Fragmented Light

Chapter 3: Corporate Ladder

Lyra's boots scraped against worn stone, each step sending fresh jolts of pain through her freshly bruised ribs. She flashed a grin at passing miners that probably looked more like a grimace. "Hey, at least the corp kids remembered to color-coordinate their punches with my uniform."

The eternal twilight felt thicker than usual, lumina-strips casting their sickly glow across generations of grime and desperation. Her eyes tracked security patterns automatically – guard rotations, camera blind spots, the rhythm of shift changes that could mask movement through the tunnels. Old habits died hard, especially when they kept you alive.

She passed the medical clinic first, Doc Senna's voice drifting out as she explained treatment options to another miner with the grey pallor of crystal lung. Lyra's fingers brushed her own throat, feeling the first rough patches starting. They all got it eventually. The lucky ones just got it slower.

"Looking rough, Vel." The food dispensary operator gave her a knowing look as she passed his endless line. "White Sector teaching you their special brand of manners?"

"You should see the other guy's uniform." She winked, then immediately regretted it as pain flared behind her swollen eye. "Turns out crystal dust doesn't come out of their fancy fabric. Such a shame."

The line of gaunt faces managed weak chuckles. Humor was currency in Yellow Sector, worth almost as much as medicine. Almost. Her head throbbed as she watched hollow-eyed workers wait for meal packets that barely qualified as food. The corps might claim no one starved on Galri, but their definition of "starvation" conveniently ignored a lot of dead bodies.

Near Mining Shaft Three, raised voices caught her attention. Workers arguing with their overseer, tension riding their shoulders. She slowed her pace, cataloging faces, positions, the way hands kept straying toward tools that could become weapons. Information was survival down here. You never knew what minor incident might spark the fire that burned everything down.

The data chip pressed against her ribs like a burning coal. Soon they'd have proof of what everyone whispered about. Assuming she could crack the encryption. Assuming it was worth the beating she'd taken to get it. Assuming—

A wave of dizziness hit hard enough to make her stumble. The pressure behind her eyes spiked, and she tasted copper at the back of her throat. Not now. Please not now. She pressed her sleeve against her nose, trying to catch the blood before anyone noticed. Weakness was currency too, just not the kind you wanted to spend.

The heavily guarded passage to White Sector came next. Two corp officers in gleaming armor tracked her movement, their augmented eyes leaving trails of red light in the dusty air. She gave them her best corp-approved smile, all teeth and careful submission. The split lip probably ruined the effect.

"Rough day at school?" The younger guard's hand twitched toward his weapon.

"Just clumsy." The lie came smooth as crystal glass. "You know us tunnel rats – still learning to walk upright."

They let her pass with only the usual scans and sneers. The contrast always hit her like a mining charge – one step through that checkpoint and you entered another world. Climate-controlled, crystal-dust free, safe. Everything Yellow Sector wasn't. Everything they'd never let her really be, no matter how well she played their games.

Finally, the Yellow Vein came into view. From the outside, it looked like just another hole carved into the tunnel wall. But the warm glow spilling from its entrance and the low murmur of voices marked it as something more – a gathering place, a sanctuary, the one spot in Yellow Sector where people could pretend they were more than just corporate resources.

Crystal dust hung thick inside, catching the sickly light in spiraling eddies that made her head pound harder. The familiar chaos washed over her – salvaged chairs creaking, ancient drink synthesizer hissing, dozens of conversations in the low tones of people used to being overheard. Used to being hunted.