Three-sixteen sat for a long time with his head pressed against his knees. His eyes were closed, but he was still awake. He couldn’t sleep with all noise, both from the next cell, and inside his own head. His mind raced, replaying the conversation with bones, trying to make sense of what he said.
He thought about it for a long while, but he didn't believe Bones truly believed everything he’d said. How could he? By his own definition he would still be a slave since no one could ever fully remove themselves from social interactions. Sure he may act with less care for the outcome, but ultimately he was still reacting to the actions of others; Three-sixteen reasoned that he could still be manipulated.
It was all just a silly lie that Bones used to justify himself. What Three-sixteen didn’t understand is why a judge hadn’t already put an end to this Raven King and hugs strange followers. Was their way of thinking really enough to break the power of a ruling? Could they truly ignore the High Lord’s words, or did he simply allow them to control this area for some reason?
Three-sixteen couldn’t understand why the Lord wouldn’t crush such a rebellion if he had the ability to do so. In the mine, it only took a few magistrates to keep everyone in line. Any act of defiance was swiftly punished by death and espousal of such free thought would have been grounds for execution. No one would ever dare to attack a magistrate, and yet this group, these Ravens, had attacked a group of magistrates boldly.
In the end, he didn’t know what to think or believe. All he knew was that he didn't want to dig. He didn't want to live in fear of someone with more power than him coming to take away everything he was. And most of all, he wasn’t ready to let go of his freedom. He might not get out right away, but Three-sixteen was damned certain he would not die underground.
“Knock, knock!” A woman’s voice called cheerfully. It wasn’t the same girl as before.
Three-sixteen looked up. A young woman in a black hooded cloak was standing outside his cell. She had her hands clasped in front of her and was smiling through the bars.
She leaned close, resting her elbows on the bars and putting her chin in her hands as she said, “You look like a man with a strong back.” She kept her voice light and playful, but laced with a hint of cruelty, her words were like poison, but her smile like honey, and her eyes like daggers, bright and full of sharp edges, she asked, “Would you be a dear and come dig me a tunnel? You can say no if you want, everyone is free here, but the alternative if you refuse is a shift as live target practice.”
Three-sixteen couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s your idea of free? Is that even a serious choice? What if I refuse both.”
The girl shrugged. “We’ve cared for you a few days now and it’s only right you return the favor with labor. If you refuse then I guess we extract value by selling you to the highest bidder, or maybe we just feed you to Evicsitor and Bubbles.”
Three-sixteen frowned. He didn’t like the sound of either option. He said, with a shake of his head, his voice low and serious, as if he was speaking to a child, “I'll dig.”
“Wise choice, big man.” The girl laughed. She unlocked the door, Three-sixteen didn’t see how, he just heard the click, and pushed it open.
Three-sixteen stood up, walking out without hesitation. He would dig, but only because this was an opportunity to explore and find his escape.
She reached for his hand, but he pulled away. Giggling, the girl gestured for him to follow. “This way, cutie. We’ll stop for gear first, then I’ll show you where to report.”
Three-sixteen followed the girl out of the cell block. They passed through four similar rows, each containing no less than five cells. There were roughly eighteen prisoners from what Three-sixteen counted. That was assuming everyone else was still in their cell and none had cell mates. He figured the actual number was probably higher.
She led him down a spiral stairwell into a wide open storeroom. He figured it was about as far across as a mine pit, although the low ceiling made the space feel cramped. They had everything here. Shovels, pick-axes, auto drills and even a pulse hammer. Three-sixteen took note of there sonar devices, those could be useful to him.
He grabbed one of the pickaxes, then the girl motioned for him to follow.
He did, carrying his axe with him as he went.
They returned to the stairwell and descended three flights of stairs. At the base, they entered a wide tunnel so large a pair of crystal cruisers could’ve flown through side by side.
The girl stopped, turning to Three-sixteen. She pointed down the tunnel to an opening a few hundred yards away, and said, “You’ll find Zel’dir over there. Don’t let her kill you.” Her voice playful as she smiled, showing her teeth, and batted her eyes, making her appear almost cute, despite her sharp features, and the dangerous glint in her eyes.
Three-sixteen frowned, but said nothing.
The girl giggled and started back up the stairs.
