Chapter Four
Trunk
The first thing I notice when we step inside the Minecorp admin building are the smirks.
Every Xylan we pass takes one look at Ines, then looks at me, then back at her. I can practically hear what they’re thinking. Their grins say it all.
Another human female trailing after a Fever Brother.
I glare at a passing miner who doesn’t bother to hide his amusement. He quickly looks away.
How do we even meet so many humans? We live on a remote mining planet at the edge of the Four Sectors. Humans are one of the rarest species in the known universe, and yet somehow my brothers keep finding them. First Leah, then Lila, Roxy, Jana and Naomi.
And now this journalist follows me through the crowd like I’m her personal guide.
Which I am. Because I was assigned to be.
A group of younger miners from another crew nudge each other as we walk past. I bare my fangs slightly and they scatter.
Ines doesn’t notice. She’s too busy staring at everything around her with those sharp hazel eyes, taking in the organized chaos of shift change. Sweaty Margol miners fill every inch of the admin level, their deep voices rumbling through the rock-walled hallways. She’s tiny compared to everyone else. It’s like watching her walk through a dense forest, or a city with towering skyscrapers.
“Thank you for bringing me here so I can fully understand how Illibrium is mined,” she says, turning to look up at me. “I will be including this in the piece. Readers will find this part fascinating. It really is amazing how you mine these rare crystals that can power whole planets.”
I grunt. Professional. She’s being professional. Why does that irritate me?
We reach the lift station and I guide her through the crowd to the doors. The lift arrives and a group of miners exits and we step inside, the only two going back down. The gray interior swallows us as the doors clang shut. I tap the control panel, entering the code for level 2400.
The lift begins its descent.
Her stomach must be tingling from the motion because she places a gloved hand against her abdomen. Numbers click past on the display as we go deeper into the bowels of the planet. The hum of equipment fills the silence between us.
“How deep does the mine go?” she asks.
“Deep enough.”
She waits, clearly expecting more.
I sigh. “The lowest active level is 4200. We’ve mapped shafts that go deeper, but they’re not currently being worked.”
“And how do you know where to dig?”
“The crystals tell us.”
Her brow furrows. “They tell you?”
“We have a connection with them. A fever bond. Each of us bonded with a personal crystal when we reached puberty. They guide us to where the mature Illibrium is ready for harvest.”
“That’s incredible. The crystals actually communicate with you?”
“Not in words. It’s more like...” I pause, searching for the right explanation. “A feeling. A pull. We know where they want us to go.”
She nods slowly, and there’s something in her expression that surprises me. Not skepticism. Genuine fascination.
The doors slide open.
Level 2400 stretches before us, dim and vast. Distant pinprick lights from head lamps dot the darkness, and the sounds of work echo through the tunnels—drilling, the rumble of equipment, voices calling out instructions.
The temperature here is comfortable. Not too cold and not too warm. The Illibrium regulates it somehow, though the science team has never been able to fully explain why.
