by Dayton Ward
“I distinctly remember seeing the clause about rest breaks in my contract when I signed on for this job,” Elliot said as she stood up. “I think they’re shortchanging us.”
* * *
By midafternoon, the temperature in the tunnels had risen to the point that sweat poured from the faces and bodies of the hundreds of prisoners working in this section of the mine. The fact that the region’s hot season was still weeks away was not lost on any of the workers. Even underground, soaring temperatures combined with oppressive humidity would soon create a stifling atmosphere where heat-related injuries would become commonplace.
The prisoners also knew that steps would be taken to preserve their health. With dilithium production a high priority regardless of the time of year, Korax would allow increased water rations for the workers. He would also authorize the activation of the mine’s air-circulation system, which, while beneficial to the workers toiling hundreds of meters below the planet’s surface, was costly in the amount of energy it required from the compound’s power generators. Though it was somewhat efficient when it had first been installed, the ventilation system’s power and flow regulators could no longer keep pace with the mine, which had grown far faster than originally envisioned.
The mining shaft echoed with the sounds of laser drills boring into the dense rock of the tunnel, as well as pick axes and other tools breaking larger boulders into smaller sizes that could then be loaded onto carts and removed from the work area. The operation was a fluid one, its efficiency having been perfected over years of practice. Indeed, the mine’s production quota had been a source of pride for Korax since his arrival at the prison. His appreciation for the prisoners’ output came in many forms, most notably in the food rations they received and in the camp commander’s policies regarding the guards’ treatment of the inmates. So long as the prisoners worked hard and made no trouble, Korax was content to treat them fairly. It was a symbiotic relationship that all parties had come to accept.
Working alongside Lieutenant Sinak, Sydney Elliot deactivated her laser drill and lowered its still-glowing muzzle to the ground. She lifted her protective visor and wiped a gloved hand across her sweat-drenched face. Appraising the piles of rock she had created, Elliot nodded in satisfaction.
The tunnel she and her fellow prisoners had been working in during the previous month had been widened into a larger cavern after geological surveyors had determined that a sizable dilithium deposit had been tapped. As was standard practice now, the prisoners would continue to work here, widening the underground chamber and extracting the precious mineral until the cache ran dry. Afterward, the work detail would cut another tunnel and begin the process anew.
Elliot set her laser drill on the dusty rock floor of the cavern. Reaching behind her, she retrieved the canteen attached to the belt she wore over her coveralls, only to discover that it was almost empty. Finding water wasn’t a problem, though. She simply had to ask a guard for permission to fill her canteen from the water drums staged near a connecting tunnel at the rear of the cavern.
Turning away from the wall to look for a guard, Elliot’s blood ran cold as she caught sight of Khulr.
The head guard hadn’t seen her and Elliot quickly turned away, lowering her visor back into place. The protective gear, along with the layers of dirt and grime caked to her clothing and skin, made her indistinguishable from the other prisoners working in the cavern.
“Damn,” she said in a low voice, unheard by anyone else save for Sinak, who was working to her left. The Vulcan deactivated his own drill and lifted his visor.
“Sydney?” he prompted. “Are you experiencing difficulty?”
Elliot held up her canteen. “I’m out of water, but it’s not worth bringing Khulr down on me.” She had managed to avoid attracting the guard’s attention, and his wrath, since being released from punitive isolation the previous day. It was only a matter of time before she did something, however inconsequential it might be, that the Klingon could use against her.
Sinak reached for his own canteen and handed it to her, exchanging it for her empty one. “Perhaps it would be more prudent for me to retrieve the water.” Through her visor he could see Elliot smile gratefully. The Vulcan nodded, understanding that his friend’s strong personality and sense of pride chafed at the notion of needing assistance to perform a task as basic as obtaining water. Sinak thought nothing of it, mindful of Khulr’s peculiar, almost sadistic obsession with antagonizing the young security officer. Breaking her seemingly indomitable spirit had become a hobby for the Klingon, with Sinak and the other Gagarin crew members constantly working to protect her.
The ongoing battle of wills had not been kind to Elliot, either. Garrovick had confided to the rest of them about her bouts with insomnia as well as the nights she had awakened screaming, her subconscious in the grips of a violent nightmare. All of them believed that Elliot’s mental condition was deteriorating, despite the courageous front she continued to project and the fact that she had not allowed her work output to be affected.
Acting on this, Sinak had endeavored to impart to Elliot a series of basic mental exercises designed to focus the mind and relieve any turmoil she was experiencing from the constant stress. She had accepted the assistance, grudgingly at first but later with greater enthusiasm. The exercises had worked for a time, but Garrovick soon reported that Elliot had given them up, preferring instead to channel her anxiety into anger and direct it at the defenseless rock of the mining tunnels. Though her output had increased and still continued at a high level, none of her friends were taken in by the ruse. Elliot might be handling her personal demons for now, but how long could she keep it up?
Sinak set off toward Khulr and the water drums. As he moved away, Elliot retrieved her laser drill and, taking aim at a crack in the wall before her, activated the unit. Intense red energy erupted from the drill as the beam bored into the dense rock, widening the tiny crevice. Once again she heard the almost comforting sound of disintegrating rock over the high-pitched whine of the drill.
