No public record exists that details the size and scope of the Sunless Land. It’s generally accepted that Magna Spelunca, The Great Cavern, is only one small corner of the subterranean environment. Within it, claiming less than half the cavern’s space, sits the city of Nox. The city is a living testament to the time and dedication invested by generations of citizens. Those brave explorers spent their lives chiseling out a civilization from the clutches of the depthless dark. But why had those generations chosen to settle here? What kept humanity from expanding beyond the boundaries of Magna Spelunca? Even now, after hundreds of cycles since its founding? The answer was one that every child learned in the first years of their Dormitory education. Resources.
Resources in the Sunless Land inevitably came down to the presence, or absence, of a single commodity. There was one one integral component of the organic nanites that served as the foundation for human life below the surface. Glimmerkriss. Since the scientific breakthrough that led to the creation of organic nanites, glimmerkriss had become humanity's most coveted natural resource. Beneath the surface, there wasn’t enough food to eat, water to drink, or air to breath. The only way to sustain human life was to supplement those necessities through the molecular manipulation. That manipulation was the primary purpose of the ONI system.
The legends of the founding claimed that less than seven hundred men, women, and children survived the exodus from the surface. After a long and grueling journey, the weary pilgrims arrived at winding river that flowed through a massive cavern. The stories claim that children were the first to find the sparkling crystals on the shore of the Lethe river. Upon showing off their treasure to the adults, Mephisto, who would go on to become the progenitor of the Administration caste and a member of the Eternal Council, recognized the minerals for the rare material that they were. Wasting no time, work began on the first mine the following day. Hundreds of cycles later, that event would come to be recognized by historians as the birth of Nox.
Rathaniel wondered, not for the first time, what it would have been like to be a part of the first crews searching for glimmerkriss. Unlike in the era of the founding, a sprawling network of winding tunnels and sheer vertical shafts now led into the bowels of Magna Spelunca. The first settlers wouldn’t have had the luxury of the modern equipment that was so vital to the industry today. In place of the steel pickaxes used by the original settlers, Rath and his crew were armed with hexacarbon tools honed to a monofilament edge. Where Rathaniel's hardy ancestors would have used simple wheelbarrows and pulleys to transport the excavated minerals back to the surface, he had access to trax vehicles and freight sized maglift elevators.
One of those very elevators whispered to a stop beneath Rathaniel’s feet. A moment later the chain link gate slid a open to let Rath and the three other members of his work crew depart. Grit like fine sand crunched and crackled beneath his heavy work boots as he stepped into a well lit tunnel. The fine dust created an eerie haze that refracted the dim glow of the coldlight orbs that were affixed to the ceiling above them.. Each shining lamp hung evenly spaced between the steel arches that reinforced the stone passageway. The walls of the tunnel were smooth as glass, a result of the monofilament tools that sheared through material on a molecular level.
Save for the crunch of their boots on the stone, silence cloaked the four men as they began their hike through the tunnel. With the floating dust and the dim light from above creating an alien landscape, Rathaniel’s thoughts turned to the warning about dweller incursions. Those thoughts lead his eyes toward the three men he would depend on if he found himself in the sort of life and death struggle that exemplified any encounter with the natives of Magna Spelunca.
Peter, the leader of their crew, was a short, stocky man. His dark hair was salted with hints of gray, making him one of the oldest citizens Rath had ever met. His heavy baritone voice had a grit like sandpaper when he spoke. When the gate opened, he glanced at the datapad in his hand before leading the way into the tunnel. The older man's casual confidence implied cycles worth of experience in the tunnels, an area the veteran miners called 'The Pit.'
Victor, like Rath, was tall enough to appear imposing when he stood next to the other two members of their team. Unlike Rathaniel, Victor was lean enough that his coveralls hung loosely from his narrow shoulders and spindly arms. While they rode the maglift down, he'd armed himself with one of the two monofilament mattocks in their supply crate. When he'd proclaimed that the kids should carry the baggage, contempt had stained his every syllable. The respirators they wore prevented Rathaniel from seeing the wiry man's face, but he could feel Victor's sneer by the condescending tone of his voice.
The baggage in question was the auger pack that they would deploy once they reached the dig site. Julius, the youngest of the crew, cast a timid gaze down to his feet before shuffling over to the pack. The young blonde was quiet and skittish, speaking only when spoken to. Recently graduated from the Dormitories, the short, lean man was several cycles younger than Rath. Despite Rath and Peter's attempt at reassuring him, Julius seemed overwhelmed by the mine’s foreboding atmosphere and Viktor’s callous intensity.
