Darklanding Omnibus Books 01-03: Assignment Darklanding

by Scott Moon

  Alcohol was forbidden on Darklanding in private hands, but the Company Man had certain privileges. She swirled her drink with a finger, then licked the digit clean before wiping it on a napkin. The comm unit buzzed. She smiled as she answered.

  “Dickles here. We’ve breached the first fall and we’re headed in. Did you know the sheriff came out here with a bunch of Gloks?”

  “Good news. Do you have an idea of when you’ll find out about survivors?”

  Shaunte winced at the profanity-laden tirade that the foreman delivered through his respirator. She waited patiently.

  “I’ll take that as a no. Thanks for the update. Better get back to it.” She watched as the screen went blank without further conversation.

  “Yes, I knew the sheriff was at the mine. The sun hasn’t set on his first day in Darklanding and there are bits and pieces of him scattered over half the planet,” she told the empty chair.

  She smirked. “You, too? I have no words.”

  Shaunte returned to her screen and started drafting her damage report, although the Company didn’t care about damage, only the impact to the bottom line.

  “A buttload,” she told the blank form.

  ***

  The sheriff and the Ungloks stayed behind and watched as the foreman manned the walk-behind dozer, probing the fall.

  He left it idling as he took a rock pike and jabbed it into a variety of gaps in the fallen ceiling. The others watched him with great interest as he worked his magic on the wall of stone. “This baby right here—strap it, and I’ll haul it out of there. Then we’ll be able to break through.”

  The sheriff leaned close to Jotham. “Easy as that?” he asked in a low voice.

  “The foreman is correct. That should do it.”

  “You can tell that?”

  “Of course.”

  Together, they watched the events unfold. The boulder at the base of the pile, a strap wrapped around it by using their picks and pikes to push and pull the strap through small gaps. The foreman tied it off to the dozer and started working it backward.

  “Watch out! Any moment now,” he pulled his respirator down to yell, replacing it as soon as he was done. He urged the little dozer to a greater feat of strength, revving to an ear-splitting whine. Jotham tapped the flip-down earmuffs from his hardhat. The sheriff quickly rotated his down as the boulder came free and rubble crashed and rolled.

  Thad thought he heard maniacal laughter and saw the sparkle of the foreman’s eyes glittering in the dark. P.C. idled the dozer as he started yelling through his mask. “What are you waiting for? Get to it, ladies!”

  The miners disappeared into the dust cloud as they surged into the start of a breach. Jotham tapped the sheriff on the shoulder. “Time to go to work, bitches,” the alien said matter-of-factly.

  When all else fails, revel in the absurdity of it all, Thad thought as he waded into the dust cloud, grabbing a rock that P.C. pointed to, just like everyone else. He followed them out and dumped it on the growing pile to the side of the large intersection.

  He followed the line of miners as it snaked across the tunnel, leaving as much space as possible for the encumbered, before they dove back into the fray, removing the stone an armload at a time with the foreman watching them with one eye and the ceiling with the other.

  The aliens more than carried their fair share of the stone. Despite the spindly nature of their arms, they appeared to be inordinately strong. The sheriff looked at the rocks he was struggling to carry. The aliens made him feel small and insignificant.

  He, for one, was happy they were by his side.

  Despite the manpower, the work progressed slowly. The cave-in was more extensive than the foreman had thought. Jotham stopped next to the foreman. “Another ten meters,” he said simply.

  “I think you’re right. We’ve a ways to go to break through. What do you think of the roof?”

  “Needs support within the next five feet or we will get another fall.”

  “Yup,” P.C. Dickles agreed before turning to his supporting cast. “You four,” he pointed, “back to the entrance and get more jack stands.”

  The indicated four mumbled their agreement through their respirators as they turned and headed up the tunnel. The rest of the group continued to work until Jotham held out a hand. “This is good for now.”

