“Lights.” a hoarse voice called out from the bunk, instantly bringing the room to full brightness. The man sat up and placed his bare feet on the floor, blinking as his eyes adjusted from the dark. He was older, perhaps fifty or sixty, although the labor camps aged men differently so it was hard to say. He shared several facial features with the younger man standing in his cell, although his hair and beard were grown long and gone gray, his eyes a darker tone of that same color. He stood from the bunk, bones audibly creaking with the effort, more so than a body aged even how he appeared should. Looking Nilo over, he did something one wouldn’t expect in a place like this, the old man smiled. Subdued and cautious, but still a genuine smile. “I’m Trotter,” he said, extending his hand to Nilo. At that moment, as the door behind him closed, something in the expression and manner of the young man changed just slightly, a piece of the Nilo character chased away until it was needed again. Trotter noticed the change and tilted his head in curiosity, the young man before him seemed to stand fiercely proud and determined, not imprisoned but here for a purpose. It was true that Nilo had a purpose, and a plan to execute it, which was now at a vital moment, an action everything else depended on. In a flash, the younger man leaped towards Trotter, diving right past him, under the still outstretched hand, and to the toilet where he promptly vomited.
Trotter stood there for a moment, dumbstruck and mouth agape, his hand still out in the empty air in front of him. He turned towards Nilo, who was still retching on his knees, and laughed, shaking away the delusion he thought he had seen in the young man. “That’s the air, don’t worry you’ll get used to it,” Trotter said with a chuckle, beginning to settle back down into his bunk. Nilo was still kneeling over the toilet bowl, eyes quickly catching a small package among the vomitus. It had been painful to swallow in the last moments before the transport landed, even more so coming back up, but at least it was there. While reaching up to wipe the spittle from his mouth, Nilo fished out the package with a deft movement. If he was Nilo the drug dealer, one would expect the package to contain some pills, either to provide personal comfort or a few credits during his time here, but instead, a tiny device could be seen through the plastic cover. “I don’t know how one could ever get used to the smell of rotting eggs and hardly finding a breath,” Nilo replied, his first words in some time, while squeezing the device between his fingertips, causing a light on its surface to begin to blink red. Trotter laughed again, “You can trust me on it, I’ve been here nearly twelve years now, amazing what a man can get used to in that time…” he says, the chuckle turning a bit darker with his thoughts.
As Trotter spoke, the blinking red light on the device turned solid, indicating it was now fully active. Nilo then removed it from the wrapping, flushing the plastic down with the sparse contents his stomach had held. The young man took a careful glance behind him to make sure they weren’t being closely watched through the door before turning towards Trotter, the device held in his hand. “We need to talk.” Nilo stated simply, his tone direct “And don’t worry, our conversation won’t be overheard.”
Trotter looked up from his seated position, eyes moving between the hard expression on his new companion’s face and the small bit of unrecognizable tech he held in his hand. After so much time imprisoned in this hell, the older man had thought he’d left the concept of fear far behind him, but the feelings bubbling up from within him at this moment were close. “Who are you?” he asked, an understandable first question, but one completely unimportant, “What are you doing here?” he added, an inquiry with a bit more merit. “At this time, I’m Nilo.” the young man replied, “And I’m here to kill someone.” Trotter visibly tensed and gripped the sides of the bunk harder at those last words. Noticing this, Nilo closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. “I’m not here to kill you, but I do need your help and especially your silence,” he spoke, but the old man still didn’t relax. “I’m not going to lie to you, it will be difficult. More than likely we will fail and that will mean our deaths, but if we are successful, I’ll give you freedom. Also know that what I ask, I ask in the name of Pola.” Hearing the name of his homeworld elicited a blink from Trotter, the man’s mind trying to process all the meaning contained in the few words his cellmate had spoken so far. He looked towards the door, the simple fact that guards hadn’t burst through it with rifles and stunbatons an indication that the young man wasn’t lying about their conversation being shielded somehow. With a deep sigh, Trotter motioned for the man to sit at the desk across from him, allowing his curious nature to take over, a trait still present within him after years of prison-forced hibernation.