“Our assignment is down this tunnel,” Peter said, his voice muffled by the respirator he wore. The older laborer’s gruff, no nonsense voice spoke of a man who had spent countless cycles delving into the dark depths below Nox. “I’ll set the auger up and test the samples. Julius can help with the tripod. Victor is on overwatch with Rathaniel. I don’t expect any problems, but I know you three have heard about all the dweller incursions lately, so keep a sharp eye out. You see anything, anything at all, you drop your gear and scurry back to the maglift. There's nothing tastier to a dweller than a misguided hero.”
“Do you really think we’ll see any dwellers?,” Julius asked, his soprano voice so soft that Rath strained to hear him.
Victor’s derisive snort made Julius flinch. “You worry about getting that auger set up,” the lanky laborer said. “I’ll protect you kids from the big bad bugs. The old man can take care of himself. Altogether I’ve spent close to eleven cycles in the Pit and I’ve never seen a dweller in the tunnels. Not once.” Like Rath, Victor was tall enough to loom over the younger man as they strolled down the tunnel. “All that talk around the rim is just that. Talk.”
Victor continued, lecturing the two younger laborers like a Magister patiently correcting a couple of struggling students. “A bunch of guys got dim on bright moss and mushstein down here and started jumping at shadows. I’d bet a cohabitation license on it.”
Rath’s eyes narrowed skeptically, “Bright moss won’t grow down here because there’s no water supply. I guess you could carry a few pinches in with you but you’d never get down into the tunnels with a cask of mushstein. Not without someone stopping you. It’d be flickering crazy to even try.”
Victor barked a laugh that exploded down the empty tunnel like the roar of a demolition charge. “Can you believe this kid, old man?,” Victor said, scornful mirth dancing in each syllable he spoke. “You better hope they put you out to pasture soon because the whole city is going to crumble when it depends on kids like him. The mute is even worse.”
Resentment flashed in Rathaniel’s hazel eyes. The respirator prevented him from seeing the fine details of the other man’s expression, but Rath knew a taunt when he heard one. Before he could reply, Peter lifted his left hand in a calming gesture toward Rath while his right pointed a finger a Victor in an implied threat. The abrupt conflict brought Julius to a sudden stop. He was a split second away from bolting back toward the maglift If the white-knuckled grip the young man had on the straps of his pack was any indication.
“There’ll be none of that now. We’re down here for fifteen hours and I don’t intend to spend it playing Peace Keeper or patching you two up after a fight,” Peter said in a stern tone. “We’re going to do our job. Then we’re going to go home. Is everyone clear about that?”
The older man glanced from one side to the other, daring the two men to dispute him. A dozen searing retorts clambered onto the tip of Rath’s tongue, each one more blistering than the last. In that frozen moment Abigail’s voice intruded in his mind, urging him to do whatever he wanted. Mentally silencing her hedonistic voice, Rath clenched his jaw and swallowed his scathing retort. Not trusting himself to speak, Rath offered Peter a stiff nod of acceptance.
Though he was still muttering under his breath, Victor followed the other laborers once they began moving down the quiet tunnel. Perhaps it was the weight of the quiet stone that made Peter speak. Or, perhaps, it was a canny old man’s attempt at repairing bruised egos. Whatever the case, Peter's gruff voice split the silence like a pair of shears slicing through a funerary shroud.
“Victor didn’t have to be a jerk about it, but he wasn’t completely wrong either. Miners are a rough breed and a bit tribal, truth be told. They shuffle out of the Pit into other jobs, same as anybody else, but real miners find their way back by the next shuffle or two. By the end of the cycle, you look back and realize you spent three quarters of it digging in the dirt with the same sour-faced citizens.”
“So you start to turn your work into your home,” Peter continued, his raspy voice magnified by the bare tunnel walls. “See, it’s an open secret that there’s only one kind of person that gets assigned to the mines. The expendable kind. Oh sure, anybody can get shuffled down here once every two or three cycles. That’s the way Nox is. What you need to worry about is ending up here every other deca.” He cast a long, significant look toward Rathaniel before turning to confirm that Julius understood the gravity of that statement as well. All the while, Victor continued to casually follow the other laborers as if he were enjoying a walk through a verdant park on rec day.
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“There are some shiny truths down here that they don’t tell you about in school. For instance, the Dorms don’t teach you about the admins shuffling malcontents and misanthropes down into the pit,” Peter said, illustrating his point with a meaningful glance over his shoulder.
Rath was delighted at how uncomfortable Victor looked to be the teacher’s visual aid in this lesson. The wiry laborer lifted the covered mattock from his shoulder to shake the business end menacingly at the older man. Julius, still wary, scuttled toward the tunnel wall like a spider skittering away from a descending boot.
