by Ben Wolf
“I wish I had more concrete information for you, sir, but as of now, we’re still trying to determine the answers to those—”
“Never mind.” Carl held up his hand. “I’ll arrive within two days’ time. Have a briefing ready for me by then. For now, shut down all mining operations site-wide and seal off the mine.”
“Understood, sir, but as you know, in the recent past we’ve had inexplicable issues while trying to secure the mine.”
Carl sighed and rubbed his forehead. “The security guard from the other night, yes?”
“Among other issues, all of which I’ve already shared with you, yes.”
“Post pairs of armed guards near all mine entrances and exits. I don’t want anyone else going in there until I arrive. Crystal?”
Morgan nodded. “Clear.”
Carl ended the transmission with a tap on his desk.
Justin woke up in one of the medbay examination rooms, his home away from home, groggy and miserable. At first, he forgot why he was in there, then the memory of what had happened sobered him. He reached for his right arm with his left hand.
In its place, he found cold metal.
He looked down. His right arm was gone, replaced by a metal prosthesis. White bandages tainted pink with blood or some other bodily fluid encircled the site where metal met muscle, for now obscuring the horror of the fusion.
Justin wanted to scream. Why did all of this keep happening to him? Why did he continually suffer because of this damned mine? Why him?
“Mr. Barclay.”
Justin turned to his left, and his misery multiplied. Oafy from HR sat in a Plastrex chair next to his bed.
He glared at her. His voice low, he said, “Get the hell out of here.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mr. Barclay.” She tapped on her handscreen. “Not without commending you.”
Justin squinted at her. Whatever drugs Dr. Handabi had him on must’ve interfered with his hearing. “What did you say?”
“I said you’re to be commended for the bravery and selflessness you showed two days ago in Sector 13.”
“What? Two days ago?” Justin glanced around the examination room, but the sterile white walls and equipment gave him no indication of time. A million years could’ve passed, and these rooms would still look the same.
Then he saw the numbers 11:34 on a digital clock mounted on the wall. There it was again—hEll upside down.
Maybe that’s where he was after all. Maybe he’d died on the flight over from New Germania-7. Or maybe that’s what this mine was.
Hell.
Oafy gave him an artificial grin. “You’ve been out for two days. Dr. Handabi and the medical androids felt it would be in your best interests to keep you in a medically induced coma while they performed their operations.”
Justin lay back against his pillow, closed his eyes, and rubbed his forehead. His fingers felt hard and metallic. When he opened his eyes, he remembered why. “I never consented to this.”
“I’m afraid that’s not the case. According to your employment contract, you authorized the company’s medical staff to—”
“Okay.” Justin held up his metal hand. “I get it. I signed something somewhere, and that supposedly gave the company free rein over my body, my life, and every last bit of my personal freedom.”
Oafy searched the ceiling. “That’s a bit pedestrian of an analysis, but yes, essentially.”
“What do you want?”
“As I said, you are to be commended for your bravery and heroism during the occurrence that transpired in Sector 13 two days prior.”
“Occurrence.” Justin shook his head. “It wasn’t an occurrence. It was far worse than that.”
“Calling it anything else would imply the company had culpability.”
“The company is culpable.”
Oafy adjusted her glasses. “Regarding your commendation, you have been publicly recognized in ACM-1134’s digital newsletter for your heroism. You’ll also receive a one-time bonus payment of an additional 2,000 credits.”
“You just don’t want me to sue the company.” Justin scoffed. “But at this point, I’ve got nothing left to lose, and Andridge has screwed me over for the last time. I lost my arm because your machines started freaking out on their own.”
“Mr. Barclay, please—”
“No. I’m done with your bullshit, Oafy. Get the hell out of my face. Leave me alone.”
“I’m afraid I can’t—”
“Now!” Justin shouted. “Get the fuck out of here!”
