Resonant Abyss

by J. N. Chaney

  The RTV shot upward, pressing me down. I felt like every bone in my body wanted to merge with the pod’s floor, willing me to collapse to the ground. Instead, I fought the force, grunting as my thighs and calves protested. The RTV rattled, shaking everyone inside. The sound of air rushing around the frame increased the higher we rose.

  Faster and faster we sped until Lars feathered off of the propulsion. My legs and back were instantly grateful for the reprieve. Light grew again in the tunnel as we neared the surface.

  “We are approaching the apex of our ascent, sir,” Lars said. “Please stand by.”

  Instead of a screaming noise, the repulsors gave a low hum. Suddenly, the warehouse’s floor passed by the windows, and we were out of the chute. Lars used the port thrusters to slide us away from the pit and set us down near the long row of fourteen other RTVs. As the vehicle powered down, I heard myself breath an involuntary sigh of relief.

  I turned to Rachel. “We did it,” I said, listening to the elation of the miners fill the background.

  “We sure did,” she replied, and then threw her arms around me in a celebratory hug. The gesture caught me off guard, but I squeezed back. I’d take all the wins we could get right now. Plus, I quite liked the feeling of her body pressed against mine, regardless of the circumstances.

  “But we still have a long way to go,” I said, realizing we should probably break off the public display of affection—or was it just mutual appreciation?

  “Right.” Rachel pulled herself away and cleared her throat. Maybe the hug had caught her by surprise too.

  The RTV’s doors opened and I ordered everyone out. As Rachel and I emerged from the vehicle, I noticed that the miners had gathered in a large open area within the warehouse. Those from our pod raced to join the others, then the throng turned to look toward me.

  “Lars?”

  “Go ahead, sir.”

  “I assume this scene is being hidden from the security camera feeds, right?”

  “Indeed, sir. I have looped earlier footage from when there was no activity in this structure. That said, I do not believe Monty’s diversion has bought you a significant amount of time. The security forces will most likely begin clearing every building and corridor in the complex. I recommend expediting whatever you have in mind to get these miners to safety.”

  “Roger that, pal. Thanks.”

  “And there’s still the issue of the last artifact,” Rachel said. She pulled the satchel with the four artifacts from her shoulder and stretched her arm.

  “You mean the one in Ozzie’s office?” Monty asked, sneaking up behind us.

  “Yeah, that one.” I cocked my head at him. “Shouldn’t you be with your mother?”

  “The best thing I can do for her is to help you,” he replied, standing up a little straighter. “The sooner we get out of here, the sooner she can get the real help she needs.”

  But I shook my head at him. “I think you’ve done more than enough, kid. Why don’t you—”

  “Please, Mr. Flint. Please let me stay with you and Miss Rachel.” I was about to protest when the kid said something that completely caught me off guard. “You might need me to read the artifacts for you or something.”

  I froze. “What did you say?”

  “The funny language on the artifacts. If you want, I will read it for you. Or I can carry them, or maybe help shoot the overseers with you.”

  I glanced at Rachel, who looked as surprised as I felt. Together, we looked at the satchel and then back to Monty. “Are you saying you understand the markings on the devices?”

  “Well, mostly. I only had a little time with the first one, and then a few weeks with those four”—he pointed at the sac—“but I’ve pretty much worked it out.”

  “Worked it out, as in you’ve decoded them?” Rachel asked.

  Monty nodded emphatically. “It’s not too hard, once you figure out the base components. Languages and math have a lot in common.”

  “Am I the only one who thinks this kid might be a frickin’ genius?” I whispered to Rachel, leaning close to her ear.

  She continued to give Monty an overly friendly smile, then whispered back, “Nope.”

  “I agree with your overall assessment, Mr. Reed,” Lars interjected. “This child’s ability to decipher ancient markings speaks of superior human intelligence and may be extremely useful.”

  “Let’s come back to that, Monty,” I said, noting Lars’s comment. “For right now, we need to get everyone off the planet and into orbit. Then I want to hear everything you have to say on the issue of those artifacts. Sound good?”

