A/N: Double Chapter cuz I want you guys end your week with this chapter. :)
~SmilinKujo
The concert was nearing its absolute peak, and the hundreds of thousands of miners packed into the terraced walls of the pit were enjoying themselves like never before. The sheer, unbridled energy radiating from the crowd was a physical force, bouncing off the rocky walls of the crater.
Down in the backstage cargo hauler, Ratik felt the metal floor plates vibrate beneath her boots. The ground was literally shifting from the hype of the audience. A sudden, terrible premonition crept up her spine.
CLACK. Instantly, the massive stage lights, the holographic projectors, and the atmospheric stereo speaker all died. The main electricity power supply had completely cut off.
In a fraction of a second, the colossal mining pit was swallowed in pitch-black darkness, illuminated only by the constellation of white helmet lamps worn by the miners.
"FUCK!" Ratik screamed, her professional composure finally breaking. She immediately grabbed her comms radio, aggressively deploying the engineering staff to sprint toward the heavy-duty backup generators. "I want auxiliary power online in ninety seconds! Move!"
Up on the darkened stage, Percival was left standing in an incredibly awkward position. The soaring orchestral track had vanished into thin air, leaving him stranded in front of half a million people in total silence.
He let out a long, heavy sigh.
"Haaaa..."
The sound boomed out of the towering speaker arrays, echoing loudly across the crater.
Dorian blinked beneath his mask. 'Oh, so the microphone is still on,' he thought.
From the shadowy wing of the stage, Raja briefly flashed a small penlight. The PR manager tapped his own throat and pointed at the microphone, silently signing that the main audio feed was running on an independent battery, but absolutely nothing else was working for now.
Percival looked up at the spiraling walls of the pit. The audience of miners was still buzzing with leftover adrenaline and happiness, but they were starting to murmur, not knowing exactly what to do in the sudden dark.
Percival raised the microphone, trying to keep the atmosphere relaxed. "Well... it seems we've blown a fuse down here. Everyone just stay calm and stay where you are, alright?"
From the third terrace up, a burly miner with a thick beard shouted down, his voice carrying perfectly in the crater's natural acoustics. "Don't worry about us! We are used to the dark down here!"
Another miner from the opposite side immediately yelled out, "Yeah! How about you, city boy?!"
A massive, echoing round of rough, good-natured laughter rippled through the hundreds of thousands of workers.
Percival couldn't help but smile. He knew miners perfectly. They were thick-skinned and absolutely ruthless when it came to banter. "Okay, okay! You guys have your fun. Haha."
But after several more seconds of no update from Ratik, the silence returned. The awkwardness began to slowly creep back onto the stage. Percival needed to fill the dead air. He had no guitar, no piano, no backing track. He only had his body and the microphone.
He lifted his heavy combat boot and brought it down hard against the reinforced metal stage.
DUM.
He stomped again.
DUM.
He brought his hands together in a sharp clap right next to the mic.
TAK!
Dum-dum-TAK!
It was the signature, universal rhythm of 'We Will Rock You.' It was the ultimate song of the people, a primal beat that required zero instruments.
[Queen – We Will Rock You]
Percival kept doing it, setting a slow, deliberate pace.
Dum-dum-TAK!Dum-dum-TAK!
Without him needing to say a single word, the sheer, infectious nature of the rhythm began to catch. One by one, the miners standing closest to the ground floor began to match his movements. They stomped their heavy environmental boots against the rock, then clapped their thick gloves together.
Down by the power conduits, Ratik halted her frantic pacing for a split second. She looked up at the stage, watching her prodigy completely control the disaster. A proud, relieved smile crossed her face. 'I'll fix this ASAP, just wait for me, Dorian.'
Ever so slowly, the beat spread like wildfire up the terraced walls. Ten thousand people. Fifty thousand people. Soon, all five hundred thousand miners were moving in perfect, unified sync.
STOMP-STOMP-CLAP!STOMP-STOMP-CLAP!
The sound was absolutely earth-shattering. The physical impact of a half-million heavy boots slamming into the rock at the exact same time shook the very foundations of Mord Tida. It was a raw, thunderous heartbeat.
Percival brought the microphone to his lips, his voice projecting a gritty, defiant swagger.
"Buddy, you're a boy, make a big noise...Playing in the street, gonna be a big man someday!"
Up in the stands, several seasoned miners chuckled at the raw, unpolished lyrics.
"Whose miner son is this kid?" one of them joked, a crude but highly complimentary way of expressing their approval.
"You got mud on your face, you big disgrace...Kickin' your can all over the place, singin'!"
