MiNRS (11 page)

That many signals together could signify a tunnel that wasn’t on our maps, or a huge seam of volcanic rock, one it could take me an hour to drill out of without my disrupter.

On the flip side, if it was my father’s beacon, why did it turn on and then turn off so suddenly? I didn’t want to risk plowing into it by accident before I could find out. Either way, I needed to be careful. I slowed to a crawl.

The red blips started again a minute later, closer but all together. Then they stopped again. I sped up a little and broke through the rock into an open space. The disrupter shut off, and I eased onto the carved rock floor.

The main lights were on. I stopped the digger and
hopped out. I was standing in a tunnel—a really big tunnel. It curved away from me about a hundred yards on either side. The ceiling was a good forty feet up. It was more like a big room, a grand hall, about twice the size of the locker room in the basement under our building.

Was this supposed to be the foundation of another core-scraper? A storage locker for more ore?

A regular clicking sound started echoing from somewhere up ahead, around the turn. The signals were firing again. I listened for a few seconds, walking slowly toward the sound.

I turned the corner and stopped.

At the end of the hall, about ten feet away from where I stood, was a huge steel cage. It was made from the same material as the caged storage locker in my basement, but this went from the floor to the ceiling.

The closest wall was lined with bunk beds, and on each bed was a kid.

I counted four as I crept up slowly.

The children’s eyes were closed. They were dirty. They looked sick. More than a few looked like they might be on the verge of starvation or dehydration. One boy’s chest was barely rising and falling. His arms draped over the side of the bed, dangling and motionless.

I reached the cage and saw one of the beds was empty. The clicking noise resumed, and it was coming from near my feet.

I looked down. A girl about my age was lying on the floor, leaning against the locked gate of the cage. Her eyes were barely open, and her lips looked so parched, I thought they might crack. She was holding on to a long rope. It was made of slits of fabric that had been ripped from sheets and then tied together. A hook at the end, made from a pair of glasses, was caught on a box.

She’d caught the box and then dragged it toward her.

I got on my knees and examined the contents. It was filled with small red discs. They were blinking, clicking, and then they shut off.

I touched the girl’s hand. It was freezing cold. “My name is Christopher Nichols,” I said. “I’m a miner.”

Her eyes focused on me, and in a hoarse croak she said, “Hello, Christopher Nichols. My name is Fatima Carvalho. I’m a grinder.”

Chapter Seventeen

Ground

Fatima’s head rested on my
shoulder as we flew back to the camp. She had used up all her energy grabbing the warning signals, and she needed medical help, and fast. I left food and water from the raid with the other grinders.

Grinders
.

The word shot through my brain like an electric shock. A
grinder
was a person. No, not a person, a child. I thought—I’d always been led to believe—that a grinder was just another piece of mining equipment. A machine. But a grinder
wasn’t
a machine.

A grinder was a kid.

I shook my head. I needed to focus on getting Fatima to Mandeep. I flicked on my radio, hoping I
was right that the Landers weren’t listening.

“Miner Three calling.”

Elena answered. “Miner Two here, go ahead.”

“Elena. I need Mandeep to get ready. I’ve got an emergency.”

“Christopher, are you okay?” Her voice cracked.

“I’m fine. But I’ve got a patient. A grinder.”

“A grinder? Isn’t that a machine? How did you fit one in the digger?”

Elena didn’t know. I felt a tinge of relief.

“A grinder isn’t a machine. It’s a sick girl, and she’s in my digger right now.”

Elena didn’t say anything. I could hear her stumbling for words.

“I can explain later. Just tell Mandeep to get ready. Food, water.”

“Um, okay. Roger.”

Elena called out to Mandeep before turning back to the microphone.

“Doctor says to make sure she doesn’t fall asleep. Keep her talking, active.”

“Got it.”

“Roger, and out,” she said.

Fatima lifted her head and opened her eyes. Good. I had lots of questions.

“I thought a grinder was a machine.”

Fatima gave a small laugh. “That’s what they want you to believe.”

“But why use kids?”

“Machines are expensive. Expensive to build and expensive to ship into space. Children had been used in mines for centuries, so they went back to what worked.” She coughed and then put her head back on my shoulder.

