Adrian sat in one of the many cold, metal seats, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. His gaze rested on the flag hanging there—the American flag, bold in its red, white, and blue glory. But this flag was different. Its stars mirrored those of the old Continental Flag, save for the massive four-pointed star in the center. That single star symbolized the United Systems of America’s dominance over the heavens, or so the propaganda said.
He shook his head and looked down, gripping the mining drill in his lap. The device was a brutal hybrid of a chainsaw and a beam projector, designed to cut through the toughest rock with a searing energy beam fueled by gasoline. It was overkill for most mining jobs, but it was essential for breaking down Arcanite—the rare, unyielding mineral that was the target of this mission.
Adrian sighed wearily, pulling a photograph from his pocket. It was of him, his young daughter Emilia, and his wife Jessica. He traced their faces with his thumb. It’s for them, he thought. Just do the job, finish the contract, and get back to New Mars with your family.
A voice broke his thoughts.
“Mr. Fischer?”
Adrian looked up to see a man standing before him—a tall, dark-skinned figure with a stubble beard and long dreads. Some of the dreads were electrical cords, though Adrian had no idea why.
“Yes, boss?” Adrian replied hesitantly.
The man extended a hand. “Name’s Carl. Longest-running member of this crew. Don’t worry, kid; this mission’ll be easy as hell. Just listen to my instructions, and you won’t get your ass mauled by the wildlife.” He chuckled, clearly enjoying himself.
Adrian smirked, shaking Carl’s hand. “I don’t think the wildlife would try to eat us. We probably smell too much like cigarettes.”
Carl let out a booming laugh, clapping Adrian on the shoulder. “Well, aren’t you a smartass! I like that. Mining’s tough work, though, and with these low-paying contracts—”
“Low?” Adrian interrupted, confused. “This could give my family a stable income.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Carl’s humor faded, replaced by a somber expression. He sighed deeply, scratching one of his corded dreads. “Kid... Mining contracts like ours? They’ve been paying less and less every year. You’re lucky it’s stable at all. The US is moving toward manufacturing and leaving mining behind. This gig? It’s barely worth it anymore.”
Adrian frowned but said nothing, the weight of Carl’s words settling in his chest.
Carl clapped him on the back again. “Enough talk. The rest of the crew’s outside. Let’s go meet ’em.”
Adrian followed Carl out of the ship, careful not to trip on the steep ramp. Outside, the compound was surrounded by high barbed-wire walls. The gates were guarded by US Marines, their rifles gleaming under the harsh artificial lights. Adrian tried not to look at them too long and kept pace with Carl.
They entered the compound’s bar, where quiet country music played from an old jukebox. The air was heavy with smoke and the sharp tang of cheap whiskey.
“Hey, crew,” Carl called out. “We got a freshie. Meet Adrian.”
A silence fell over the room as the miners turned to inspect him. Their faces were tired, their eyes cold and calculating.
“Huh, another poor sucker in this hellhole,” a woman finally said. She was short, with an average build, and her dark hair was tied into a tight bun. She took a swig from a whiskey bottle and let out a raspy chuckle. “Name’s Fumiko, from New Japan. That’s Harold,” she said, gesturing to a man with charred brown hair who wore a gas mask. “He’s got selective mutism. He’ll warm up to ya.”
Harold nodded silently, the mask giving him an unsettling presence. Adrian gave a polite nod back, though he couldn’t shake the unease he felt.
Fumiko approached, her dull green eyes meeting Carl’s with a smirk. “Wassup, bro?” she said, giving him a fist bump.
Carl grinned. “Wassup, samurai?”
Fumiko’s smirk turned into a playful scowl. “Call me that again, and I’ll break your arm.”
“Damn, my bad,” Carl laughed, but not before Fumiko twisted his arm hard enough to make him wince.
The rest of the crew chuckled as Carl regained his composure. He looked around the room. “All right, let’s do the contract and get that money!”
The miners gave a few muted cheers, their enthusiasm dampened by the weight of the job ahead.
They filed out of the bar and piled into a massive off-road SUV equipped for heavy-duty mining and transport. Carl took the driver’s seat, with Fumiko beside him. Adrian sat in the back with Harold and two other miners. Harold cradled a double-barrel shotgun, the weapon seemingly too heavy for his wiry frame but perfect for neutralizing threats.
As the SUV roared to life and Carl pressed the gas, Adrian stared out the window at the desolate landscape, his heart heavy with an unshakable sense of foreboding.
None of them knew what awaited them at the mining site... but their fates will be gruesomely sealed... they may never see their families again...