Three-sixteen watched her go. Once she was out of sight, he looked around. The tunnel continued in as far as he could see. There were small tunnels branching off at regular intervals, but there were no lights inside and they were unlikely to lead anywhere he’d want to go.
He reached the opening where he was to find Zel’dir. A young woman, maybe a year or two older than him, was sitting on a crate. She had bright red hair, with streaks of black, and her eyes were a light amber. Her skin was a light pinkish brown, and her face was covered in freckles. She was very pretty, but her expression was anything but inviting.
She glanced up at him with a scowl. Her voice as grating and commanding as Bones’ as she asked, “You here to dig?” with obvious disdain.
Three-sixteen nodded.
She gestured deeper into the shaft to a circular area lit by glowing circles on the floor. He didn’t see anything that might’ve provided power, not even a crystal, so he assumed this must’ve been some kind of magic. He’d never seen anything similar so he wasn’t sure what it did.
Zel’dir was apparently the impatient type. She stood and shoved him forward with enough force he almost fell over. “Get in the fuckin’ circle already, or you walk to the end yourself. Better not be late either or my sis ‘ll have your head.”
Three-sixteen hurried over to the circle. Unsure what to expect, he hesitated before stepping in, but a loud grown from Zel’dir encouraged him inside.
A bright light flashed, he was pretty sure he blinked, and then he was standing in an identical space, only everything was backwards and Zel’dir had tripled in size, grown a nasty mole on her nose and pierced about ever open bit of flesh on her face.
“Welcome to the dig, bitch! Now git out there an’ dig,” the woman shouted, her voice as smooth as silk and yet still harsh as sandpaper. She pointed to a row of—Three-sixteen assumed—slaves. A team of three operated a large drill while two more hurried to remove displaced debris.
Another crew chipped away at wall on the opposite side while a final group appeared to be testing the viability of some blast charges.
Three-sixteen moved over to join the group working on the wall. They glanced at him, but none of them seemed to care he was there.
He found an empty spot, raised his pickax and started digging.
Certainly there were more effective ways the crews could work, he could have offered some advice, but he didn’t think it would be well received at all. He also didn’t particularly care. His primary goal was to make friends and learn what he could from those who had been here longer than him.
He hoped it wouldn't take him long to earn enough trust to escape this place, or maybe they'd leave him alone with the drill if he proved useful enough.
As he worked, he listened to the conversations of those around him, trying to pick up on anything that might help him.
Most of the talk was about women, which was boring. Others talked about how much they hated being here, which was to be expected. One thing that stood out to him was a conversation between two girls about Zel’dir and her much bigger sister, Zel’air. They were apparently twins with a strange shared ability that allowed each to open a portal near to the other’s location.
He thought it was a terribly inefficient method for traveling especially since at least one sister would need to walk or reach the end of the tunnel by other means before anyone could teleport to the end. Three-sixteen thought it was more likely that Zel’air was staying in the tunnel. He’d need to confirm that, but if it was true he might be able to cut off access to the tunnel entirely and then, with the crews assistance, he could dig up to the surface and escape.
They continued working for hours without a break, slowly chipping away at the wall. The drill was setup completely wrong, Three-sixteen knew because it kept locking up and overheating.
The wall was a hard porous stone, probably granadite, but they were using steal drill heads. After four hours they had barely moved and the wall showed no signs of giving way. The drill debris crew stayed busy collecting broken chunks of of the drill heads.
Three-sixteen found the result of using pickaxes to chip away at the wall to be similarly dismal. The tools broke quickly and a runner was constantly fetching replacements and taking broken tools for repair. He couldn’t believe they’d managed to dig this far working so inefficiently.
Perhaps their current progress was just a stroke of luck in that they had not encountered such hard stone before. The bomb squad was at least able to identify six working charges. Three-sixteen only hoped they knew how to place them for maximum effectiveness.
Zel'air emerged from the shadows of the side tunnel, her voice like thunder, booming and echoing off the walls as she bellowed, “Are you dim wits breaking our tools on purpose?” She had her hands on her hips and a look of disbelief on her face.
Everyone stopped working and looked at her.
She was a massive woman with arms bigger than his torso. Her figure was imposing and her gaze was like a sword, carving through the space without mercy. She could easily crush any one of them with a single hand, and Three-sixteen could see why the others feared her.
He didn't.