“What does a grinder do?”

She lifted her head again. “The jobs that are too risky for an expensive machine or a fully paid miner.”

“Like what?”

“We can crawl into small crevices and holes encrusted with delicate gems, gold, platinum. Dig, dig, dig. And pray there is no cave-in.” Her head lolled again and fell back onto my shoulder.

I felt horrible making her concentrate, but we still had ten minutes to go, even at top speed.

“Are all the grinders children?” I asked, dreading the answer.

Fatima nodded. “Small hands and small bodies. Also small price tags. My parents barely got a month’s rent when they sold me to Melming.”

I gripped the steering wheel so hard, my knuckles hurt. “That’s horrible.”

“Yes. But in some ways it is better than growing up with a family like mine. I escaped them. You can’t even imagine, can you?”

“My father was a miner,” I said, bristling.

“Look at your smooth hands, your clear skin. You’ve never done a hard day’s work in your life, rich kid. That’s why your shoulders are so soft, like a pillow. I need to sleep.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“And if I survive a few years, then I get my freedom and even a little money. Do you have any water?”

I reached under my seat and pulled out a bottle, handing it to her. She took just a little sip, then three more small ones. “It’s not a good idea to drink too much when you are dehydrated. I’ve seen the pain and cramps that can cause.”

“How long had you been down here?”

“Two years. But there were other grinders before us. Once they grow too big, they are sent back to Earth, and then more children are brought here. There are always children.”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. I’d seen transport ships arriving, but my parents had always said they were bringing new supplies. Was that what Fatima was to Melming, to my parents—a supply?
“How long had you been locked in that cage?”

“Days. Days that seemed like an eternity. All your miners had gone to some party. They never came back.”

They hadn’t even invited the grinders to the party. They had just left them in a cage. I was having a hard time processing all this. I wasn’t angry yet—just kind of in shock.

“We had some water and some food, but it ran out. So I made a hook to grab the beacons and hoped someone would track them to find us. You did.” She took another sip from the bottle. “Why did they abandon us?”

I hesitated, unsure of the answer myself.

“I assume there was a terrible tragedy. Why else would a rich kid like you be driving a digger filled with food, with no adult supervision?”

“There was a raid. Pirates of some kind attacked us. We call them Landers. They killed all the adults. There are only nine of us left, all kids.”

She nodded again and tried once more to rest her head on my shoulder. “I am so tired. Let me sleep.”

I hated myself for asking the next question, but I needed to keep her alert . . . and I needed to know. “Did all the adults know about this? About you?”

She nodded, or possibly her head had just rolled to the side again. But then she whispered words that sent
a chill through my body. “We worked alongside all the miners.”

A lump rose in my throat. I couldn’t ask another question; it was like my head was screaming, splitting apart from the inside. I was afraid to open my mouth.

As I drove on, the depths of this new horror began to sink in.

My father knew about this.

My mother knew about this.

Hans Melming knew about this.

This was our Great Mission?

The other kids had called my dad and mom heroes. They had saved so many children. But had they, really? Or had they only helped their own? Had they let some children suffer, even die, working in mines? I felt sick.

We were almost at the camp. Fatima had fallen asleep on my arm after all. Answering the questions had spent the rest of her energy.

Mandeep was ready when we arrived. I gently lifted Fatima from the cockpit and laid her on the makeshift bed of blankets. Mandeep had an IV ready with fluids. I held Fatima’s hand as Mandeep put the needle in, and while she woke up, she barely reacted to the jab. But her breathing was close to normal, and Mandeep told me that was a good sign.

I touched Fatima’s forehead. She was cold. I couldn’t imagine the pain she’d been through in the past few days, in her life. I leaned over and kissed her forehead. I wasn’t even sure why. It just seemed like the thing to do.

She gave a weak smile and then fell back asleep.

I stood up and spied Elena a few feet away. She was watching, her arms crossed, her brow furrowed.

I turned to talk to her, but she spun on her heels and marched away.

I wondered if she recognized Fatima. How much did she know about the horrible underbelly of the Great Mission?

The question could wait. The other grinders couldn’t.