As Nilo sat, he was keenly aware that this was the most dangerous situation that he had put himself in for all the years he had been seeking his revenge. Not simply because he’d gotten himself locked in a prison colony at the edge of the galaxy, but because he now had to trust and endanger another to fulfill his goal. In the eight years since he had murdered the Black Maria’s captain in his apartment, the woman listed in the personal files Nilo stole as First Mate had always been a target he sought. Opportunities to act on this desire away from the prison were rare though, never feasible, before drying up completely in the past few years, leaving him no choice but to bring the hunt to her home. This was not done without thought, however, as Nilo had spent the better part of a year focused on the planning, three months alone spent constructing the device held in his hand from secret plans hacked from Collective military R&D, a device which was the subject of Trotter’s next question. It was a repeater of sorts, similar to the one the young man had used in the past, but miniaturized and much more powerful. Instead of just blocking and broadcasting simple vitals and location information, this model also intercepted audio and video signals from the cameras Nilo was certain was hidden within the room, processing data like vocal patterns and mannerisms through an algorithm to produce completely believable, and yet entirely false, replacement signals. Any guards viewing the feed from their cell at this moment would have seen a bored Nilo drumming his fingers on the table he sat at while Trotter droned on at length regarding the ins and outs of prison life, his voice unmistakable to anyone who had met him. Even Nilo had been impressed with the ingenuity of the device as well as amazed with the lengths the powerful took to hide from the surveillance state they themselves had created.
Trotter next asked about Pola. He certainly could see the features of those native to his planet within Nilo and likely was hoping for some sort of information to spark the long-faded memories of home in his mind as he was the only Polaren he knew of at the camp. Nilo had to disappoint him, however, as he had never visited the planet for himself, so rather than some grand patriotic narrative, the young man told Trotter the truth, or at least the sparsest details of it he could manage. His parents had been natives of Pola until they were forced to leave, later to be rounded up for bounty, and now dead. Trotter questioned if Nilo knew for certain if they had died, after all, if he survived this long in a labor camp, so might they have. The young man replied coldly that he knew and had seen the records himself. He didn’t give the details of their death, the ones he had hacked into his first week at the academy on Sevas, including the video file he had only had the stomach to watch once, but still saw frequently in one of his many nightmares. His parents were dead and the person he was here to kill had responsibility.
“Who are you here to kill? Is it one of the prisoners? I know those bounty men were criminals in everything but name and many wound up in places like this when the legal bounties dried up.” Trotter asked somewhat hopefully, as killing a fellow inmate would be rather simple compared to the other available option. Nilo shook his head in response, double checking the repeater was still active before speaking, “Bales.” he stated without emotion. Trotter was taken aback slightly. He knew that Bales was hard as nails and he had heard a horror story or two about what she did to a few prisoners who deserved it, but still, she carried herself like a soldier, not a bloodthirsty pirate. Trotter opened his mouth to speak when he was interrupted by the buzz of an alarm and the lights in their cell flashing. It was thirty minutes until their shift, just time to get a meal and get down to the mines. Nilo turned towards the door and then back to Trotter, nodding his understanding. He then pressed the device in his hand several times, three quick and three long, the pattern to deactivate it. He then placed the device securely in his shoe, obviously intending to take it with them to the mines, a wise choice given that the cells could be turned over at any time. Once ready, they walked out together, Trotter steeling himself for a day he knew would be longer than most.
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After a tasteless meal, one of two they would be given that day, Nilo, Trotter, and the other eight men in their detail formed a loose block and began to walk towards the center building of the complex, following their trustee foreman Fic, an oaf who didn’t get the position through hard work or intelligence. Merging with a few dozen groups like their own, Nilo’s detail passed through the huge open doors of the central building. Past the doors was an open space, large data screens displaying the mine sections to be worked by the groups and racks of mining equipment, including minijacks, and headlamps. A lot of the equipment would make useful weapons, but the prisoners would only be able to kill each other with them since the only guards were once again on catwalks above them, and also the victory would be short-lived given the half dozen auto guns watching their every move. At the head of the group, Fic scanned a monitor above them, looking for their assignment. “Damnit! We’re on the new vein. Lift seven.” the man grumbled, upset that even though he wouldn’t be doing any of the work, the assignment meant 12 hours deep below the surface, in the most cramped tunnels that hadn’t been fully dug out yet. Fic much preferred to stay up here on the surface, watching the massive conveyor belts bringing up the ore while the laborers broke up the larger chunks of rock. There was no delaying the inevitable, however, all Fic could do was silently curse the computers that automated the assignments. “Get the gear and let’s get moving.”
Nilo’s detail rode lift seven down with a few other groups, although while the others exited, their ride didn’t end until they reached the deepest section of the mine. The rough tunnels ahead of them were entirely quiet, with only an occasional drip of moisture to be heard. Fic cursed a few more times before holding up an infopad guiding them to their assignment. Four dots appeared down the shaft, three on the left and one on the right, marking the sections that needed to be worked. The shaft itself was new and seemed to have barely been worked, the section on the right, in particular, seemed to be little but a natural crack in the rock, not even lighting had been put in there yet, the type of job that no man would volunteer for. Fortunately, Fic had no intention of asking for a volunteer in the first place. “Geezer!” Fic called out, stomping his way to the back of the group where Trotter and Nilo stood. “This is your spot, take the new meat with you. If you cave it in, be sure to only kill yourselves otherwise I’ll do it for you.” he sneered, disappointed when neither man cowered from his threat.