When no one answered she scoffed, shaking her head. Her jewel studded face scrunched up as she boomed, “I better see progress or I’ll dig the damn tunnel myself, with your bones.” Her voice rumbled through the passage like a thunder clap,rattling everyone into action.
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The drill operator turned it on, and the crew started moving.
Three-sixteen noticed Zel'air watching him with a predatory gaze, but he ignored her, pretending to be focused on his work.
After a few moments, she walked over to him. Her shadow loomed over him like a ghostly shade as she said, “You're new here, so you don’t know the rules. I’m very understanding—as you can see by my grace in warning you—but continued grace is a privilege you must earn. The next time I see defiance in your eyes, you will die. Understand, slave boy? Now get back to work. And show me you deserve the mercy I just showed.”
Three-sixteen nodded, turning to focus on his work. He didn’t know what she expected. “Can’t get through granadite with these crap tools,” Three-sixteen mumbled to himself.
A stabbing pain pierced his skull, sending him stumbling into the wall. Stone cracked with a loud popping snap as the ground opened beneath his previous location.
He groaned, falling to his knees. His ears were ringing, and he felt a pulse of anxious energy running through his body. The ground snapped closed again, Then Zel’air was picking him up off the ground, her hand clasped tight around his neck. “What did you say?” She growled, pronouncing each word slowly and carefully as if he were some kind of idiot.
He was an idiot, but he was not going to die down here.
He tried to pry open her grip, but she was much stronger than him. He could hardly breathe. The edges of his vision blurred as he gasped for air.
The woman smiled.
Three-sixteen kicked at her shin, but it was like kicking a boulder. He was sure he hurt himself more than her.
She squeezed harder and leaned closer. “If you can’t fuckin’ dig, why the hell do we need you?” She paused for several moments, letting her evil gaze bore into Three-sixteen. Her smile broadened, revealing yellowed teeth. “You don’t like my tools? They don’t work well enough for you? Then dig with your bare hands and show me how much better you can do.”
She released him, shoving him towards the wall.
Three-sixteen fell, landing on his back.
Zel'air stood over him.
She was asking the impossible, but how could he explain that to this pig headed woman? He knew she wouldn’t believe him, so he said nothing.
She laughed as he lay coughing.
The sound of her laughter rang in Three-sixteen's ears as he picked himself up off the floor.
Zel'air walked away, and Three-sixteen turned to face the wall. He started to dig, using his fingers and nails to carve out small bits of stone.
The rock was rough and sharp. It took only moments before his fingers were bloodied, but he kept going.
He thought he saw Zel'air smirking. Her eyes seemed to be glowing with a sick sense of satisfaction as she watched him work. By the end of the shift he had only managed to pry a single shard of rock from the wall.
He stood up, looking down at his hands. Blood ran down his arms and dripped onto the floor. The pain was intense at first, but he barely felt his hands now.
The others gathered their tools and headed back to the circle. Even with their tools, the other workers had managed little more than Three-sixteen. Even the drill team had only managed to bore an additional foot into the surface of the rock.
Zel’air blocked the side tunnel, her scowl like the gaze of death as she surveyed the workers and the results of their labor.After a moment, her gaze settled on Three-sixteen. Her voice boomed, echoing in the small space as she asked, her words dripping with sarcasm, “You done with your digging, honey?”
Three-sixteen didn’t have the energy or desire to formulate a response. He just stared back, deadpan, waiting for whatever unreasonable demand she would make.
She smiled, a cruel smile.
He knew that look. He’d seen it everyday that he worked in the mine. It had been Luck’s favorite expression. Three-sixteen only hoped Zel’air was less sadistic than the dead magistrate.
She held his gaze, letting the silence linger for several long moments. Finally she said, her voice low, like she was trying not to be heard, but still loud enough to carry to everyone in the passage, “Do you know what happens to failures in our organization? We use them as we see fit. As your boss I get first choice on if I want you or not and I was just thinking how convenient it would be to have a portable toilet.”
She laughed.
The other workers joined in, albeit far more awkwardly and nervously.
Three-sixteen did not laugh. He didn’t find any humor in her joke, or the fact that she could apparently make him into one. He looked her in the eye and said, his voice quiet, but clear, “If you want to see this tunnel expanded, then give me the tools I ask for and tell the others to follow my instructions. Or, you can keep wasting day after day grinding away like this, but it won’t be me who is the failure, it will be you.”