I called an emergency meeting. Elena didn’t show up, but time was very tight so I started without her. I asked everyone to sit down while I explained what I’d found and the urgency of getting back. Then I stood up.

“Okay, everyone, let’s get the rest of the grinders!”

I expected the others to rush to their diggers, but they sat there on the floor staring at me. Finally Pavel raised his hand.

“Yes?” I asked, pointing at him. “You have a question?”

He nodded. “Why?”

“Why what?” I said, confused.

Pavel shrugged. “Why should we get them?”

My jaw dropped. “You think we should leave them to die?”

Pavel shrugged again. “Maybe, and maybe not. I’m just saying there are some questions we need to ask before we allow a bunch of strangers into our camp.”

Jimmi and Maria nodded.

“Like what?” I said.

“Well, food, for one thing,” Pavel said. “We’ve been rationing what we have, and adding more mouths isn’t going to make that easier.”

“But we just stole a bunch of food and water from the silo, and we’ll go back and get more.”

Jimmi frowned. “If we have to have even more raids, it just increases the chances of getting caught by the Landers.”

“What are you saying?”

Jimmi stared at me. “I’m saying that Pavel makes a good point. Is helping them worth the risk?”

“We cannot let anyone else die who doesn’t have to.” I tried to sound as firm as possible, but I could hear the tremor in my voice. “We can’t turn our backs on them.”

Pavel shook his head. “But people do that all the time. I saw a movie once about a shipwreck. The lifeboat was full, but there were still people in the water who
tried to climb in too. The people in the boat wouldn’t let them. It sounds horrible, but if they had let them in, the boat would have capsized, and everyone would have drowned.”

“This isn’t a lifeboat. No one can sink in a mine!”

“It was an analogy,” Jimmi said. “And I think Pavel makes a lot of sense.”

“But these are kids just like us.” I could feel my heart sinking deep into my chest. How could Pavel and Jimmi feel this way? How could they look at life so coldly?

Pavel leaned forward. “What do we even know about these grinders? Maybe they’re nothing like us. You said they grew up in slums and stuff. Maybe Fatima is here to spy on us. Maybe they’ll steal our food.”

“They might kill us in our sleep and take all our stuff,” Jimmi said.

“Yeah,” Pavel said, nodding. “Maybe that’s why they were in a cage. Maybe it was a jail cell.”

“You already unlocked their cages?” Maria asked.

“Of course,” I said.

“Then they’re free. Let them save themselves. We did.”

“But they’re kids! When someone needs help, you help. Otherwise we’re no different from the Landers.”

They just stared at me, frowning.

“We can use them as cannon fodder.” It was Elena.
She’d walked into the room without me noticing. I didn’t like what she was saying now, but it got the others to turn away from me for a second.

“What do you mean?” Jimmi asked.

Elena stepped into the middle of the circle. “I’m saying they can be useful. They probably have a pretty good sense of the tunnels. We can use them as guides for now. And if it comes to a fight, we can send them out in front. That’s what armies have done for centuries. Use the least valuable people up front.”

I tried to catch Elena’s attention to see if she could really be suggesting something so brutal, but she refused to meet my eyes.

I watched as Jimmi nodded. Maria and Pavel did too. Elena continued, “Bottom line is that we can’t just leave them to die. What if the Landers find them, or they find the Landers, and then they turn on us? They know we are here, and now they can go anywhere. Now that they are free, it’s riskier to leave them.”

Elena turned and looked right at me. Was she blaming me for helping them?

“I couldn’t leave them caged up—” I said.

Elena waved her hand to cut me off. “The clear objective now is to minimize the damage and turn it to our advantage. Of course, that means we do have to go get
them.” She paused a moment. “If that’s what our fearless leader thinks is best?”

I couldn’t speak. I turned away.

“You do want us to go get them, right?” Elena said.

I nodded.

Elena clapped her hands. “Good. We’re agreed. So let’s get in the diggers, and go get them.”

Jimmi and the others got up and walked out of the room, avoiding looking at me.

I stood there, my eyes closed, anger and confusion rising in my throat.

Elena looked at the floor. “You better suit up too, Nichols. The more diggers we have, the faster we can get them back here.”

I looked up as Elena marched out of the room.

I slammed my hand hard against the wall, and followed her.