<< - one.one - >>

Rain. All the goddamn time, every day. Wake up to the dripping of water, tapping away at the window sill, a deathwatch beetle clicking in the morning light.

Jonas cracked his eyelids a bit, waiting for the splinters in his head to subside. Just enough time to rinse the crap out of his teeth and splash some of the resin out of his eyes. Syncaff would have to stand in for sleep today. He could hear the machines starting down the street. God in heaven? Not on this rock . . .

The mirror wasn't being very nice this morning. Jonas could feel every flake of dried skin sticking in the stubble on his face, his drawn cheeks and the hollows under his eyes, the close-shaved head, the ragged hole in the left earlobe where that sonofabitch from Down had grabbed his ring and torn it out. Honest sunlight and clean air, sand, and silence. The weight of the thought nearly knocked the knees out from under him. So long, so very, very long . . .

<< - one.two - >>

"Ya, late again? Yah need ta lay off 'em late night with ya missem, J. It's gonna cost ta job."
Damn, bastard's never in the head when I need to get in here without hearing that squeaky ass voice.
"Missem? Hehe, like hell."
"Ya, never seen someone take tha hits like ya and walk, but it'll kill ya 'ventually. No loss, but me don't need the papahwork, not for a long-timer like ya."
Looking over Tanri's head, he turns to the locker room and it's close musky stink.
"I'll keep that in mind."

Ten years after a ten year trip. A dimly lit ball of rock, running loose laps around a cold sun. Seeing the star field fade a bit as the descent in from the docking station began, and then disappearing completely as the shuttle fell into the cold, wet stink of 3427-PMC. The hiss of the cabin decompression, the doors cracking open, and the tapping of the rain on the stairs. Looking up and feeling the first of a million endless icy drops of water on his eyelids and his hair, and finally grasping just how far he'd come.

The fatigues and ensuit were still damp, and even the boots had puddles in them. Fish pale toes with black nails from the few native fungus that could take root. Jonas cringed at the scratch of the shirt down his back as the clang of lockers on the other side of the room came across.
"Shite on the fools running this place! What are we doin' breakin' out tha rocks for 'em? There's not a damn thing left that's worth sendin' offa here, 'less 'em can sell this!"
A loud rip, and the cackle of the night crew.
"Ya bastard, what a stink! I'll knock ya back fer that . . . "
" . . . missem's not been right . . ."
" . . . nor tha braü, or tha grub, n'even tha air . . ."
"'Specially wit yer fat arse blowin' all tha time . . ."
Cristain rounds the locker bank, grinning.
"Jonas! Not dead yet, eh? When ya gonna give up and die?"
"Soon as you do, Cris. I wanna piss on ya body first."
The grin gets wider, the teeth blacker in the back. Flint in those eyes. What was he here for?
"I'll be takin' a right shit on you 'fore that happens, mate. Count on it."
"Ya. Well, not today."
A quick punch on the shoulder, just hard enough to hurt, just enough to remind him who's got the pull, and Cristain swings back to the other aisle. Christ, what a piece of work. You'd think the man's got money riding on it. Tanri's voice on the overcom. Time to roll.

Smudged grey skies, the steel of the mine sheds washed in ash and mud, raw angles of cliff edges stabbing at the horizon. The hole. No green anywhere, unless you'd call the o-drab merc uniforms green. Jonas could feel the slow grind of the trans across the rock, the chug of the wheels as the guidebot stopped just short of the dock.
"Ya got five to double-step down there, Jonas. First Station already passed ya name on to Mizo - he wants to see ya at meal break. Hehe, ya workin' on a short trip, boy."
The merc tapped the a-rifle against the rail, the black case clicking softly. Same eyes as Cris, just on the other side of the deck.

Into the mine again, and past the third levels. His work chit for today was for the bottom end, down where it started to get hot. Steam rose from the walls down there, and Jonas' skin started itching just thinking about it. He'd been here for ten years, and the mine just kept getting deeper. Digging his own grave, with a thermtekna shovel. The little mites started nibbling at the edges of his mind. It was easier sometimes not to think.

<< - one.three - >>

The meal horn sounding brought his head up with a neck-cracking motion - not yet! Damn, he'd barely had time to think about what he was going to say to Mizo. Well, now he had five free ones to think as hard as he could - it'd take that long to get to the surface. Shit . . .

"You sorry piece of shit! Goddamnit! I give you chance after chance after chance, and you still keep fucking them up?" Mizo's face was scarlet above his dingy white collar.
"Ya gonna give yaself a coronary if ya don't calm down the-"
"You shut yer mouth! I'll tell you when to talk, you junkie! What the hell am I gonna do about you? I've been told to keep you alive and busy, and you keep up with the missem. It's getting around that you've got special privileges, and that's gonna get your mangy ass killed! Bad for you, and worse for me!"
"Ya, special privileges. Shit. What, I get to die faster? I'll bet they be fightin' over a chance at that."
"You know what I mean - you slack off and show up late to work details, you use that shit around the other 'mates, it's bad, bad for discipline, bad for the establishment here! I don't give a crap if you stop your heart wit' tha shit, but there's someone out there who does, and if it happens here, it's my ass. And my ass is already as far out as it's going to go, understand? If it takes locking you into solitary, I'll do it. One more chance! One!"
"Ta, sure, whatever you say, Mizo."
"That's 'boss', and you better not fuck this up, asshole. Period." Mizo dismissed him by turning his back and stalking into the inner office, a slamming door punctuating his heavy steps.
Balls, what a day this was turning out to be.

Shuffling across the muddy yard, water running down the back of his neck and into his already soaked collar, Jonas watches the mercs loading their packs into the shuttle. What a temptation, to just break for it and hope for at least clearing the atmosphere. What did he have to lose? A raging addiction? Ten more years underground before a mining accident or just plain futility killed him? Not a damn th-
"Hell if I will! You can kiss my f-"
Crack. Crack. Crack. The loudmouth lying face down in the mud near the mine entrance, scarlet streams running into pools around his shattered skull. The merc glancing up at Jonas, teeth showing behind his cracked lips.
"Problem?"
Jonas drops his eyes and moves on to the transcar. He chances another look, sees the merc calling over another 'mate to drag off the corpse. He's still grinning.

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