Zel'air sneered at him. She turned her head and spat at the ground. “You are bold, and foolish!” she roared, taking a step towards him. Her fists clenched tight at her sides, she growled, her voice low and dangerous, like a coiled snake ready to strike, as she asked, her voice cracking with the weight of her rage, “What makes you think you can talk to me like that?”
“I’m telling you the truth. As you can see by the markings on my arms, I’ve spent my whole life digging and mining. The rest of you barely have a clue what you’re doing. Your tools break like twigs on these rocks because you’re using the wrong tools. This rock, granadite, is too hard for steel; you need magic, or you need crystal. Keep going like you’ve been, all your corpses will rot before you make it through these stones. As for the drill, you need a cone head with crystal blades and at least five thousand rpm’s, but not more than seven thousand or the whole tunnel will collapse. The drill is also setup completely wrong. It keeps locking up and the drill operators are using the wrong power output, and you probably haven’t used any sonar, so you're basically digging blind and—”
Her hand slammed into his face, cutting off his words and sending him flying back into the wall.
Three-sixteen was lucky to not break his neck from the impact, but it was going to hurt in the morning. His hands were a mess and now his face was too. He couldn't even tell what was blood and what was sweat anymore.
He glanced around the tunnel. Everyone was staring at him. Some were looking at him with pity, others with hatred and disgust.
Zel'air laughed so hard that she snorted and tears flowed down her cheeks.
When she finally regained her composure she wiped away the tears and looked at Three-sixteen with a wide grin.
He forced himself to stand. Trembling, but defiantly stubborn, Three-sixteen looked her in the eye. He wouldn’t cower or give in like he had in the mines. He didn’t care how easily she could kill him; he was right and he knew that she knew it.
Her smile faded. Her gaze hardened, and she hunched forward like a predator stalking through tall grass. She took a step towards him, then another, each step bringing her closer to him as her anger flared into white flames around her fists.
Three-sixteen thought that even his current condition, he could probably slip past her and escape down the tunnel, but he didn’t have a way out yet and he knew she’d catch up eventually. If he was going to die here, then so be it. He made his peace and closed his eyes, waiting for Zel’air to strike.
He felt the heat of her fire and he knew she was close. He heard the sound of flames crackling, felt her foul breath on his face as she huffed.
He waited for a moment, then another, but still no blow came.
He opened his eyes. Zel'air was standing over him, her eyes wide with rage. Her teeth were clenched and her hands were balled into tight fists at her sides. Laying upside down atop her head, he saw a small black cat with red eyes. The same cat he saw in Ashil. It pawed playfully at the air as it wiggled and twisted, but Zel’air seemed completely unaware.
Her expression softened. She stepped back and opened her hands, extinguishing her flames.
The cat sat up, looking down at Three-sixteen.
He stared back.
Zel'air took another step back, then another. With a heavy sigh, she said, “Tomorrow, we will see if you are right.”
Three-sixteen nodded.
With a quick snap of her fingers, Zel'air activated the teleport circle and everyone went through one by one. No one spoke to Three-sixteen, but each of them kept looking at him until it was their turn to go through. Some even paused to look back at him before going through the portal.
Three-sixteen was the last to pass through.
When he emerged on the other side, he found Zel’dir conversing with Bones. The sickly looking man smiled as his eyes met Three-sixteen’s and he wrapped up whatever conversation he’d been having.
The other workers were already gone, either to a cell, or possibly some other accommodation. Slaves or not, he thought it likely that a few of them had better arrangements, some of them definitely had better clothes; he wasn’t quite sure what that meant yet, but he would find out soon enough.
As Bones approached Three-sixteen glanced over his shoulder to the portal. It was still active, but Zel’air had not stepped through.
“Why are you so eager to go back to work? Does my smile frighten you that much?”
It didn’t, though it was unsightly. “I was just…” Three-sixteen stopped himself. It might raise suspicions if he told the truth, so he lied. “…teleporting like this, it requires huge amounts or magic right? We never did this in the mines, not even to harvest a crystal heart.”
Bones clicked his tongue as eyes squeezed almost shut and his lips pursed with disgust. He worked his jaw momentarily as if trying to work something out of his teeth, then he spat on the ground in front of Three-sixteen. “I see you didn’t learn much from my lesson. So I’ll remind you that this place is not your mine. Here you have no authority or right to question what we do, you only need to do as you are asked.”