  P.C. looked closely at the ceiling. He pointed to two miners to start expanding the mouth of the breach. They seized the first group of rocks, and the mine began to shake.

  “Get out!” he screamed at them, pulling at his respirator to yell a second warning.

  But it was too late. The debris rolled with the temblor and avalanched over the two men. The other miners, aliens, and sheriff stood their ground, waiting for the shake to finish. As soon as it was over, there was a rush of activity with P.C. Dickles leading the charge into the debris and recklessly throwing stones from the two men.

  The group soon formed a line to smooth the process as they handed one rock to the next. Thad stood after the last human and before the Ungloks. He had the hardest job of taking the stones at his waist level and lifting them upward to Mast Jotham’s waist.

  Thad was okay with the hard job. He was there to help and if he was hurting come tomorrow, it wouldn’t impact his job, but the miners lost pay if they couldn’t work. He’d take one for the team.

  Hell, he was probably already paying their OT out of his own pocket. He would have laughed, but the two miners buried in the rubble wouldn’t have found it funny.

  It was sobering as they lifted the rocks. P.C. personally pulled the men free. His face was grim as he handed the bodies to the next miners, who reverently moved them up the tunnel to lay them peacefully by the side wall.

  The foreman raised his hands to call for a moment of silence. The miners bowed their heads. No one removed their hard hats. That simply wasn’t done inside the mine. Hard hats with face shield and headlamps on at all times. Respirators on belts, within reach at all times.

  When P.C. Dickles lifted his head, Thad thought he saw the man’s eyes glistening. He pulled his respirator down so he could be heard. “Get up, you four,” he called, pointing at the aliens.

  Mast Jotham led the group toward the fall. The sheriff joined them. P.C. glared at the sheriff, but didn’t chase him away.

  The foreman had ordered those two men into the breach moments before the collapse. The sheriff could charge him with manslaughter.

  But he wouldn’t. Maybe if he hadn’t been there, he would have judged the man more harshly. The sheriff had seen it all with his own eyes. There was no incompetence. There was no recklessness. It was an accident as they continued their fight to free the others down below. Other miners that could have easily been dead, but they were all willing to die trying to rescue them.

  Because if it ever happened to them, they would hold out hope that their fellows were coming, no matter what.

  “We need to get through this,” P.C. said in a low voice. The sheriff noted the shaken confidence. The foreman knew who the best miners were and was asking for help.

  “Yes. Let us look more closely,” Jotham said politely before the four aliens began talking in their own language. It sounded guttural and harsh, but the sheriff could hear the tones clearly as they resonated within the confines of the tunnel.

  The Unglok language had developed within the caves.

  It made sense, once the sheriff heard it for himself in the environment where they were at home.

  Walk a mile in the other’s shoes, the sheriff thought.

  The four Ungloks scoured the tunnel, across the fall, into the beginning of the breach, and along the opposite wall before returning to the foreman. The humans watched silently as the tall and thin aliens delivered their assessment.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Elliott. You need to calm down. Yelling at me isn’t in your best interest,” Shaunte said in measured tones, trying not to screech. She knew what she sounded like when angry.

  Hyst
erical.

  And not in the funny way. She had little enough credibility as the Company Man as it was. She fought every single day for respect and couldn’t destroy it because of the likes of Elliott Goldman.

  “The ore shipments have stopped! We must get them going or we tell them to skip the next monthly shipment of supplies. What would you do without your monthly fix?” the production foreman asked accusingly.

  A veiled threat.

  Shaunte closed her eyes as she felt the heat rise up her neck and into her cheeks. He’d been there when she peeled off her special clothing shipment from a separate container. It had not been logged through the shipping accountability people.

  He was now watching her, looking for her use of Company shipping for personal business. There were separate containers for personal purchases, and space within those came at a hefty premium.

  Her guilty pleasure gave him leverage that she didn’t like. He had no proof, she saw to that with each shipment, but still, he was annoying.