“I’ll give you the last shave you’ll ever need, gray beard. I’m down here to grow the glimmerkriss supply. That’s it. Don’t twist it up and confuse their little lizard brains.” Victor settled the mattock back on his shoulder but the implied threat hung heavily in the air. “What the old man is saying, in his slow, meandering way, is that the Pit looks after its own. If you’re a miner, a real miner, there are perks to the job. There’s caches all through the mines. Little hidden chambers dug into the tunnels where we keep a stock of booze, food, and moss. Books and tech too. Some of the stuff you can’t find anywhere else in Nox.”
“So when I say those dweller stories came from people that were drunk ” Victor spat, his gaze sweeping across the tunnel to settle on Rath. “You better believe that I know more about the Pit than some bat shit for brains kid.”
Peter spoke up then, his voice carefully neutral. “What he didn’t say is that there have been dweller incursions in the past. I know because I've seen one.” The older man ignored the expectant looks from the rest of the crew. Without breaking stride, Peter withdrew the datapad from his pocket to check the dig information.
A heartbeat later, Victor’s words cut through the air like a cold razor. “Ratshit. You’re a liar.”
“What was it like? How big was it? Were you scared?” Questions tumbled past Julius’ lips as he shuffled over to Peter’s side. For the first time, the youngest member of their crew seemed to be oblivious to Victor’s seething ire.
“The dig is only a few meters ahead,” Peter said, focusing on the datapad in his hand instead of the questions eing tossed his way. Rath watched the older man methodically measure his advance down the tunnel. Peter studiously referenced the datapad after each step until his heavy boots came to a stop beneath a nondescript arch. Rathaniel did some quick math and estimated that they were close to three kilometers from the maglift.
With a satisfied nod, the old miner motioned for Julius to join him before he began to speak. “Manifest says they struck a lode of glimmerkriss off the tunnel above. We’ll take six core samples then cross reference them with the material from the other tunnel. Soon as the datapad finishes crunching the numbers, we’ll know where to start swinging those mattocks.”
“We know how this works, old man. Less talking and more drilling. You could have had it set up by now,” Victor grumbled, adopting an indolent lean against the smooth stone of the nearby wall. “Hey, boot licker,” he continued, without even bothering to look Rath’s way. “I’ve got this side of the dig. You go down the tunnel and watch the other side.”
Beneath the heavy synthcloth gloves he wore, Rath’s knuckles turned white as his hand clenched around the haft of his mattock. “What did you call me?,” he said, his voice calm and suspiciously devoid of emotion.
The heavy pack Julius wore slipped through the young man’s suddenly lax grip. Julius was already stumbling backward when his head snapped up to give Rath a wide-eyed stare. The boom of the auger crashing onto the stone floor echoed down the passageway like the sound of a door being slammed shut. A slew of curses immediately followed as Peter scrambled toward the pack. Ignoring Peter, and the pack, Julius abandoned both in his haste to create distance between himself and the two men staring daggers at one another.
“I called you boot licker because you've spent the whole trip licking the old man's boot. You knew who I was talking to,” Victor said, enunciating each word with painstaking care. While he spoke, Victor lifted his mattock with practiced ease. One of his hands held the base of the haft and the other gripped the handle below the head of the mattock. “I could have called you tiny cock. That’d have been just as accurate. Isn’t that right, tiny cock?”
Unbridled disdain flickered in the depths of Rath’s hazel eyes as they swept over Victor. “It's ironic that the man who’s so quick to call other people ‘kids’ is the most childish person in the crew. Do you hear yourself talk? You sound like some of the older students in the Dorms that had to spend extra cycles in class before they could graduate.”
The way Victor recoiled from Rath’s words made him feel as if he’d struck a nerve. Unable to bottle up the boiling frustration inside himself, Rath let his words dig into the other man the same way the mattock on his shoulder would sink into solid stone. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’ve spent your whole life with a chip on your shoulder because some girl who was too good for you anyway.”
His wild guess caused the other man to flinch. The sight sent a surge of sadistic satisfaction tingling through him.Rath could hear Abigail’s laughter ringing in his ears but he couldn’t stop the words that erupted from his lips with the soul searing heat of molten rock. “She left you behind. Deep down, you know it’s not because she graduated first. It’s because you weren’t worth waiting for.”
The feral snarl of a cornered animal rang through the tunnel when Victor savagely unclasped the cover over the head of his mattock. The durable plastic fell to the floor, leaving the black hexacarbon tool naked beneath the pale glow of the coldlight above.