Oafy recoiled, but her mouth hung open. She closed it, stood, and nodded at him. “Just so you know…”
Justin turned and glared at her. His robot arm clamped onto the bedrail.
She continued, “…the company has elected to cover all of your medical costs for your surgeries and the prosthetic. All of it. Every nano-credit. Since you’ve arrived here, you’ve managed to destroy or help destroy hundreds of thousands of credits in equipment, and you’ve racked up tens of thousands in other expenses. ACM is choosing to ignore all of that.”
She leaned in close to him, and he bristled. If he weren’t still in recovery, and if she were a man, he’d have punched her in her smug face.
“So I suggest you show some gratitude,” she whispered. “If we had wanted to, we could have buried you in the mine where no one would ever find your worthless corpse.”
Justin gawked at her. Had she really just said that?
“And we still can. So think twice before you call a lawyer. It may be the last call you ever make.” She straightened back up and gave him another phony smile. “Good day, Mr. Barclay.”
As the door whooshed shut behind Oafy, Justin wished he’d had a recording device. He would’ve expected words like that from Gerhardt—but Oafy? Never. Maybe she’d grown a pair because he’d threatened her job security at Keontae’s memorial service.
The door to Justin’s examination room hissed open again, and Dr. Handabi entered with a pair of medical androids.
“Hello, again.” Dr. Handabi waved. “It is tragic that we keep meeting under such dire circumstances, but at least we are developing a strong friendship, yes?”
You could say that, I guess. Justin held his breath. “Yeah.”
Dr. Handabi clapped once. “Marvelous. How is the pain today?”
Justin shook his head and closed his eyes. He moved to rub his forehead again, then he stopped and used his left hand instead.
“Oh, wonderful.” Dr. Handabi clapped again. “You are already able to move your arm. That is fantastic. Does your shoulder hurt?”
Justin thought about it. “No.”
Dr. Handabi nodded. “You are probably still numb from the surgery. The painkillers we have you on are extraordinary. Expect some discomfort and more extreme pain to follow, but eventually, you will recover nicely, and the prosthesis will totally fuse to your body.”
“You couldn’t have reattached my other arm?”
“I am afraid that by the time we reached it, it was beyond salvaging.”
Justin closed his eyes. “How long?”
“How long until what?”
“How long will the pain last?
“The pain will last a few more days, at least. Perhaps a week. But the fusion should complete within a day or so. The pain will lessen significantly once that process is complete.”
“What do you mean, fusion?”
“I mean the prosthesis is becoming one with your body. It is literally fusing itself to you, joining its sensory relays to your nervous system, your muscles, your tendons, and your skeleton. It will be as though you have always had a prosthetic arm by the time the process is complete.”
Justin looked down at his new arm.
“Do not worry about the specifics. Just know that you will gain complete control over your new arm within twenty-four hours or less, regardless of the pain. And once that happens, the only thing holding you back will be your pain level. Once the arm is on,
it is on for good.”
Justin nodded and sighed. “So that’s just how it is now?”
“Indeed, it is,” Dr. Handabi said.
“Did you do the surgery yourself?”
Dr. Handabi shook his head. “I merely supervised while the androids performed the operation.”
Justin wanted to ask something else, but the door whooshed open behind Dr. Handabi and the androids. Laithe Gerhardt stood there next to another man Justin didn’t recognize, and he motioned for Dr. Handabi to exit Justin’s examination room.
Dr. Handabi complied, and the door slid shut behind him, sealing Justin in alone with the androids. They just stared at him with their dead white eyes. He swore that if either of them so much as moved toward him, he’d scream.
But they just stood there, still as statues, while Justin waited.
The door opened again, and without so much as a word to Justin, Dr. Handabi summoned the androids out. They left, and Gerhardt stood in the doorway, glaring at Justin.
Then he stepped aside, and three men, none of whom Justin recognized, walked into Justin’s room. Instead of coming inside, Gerhardt waited outside with his back to the door as it shut.
