All in all, a primitive setup.
Sections of the ceiling had caved in, leaving crumbling masses of debris for them to climb over, sometimes with only a foot, or inches to spare from the ceiling. These obstacles caused Miko much doubt in the integrity of the shaft. The evidence of rails weaving in and out of the tunnel from cross-ways indicated a once-thriving activity. Miko’s hunch was confirmed when he saw an abandoned ore cart with rusted metal wheels lying tilted on its side pitched forlornly down a side tunnel.
“These corridors were former mine shafts,” murmured Sket. He ducked under a twisted girder. “Before Skullrox became a city, the first settlers blasted them out of the sheer rock, to generate revenue to build their city.”
“Seems a hard place to eke out a living,” said Fenli.
“No doubt. These tunnels were abandoned when the ore was nearly mined out. An accident occurred some time after, which was hushed up and nobody ever recorded what it was.”
Star shivered, not liking the deep shadows, thick with cobwebs and the presence of gloomy cross-tunnels. “This is an ambush den, a mummy’s crypt. I don’t like this place...”
“Relax, sister,” reassured Sket, “we’re well ahead of Murlag and his gang.” His confident grunt echoed in the dim passage.
No sign of the enemy. No running footsteps, no laughs or drunken shouts or clinking of weapons. Only the skitter of large brown rats, the odd bat, or the crumble of loose stone trickling from the ceiling. The infernal, wretched hum was an omnipresent background noise that seemed to permeate the tunnels all around.
The opalescent bulbs would flicker at times and cause Miko no amount of unease. The lights would extinguish for several seconds, leaving them in utter darkness. Then they would spring back to life.
They flickered off now and Miko could hear the thud of his own heartbeat. The ragged gasps of his companions came from beside him, bodies shuffling about, uncertain whether this might be their last glimpse of light.
Miko groped blindly, glad of Star’s warmth beside him, and her trembling hand. At least Beardly and her perverse brother could not record their movements in this stygian darkness with their filthy cameras. Unless they had infrared...
The lights flickered on and they stared at each another in surprise and relief. Fenli motioned them on. “What’s with all these crazy pipes?”
Sket shrugged. “When they first opened the mine, the settlers had to pump oxygen down here because the atmosphere was so thin. The pioneers also needed water. B & D capitalized on the existing infrastructure, even though it was antiquated. It used to be the only place where unwanteds could live—in the mines, jerry-rigged with a feed pipe of thin oxygen.”
Fenli muttered, “What about power? Who’s keeping these lights on?”
“I doubt if the Skullroxers are paying for it out of their public works pocket budget,” Miko said wryly.
Sket shrugged, his eyes darting to the ceiling with the fragile bulbs. “My guess is they’ve run a leach line off the main power feed at the mesh.”
“We’re going to need water soon,” Miko went on. “These small bladders donated by the unwanteds—bless them, they won’t last more than a half day.”
“Plenty of water at the mesh,” mumbled Sket.
* * *
Miko kept on despite his aching joints and stiff limbs. He was hard-muscled and resilient, but now he was constantly fighting exhaustion, forcing himself awake, blinking and gritting his teeth. Sket and Fenli bore their patched wounds without complaint.
Precariously the companions picked their way across the loose rubble and fallen rocks. They weaved their way through a space of strewn metal, girders and old mining carts and came to an open pit, some thirty feet across. A vertical shaft dropped down into murky depths, showing nothing but an endless abyss. A foul draft wafted up, full of must, mice and musky earth, the stuff of deep subterranean places. Several broken, rusty machines were scattered about the lip of the pit—eroded ore carts, primitive tractors, along a twisted rail line that led down a gloomy side way.
Sket peered down into the hole, muttering as Fenli kicked a rock over and it dropped for several seconds before any heard its hollow ting. Miko’s eyes widened. A metal bridge was raised on the other side by chains, likely used for access across the chasm in days of production. The lever that controlled its rising and falling was too far out of reach, and the gap thirty feet across—too far to jump. This looked to be the oldest part of the mine. Several pulleys and rusty chains hung from metal spikes drilled into the ceiling, operating on a system of weights to haul some non-existent mine cage or elevator up and down the shaft, transporting miners, crude ore, tools and other paraphernalia. But the long chains were nearly rusted through. Where the elevator cage was now, was anybody’s guess.
“Primitive,” groaned Miko. “Who knows how far down the shaft goes.”
“Well, we’re not getting by it easily,” Sket mused. “We’ll have to skirt around another way. The lever there that controls the bridge is too far away. We’ll have to double back and try some other route.”
Miko glanced about the ceiling, wondering if there was any way to scale the gap from there. He frowned at the gouged out rock. Not unless he contracted sticky pads for hands and feet and became a spider.
“What about down there?” Miko lifted a hand to the grim tunnel where the tracks led.
Sket shook his head. “Don’t like the look of it. We’ll have to backtrack down this tunnel, see if we can find an alternate route.”
“That could take forever!” whined Fenli.
“Meanwhile Murlag