Victor brazenly spun the deadly implement in his hand before dropping into a fighting stance. With the mattock held diagonally across his chest. he aimed the wide, slightly curved blade pointed toward Rath. “That’s going to cost you an arm and an apology, tiny cock. If I don’t get both of those right now, it's going to cost you more than that before we’re through.”
The ONI around his wrist felt so hot that he glanced away from Victor’s advance to make sure it wasn’t melting off of his arm. Though the silver metal proved to be intact, Rath’s eyes widened in horror at the thin black wisps leaking from beneath the bracer. The shadowy tendrils were almost invisible in the dusty haze around them. But Rath had seen that writhing darkness before. It looked exactly like a small piece of the cloud that had haunted his dreams.
The mattock he held slipped from his numb fingers as he took a series of stumbling steps backwards until his back struck the smooth wall behind him. A wild, unhinged light glimmered in the depths of his pale eyes as he focused on his ONI. It took Rath a heartbeat to realize that there was nothing to see. Like a mirage being banished by careful scrutiny, the darkness leaking from his ONI seemed to fade into oblivion. Heedless of Victor’s eager advance, Rath began to inspect his bracer with manic desperation.
“Hey!,” Peter yelled, the sudden word sounding like the report of a rifle in the empty tunnel. Victor stumbled back, lowering the mattock before he turned toward the older man with a wordless growl. The shout drew Rath’s attention as well, his wide, terrified gaze snapping up from the ONI around his wrist to watch Peter step between the two tall laborers.
“You,” the grizzled veteran snarled, pointing curtly toward Victor. “Stand against that wall and watch the flickering tunnel.”
“You,” another impatient gesture, this time directed toward Rath, proceeded the old man’s order. “Grab your flickering mattock and plant yourself on the other side of the dig. Your job is to stand over there and watch for trouble until I tell you otherwise.”
“Did you see?,” Rath murmured, his voice brittle as cracked glass.
“I saw two idiots who have no business being down here in the Pit when adults like me, and Julius over there, are trying to do our job.” Any patience Peter had with the two men had obviously been exhausted. The shorter man glared at each of the laborers as he crossed his arms and began tapping the toe of his boot against the dusty floor. “Well? What are you flickering fools waiting on? Get to your positions so we can get this job done and I can get away from you two idiots.”
Rath took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak only to feel the words shrivel up and die beneath Peter’s withering gaze. After a deep, calming breath, he could only offer a grudging nod of acceptance. Rath knew that Peter was right. He wasn’t sure what came over him in the heat of the moment when he’d confronted Victor. A petty part of his consciousness wanted to blame the entire ordeal on Abigail. He was responsible for his loss of control, no matter how disconcertingly clear her laughter had been when he’d given himself over to his rage.
He was still considering the role his malfunctioning ONI may have played in the encounter when Peter spoke in an exasperated voice. “Any day now, Rathaniel.”
The respirator Rath wore hid the startled expression that flashed across his face. Forcing himself to move, he bent down and scooped up his mattock. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Victor had buckled the cover of his mattock back into place. The sight eased a bit of the tension still tingling through the tunnel. At least the resident jerk was smart enough to cover the monofilament blade that could slice someone in two.
“Julius,” Rath began as he stepped toward the young man who clutched the auger pack tightly to his chest. At the sound of Rath’s voice, Julius looked down at the dusty floor and backed away from the approaching man.
A frown tugged at the corner of Rath’s lips as he fell silent again. Without another word he stepped past Julius and moved another ten meters down the tunnel. Maybe it was for the best that everyone spread out and focused on their jobs. It would give everyone a chance to cool their tempers and invest their energy into something more constructive than needling each other.
Wrapped in sudden solitude, with his back to the rest of the crew, a sigh slipped from Rath’s lips. While he listened to the sounds of Peter coaching Julius on the assembly of the auger unit, Rath lowered his mattock until its hexacarbon head rested upon the tunnel floor. With a tentative touch, he let the index finger of his left hand drag against the seamless band of his ONI.
One question after another floated through his mind like the dust drifting through the air around him. At least down here, with no Peace Keepers or strident analysts, he had some time to himself to figure out the answer to those lingering questions. He could use the hours in the depthless dark to sort through his feelings about mysteries he’d been confronted with.
Rathaniel actually found the thought of spending a day in the tunnels relaxing compared to what he’d been swept up in on the streets of Nox. It would be a nice change of pace to spend a few hours on a simple work assignment instead of wrestling with world shattering revelations.
Afterall, Rath was on a simple job with an average crew. What could possibly go wrong?