Crimson Dawn

Somewhere behind the flickering storm clouds, the pale sun of Tau Ceti hung low, slowly creeping over the western edge of the crater. The settlement and part of the valley were still shrouded in shadow. It was the last morning before the departure. Lex sat at the far end of a three-meter-long aluminum bench in the mess hall, staring through the rain-streaked window at the label-less can on his tray. Next to him, a rough-looking worker shoveled protein mush into her mouth, scooping up whatever spilled. On his right, prisoners squeezed past in the crowded aisle. Lex pulled his arm in close, bent the metal tab, popped the lid off and turned the can upside down. He had to bang it on the table two or three times before the slimy mass slid out.

It wobbled on his plate, still holding the shape of the can—slick, shiny and made up of several layers. What any of it actually was, no one really knew. One layer had to be protein, he figured, since it smelled like fish. He mashed it all into a gelatinous blob, scooped some onto his fork and ate it. Chewing, he looked over the heads of the other workers at the video screen on the far wall. The sector’s daily news was playing. Amid the wild chatter crossing the room, he couldn’t make out a word the reporter was saying, but the images were enough: another tunnel had collapsed at a silver mine outside Orongu, burying dozens of workers.

"How’s your canned delight?" the worker next to him asked.

Lex pushed some more onto his fork with his thumb. "Still too good to share." He picked a chewy piece out of his mouth, placed it on the edge of his plate, and kept eating, eyes on the news. When they started talking about the FLD rebels, he dropped his gaze to his plate.

On the shuttle to the maintenance hall, Lex’s datapad suddenly blared an alarm. That only ever happened if one of his mining vehicles had crashed or broken down somewhere. It had to be a false alarm, he thought, because his shift hadn’t even started yet, so none of his vehicles should have been in operation.

With shaky fingers, he pulled out the device and entered his unlock code.

What the…

According to the report, one of his vehicles had broken down in the northwestern quadrant—which was impossible for two reasons. First, the northwestern quadrant was outside of Orongu, and no mining vehicle was allowed to leave the crater without permission. Second, that area was in the Radiation Zones. Heading there was a guaranteed death sentence.

Holy crap.

Lex pulled up the vehicle ID of the broken-down transporter, then grabbed his handheld computer, a sinking feeling in his gut, and compared the twelve-digit number with the one he’d noted down from Tayus’s ore transporter.

It was the same ID.

"Tayus, you reckless idiot …"

He ran a trace on the transporter’s route.

This can’t be happening, he thought. What did you do?

The path led straight through the northwestern crater wall. There had to be a canyon or passage Tayus had found to leave the crater. It was the only explanation.

But why?

Where did the FLD send you?

******

In the maintenance hall, Lex crossed paths with a supervisor. He sprinted past him, shot through Airlock B, but the rescue team was already there, suited up in pressure gear, standing in front of the three-axle moon rover. The TC logo was painted in orange on the sides of the armored vehicle. There was a medical station in the rear and a retractable crane on the flatbed. The vehicle was specifically designed for rescue missions in rough terrain.

"I’m coming with you," Lex said, catching his breath. "The guy out there—he’s my friend."

A circle of silence formed around the men. Finally, Quinlan was the first to laugh. Vasker quickly joined in. Soon, the whole group was laughing. Quinlan’s cigarette bobbed up and down in the corner of his mouth. As he bent over, resting on his knees from laughing, it fell out, and he crouched to pick it up again.

"Listen, kid," Quinlan said, "the poor souls we rescue don’t need a coward like you tagging along. In fact, you’d be their death sentence. So, if you care about your friend at all, you’ll leave this to us."

"That’s my ore hauler out there. I can bring it back. Fix it, if I have to."

"Your ore hauler? What the hell are you talking about, miner boy?"

"The vehicle that broke down in the Radiation Zones—it’s one of the ore trucks I regularly maintain."

Quinlan froze for a moment. Then, "By the false gods, you really think we’re about to head into the Radiation Zones to retrieve the corpse of that brain-dead fool named Tayus Nraad?"

Lex’s face went pale.

"Not a chance, miner boy. That’s not our jurisdiction. No one can force us into the unknown Radiation Zones. Not even if TC threatened us with death. There’s been another accident in the pit with three men down, and that’s where we’re headed. So, get out of my way." Quinlan signaled the team to load up into the vehicle.

"He might still be alive," Lex whispered.

Quinlan turned to him. "If he’s still alive now, he won’t be in a few weeks. No one survives that radiation."

With a stunned expression, Lex left Quinlan standing and bolted out of the airlock. He took the pedestrian walkway through the tunnel toward the vehicle hangar. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d run so fast. Methane rain drummed against the arched ceiling windows, streaking down in silver arcs across the glass. He stopped in the hangar and took a deep breath. His breath misted in the cold air. Floodlights mounted on the metal beams lit the room from all four corners. Only a few vehicles were parked in the hall, and under the moon dust, white squares and markings peeked through. Lex ran toward a small UTV hauler. The spherical driver’s cabin, with its eight side windows and large front pane, offered a full panoramic view—crucial for avoiding small obstacles. The vehicle was lightweight and unarmored, with a small, three-square-meter cargo bed. It was usually used to transport freight around the settlement, but Lex figured it could handle narrow canyons too, as he lifted the door upward.

He dropped his backpack on the hangar floor, climbed into the driver’s seat with his datapad in hand and slammed the door shut. Even without his pressure suit, the cabin felt cramped for just one person.

Two large headlights, shaped like horizontal bars, were mounted on the vehicle’s roll cage, lighting up the path ahead. Airlock A was occupied, so he drove into Airlock B, which had just freed up. He parked the UTV, hopped out, and ran over to the only locker that still held a pressure suit.

He unlocked it with an eight-digit code. The suit inside was an older model, heavily worn by time. There was a tear in the shin area that had been wrapped with duct tape four or five times. Insulation material poked out through the gaps in the tape.

Lex disconnected the power cables from the chest piece, powered up the life-support systems and checked the battery status on the wrist console. The suit was 73 percent charged.

That’ll have to do.

It took him precious minutes just to get into the suit—time he didn’t have. Fully suited up, he walked back to the UTV, clumsily planted his bulky boot on the metal step and climbed back into the driver’s seat. With the suit on, he could barely move his arms more than a few degrees before his elbows bumped into the curved side windows.

The heavy helmet sat on his lap. Lex was strapped in and sweating like crazy. He guided the small hauler out of the airlock, stopped in the decompression chamber beyond and checked the route on his datapad. The large door opened with a pneumatic hiss, flooding the chamber with the dense moon atmosphere; the barometer on the instrument panel instantly reacted. With an involuntary sigh, he pressed his foot down on the gas.

"What were you thinking?" he muttered, unsure whether he meant Tayus or himself.