Page 27 of Rogue: Planet Athion
“This way.” The guards nudged us past the usual set of steps that led to the arena cages and toward the set of double metal doors barred to us. This door didn’t use a swipe card. It required a retinal scan and a thumb print from the guard.
The doors slid open achingly slow, and then the main guard stepped through. His six-armed companions ushered us through with jabs from their guns, probably set to stun, but still, compliance was the only option right now.
Marlon growled when the guard shoved him in the back and received a blow to the back of his head for his trouble. Killion took a threatening step toward the guards, but I grabbed his bicep and squeezed in warning, prompting him to check himself.
Vex kept his head down, silent and deadly, as we walked through the metal doors into the space beyond. Another corridor, and then another, and then a final set of steps. Was the air sweeter here?
Vents, so many vents. A breeze brushed my hair back, and the whirr and grind of machinery surrounded us. The guard pushed open another set of doors, and we were on the main shop floor. The place was crawling with workers. They were dressed in rust-colored jumpsuits, thick boots, and hardhats that molded to their heads. Some wore gloves and others had mech hands clipped to their arms. Theclomp clompof mech bodies controlled by flesh-and-blood workers filled the air as the robotic extensions carried barrels filled with fuel from one end of the shop floor to another. This was the hub of the operation, the center where the fuel was brought to be packaged and then distributed. The air here was fresher, more oxygenated, and for a moment, my head felt light with it.
But we were on the move again, skirting the action to be herded into a locker room.
“Suit up.” The main guard pointed to a line of lockers.
Ten minutes of swapping suits and boots followed as we tried to get the right sizes. Vex’s suit was too tight to zip up, so he left it open to reveal his black shirt underneath. Mine was too big, but a roll and a tuck made it manageable. The helmet had a built-in bulb and covered the whole of my head and my ears. It was claustrophobic and heavy.
Another guard entered as I was lacing up my slightly too large boots.
“What the fuck?” Killion muttered.
I straightened to find the guard holding up what looked like a silver collar. The main guard took it off him and held it aloft.
“These are detonator collars, which means one false move and we blow your head off. Got it?”
Xavier’s body tensed.
“Once on, they cannot be removed without the passcode. Attempt to run, attempt to fight, and we will remotely detonate. Do you understand?”
So, this is what Marick had meant when he’d said there would be no escape. They were strapping bombs to our necks. My heart sank.
Xavier crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “Detonators? As in long range?”
The guard smirked. “Long enough. If you’re on this rock, then we’ll find you.”
Xavier sighed, and his shoulders slumped, but it was an act because now we knew what we needed to know. The detonators wouldn’t work once we were on the ship. The distance would take us out of range. Now, all we needed to do was get away before they hit the button to pop our skulls.
The guards passed out the collars. The silver was smooth in my hand, metallic but lightweight. I slipped it around my neck, hesitation a palpable force in my chest. Beside me, Vex clipped his on. Xavier went next. Taking a deep breath, I clamped mine shut. It hung around my neck like a metal ring, but on the guys, it was snug, flush against their skin.
The guards waved their guns, and we clomped back into the hub. Back into the noise. Several doors led off the hub, each marked by sector one to twelve. Four was opposite the locker room, the number blinking green above the entrance.
The guard swiped open the door. “Go through and report to the foreman. Look for the green hat.”
We stumbled into the darkness, onto a wooden platform, and the doors closed behind us. A sharp tang hit my senses before the noise drowned out everything else. My hands went to my ears to block it out.
Someone pressed something into my hands, a set of earmuffs. I slipped them on and the world was pleasantly muted. A stocky Trad in a green hat stood on the wooden platform before us waving his arms, and I caught sight of Sector Four for the first time. It was a cavern, a huge hole that descended into the core of the roid. The platform spiraled around, hugging the rock face in what was basically rickety scaffolding that was linked by metal steps, but the platform had ropes of different colors. Blue on one side of the pit, orange on the other, and yellow and green in between. No idea what the colors meant. Spots of light were visible in the cavern—torches fixed to hats, hats like ours. Vex reached up to tap his hat and the torch fixed to it switched on.
The workers were down there, hanging by harnesses with baskets strapped to their backs, while they chipped and drilled into the walls.
The man in the green hat tapped his ear furiously. I reached up and tapped mine and a voice filled my head.
“Finally. Damn, you lot are dumb. I hope you work faster than you pick up shit. This is Sector Four, the walls are rife with mineral deposits that we need to extract to grind down to make Parsilic. We may not be employing the heavy machinery like the other sector, but make no mistake this job is just as important as the rest. No Parsilic means that the Obrium and the Irideal can’t be chemically bound. So look for the crystalline lumps of black shit and extract it. Go deep if you have to. Grab a basket and tools, get on a harness, and get to it. You fill up, you come back up and empty.” He pointed at a line of troughs set against the wall by the exit. “Troughs up here, and troughs below. Find the nearest one, empty your load, and then go back for more. It’s not hard, it’s just fucking terrifying.” He cackled and then his face sobered. “You fall, you die. So don’t fall.” He pointed at the Trads. “You two orange.” He looked at Vex. “Take blue.” He waved at me. “You too. Blue. The rest of you can cover yellow.”
Orange and blue were on opposite ends of the pit. Yellow and blue on the same side. Shit. The Trads looked to Xavier and then sauntered off toward the tool racks. I followed Vex and Xavier to the racks. Marlon and Killion followed close behind.
“What now? Do you have reception?” Marlon asked.
Xavier shook his head. “Static. I need to climb up.” He looked into the pit. Blue was on high ground and yellow wasn’t too far below.
The two Trads were hovering, their faces anxious. Xavier walked toward them and leaned in to whisper something; they nodded and walked away. Vex helped me strap the basket to my back.
