” Lars said.
“Copy that. Seems easy enough.”
“Perhaps,” Lars said.
I cocked my head sideways. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, sir, the mine-wide Level Five alert apparently recalls all thugs in the mines and orders them to secure all exits and—”
“The slaves.”
“Precisely, sir.”
“Rachel,” I said. “Better get ready for a standoff.”
19
The overseers escorting the returning miners came around the corner—one in front of the group, one in the rear. There was no way I could take a shot on the foremost guard without jeopardizing the slaves. Unlike the holo movies, bullets that missed your target kept going into whatever thing or person was behind. The rear guard wasn’t any better—I wasn’t about to risk a shot with so many people in the way.
“Rachel,” I whispered. “What’s the condition inside?”
“Well”—she paused, presumably to look around—“everyone seems pretty excited about my presence, and Monty and Mrs. Boneshaw have been spreading the word about an escape.”
“Any chance you can get them back to normal?”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t think I can dispatch these two goons without harming the miners. It’d be nice if they just sent them back in the barracks and then went on their way.”
“Let me see what I can do,” she replied.
“And do it fast. They’re almost to the gate.”
I heard Rachel start shouting to get everyone’s attention. It took her a good ten seconds to get the people to simmer down, and another ten to explain that they needed to remain quiet.
“I’m not gonna lie, Flint,” Rachel said, whispering as the first guard approached the large metallic door. “Everyone’s pretty amped in here.”
“And that should concern me because—”
“No, no! Stay back from the door!” Rachel hissed at someone. “You too!”
“Rachel?” I watched as the lead guard punched in a security code.
“I think they want blood, Flint.”
“Can you blame them?” I asked.
“No, but they—hey! Get back!” I heard some rustling. “Flint, this might not be—”
“Too late!”
The keypad accepted the code and the massive metallic door rose upward from the ground. The foremost guard held his electric prod at the ready, but I could tell he was lazy. Had he known what was about to happen, he would have walked into the barracks differently.
A scream came from inside the enclave as twenty men and women surged forward. Rachel yelled something over comms—I guessed it was an attempt to get everyone to stop. But they didn’t. The thug looked up. While I couldn’t see his face, I was sure he was in total shock. The man screamed as the slaves fell upon him—with Mrs. Boneshaw at the head of the pack! That woman was a beast! I only saw one miner’s body fly out from the scrum, obviously taking the brunt of the prod’s charge. But that was it.
Seeing the mayhem, the miners in line turned on the guard behind them. The man screamed obscenities, fending them off with his prod for exactly three seconds. I know it was three, because that’s how long I counted before slipping out from my hideout with my pistol extended toward the back of the man’s head.
“Drop your weapon,” I said, summoning all my years as a cop. The guard froze, and the miners’ eyes went wide. The sound of the prod clattering to the floor was the only bell the miners needed before attacking the thug and—quite literally—tearing him to shreds. If I had any doubts what decades of pent up abuse-fueled anxiety looked like, I didn’t need to look any further than the gruesome scene that played out in front of me. Interestingly, it only lasted for about thirty seconds.
“Get inside, Flint!” I heard Rachel yell, this time more in the open air than in my comm. She stood about fifteen paces away, just inside the barracks.
“Off him,” I ordered the miners. “Get off him and get inside!”
The miners looked up from their grizzly work and examined me. I had a weapon, which their eyes immediately went to, but unlike the overseers, I wasn’t pointing it at them.
“I said get—in—side!”
The miners turned and filed through the gate as others inside waved them in. Rachel was there too, pulling people forward. “Come in, come in,” she repeated. Then she looked at me. “Didn’t even have to fire a shot, did you.”
“Seems not,” I replied, stowing the pistol against the small of my back again. “Lars?”
“At your service, sir.”
“Can you seal us back up? We need as much time as we can to figure this thing out. No one else gets through until I say.”
“As you wish, sir. Please stand clear.”
A short warning chime indicated that the door was about to lower. It continued to pulse, along with a swirling red light, until the barrier was firmly in place.
Monty and Mrs. Boneshaw led me to a central square in the middle of the camp. It was filled with benches, a few fire pits, and several sleeping mats. But more than anything, it was filled with people. Soot-stained, bruise-covered people who seemed to be watching me with bated breath. A hush fell over the crowd as the old woman all but shoved me up a short set of stairs to a wooden platform that they’d erected in the middle of the square. It had all happened so fast. It didn’t dawn on me until the very last second that they expected me to say something. Which was probably a good thing, seeing as how I’d never been one for public speech giving.
“Hey,” I said, pocketing my hand after it gave a quick wave. “It’s nice to meet you all. I’m Flint.”
Five hundred sets of eyes blinked back at me.
I turned slowly, surveying them. Their faces were tortured. There was pain. Confusion. Frustration. But, above all, grief—so much of it that I suddenly felt a level of compassion for these people that startled me. Up until this point, the thought of “saving everyone” meant it was a good deed. Like saving a kid like Monty, or an elderly woman like Boneshaw—though the woman clearly didn’t need much help. Now, however, I saw real people, enslaved, with names and faces and sets of eyes that were looking to me with a new emotion… one they probably hadn’t held for years. And gods slay me if I
was going to let them down today.
“You’ve probably heard the rumors by now that we—Rachel and I—have come to help get you out of here. Well, the rumors are true.”
A murmur went up from the crowd as they looked around at one another. I’m not gonna lie—I was kinda hoping that they’d be a little more enthusiastic. A round of applause or even a little cheer would have been nice. But then again, the rescue team was only comprised of me, Rachel, and our invisible AI. Victor too, if he was onsite. But the sight of two outsiders wasn’t exactly praiseworthy.
“I know Rachel and I don’t look like much, but I can assure you, we have means at our disposal that will help get you to freedom if you do exactly what we say.”
“How do we know they’re not here to get us in trouble?” someone cried out from the back. It was met with several shouts of approval.
“And who’s to say this ain’t some trap?” someone else asked.
“Nay, he let us kill those mother fuckers right there in the corridor!” yelled an old man, standing proud with his cane pointing back toward the exit. “No one’s gonna let us do that save the real thing!”
These comments were giving way to an argument that was quickly derailing the entire point of having a meeting like this. I tried raising my hands and getting everyone to settle, but things were getting out of hand. Suddenly, an idea came to mind.
“Lars?” I asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Any chance you can make your presence known here?”
“How do you mean, sir?”
I shrugged out of habit. “I don’t know. Something that displays your awesome power or wonders or something? Just make a big introduction that helps shut them up and reassures them of our ability to help save them.”
“As you wish, sir.”
There was a moment’s hesitation while I looked out at the pandemonium overrunning the camp. Monty and Boneshaw were wading into the fray, trying to calm everyone down, but the people were growing hysterical faster than they could work.
All at once, the enclave’s lights dimmed and a loud voice boomed over the speakers embedded in the stone ceiling.
“To the community of those living inside Meldorn Mine’s miner barracks, this is one of the gods!”
“Lars!” I hissed. “What in the world are you doing?”