  Monty shrugged. “Sure, Mr. Flint. Whatever you want.”

  “Great, kid.”

  The moment I’d said the words, the ground started trembling. Rachel grabbed my arm, as did Monty. The warehouse’s metal girders creaked twenty meters above us. Then the vibrations faded.

  “More worms?” Rachel asked.

  Lars replied before I could. “Yes, Miss Fontaine. I am detecting several more signatures emerging from deep beneath the mine.”

  “They’re getting more eager to leave,” Rachel noted.

  “Which seems to correlate with the feedback loop I’m detecting from the buried starship.”

  “Gods, I wish we could have explored that thing more,” Rachel noted. Then she caught me staring at her. “What? I mean… I think it’s cool.”

  “Sure it is,” I replied, casting her a peculiar glance. I couldn’t help feeling, once again, that Rachel had an unusually high interest in that vessel. Not that I blamed her—a buried ancient starship was worth exploring. But there was something more to it than that.

  “So how are we gettin’ everyone off planet, Mr. Flint?” Monty asked, arms crossed.

  “Lars, how many ships does Ozzie have at his disposal?” I asked.

  But before the AI could even reply, Rachel backhanded my arm. “You want to hijack Ozzie’s ships? Are you crazy?”

  “Do you have a better idea?” I asked.

  “Well, no. But we’re probably talking dozens of starships… and not enough pilots, and…”

  “To answer your question, sir,” Lars said, cutting in, “there are currently twenty-seven multistage spacecraft within six kilometers capable of entering low planetary orbit. Of those, ten are currently outfitted and fueled for launch.”

  “And what are we talking in terms of capacity?” I asked.

  “All ten vessels are cargo haulers, capable of payloads that far exceed the combined weight of the miners. By my calculations, you will only need two of the vessels to move all five hundred miners to orbit.”

  “How far are the closest two from the Horizon?”

  “One kilometer,” Lars replied. “You most likely observed them as you made port.”

  “I saw them, yes,” said Rachel. “White rockets, red stripes. Just to our west when we landed.”

  “That’s correct, Miss Fontaine.”

  “What about the ships’ ability to carry humans as opposed to minerals?”

  “The schematics I have access to show limited seating capacities. However, with some minor modifications, I think the necessary changes to the cargo holds can be made within thirty minutes.”

  “Make it fifteen and you have yourself a deal.”

  “A deal, sir? I wasn’t aware that—”

  “Fifteen minutes, Lars. Do what you can.”

  “Understood, sir. I will need the cooperation of five engineers per vessel, and several hands to gather the necessary equipment. Most all the tools needed can be found in this warehouse, if the inventory records are up to date.”

  “Monty?” I put my hand on the kid’s shoulder.

  “Yes, Mr. Flint?”

  “Think you can get some of the more experienced engineers together to help Miss Rachel and you with prepping some cargo haulers for liftoff?”

  Monty nodded. “Sure thing, Mr. Flint. I know some smart people.”

  “Great. That’s perfect, kid.” I squa
red with Rachel. “I need you to start work on those right away.”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “Help set up a defense of our retreat. We’re gonna draw a lot of attention once we leave this warehouse, and there’s no way that won’t draw fire.”

  “Sir,” said Lars, “I may have a partial solution to that problem.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Since you have narrowed your retreat to the two nearest freight rockets, I show underground access to the ships. In fact, there is a wide service corridor that connects this warehouse to the loading and launch facility.”

  “Lars, you’re a legend.”

  He paused. “I was unaware that my reputation among humanity was so highly regarded.”

  “Well, it is. At least by these humans. Can you keep our movements off the camera feeds still?”

  “Affirmative, sir. Though I cannot guarantee you won’t encounter enemy resistance—I can only corral so many employees. The tunnel’s entrance is to your south, indicated by the overhead sign marked 2B-South. Proceed as you wish.”