Trotter and Nilo switched on their headlamps and made their way down the tunnel, one that seemed to be a natural part of the cave system rather than cut from the stone, before reaching their assigned area. Here, a small cavern had opened up, water meandering its way down the contours of the rock wall in small, steady streams from a large crack in the ceiling. The men put down their equipment and Nilo held up a finger for silence while reaching into his shoe and pulling out the repeater. He activated the small device and placed it on his tracking band, with the device connecting itself to the band by some means. Nilo then made his way over to his autojack and began fiddling with the controls.
“So, I guess we’re free to talk now right?” Trotter asked, watching the young man warily. “Maybe you can tell me what type of plan you have? We’ve got nothing but time down here.” Nilo looked up at the older man, an unexpected small smile on his lips, one that suggested trouble to Trotter. “I’m sorry, but that’s not exactly true,” Nilo replied, using an extra autojack chisel to pry open an access panel on his machine. “The plan is happening now.”
“Now? Well, I hate to break it to you, but the lifts won’t move again until our shift is finished and I doubt Bales is going to be coming down to check out the sights any time soon.” Trotter said with a slight chuckle, beginning to wonder if his young companion was just insane. At this point, Nilo was pulling apart some wires inside the autojack’s control box, then twisting some together with a spark, taking a moment to inspect it before setting it carefully on the rock floor. “I’m not going to be taking the lift,” he said as he stood, the light of his headlamp casting its beam up the crack in the rock above them. Trotter followed his gaze and realized the meaning, now certain the man was insane. “You’re going to climb?!?” he asked incredulously “That’s impossible! Even if that crack led up to the surface somewhere, it would take you days and who knows where you’d come out.”
“It does go to the surface and I should be up there in about seven hours by my calculation, in a rocky outcropping a half-click from the main building,” Nilo replied, pulling down his work gloves tightly over his hands. “Well alright that’s fine for you, but there’s no damn way I’m going up there with you. Couldn’t make it even if I wanted to. So what exactly am I supposed to do down here? Sit around with my thumb up my ass?” Trotter said, doing his best to keep his voice down, but his tone was still incredulous.
“No. You are going to dig out the wall, right here.” Nilo replied, pointing to a section in front of them. “About a meter down, it’s going to open up into an underground basin, just punch a decent-sized hole into the rock. At 06:00, your tracking band is going to buzz, that’ll be the signal to take my autojack, turn it on and toss it in the hole.” Nilo paused and took a deep breath, meeting the old man’s eyes. “Then get the hell out of here and take everyone with you. There’s going to be a cave-in, the entire mine.”
Trotter blinked twice, slow to comprehend the words Nilo had just spoken. “The entire mine? The whole damn thing is going to come down?” he asked, placing his hand on the rock behind him for support. “And you expect me to bring it down on my own head? You are crazy.” Nilo looked down and shook his head, “No, the chain reaction will take at least fifteen to twenty minutes, enough time to hit the alarms and get out. The mines are collapsing anyway, they know it, I saw the reports myself, but the Collective wants to squeeze every drop out first before it goes and I doubt they’ll be giving you a schedule of when it’ll happen either. I’m sorry to be asking this of you.” the young man replied, a hint of anxiety in his voice. He’d expected resistance, but at this point, there was no turning back.
Trotter took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, his brain forced into more thoughts than it had in over a decade in prison. What Nilo was saying made sense and, after almost twenty years in this hellhole, Trotter realized he didn’t have that much to lose. “You said if I helped you, then I could be free,” he stated, taking a step toward the young man. “Yes.” Nilo replied, “After the cave-in starts, you’ll need to get to the roof of the center building. The autoguns and the security systems should be disabled, but besides that, you’ll be on your own. Get up there though and you’ll find your escape. Hopefully, we both will.” With that, Nilo reached out his arm, his palm turned upward. Trotter understood the gesture and gripped the young man’s forearm while he did the same to his, a Pola sign of agreement and trust.
“Oh and one more thing. Once you get up to the surface, make sure you’re wearing these” Nilo said, taking a pair of ear protectors from their gear and tossing it to Trotter, who didn’t bother to ask why. With that, Nilo began to scale up the cavern wall, making his way to and through the crack with a practiced ease. Trotter watched him go, his headlamp beam following as far as it could until the young man had vanished completely up the shaft. Taking up his autojack, Trotter laughed and began to get to work on the rock wall, whistling as he went, a man fairly certain he was going to die today, but somehow more alive than he had been in years.