Then the rumbling got louder.
If she’d still had hair on the back of her neck, Elliot knew it would have stood straight up.
“What the hell . . . ?”
Her instincts screamed at her, telling her that something else was wrong. She deactivated her drill as the sound of the rumbling continued to increase, and that’s when she felt the first vibrations in the soles of her feet. They had started out gently but she could already sense their intensity beginning to increase. Looking around, Elliot saw that other prisoners had stopped their digging and were turning in reaction to the growing cacophony. Everyone in the massive underground chamber knew what the sounds meant.
Chapter Fourteen
EARTHQUAKES HAD BEEN an infrequent but not unknown occurrence on this world. The last one was a minor tremble that had happened almost two years ago. Elliot had been working in the mines on that day and she remembered the tremors that had shaken the entire tunnel, with the prisoners and guards helpless to do anything except dive for cover and pray. This quake was a lot worse.
“Watch out!”
Elliot didn’t know where the warning had come from and didn’t care. All she knew was that within an underground cavern, such a danger cry could only mean one thing.
Cave-in!
She sensed rather than saw the first rocks falling from the ceiling, which had been expanded by the mining operation to at least a dozen meters over the heads of the workers. All along the wall, prisoners working from crudely cut ledges scrambled for any cover they could find as chunks of overhead rock began to break away.
Elliot herself dove into the area she had carved out of the wall during her morning’s work, the opening more than large enough to hold her compact form. Now protected from falling debris, she could watch as pieces of rock, varying from the size of a fist to that of one of the mining carts, rained down from the ceiling. Those caught without some form of cover were at the mercy of the cavern. Elliot
watched in horror as a particularly large piece of rock crashed down atop one prisoner, a Rigelian, crushing him under its massive weight.
She scanned the chamber, looking for her companions. In addition to Sinak, Garrovick and Ra Mhvlovi had been assigned to this work detail, but there was no way to make out any specific individual, prisoner or guard, through the thick clouds of dust.
Gradually, the rumblings of the earthquake began to subside. Still tucked safely inside the small crevice she had created, Elliot coughed and covered her face with her glove, trying to breathe in the dust-polluted air of the cavern. The thick dust had reduced visibility, though she could still make out the rock walls and the obscured figures moving about. Here and there, she saw beams of light cutting through the fog as guards found the portable lamps they carried on their own belts.
Elliot registered the cries of pain coming from people wounded during the quake. She had no idea whether those injured were prisoners, guards, or both. Falling rocks would not have been particular in that regard. Elliot wondered about her fellow crewmates. What about Sinak? He had been in the open when the quake had begun. He would have been among the most vulnerable to anything falling from the ceiling.
The dust had started to settle and visibility was beginning to improve. Elliot pulled herself from her protective alcove, pulling off her visor and gloves and opening the front of her coveralls in an attempt to cool her body.
“Sinak?” she called out. How far would he have gotten before the tremors had started? She guessed he was still somewhere close by, having turned and headed for the relative safety of the cavern walls when debris began to fall.
Then she heard his voice, calling out in reply. “ Sydney.” It was a weak response. “I am approximately ten meters in front of you.”
Following the sound of his voice, Elliot was able to pick Sinak out from the droves of other prisoners moving about the cavern. He lay on his back, with chunks of rock littered about his body. One piece, nearly the size of a large suitcase, rested partially on his left leg.
“Oh my god,” she breathed as she rushed to him. Placing a hand on his arm, she looked down at the rock and his leg pinned beneath it. “Is it broken?”
The Vulcan shook his head. “I do not think so. It did not fall directly on me, but rather rolled atop my leg as I fell. I was quite fortunate, given the circumstances.”
Elliot almost chuckled at the understatement. Moving down to where she could put her hands on the rock, she said, “Think we can move it? We only need to lift it a little bit to get your leg out.”
Sinak pulled himself to a sitting position. “I believe so.” He put his own hands under the jagged edge of the rock as Elliot set her legs and braced herself for the effort she would have to make. Were Sinak at his normal level of fitness, his Vulcan strength alone would have been more than enough to lift the rock. Unfortunately, their depleted condition made it necessary for both of them to work together.
They heaved upward, the rock lifted several centimeters away from Sinak’s leg, and he quickly extracted it. They let the rock fall back to the earth and Elliot moved to examine the Vulcan’s injury.
“It’s cut pretty bad,” she said, also noting the dirt that had worked its way into the open wound, mixing with the bright green hue of Sinak’s blood. “We should wash it out.” She reached for her canteen, only to discover it not hanging from her belt. She must have dropped it when the earthquake had started. A quick check revealed that Sinak’s canteen was nowhere to be found, either.
“No problem,” Elliot said. “I’ll fetch some and be right back.” Getting her bearings, she saw where the water drums still sat near the entrance to the small connecting tunnel. One of the six metallic containers had been crushed by an enormous rock, but the others looked to be undamaged.