  “Elliott. If you would be so kind as to report to the mine and address your concerns with Foreman Dickles, I think you’ll find that he is doing everything he can to restore the transfer of ore to your facility.”

  “He’s a madman! I’ll never go into the mine when he’s in there.”

  “Then shut your stinking pie hole. We’re all doing our jobs. Maybe you can take your idled crew and clean up your plant, do some scheduled maintenance ahead of time? When you start receiving ore again, I expect it’s going to come fast and furious. I need you to be ready. Be warned. If you can’t keep up, I will crush you like the bug that you are.”

  An unveiled threat.

  “We’ll just see about that, missy!” The screen went blank. She gave her computer the finger.

  “Maybe the sheriff could show you the error of your ways,” she suggested to the empty chair. “What do you think? Can he be influenced?”

  ***

  “The roof is solid. A new vein of exotics is in there, and that’s why it split. We believe the shifting is done, which means we should be able to break through the fall and get into the lower mine, find our people,” Jotham explained.

  “This bit here doesn’t look stable.” P.C. pointed at the ceiling above the area where they’d removed the rock and started a breach through the roof collapse.

  Jotham put his hands together as if he were praying and then pulled his palms slightly apart. “The two sides have found balance. These shards go deep into the ground. They will support all that is above. A jack stand right here would not hurt, if you would like to install one,” Jotham said clearly and slowly, in spite of wearing a respirator.

  The foreman held a finger to his lips. The sound of shuffling feet came to them from the tunnel leading out. P.C. signaled to the last man in line to bring one jack stand forward as soon as it arrived. The foreman turned back to the Ungloks.

  “I want you four to the lead the way removing the rock. Get us through there.”

  “They say it is a great honor to lead a rescue.”

  “Then the honor is yours, Glok,” P.C. replied coldly.

  Jotham pondered a reply as the sheriff rolled his eyes. The alien talked with his fellows in their language before getting to work.

  The sheriff never was one to hold his tongue. “You want them to save your people, but you can’t call them by their name. Unglok. Is that so hard?” the sheriff growled. The foreman glared back, before pushing the sheriff out of the way as he headed for the group of human miners.

  Thad joined the Ungloks and started hauling out the rocks that they handed back. He hurried to the intersection, but the other miners just looked at him. “Come on!” he snarled. “Those men are still down there.”

  Once the first miner leaned in, the others quickly joined in and restored the human chain.

  “Thank you,” the sheriff told the first man. Thad’s sincerity must have been clear because the man smiled behind his mask and nodded.

  Jotham and the others tore into the fall, pulling rocks while sliding on rubble, then pulling more. The chain of miners passed the stones back to the intersection at a frantic pace.

  Jotham raised his mask and said loudly, “Dozer.” P.C. gave the thumbs up and fired up the walk-behind. He maneuvered it to give him the best angle into the fall as the alien indicated with arm signals. They stepped out of the way.

  “Jack stand!” the foreman yelled through his mask, pointing to spots on the floor and on the ceiling. Two men hurried in front of the dozer and torqued the stand into place, checking that it was set before retreating behind the dozer.

  P.C. checked the area in front of the dozer one more time before he sent the machine forward, using the hand levers to guide it along the path that Jotham had directed. It rammed into the remaining fall. Smaller stones tumbled down the pile as it was dislodged. The foreman backed the dozer up a few feet and rammed into the pile a second time.

  Then a third. Backed up farther and hit it again and again. A space formed above the pile as stones from above rolled down the other side. The foreman started yelling at the fall as he revved the machine, hitting the pile harder and harder.

  With a final lurch, it broke through, forcing the foreman to jog after the dozer. The Ungloks hurried into the breach, grabbing a few boulders remaining at head and shoulder height to keep them from falling. With superhuman strength, they move the rocks out of the breach, dropping and rolling them to the side of the tunnel down.