Three-sixteen thought that was the complete opposite of what he’d said earlier. He didn't say anything about it though, he just nodded.
Bones laughed. It was a strange sound, like metal grinding on stone, but lighter and less rough. After a moment, the man motioned for Three-sixteen to follow.
Three-sixteen did as instructed.
They walked in silence through the store room, up the stairwell and down the hall.
“So you’re my escort back to my cell?” Three-sixteen asked.
Bones chortled, or maybe he coughed. It was difficult to say for sure. He didn’t answer, but they didn’t turn into the cell block. Instead they took a different path. Bones led Three-sixteen back to the same room they’d first spoken in.
It was empty, but darker than Three-sixteen remembered. Especially in the corners, shadows seemed impossibly deep; it was unsettling.
Bones took the chair on the right this time, motioning for Three-sixteen to take the other. He didn’t. And the old fossil rattled with amusement. “You truly believe you have some sort of choice, some sort of…freedom?”
Three-sixteen shrugged. “Well, don’t I? You said it yourself, the path of freedom is making my own choices and facing the consequences of my actions, right? Or did I misunderstand? Was it your intent to suggest that obedience as a means of survival is the way we become free? Is that what you’re doing now, being obedient?”
Bones frowned.
His body ached from Zel’air’s punishment, but his wounds had healed and he wasn’t in the mood for more games and twisted lectures. If they wanted him to dig, he would dig, but only until he knew how to escape. If they wanted to try an convert him to whatever this Raven King nonsense was, then they could try, but he wasn't interested.
He was free.
He didn’t care if they thought they could bully him, beat him, or control him. He was done being afraid and he was being a captive. Three-sixteen was determined that he would live and die on his own terms and not the whim of some powerfulsadist.
Bones leaned back, crossing his legs and resting his chin on his hand. He hummed lightly, the sound was like nails on glass. When he finally spoke, his voice was light and calm, though it had a hint of something else—something sinister. “You repeat my words, but you do not understand them. You cannot because you have never truly been alive. You’re just—”
“Then why am I here now? Why haven’t you killed me for my defiance? I may be a number, but I’m as valuable to you as I was to the Lord who locked me in the mines. As long as you can keep me digging, you reap the benefits.” Three-sixteen thought maybe he’d gone to far, but he wasn’t ready to stop. “The mines are a prison, so why is this place any different? You keep slaves, we dig. If I escape, will they not just find another to take my place? Maybe you are a slave, maybe you are only here because the Raven King has some sort of hold over you. I wonder, when you die who will be the new bones?”
Bones entire body tensed. His eyes narrowed as his jaw tightened and his breathing became rapid and shallow.
Three-sixteen knew he should stop, but he couldn't. His mouth moved, his voice continued, as if there were some strange force taking control of his body and using him to speak. “I will dig, for now. And when I chose to stop you’ll wish you could find someone else to do what I do. I have nothing else to say to you, so speak if you must, but please return me to my cell with haste. I have much work to do tomorrow and I intend to get a good rest beforehand.”
Bones stood. His movement was so fast that Three-sixteen hardly registered his motion until the man was already behind him. He placed his hands on Three-sixteen's shoulders and squeezed. The pressure was intense, Three-sixteen thought the man might break his bones.
Three-sixteen cried out and fell to his knees.
Bones squeezed harder, until a loud pop rang through Three-sixteen's ears and intense pain shot through his body.
Three-sixteen screamed, his right arm falling limp.
“Forget your place again, and I will show no mercy in how I handle you, boy.” Bones grating voice burrowed into Three-sixteen’s ear as he applied more pressure to the broken collar bone.
Three-sixteen felt his breath like ice in his chest as he tried to cry out again. He bit his lip, tears streaming down his face as he felt the bone break further, threatening to pierce his shoulder.
He was on the verge of blacking out, but before he did, the pressure released.
Bones stepped back to the seat and motioned to the open chair again. “Sit.”
Three-sixteen struggled to stand, his right arm hanging limp at his side. His left hand holding his shoulder, he shuffled over and sat down.
Bones smiled. “You will never know freedom, because you are as frail and delicate as a blade of grass. If I wish to rip you apart, I can do so. If I wish to stomp you flat, I can and I’ll do it without a thought. You may think that you are worth something, but you are, and only ever will be, a number.”