The miners all let out a collective laugh at the lyrics. It was literally their daily reality, covered in dirt, mud, and soot, working a disgraceful job at the bottom of the galaxy. But they kept the beat going flawlessly.
STOMP-STOMP-CLAP!
Percival belted out the chorus, his voice soaring over the thunderous percussion.
"We will, we will rock you!"
The easy, provocative lyrics etched themselves into the miners' minds instantly. It was a battle cry.
As Percival looped back around for the second round of the chorus, the sheer volume in the pit doubled. This time, thousands of miners standing near the lower pit proudly roared the words right back at him.
"We will, we will rock you!"
The rhythm had completely consumed the crater. Half a million miners were stomping and clapping with their entire bodies, shaking the dust from the ancient stone walls.
Percival leaned into the microphone, his voice cutting through the primal, driving beat.
"Buddy, you're a young man, hard man...Shouting in the street, gonna take on the world someday!"
The words resonated instantly. It was a direct, unfiltered acknowledgment of the young, exhausted blood breaking their backs in the depths of Mord Tida.
"You got blood on your face, you big disgrace...Waving your banner all over the place!"
A heavy cloud of dust began to physically rise from the terraced levels, shaken loose by the sheer force of the stamping boots. It mixed with an overwhelming feeling of release. The authentic, gritty lyrics felt like magic to the crowd. It was as if their own unarticulated thoughts, the raw, brutal reality of their jobs, had finally been forged into a song just for them.
"We will, we will rock you!" This time, tens of thousands of miners joined in, their rough, unpolished voices roaring into the dark.
"We will, we will rock you!!"
Down in the pitch-black backstage area, the engineering team was currently fighting a desperate battle against the venue's failing hardware. The lead stage engineer, gripping a heavy power coupling, could feel his teeth chattering. The massive backup generators were literally rattling against the metal floor plates, violently vibrating from the sheer, earth-shaking beat of the crowd above.
"Hurry up!" the engineer screamed over the deafening stomps. "If they keep this up, the structural dampeners are going to blow before the lights even come on!"
Back on the stage, Percival slowed his vocal delivery, aiming his voice toward the upper terraces where the hardened veterans stood.
"Buddy, you're an old man, poor man...Pleading with your eyes, gonna make you some peace someday!"
From out of the spiraling darkness, a muddled, incredibly gruff voice of an old Neman miner echoed down toward the stage in pure, appreciative banter. "Well, fuck you, city boy!!"
The thousands of miners around the old man erupted into howling laughter, seamlessly keeping the rhythm going. STOMP-STOMP-CLAP.
"You got mud on your face, big disgrace...Somebody better put you back into your place!"
The entire pit was now filled to the brim with explosive energy and a foundational rumble. The miners were becoming the absolute core of the performance.
"We will, we will rock you! Sing it!" Percival commanded, stepping back from the microphone.
He didn't need to sing anymore. The whole pit took over, chanting over and over into the dark.
"WE WILL, WE WILL ROCK YOU!"
"WE WILL, WE WILL ROCK YOU!"
Even when Dorian completely stopped stomping, stepping back to unhook his acoustic guitar and blindly grab his electric Fender from the stand, they kept going. The rhythm was self-sustaining. A half-million voices acting as a single, unstoppable force of nature.
CLACK.
In a blinding, explosive flash, the stadium lights and holographic arrays violently flared back to life. The power supply had finally reconnected.
The very second the stage monitors hummed with electricity, Dorian slid his hand up the fretboard of his electric guitar and struck.
WREEEEEEEEE!!
A massive, screaming, distorted electric guitar solo ripped through the pit's massive speakers. Dorian poured his soul into the strings, bending the high notes in a perfect, screeching harmony that rode flawlessly over the miners' thunderous STOMP-STOMP-CLAP beat.
Sitting in the illuminated orchestra pit below the stage, the elite, classically trained musicians of the Proximata Orchestra just sat there in absolute awe. They held their instruments, completely frozen. There was absolutely nothing they could add to this. No delicate string arrangement or swelling brass could possibly compete with this raw, primal display of people spirit.
Looking up at the stage, the conductor realized something profound. It felt as if the masked Composer knew these miners personally. He had crafted a masterpiece specifically for the forgotten people of the dirt.
Dorian hit the peak of the solo, sliding down the neck of the guitar and striking the final, heavy power chord. He let the distortion ring out, echoing endlessly against the walls of the crater.
The entire pit froze. The stomping stopped. The clapping ceased. Total silence hung in the air for a fraction of a second.