  The fall had cut the power lines. It was dark below, but the foreman knew the mine. His headlamp illuminated the dust in the air, keeping the beam from shining too far ahead.

  The aliens, miners, and sheriff worked their way through the breach, each following the aliens’ lead and removing a stone or three on their way through. They threw them aside and gathered around the foreman. He removed his mask and pulled hard to get enough air.

  “You five, widen that breach. Put in a couple more jack stands. The rest of you, follow me, and don’t take off your masks. The air is bad on this side. We need to restore power to the air handlers.” He looked at the eager faces.

  One young woman raised her hand. “Billy. Get on it.” She nodded and ran uphill. Everyone had multiple jobs. She was one of a few miners who were also electricians. She needed her gear and was running toward the entrance.

  The foreman turned and headed downhill, waving at the dwindling group to follow. Thaddeus Fry hurried to walk alongside Mast Jotham. “Thank you!” he yelled through his respirator. “Great work back there. How do I say thank you in your language?”

  “Boonodd.” The sheriff said it back to him. Jotham nodded. Thad looked at the others and told each of them thank you. They looked back at him without acknowledging that he’d spoken.

  He shrugged. Regardless, he was thankful that they were through and heading deeper into the mine. Thad was confused that the other miners hadn’t been by the fall. He expected them to be waiting.

  Thad had not known that there had been multiple collapses within the mine. Nothing happened in a vacuum. When one wall shifted, another would move, and then another.

  The foreman had left the dozer behind. The sheriff was confused. No one else seemed worried. They looked determined. Thad continued marching downhill with the rest.

  ***

  “Any news from the mine?” Pierre asked while rolling the end of his mustache between two fingers.

  “None,” Shaunte replied as she tried to get past Pierre. He blocked her way.

  “Business is way off. Maybe you can do a little something?” he said in his weasely way.

  She turned on him. “Get out of my way,” she demanded.

  “I’m just saying…”

  Shaunte glared at the man in his perfectly cleaned and pressed jumpsuit, the kind that she should have been wearing—service class with management stripes on the sleeve. She was dressed up as always, as if she were going to a business meeting in one of the inner systems.

  Miss Dixie stood to
the side, chuckling and shaking her head. “You’re just saying that you don’t care about the people trapped in the mine, only your own pocket,” she suggested.

  “Of course. Was there any doubt about that? But Anglelook still turns and we still have a business to run with quotas and all,” he said, looking first to Dixie and then to Shaunte.

  “It’s pronounced Ungwilook,” Dixie corrected.

  “Yeah, just like I said. Anglelook.”

  “You’re still in my way,” Shaunte said in an exasperated voice. Pierre slowly moved aside, frowning while holding his hands up.

  “Thank you. Next time you interfere with Company business, I’ll turn you over to the sheriff,” she said in a low voice as she passed. She kept walking.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” he said too loudly.

  She stopped and turned. “I won’t dare you, because you’re just stupid enough to try me. Be warned, Pierre. I am not putting up with your BS. And you need to stop helping yourself to your so-called staff. That won’t just get you dismissed, it’ll earn you a berth on the trash rocket into the sun.”

  He stammered incomprehensibly as Shaunte returned to the task at hand—getting another glass of orange juice and a snack. It was going to be a long night ahead, especially if the miners hadn’t yet broken through.

  From one to another, her management team was self-destructing. She knew that she had been given a weak team. It fell to her to develop them. She gritted her teeth thinking of the turd sandwich she’d been force-fed by her father. He knew she was determined to prove herself and had given her the most difficult assignment in the universe.

  At least that was how she saw it. She grabbed what she wanted from the restaurant, paying on the way out and hurrying back to her office, then worked her way around the chair in the middle of the room and tapped the screen to call the mine foreman as she sat down.

  He didn’t answer. Neither did Pavel Stasenko. She tried contact after contact until, finally, the equipment office answered.

  “What the hell is going on out there? How come no one is answering?” she demanded in a rush.