Dangers of Being a Head Miner

Dangers of Being a Head-Miner     The fleet of seven mining ships carrying just under one thousand workers landed at each of the seven entrances. Long, dark snaking tunnels down into the depths, inside which, the miners knew, sat the precious stuff they were seeking. It was a green crystalline structure called mucisium. It was the main ingredient in their power systems and was, thus, considered priceless. Millions of miners were lost each year trying to find deposits and recover mass quantities of mucisium, but without it progress of their civilization would halt, so the loss was deemed acceptable.

     As usual, the ships each settled down just inside the entrances and began to unload. Maxillar listened to the excited chatter over the radio as he unloaded. He had been on hundreds of missions, thus he now sported the title of Head-Miner. The buzzing excitement just after landing was his favorite part. How much were they going to find here? Each site was different. What lurked in the depths of this one? he wondered, carrying the large chest full of cutters and setting it down next to the others like it.

    If Maxillar had learned anything so far it was that one never knew what they were going to find. More often than not, they landed, sealed off regions to stabilize the pressure and went to work for a few days, then left without much incident and a cargo hold full of mucisium. On occasion, though, there were complications. Every time he thought he had seen it all, he ran into something new, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before one finally got him. Sometimes, drastic fluctuations in pressure would bust open seals and carry workers off in a gust, that was one of the most common ways to lose guys, blown right out of the opening and they were gone. Twice, so far, a similar thing had happened but with mass quantities of warm salt water that seemed to come out of nowhere and dissolve their partitions and wash workers away. Luckily for Maxillar, he hadn’t actually been in those sections when they got washed out, otherwise he wouldn’t have survived to mine another day.

     Sometimes there were even other creatures in there, especially near the entrances, one might expect to meet some company, often in the form of a large cylindrical creature that they called dactyls. The dactyls would just poke their heads in, break things, then leave. Maxillar’s team had lost a few ships to those. On a few occasions Maxillar had even run into impenetrable barriers of foreign material that looked like they had been there for eons. Try as they might, no tool they had made much of a dent, so the miners had to forsake the idea of pushing any deeper in that passage in search of the precious green material.

     Finishing unloading his portion of the ship onto a dolly, Maxillar started the process of navigating the equipment down the nearest tunnel. As he made his way into the narrower tunnel, he began to hear the rhythmic drum beat of the cavern walls, and it reminded him of the time, when he was new, that he slipped and dug his pick-ax into the cavern wall, almost dying in the resulting flood of red gooey liquid that pored out of the hole. The same red gooey liquid responsible for the thunderous “lib-lub lib-lub” of the passageways.

     The passage grew more and more narrow until he finally met with three other miners, already unloading the goo used to set up the partitions.

     “I’ve got cutters for you,” he said over the radio.

     One of the miners was in the process of saying, “I have a bad feeling about this one, Steve, make sure to seal it up tight.” So Maxillar didn’t get a thank you, exactly, but a head nod served the purpose. This was not a new conversation. Working in such dangerous conditions made some individuals skittish. Others just liked to repeat that they though something bad was going to happen, then when it eventually did, they could say “See guys, I told you.”

     Maxillar turned and headed back toward the ship to bring another case to another passage, and that’s when he heard the rumble.

     He ducked low and grabbed hold on a small protrusion near the base of the wall. He hoped his hold would be sufficient as the powerful gust of wind hit him from behind. Sure that his purchase would hold, he started to turn and look upwind, but before he could complete the action, he was struck by one of the miners he had just interacted with. The two of them tumbled helplessly down the passage, and out through the opening to their doom.

     Jerry looked at himself in the mirror after blowing his nose. His eyes were a little bloodshot, and his head felt like it was going to explode. “Welcome to spring,” he said to himself in the mirror, not an ounce of joy in his voice. “the time of year for pretty flowers and allergies.”

     He could feel his sinuses starting to block up already, this one was going to hurt.

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