From the look of these three guys, Justin would’ve preferred the devil he knew.
All of them wore dark suits. The bald guy on the left wore an official ACM-1134 identity card on the external pocket of his suit.
In the center stood a tall black guy with his back to the door. He was just as big as Dirk in every way, and Justin caught himself wondering who would win that fight. Then again, Stecker had managed to beat Dirk.
The guy on the right baffled Justin, though. He couldn’t have been more than five years older than Justin—if he was older at all. He wore his dirty-blond hair short but well-styled, and his electric blue eyes pierced through Justin.
The guy on the right stepped forward and extended his left hand. “Mr. Barclay, I presume?”
Justin eyed his hand. The guy was probably trying to be polite and not shake Justin’s new prosthetic for fear of hurting him. Justin had no reason not to oblige him—yet—so he shook the guy’s hand with his left. It felt awkward and strange, but so did having a robot arm.
“Carlton Andridge. But you can call me Carl,” the man said.
“Andridge?” Justin glanced between the bald guy, the tall man, and Carl. “You mean—”
“Yes. As in Andridge Copalion Mines. I’m the owner.” Carl smiled at Justin.
Justin raised an eyebrow.
“I understand your skepticism. I get that a lot. My father bequeathed the company to me when he died a few years back.”
The galaxy was a weird, unfair place. Had Justin just been born into a different family, like the Andridges, he could’ve inherited one of the largest corporations in the galaxy. Instead, he’d inherited jack shit.
“This is Bartholomew Morgan. He runs ACM-1134.” Carl gestured to the bald man on Justin’s left. Then he motioned toward the tall black guy. “And this is Noba’to Stephens. I call him ‘Noby.’ He’s the head of my personal security detail.”
Justin just sat there. Why were these people visiting him?
“I wanted to stop in and personally thank you for all the work you’ve put in on behalf of ACM-1134 and all the hardships you’ve endured since you started working with us.”
Us. Justin scoffed. To a guy like Carl Andridge, us only extended as far as Justin’s usefulness in making his company more money.
“Is something funny?” Carl tilted his head. If Justin wanted to look up the definition of “pretty boy” in a dictionary, Carl Andridge’s picture would be right there.
“No. Sorry.” Justin motioned toward him with his right arm to continue. His robotic arm. God, it’s gonna take awhile to get used to that.
“When I heard about your recent tribulations, I canceled my appointments and headed across the galaxy to meet with you.”
Justin scoffed again, but this time Carl just stared at him.
“Sorry.” Justin shook his head. “I don’t buy that for a second. There’s no way a guy like you drops everything to check up on a guy like me, who you’ve never met.”
Carl grinned. “I can see there’s no fooling you, Justin. May I call you that?”
“It is my name.”
“Very well, Justin. You’re absolutely right. I’m not here just to see you. That would make for an obvious PR stunt—visiting injured workers, encouraging them and all of that. While it is not my main reason for visiting, I admit I am doing some of that, including with your coworker Ralph Williams.”
Justin perked up at the sound of Ralph’s name. “Ralph? How is he?”
“He’ll probably be paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of his life.”
Justin’s jaw clenched shut.
“Dr. Handabi believes a series of stimuli implants could return the feeling in his legs, and if Ralph is willing to undergo spinal replacement surgery on the lower portion of his back, technology could enable him to walk again, but the recovery will take years,” Carl said. “Of course, we’ve taken care of his medical costs and assured him of a substantial payout. He’ll be set for life, essentially, once he accepts.”
How generous. Justin folded his arms, and he noted that he could feel the warmth coming off of his fleshy left arm with his prosthetic right arm. Interesting how the tech made that possible, to say the least.
“But as you correctly guessed, that’s not why I’m here.” Carl pulled a Plastrex chair from the wall over to the right side of Justin’s bed and sat in it. His head ended up almost level with Justin’s, if not a bit lower. “I’m here to talk with you about the ghost.”