Then, half a million miners threw their fists into the air and let out an explosive, unified roar that shook the very atmosphere of Mord Tida.
"WOOAAAHHH!!!"
…
The concert in Mord Tida was a complete anomaly. Unlike the massive, highly publicized shows in Sela and Proxima, there were absolutely no tickets sold for this event.
Because the entire audience was strictly comprised of planetary miners, the galactic net had been left entirely in the dark. Without any fans present to live-stream or live-post the event, the various entertainment forums quickly dissolved into a massive, highly toxic debate regarding the legitimacy of the concert.
[Thread: Percival in Mord Tida? Seriously?]
CoreWorld_Elite:
"Is Composer Percival actually doing a concert on a literal dirt rock? Why would he even bother? There is zero media infrastructure out there."
MarketingGuru:
"It makes absolutely no strategic sense. What is the point of performing for an audience that will literally just go back to mining an hour later? There is zero residual advertisement benefit. Miners don't buy albums."
SayNoMan:
"You guys are completely missing the point. Announcing the concert there IS the advertisement. I bet five thousand credits that Percival isn't even physically on Mord Tida. He's probably relaxing on a luxury starship while we do exactly what his PR team wants: making him trend just because of the 'illusive' venue."
StardewFarmer99:
Replying to @SayNoMan:"Are you kidding? After what he did in Sela and Proxima, you really think he would fake a tour stop? The man wrote an entire orchestral masterpiece for a baby on the spot. He is definitely performing for those miners."
RogueBass:
"You can't even prove he is doing it, though! There are zero tickets. That means zero fans to be an actual witness to the performance. We'll probably only get the 'leaked' footage from the miners in the next fiscal quarter during their shift change. Good luck waiting months just to see if the Composer actually played a guitar in a ditch."
The cynical users on the net were actually entirely correct about one specific thing: there were absolutely no fans with professional recording orbs present at the venue.
The hardened miners of Mord Tida didn't carry high-end consumer tech into the Class-4 extraction zones. They only had their heavy-duty safety recording packs, rugged, utilitarian cameras built directly into their suits, designed to record structural collapses or workplace accidents.
By Accord and public standards, the video quality was ancient, grainy, and severely outdated.
Unexpectedly, however, among the massive audience of half a million workers, a handful of seasoned Neman miners had deliberately left their safety recorders running for the entire two-hour concert.
After the final, earth-shattering encore had concluded, one of the older Neman miners walked straight up to his corporate shift supervisor. The man was covered in soot, but his eyes were shining with a profound, vibrant energy.
"Sir," the old miner said, his voice rough. "I'd like to request official permission to upload the localized data cache from my safety pack to the planetary comms relay."
The supervisor, still slightly deaf from the thunderous stomping, narrowed his eyes. "Why? It's not a scheduled transmission window."
"I want to send the footage to my family," the miner explained, a rare, soft smile breaking through his beard. "I want to show my kids that their father is okay. And... that we actually had some fun down here in the dark."
The supervisor looked at the old miner, then looked around the pit at the thousands of smiling, re-energized workers preparing to return to the active zones. The supervisor sighed, a genuine smile matching the miner's.
"Alright. Granted. Send it through."
And so, while the raw, grainy proof of the Mord Tida concert was slowly being decrypted and sent across the vast distances of hyperspace, the debate on the net continued to aggressively rage on.
Was the Mord Tida venue a brilliant PR move? Was it an arrogant piece of clever marketing? Or was it a genuine, heartfelt performance for the forgotten working class?
Composer Percival simply wouldn't answer the media inquiries.
Personally, sitting comfortably in the starship, Dorian was having way too much fun scrolling through the toxic debates and wild conspiracy theories on his datapad. He let the internet tear itself apart while he stayed in quiet transit, rapidly approaching the next star system for his fourth venue.
…
Meanwhile, lightyears away in a dangerous, untamed sector of the Mid-Rim, a battered transport ship descended toward the surface of Lotera Prime.
The Lotera System was notorious across the galactic world. It consisted of a central hub world and four surrounding terrestrial planets that were entirely overrun by hyper-aggressive fauna.
The unique, brutal ecosystems of these four worlds had forced their native creatures to evolve in terrifying ways, growing impossibly large, durable, and violently strong.
In short, they were planets full of monsters.
Because of this, the Lotera system had become the ultimate proving ground and resource farm for awakened warriors. Walking through the bustling spaceport of Lotera Prime, one could see more Solars gathered in a single transit terminal than in the entirety of the Accord's capital world. Massive Guild armadas, elite mercenary companies, and rugged solo Solars all converged here to test their mettle and harvest valuable beast goods.