As she moved toward the water tanks she looked around for Garrovick and Mhvlovi, but it was impossible to make out any particular individual. She called their names, but heard no response.
Five of the six water drums were still intact as she had first seen. She had no canteen to carry water, though, so the pouch it normally rested in would have to do. Stripping the belt from her waist, she grabbed the pouch and held it to the faucet on the nearest drum, her hand reaching out to turn the valve and allow the water to flow.
A hand closed over her mouth.
Shocked at the sudden movement, her body froze before she felt herself forced upright and then completely off her feet. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t even bite through the leather glove that covered the lower half of her face.
Her attacker moved quickly, possessing great strength as he carried her into the small tunnel behind the water drums. The passageway was only a few meters wide and not even as high, lit dimly with portable lamps hanging from the walls on metal pins.
“We only have a few minutes,” a voice hissed into her ear, and she immediately realized it was Khulr. “The quake sealed the main entrance to the tunnel. They are already digging us out, but it will take time. Not much, but enough for you and I to finish our business.”
The hand came away from her mouth and then Elliot was flying through the air, just barely able to throw out her arms for protection before she hit the ground. She struck the hard rock floor of the tunnel, only partially able to roll and absorb the impact as the air was forced from her lungs.
You’re out of practice, her mind scolded her.
Far slower than when she had been in prime fighting form, she regained her footing and assumed a defensive stance as she stared down her attacker.
Khulr, for his part, was grinning devilishly. “You want to fight,” he taunted. “That’s good. You’ve earned a bit of respect, Earther. Perhaps when I’m finished with you, I’ll let you die quickly.”
Elliot’s eyes scanned the cramped tunnel for anything she could use as a weapon. The only thing available was the stun baton in Khulr’s hand.
Okay, she thought, so that’s how it has to be.
“Quit talking, Klingon. You’re wasting time.”
Khulr charged, a move Elliot didn’t think he would be stupid enough to try despite her taunt. The baton in his right hand was raised high, his intention clear: this wasn’t about punishment. This was a fight to the death.
If he got close enough.
Seeing the charge for what it was, Elliot stepped forward and into the attack. Khulr’s aim was spoiled as she blocked the Klingon’s swing enough to allow her an opening. His momentum carried him nearly over Elliot’s shoulder as the security officer pivoted and twisted her body, spinning the guard off her hip and using the force of his own attack to throw him to the ground. He struck the hard floor heavily, face first.
Before Khulr could react, Elliot was on him again, this time lashing out with a vicious kick that connected with the Klingon’s hand and dislodged his baton. The weapon flew from his grasp toward the mouth of the tunnel.
Elliot moved to retrieve the baton when she felt the hand on her foot, tripping her up. She crashed to the ground again but this time was able to absorb the impact of the fall and regain her feet. She was already breathing hard, though, further evidence that her physical condition was nothing like it had once been.
She turned to face her attacker again, noting with satisfaction the streams of thick purplish-pink blood that flowed from the Klingon’s nostrils. His nose was bent to the left, broken by its encounter with the tunnel floor.
Khulr brought a hand to his face and wiped at his broken nose. Seeing the blood on his gloved fingers, his expression turned murderous, though he was still grinning madly. If his nose was causing him pain, he didn’t show it.
“Excellent, human. I didn’t think you capable of such a ferocious counterattack.”
Elliot knew the Klingon would kill her, now, if given the chance. There was no way he could allow her to live, could not risk her going back to tell anyone else of their personal combat and how she had bested him so easily in his opening attack.
It’s him or you, her mind s
creamed at her. So don’t let the bastard win.
This time, she didn’t wait for his attack. Instead she charged him, letting loose a war cry with ferocity born of years of captivity and harassment at the hands of this loathsome Klingon. If she was going to die, then she would die fighting.
Khulr tried to mimic her earlier move, stepping forward and into her charge. Unlike the guard, Elliot had anticipated such a response and adjusted her attack, feinting first one way and then another. She spun, planting her left foot and lashing out with her right, catching the Klingon in the stomach with all the force she could muster.
There was a gratifying grunt of pain, though the guard’s brute strength enabled him to keep going. As Elliot pulled back for another blow, Khulr’s arm darted out toward her head. She ducked and escaped the Klingon’s massive open hand, grateful for the first time since arriving at this prison for the lack of hair on her head. She spun away from the attack and lashed out again, her foot connecting this time with a muscled thigh.
Elliot was off-balance though and the kick was a weak one, inflicting little if any appreciable damage. More important, the attack had caused her to lose what little stability she’d had, and she fell to the ground.
She rolled to regain her footing but she wasn’t fast enough as Khulr fell across her body with his full weight, pinning her to the rock floor. Elliot lashed out with a free hand but missed the Klingon’s face. She tried again, but this time Khulr grabbed her arm and forced it to the ground behind her head, then struck out with his other hand.
Elliot’s vision blurred from the force of the blow before the nerves in her face registered the pain. She tasted blood, realizing that she had bitten the inside of her cheek. Then the pain was almost forgotten as Khulr leaned in close to her face, the foul odor of his hot breath filling her nostrils.
