There are many sounds I enjoy. The sizzle of a steak. The click of a loaded weapon. The silence of a dead enemy.
The sound of my own shoulder grinding back into its socket is not on that list.
"On three," Jaren said, his hands sweating on my arm. "One..."
CRUNCH.
"You said three!" I screamed, seeing white spots dance in my vision. The pain was immediate and blinding, a hot spike driving itself straight into my nervous system. I doubled over, dry heaving onto the dusty floor of the alcove we were hiding in.
"Better to do it fast," Jaren said, looking a little green himself. "My dad used to say the anticipation is worse than the pain."
"Your dad," I wheezed, clutching my shoulder which was now throbbing with a dull, rhythmic agony, "was a sadist."
System Notification:
[Physical Trauma Resolved. Joint Integrity: 60%. Mobility Restored. User is advised to avoid lifting heavy objects, fighting gods, or waving hello too vigorously.]
"Thanks," I muttered to the air.
We were huddled in a maintenance alcove just off the main corridor. The dust from the collapse was starting to settle, coating everything in a thick, grey powder. It looked like it had snowed in hell.
Outside our little hidey-hole, chaos was unfolding.
Guards were shouting. Mining sirens were wailing. The terrified murmurs of three hundred slaves echoed off the walls. And in the center of it all lay the massive, donut-shaped slab of granite that I had drilled a perfect hole through.
The hole was glowing faintly. That was a problem.
"We need to go," Lyra whispered, peeking around the corner. Her eyes were wide, darting between the guards and the glowing evidence of my superpower. "If they find us here, hiding, they'll think we caused it."
"We did cause it," the random kid I saved whimpered. He was curled up in a ball, rocking back and forth. "He... he deleted the rock. He's a monster. He's a witch."
I grabbed the kid by the collar of his tunic. Not hard, but firm. I needed him focused.
"Listen to me," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "My name is Kael. And I am not a witch. I am a Dim with a very lucky mining pick. You saw a structural failure. You saw a mining laser malfunction. You did not see gold light. Understand?"
The kid nodded frantically, snot running down his nose. "Laser malfunction. Got it."
"Good," I said, releasing him. "Now, wipe your face. You look guilty."
"Guilty of what?"
"Existing," I said. "Merrick is coming."
The name sucked the air out of the alcove. Jaren stiffened. Lyra went pale. Even the kid stopped crying.
Overseer Merrick.
In the hierarchy of the Mines, Merrick was God. He wasn't a Warden. He wasn't a Praetor. He was a human, a collaborator who had sold out his own species for a softer bed and better food. He ran Sector 4 with a mixture of bureaucratic efficiency and casual cruelty.
I heard the heavy, rhythmic thud of mag-boots approaching.
"Line up," I ordered. "Look down. Look stupid."
We shuffled out of the alcove and joined the line of slaves being herded against the wall by the guards. The corridor was a wreck. Twisted metal beams jutted out like broken ribs. The air was thick with ozone.
And there he was.
Merrick didn't look like a monster. He looked like an accountant who enjoyed kicking puppies on the weekends. He was tall, thin, and impeccably clean. His uniform was pressed, a stark white contrast to the filth of the mines. He wore a breathing mask over his nose and mouth, not because the air was toxic, but because he couldn't stand the smell of us.
He walked through the rubble, stepping delicately over the debris. Two massive Tier 3 Volatile guards flanked him, their skin crackling with electricity.
Merrick stopped in front of the massive donut-rock.
He stared at the perfect, spherical hole in the center. He ran a gloved finger along the smooth edge.
"Interesting," he said. His voice was amplified by the mask, giving it a metallic, synthetic quality. "Granite usually shatters. It cracks. It does not... vanish."
He turned slowly to face the line of slaves. His eyes, pale and watery behind wire-rimmed glasses, scanned us.
"Who was working this section?"
Silence.
"I asked," Merrick said, his voice not rising an octave, "who was working this section. If I have to check the logs, I will execute the entire shift for wasting my time."
I stepped forward.
"It was us, sir," I said, keeping my head bowed but my voice steady. "Me. Jaren. Lyra. And the kid."
Merrick walked over to me. He stopped inches from my face. I could smell his cologne. It smelled like lavender and antiseptic. It triggered a violent memory of my hands around his throat, twenty years from now.
"Name?"
"Kael, sir. Designation 7-124."
