Page 3 of Fated to the Dragon Alien
She wondered how he did it—how he walked these tunnels, saw the suffering, and still went to sleep in comfort during each sleep cycle. Did he hear them coughing in his head?
She didn’t hate him, exactly. But she hated whatever had turned him into just another part of the system. Like the overseer on Settlement 112-1. Like the raiders who’d abducted her, and even like the zealots from her settlement who worshipped the Axis, even as the Axis starved them.
It was too bad, really. The controller had a kind face.
Looks were deceiving, though, and the controller’s actions were not kind.
He looked down at the tool in her hand, then back to her. She swore his gaze lingered for a second longer than necessary. Cerani raised her chin, refusing to be intimidated.
“Your quota?” he asked.
“Ninety percent complete,” she replied.
He flicked his tablet, entering data from her box. Then he moved on. His footsteps faded into the tunnel, but the tension in Cerani’s shoulders didn’t.
Jorr leaned toward her once Stavian disappeared around the bend. “Never seen him check anyone individually.”
Cerani scraped her tool along the crystal vein, trying to pretend her hands were steady. “Maybe he thought I was stealing.”
“You’d be the last,” Jorr said. “You finish your quotas like you grew up mining.”
She didn’t answer. She hadn’t—mining was new, awful work. But her body thrived on this red, miserable moon. And now she was drawing the controller’s attention, which had never been good news for anyone here.
Her wrist panel blinked again with an alert—shift extension. She sighed and tapped it without thinking. She glanced toward Jorr’s panel. His didn’t ping.
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing.
“They’re making me work an extra half shift,” she said with a frown. “They extended my quota. Again.”
“You’re too efficient.” He shook his head. “You should slow down, or you’ll break down.”
Cerani didn’t think that was going to happen. She looked down at her crystal haul. Thin strands, good clarity. They were excellent as conduits in power systems, she’d heard, and as power sources themselves if the node was large and pure. These were nothing special, but still valuable. Yes—she was too efficient. Shift extensions had been happening more often lately.She wasn’t sure why, but if it meant miners like Jorr got a break, it was worth it.
Suddenly the ground beneath her feet trembled. Gently. But a small tremor could be a big problem in the mines. She froze. Jorr did too.
Another tremor ran through the floor, dropping dust from the tunnel’s ceiling.
“Collapse?” Jorr asked.
But Cerani wasn’t looking at him—she was watching her panel. Four emergency signals lit up in yellow. Not on their mining level, and not a collapse. Just one of the many tremors that made this mine unstable. Still, they were required to evacuate until the mine was cleared for reentry.
“Let’s move,” she said, already grabbing his arm.
He sighed. “Why do they bother? This place is so thick with radiation, we’re dead either way.”
“Out. Now.” Still, he had a point. Death by tunnel collapse was a lot faster and less painful than death by radiation. She’d seen both in her time here.
The miners shuffled to the lifts to be temporarily removed while mechs assessed any damage.
At the lift, the noise picked up again—boots, coughing, the soft clatter of tools hitting the collection bins. A few workers muttered, but no one fought the Axis’ order. Most were too tired. Too used to fear disguised as protocol.
Cerani held Jorr’s elbow to steady him as the metal gates clanked shut and the lift jerked upward. His shoulders slumped the moment he let go of the wall.
The air inside their suits tasted stale, like they’d cycled it one too many times.
When they reached the upper platform, guards were waiting with scanners. Medics, too—but not the kind that healed. Justthe kind that logged vitals and made reports. Cerani’s stomach twisted.
“Proceed to the barracks,” one mech said.