Standing in the long customs line, Gale Vadran kept his head down, the collar of his heavy trench coat pulled up high. Secured tightly to his back in a specialized, heavily armored carrier pack was little Jess.
Completely ignoring the towering, heavily armed mercenaries standing all around them, Jess was happily tapping away at her heliopad, entirely engrossed in her Pokémon: FireRed.
They finally reached the front of the line. A heavily armored Legion trooper grabbed Gale's forged identity puck and slotted it into a terminal.
The scanner flashed green. The trooper didn't even look up. "Vadran. Welcome to Lotera Prime. Next."
Gale took the puck, adjusted the straps of his heavy carrier backpack, and stepped out of the suffocating spaceport and into the city.
The atmosphere of Lotera Prime was a chaotic, sensory overload. Even though the actual sun was still visible, bleeding a deep, bruised orange across the twilight horizon, the city was already drowning in thousands of buzzing, aggressively bright neon lights. The streets smelled of ozone, unrefined starship fuel, and cheap synth-booze.
Gale kept one hand resting casually near the concealed blaster at his hip, his eyes constantly scanning the crowds of rowdy, battle-scarred Solars.
"We'll go to the Cylock Emporium first," Gale murmured over his shoulder. "Is that okay, Jess?"
Jess didn't look up from her screen, her small thumbs rapidly pressing the digital buttons to select a combat move. "Okay! I want to see Sister Fayc again."
Gale nodded, turning off the crowded main thoroughfare and slipping into the winding, shadowy back alleys of the commercial district. The path was grim. He stepped carefully over damp, oily potholes and navigated around piles of discarded industrial junk.
Occasionally, he passed by crippled, veteran Solars, men and women missing limbs, sporting terrible scars, their eyes vacant as they slumped against the damp brick walls. It was the harsh, unspoken reality of the world.
Finally, Gale arrived at a sleek, unassuming reinforced steel door tucked away in the deepest part of the alley.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The transition was violently jarring. It felt as if they had instantly stepped through a portal into an entirely different universe. The grime, the noise, and the damp smell of the alley vanished, completely replaced by pristine white walls, brilliant, shadowless lighting, and an aura of hyper-sterile luxury.
Standing gracefully behind the glass display counter was a familiar woman. Fayc turned toward the door. A bright, flawless smile instantly stretched across her face. "Ahh, Mr. Gale and little Jess."
Jess peeked her head over Gale's shoulder, waving cheerfully. "Hello, Sister Fayc!"
Gale instantly froze. Every single combat instinct in his body flared to life. His face aggressively scrunched up in deep suspicion, and his hand hovered dangerously close to his weapon.
"How do you know our names?" Gale demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "This is our very first time in the Lotera system."
Fayc let out a light, airy, practiced laugh. "Haha. This might be your first time on Prime, but this is actually your second time stepping inside a Cylock Emporium. You visited our branch back on Zibion a few months ago, didn't you?"
Gale's eyes narrowed as the terrifying logistical reality set in. He stared at the genetically engineered attendant. "You... you actively communicate with your clone on Zibion? Across different star systems?"
Fayc neither confirms nor denies. She simply offered a pleasant smile, her eyes peacefully closing.
"What can I help you with tonight, Mr. Gale?"
⋘ 𝒍𝒐𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒂.. .⋙
🎮:
- Stardwey Valley: Completed.
- Hades: Completed.
- Pokémon: Completed.
- Sky: Children of the Light: ◌ Loading…
🎬:
-
♬:
- Your Song – Elton John (ch.9)
- A Lovely Night – La La Land (ch.20)
- Merry Go Round of Life – Howl's Moving Castle (ch.25)
- Small Fragile Hearts – Victor Lundberg (ch. 27)
- Skyfall – Adele (ch. 29)
- No Time To Die – Billie Eilish (ch. 30)
- Yesterday – The Beatles (ch. 32)
- Lovely – Billie Eilish, Khalid (ch. 47)
- Best Part – H.E.R. feat. Daniel Caesar (ch. 67)
- Lovely Day – Bill Withers (ch. 68)
- My Song – Labi Siffre (ch. 75)
- Isn't She Lovely – Stevie Wonder (ch. 89)
- Gotta Catch 'Em All – Pokémon OST (ch. 90)
- Don't Stop Me Now – Queens (ch. 102)
- Grow As We Go – Ben Platt (ch. 102)
- Feeling Good – Michael Bublé (ch. 104)
- You'll Be In My Heart – Phil Collins (ch. 105)
- We Will Rock You – Queen (ch. 108)