"Designation 7-124," Merrick repeated, tapping a datapad on his wrist. "Status: Dim. Record: Clean. Productivity: Average."
He looked up from the pad. He looked right into my eyes.
"Tell me, Kael. How does a structural collapse create a geometrically perfect sphere in a four-ton slab of rock?"
This was the test.
If I stuttered, I died. If I showed fear, I died. If I showed too much intelligence, I died.
I had to play the role. The dumb, lucky grunt.
"I don't know about spheres, sir," I said, pitching my voice to sound slightly confused. "We were digging the main vein. The ceiling groaned. I heard the snap. I grabbed the kid and pulled him under the mining laser rig. The laser... it must have misfired when the rock hit it. Punched a hole right through."
It was a lie. A flimsy one. But it was plausible. Mining lasers were high-yield thermal drills. If one shorted out during a crash, it could theoretically vaporize rock.
Merrick looked at the rock. Then at the crushed remains of the mining cart nearby. There was no laser rig there. I knew it. He knew it.
But Merrick had a problem.
If he reported an "Anomaly," a phenomenon he couldn't explain, the Wardens would come. They would shut down the sector. They would audit his books. And Merrick was skimming off the top. I knew that because I found his ledger in the future. He was terrified of the Wardens.
"A laser malfunction," Merrick said slowly, testing the theory. "That would imply faulty equipment maintenance. Which would imply a lapse in my oversight."
"Or," I added quickly, "it implies the equipment is old garbage and you need a budget increase, sir."
Merrick froze. Jaren made a small squeaking noise beside me. You didn't talk back to Merrick.
But I wasn't talking back. I was offering him an out.
Merrick tilted his head. Behind the mask, I saw the gears turning. He didn't care about the truth. He cared about the paperwork. An equipment failure justified a budget request. An unexplained anomaly invited an inquisition.
"A budget increase," Merrick mused. "Yes. The equipment in Sector 4 is... notoriously unreliable."
He looked back at the rock.
"Clean this up," he ordered the guards. "Melt that slag down. I don't want it cluttering my corridor."
He turned back to me. "You survived a collapse that should have pulped you, 7-124. That is statistically unlikely."
"I'm hard to kill, sir."
"We'll see," Merrick said. "Since you broke my mine, you can fix it. Double shifts for your crew until the debris is cleared. And dock their rations for a week to pay for the lost laser."
"Yes, sir," I said.
Merrick turned to walk away, but he paused. He looked at Bront, who was standing in the crowd, nursing his cracked chest.
"Bront," Merrick said. "Why are you bleeding?"
Bront flinched. He looked at me. His eyes were full of hate, but also fear. He remembered my boot on his chest.
"Mining accident, sir," Bront grunted. "Slipped."
"Clumsy," Merrick sneered. "I don't like clumsy tools. Fix yourself, or I'll replace you."
Merrick walked away, his guards trailing behind him.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. My legs felt like jelly. My shoulder throbbed in time with my heartbeat.
"You docked our rations?" Jaren hissed, grabbing my arm. "Kael, we're already starving! Double shifts with half food? We'll drop dead in three days!"
"No we won't," I said, watching Merrick's white uniform disappear into the gloom. "We're going to eat like kings."
"How?" Lyra asked. "You just pissed off the Overseer and signed us up for slave labor."
I looked at the kid I saved. He was staring at me with hero worship. I looked at Bront, who was glaring daggers at my back. And I looked at the hole in the rock, which the guards were already breaking apart.
I had survived the first encounter. I had established a cover. And I had learned something important.
Merrick was corrupt. And corrupt men were easy to control.
"I didn't piss him off," I said, a dark smile touching my lips. "I just became his accomplice. Merrick lied to the Wardens to cover his own ass. That means he has a secret. And secrets are currency."
I patted Jaren on the shoulder, wincing as the movement pulled my sprain.
"Come on. We have a shift to finish. And tonight, we're going to the Mud Pit."
"The Mud Pit?" Jaren paled. "The fighting ring? Kael, you can't fight. Your arm is busted!"
"I'm not going to fight," I said, walking toward the tools. "I'm going to bet. I know who wins tonight."
System Notification:
[Social Encounter Resolved. Bluff Successful. Reputation with 'Overseer Merrick' updated: Useful Idiot.]
[New Objective: Secure Capital. Destination: The Mud Pit.]
I grabbed a shovel with my left hand.
"Time to make some money, boys."