  Turning to address the mass of miners, I cleared my throat and pushed Monty out in front of me. “Everyone, listen up.” The murmuring settled down as the people gave me their attention. “We’re one step closer to getting you out of here. But the next steps are going to require even more teamwork.

  “Monty here needs a few of the engineers to help retrofit two of the mine’s cargo haulers to accommodate carrying people instead of raw materials. So if he calls your name, I need you to follow him and Rachel as fast as you can. Grab whatever tools and supplies they tell you to locate around this warehouse, then you’re headed with them out that far tunnel.” I pointed to the corridor indicated with the 2B-South sign.

  “Those with weapons, you’re staying with me. We’re going to cover everyone as we move toward the launch facility. From there, we’ll get everyone boarded once the ships are ready. The rest of you, I need you helping each other. The sick and the elderly need the most care. Swap out if you get tired. Don’t rush, but don’t take your time either. We’re on a tight schedule.”

  I wasn’t going to ask if anyone had questions—I knew there would be too many to answer. But a man near the front raised his hand. I rolled my eyes but pointed at him anyway.

  “Who’s going to fly the rockets?” the man asked.

  I glanced at Rachel, realizing I’d completely and utterly overlooked that most obvious and very important aspect of the escape. My mouth opened but before I could say anything, Lars said, “I am, of course.”

  I turned aside and spoke into my shoulder. “You can do that?”

  “Of course, sir. My robust core systems allow me to pilot several vehicles at once so long as I have adequate connectivity. After all, rocket science isn’t that difficult, considering—”

  “That’s fine, Lars. I don’t need your resumé.” I turned back to the man who’d asked the question. “We have pilots already boarding both craft as we speak.” That seemed to satisfy the man’s curiosity.

  “But sir, we don’t have multiple pilots, nor do I need to physically board the vessels.”

  “I’m trying to instill confidence, pal,” I mumbled. “Not give testimony under oath. Lighten up.”

  “Ah. I can see how the masses might be aided by such a bending of the truth. Lightening up, sir.”

  “Good.” To the miners I said, “If Monty calls you, step out and follow him and Rachel. Those with weapons, come to me. The rest of you, form a line at the mouth of the tunnel. Let’s move out!”

  Monty was about to leave when I grabbed his arm and knelt beside him. “Hold on there, buckaroo.”

  “Yes, Mr. Flint?” he replied.

  I could see Rachel look at the two of us, so I turned away a little. I didn’t want her hearing what I had to say. “I want you staying with Miss Rachel all the time.”

  “Yes, Mr. Flint.”

  “And when you’re done loading the ships, I want you personally escorting her back to my ship, the Distant Horizon.”

  “Yes, Mr. Flint. I understand.”

  “You don’t let her out of your sight, you hear?”

  Monty nodded.

  “And no matter what she tries to do, you make sure she gets to the Horizon. Grab onto her legs if you have to.”

  Monty smiled and gave me a small chuckle. “I can do that.”

  “Good, kid.”

  “What was that about me?” Rachel asked. “I heard my name.”

  I stood up. “Just told the kid here to listen to everything you say.”

  She stared at me with a skeptical look. “Sure.”

  “What? This kid is a handful.”

  Monty looked away from Rachel and gave me a wink. “I got it covered, Mr. Flint. Don’t you worry.”

  23

  With the front and flanks of the line protected by more than a dozen armed miners, I took a position at the rear to cover our retreat. Six additional miners walked beside me, constantly checking our six. In addition to Oragga’s weapons, we’d scavenged even more from the dead overseers before escaping in the RTVs. While I doubted we could protect everyone in the event of a firefight, we’d at least give the majority a fighting chance to get to safety.

  I’d asked Lars to keep me apprised of any movement he saw coming our way, but I also knew he couldn’t see everything in the mine. The main corridor in particular had regular intersections since it fed the rockets’ loading and launch bays. That said, I was expecting traffic. Still, it was better than walking around topside in the daylight—anything was better than that.