Justin blinked, and his heart rate accelerated, and he swallowed. “What did you just say?”
Carl leaned in closer. “I’d like you to tell me what you saw.”
Justin’s heart calmed down, and he steeled himself. HR, or perhaps Bartholomew Morgan himself, had likely explained Justin’s claims to Carl in advance. Justin shouldn’t have let Carl’s reaction take him by surprise, but he also hadn’t expected one of the galaxy’s richest men to directly ask him about it.
“Why?” Justin asked. “I already told security and HR.”
Carl smiled and leaned back. “They did indeed tell me what you told them. But you’ve also got to ask yourself why I came across the galaxy to ask you about a supposed ghost sighting.”
Justin did exactly that, but he came up blank.
Carl said, “I’m here because I need to know what’s really going on with my mine, Justin. This entire mine shut down three years ago in the wake of a tragic occurrence. Now, as soon as we get back up and running, more occurrences happen almost immediately. And you’re claiming a ghost is involved.”
Justin said nothing. He’d seen the ghost two days ago before the machines in Sector 13 went haywire, but only for an instant.
“My guess is that someone is intentionally working to hamstring ACM-1134 for some reason. Our company has countless enemies across the galaxy—planetary governments, environmental groups, competing interests.” Carl shook his head and chuckled. “One mine on Halcyon-6 kept getting attacked by local savages. Cannibals, if you believe that.”
Justin kept quiet.
“Competitors are especially volatile when it comes to mining, refining, and controlling the galaxy’s copalion supply.” Carl stared at Justin. “I could tell you stories upon stories of how ACM’s competitors have dueled with us for mining rights on newly discovered worlds, fought for control of trade and transport routes, and even engaged in sophisticated corporate espionage.”
Justin’s eyes widened. “You don’t think I—”
“No, no.” Carl waved his hand. “Yes, you joined us directly from a competitor’s company, and you’ve been involved in multiple incidents since the beginning of your time with us. But that’s where my extrapolation ends, mostly because no espionage agent would literally give an arm for his job.”
As if on cue, Justin�
�s shoulder ached. He shifted his position in his bed to try to alleviate the pain, but it did little to help.
“Besides, you don’t strike me as the espionage type. Frankly, nothing about you or your background indicates you’d be capable of such a thing.”
“Thanks. I guess.” Justin scowled at him.
“Please don’t take offense. I’m ruling you out as a suspect.” Carl gave him a smile. “But I do wonder whether someone else has infiltrated our mine here and is wreaking havoc. Someone extraordinarily skilled, both with manipulating software and hardware. I believe the person you claim to have seen—your ghost—is that person.”
“Why?” Justin asked.
“Based on your description, we’ve encountered him before.”
Justin glanced at Bartholomew Morgan, but he didn’t move. Justin looked back at Carl. “At other mines?”
“At this mine,” Carl said. “We believe he played a role in the first Sector 6 occurrence.”
Justin just stared into Carl’s blue eyes.
“So it’s absolutely critical that you answer my next questions with as much specificity and detail as you possibly can. Hold nothing back. Give me every bit of information you can possibly recall. I promise that everything you tell me will be kept in the strictest confidence, and we won’t use it to incriminate you.”
Justin scoffed. He’d heard that before. “And if I don’t?”
“More people will get hurt. Possibly killed. The mine will shut down permanently, and every worker on the planet will eventually be forced to move on. The only reason every other business exists on this planet is because of our copalion mine. Without us, they have no one to sell to, and there’s no reason to settle on this godforsaken planet.
“So, please, help not only ACM and me, but help everyone else on this rock, including your fellow workers. Please tell me what you saw so we can proceed with our investigation in a more thoughtful manner than we have thus far.”
Justin thought about it for a moment. Carl seemed like a decent guy. He hadn’t come in there with threats or false promises. He hadn’t tried to force Justin to talk by leveraging his job at the mine, his pay, his situation, or anything else against him.