Tevun-Krus #101 - The New Frontier

The Mining Chronicles of Lambda Draconis - A Short Story by @HC_Leung

The Mining Chronicles of Lambda Draconis

by HC Leung / HC_Leung

Xeranium, the gift and the curse. It was once the source of our wealth and the embodiment of our dreams. However, it turned out to be a poison that spelled our doom.

And when I said poison, I meant it in the literal sense of the word.

Where do I start? There are so many things to say about this element, I can write an epic poem. Like what Homer did with Odyssey. And Iliad too.

Let's start with the facts, then. You see, Xeranium is a soft, malleable metal that is gold-white in its purest form. Its symbol is Xa in the Periodic Table, and its atomic number is 120.

A rare element, Xeranium was discovered in Lambda Draconis in the late 26th century. When the suits at Anglo Far-East realized its potential as an almost-unlimited form of energy, they purchased the exclusive rights from the United Nations to conduct mining operations.

Some scientists protested at the move. Xeranium was alien. Without further testing, we'd never be sure if it was safe for widespread application. But the benefits outweighed the risks. The UN had just put down a rebellion on Mars, and it was facing yet another economic downturn and energy crisis at home. If the political elites were to hang on to power, Anglo Far-East's mining proposal seemed to be the only answer.

I was one of the first chaps who signed up. My name - Nicholas Chua - never looked so good as a signature on paper. The well-dressed recruiters told me LamDra was the land of the free and the home of the brave, but really I just went for the money. You see, being a poet while nuking burgers for a fast-food joint in East Baltimore was alright. But at the end of the day, it wasn't going to cover my rent. So I hopped on one of those starfreighters with two hundred people on board. I never looked back. I had tears in my eyes.

Turned out, my dream was a short-lived one. LamDra was a rocky planet devoid of life, and the dreary landscape came into view as soon as we landed. As the cargo ramp lowered, it became evident my time on LamDra would be anything but pleasant.

The brochure didn't mention anything about mercs with electrified batons. But there they were, confiscating our passports as soon as we disembark. They herded us to an assembly hall, which bore a striking resemblance to Jessup Correctional Institute in Maryland. I'd know, because half of my cousins were long-time residents there.

They hurled orders at us, asked us to get in line and take off our clothes. So we did. After all, nobody was in the mood or position to say no. We all signed the contract, but no one read the fine prints about waiving our freedom. Heaps of clothes piled up while they handed crimson red jumpsuits to us. Those stern-faced mercs paced the hall, making sure we were obedient.

Lights went out at nine. From my bunk bed, I could clearly see the guard towers with infrared sensors skimming the perimeter of our hundred-acre compound. I wondered who, or what, was Anglo Far-East trying to keep out? LamDra was such a remote and desolate shit planet. Who was gonna come here and rob us?

The next morning, an eighteen-wheeler hauled us to Pit Nine. It was a magnificent sight - I stood over the open pit, ten kilometers wide, with my jaws dropped. Around me, wheeled loaders and bipedal walkers were bustling about with large and small loads. Meanwhile, the continental excavators in the horizon were uprooting tons of soil by the second. I realized at the moment that I was no longer in Baltimore.

"Atten-tion!" yelled the merc sergeant. His beard was so red, we called him Erik the Red. We formed a line and anxiously waited for our next order.