  The line of miners was moving through the tunnel at a good pace, walking ten abreast. Their footfalls echoed off the smooth concrete floors and ceilings, but their talking was at a minimum. Still, I felt it wouldn’t be long before the commotion of five hundred slaves walking toward a launch pad caught someone’s attention.

  “Sir,” Lars said over comms, “I’m detecting movement at the intersection ahead, to your left.” I called the armed miners along the left flank to send word to the front. I was about to run up and join those ahead when I heard shouts from somewhere behind us. I turned to see a group of people running toward us, outfitted in workers clothes.

  “Lars! Who are these guys? And how come you didn’t notify me?” I asked.

  “My apologies, sir. They must have emerged from a smaller access hallway that I am unable to monitor. They appear to be general mine employees.”

  “I can see that. Any guess if they’re hostile?”

  “No, sir. However, based upon—”

  “Crap. They’ve got tools. And now they’re charging us.”

  Their makeshift clubs and daggers would be no match for our firearms, and I didn’t really want to add to the body count today, especially since these guys looked like regularly paid miners. But, judging by their aggressive advance, they had orders to attack us. Which meant two things, at least as far as I could reckon. The first was that our escape had caught the attention of someone in charge—no doubt Ozzie by now too. Second, it meant that whether or not these miners were guilty of enslaving those in the myst mines, they were culpable the moment they chose to follow any order intended to prevent our escape.

  The charging miners were thirty-some meters away now, their calls to stay where we were amply clear. As was their intent to cause us bodily harm.

  Gods, this is gonna be a bloodbath.

  I brought my MX090 to my shoulder and was about to give the order to open fire when the weapons next to me lit up the tunnel with sound and light. I winced as the gunshots startled me. The myst miners beside me poured full-automatic bursts into the approaching threat. The unarmored victims toppled over one another, grabbing chests and limbs as they collapsed in a heap. Expended ammunition casings bounced off my head and arms as my defenders continued to fire. Within seconds, the rushing miners had been mowed down, left dying and dead on the concrete floor. As for me, I hadn’t even fired a single round.
r />   “Cease fire!” I yelled, repeating the order several times. Whatever qualms I had about taking down a lesser armed opponent were clearly not shared by the liberated miners. I looked at the man closest to me, a gaunt but determined man in his thirties. “I think you got ‘em all.”

  “That felt good,” he replied, chest heaving. Sweat ran down his temples and his hands shook.

  “I can imagine.”

  Just then, more gunfire erupted from the front of the line.

  “Stay here,” I said. “Keep your eyes peeled, and if more miners come, well… just do that again.” I waved a finger loosely at the pile of bodies.

  I darted up the side of the line as the gunfire grew louder. The myst miners dropped to ground the moment one of them had been struck by a bullet in the head. While I mourned the victim—a woman in her twenties, held by an older woman who was wailing—the group’s actions gave me a clear view of what lay ahead.

  “What’s going on out there?” Rachel asked over comms.

  “Contact!” I said. “Several armed guards!” But I couldn’t count them all—they were hidden behind creates and equipment along the walls at the next intersection. “Stand by!”

  “Flint?” Rachel’s voice was strained. “Flint, are you okay?”

  I tapped the comm off and sighted in on a security guard farthest from the front line. I figured the defenders were focused on those closest to them, which made my priority hitting those my forces weren’t focused on. My reticle zeroed on the man’s head just as he popped up to fire. I squeezed. My MX090 barely recoiled in my shoulder, discharging one of its nine-gram bullets at over twelve-hundred meters-per-second. Like the overseer I’d shot in the myst mines, the target’s head exploded, splattering the wall behind him with blood. The body tumbled onto the floor, extending from the crate he’d been hiding behind.

  The next security guard I acquired a sight picture on was closer than the last, and less protected. He leaned against a hover skidster, stepping on the lifting tines for a height advantage. But this also made him a perfect target for me since he was head and shoulders above anything else around.