CHAPTER TWELVE

After levering his battered arm into a makeshift sling, Soran clambered along the underside of the train looking for somewhere to conceal himself; Squeezing into the connecting gap between his segment and the next the best he could manage.

He wondered if the crew were okay, confident they would expect the worst in regards to his wellbeing. Not that they would be particularly torn up about his demise, but more so that their plan would now be in complete disarray. He chuckled to himself, imagining Ranna's panic at the thought of facing down Kaligan alone. The illusion of preparedness must have been comforting for him and had done wonders for the boy's self-esteem.

As the train passed into the artificial atmosphere of the mineral loading bay, a huge structure came into view; A monolithic stone archway framing the entrance to the moon's interior, blocked by a horde of Kahbohl that were crowded around giant brass carts of Platinum and Bohlatite. They shuffled forward in an uncoordinated mass, eager to deliver the haul to their Naval masters. Three-toed paws trailed streaks of red dust over the white tiles of the docking station. A sea of bulbous black eyes stared at the massive vehicle with impatient glares, yearning to return to the depths.

Unknown to the galaxy until the Navy had stumbled upon a word in the later stages of planetary decay. The Kahbohl was a fairly peaceful race of miners that -- to save their race -- had made an eternal contract with the Navy. In exchange for evacuation from their dying home-world, they would excavate the dead worlds of the galaxy for whatever resources remained and provide an unending supply of a most unique mineral. Kahbohl were rock eaters and it has been their voracious appetite for sediment that caused the untimely demise of their home-world. Everything they devoured was processed by their bodies into a substance aptly named Bohlatite. The mineral was excreted as blunt shards through large pores that covered their backs. How they didn't realize that their planet would eventually disappear if they kept eating it was beyond most. So preoccupied with chewing their way through the fabric of the planet, the Kahbohl had never advanced their technology. Thus they were marooned, doomed to perish as the crust of their planet collapsed. Fortunately for them, Bohlatite was an invaluable resource to the Navy; It had replaced older, more toxic materials and become the core ingredient of Nano-Diesel. Now used to power almost every machine in the galaxy and worth more than its weight in gold. Many viewed the Kahbohl as an oppressed race when the truth was far more benign. Content to spend their days consuming worlds and spreading their race through the sea of endless stars, the Navy's removal of their waste was a boon. Freeing them from the vicious predators that were birthed when Bohlatite remained unprocessed for too long.

Rangy, clawed fingers pulled leftover Bohlatite shards from their rotund bodies, carelessly flinging them onto the overflowing piles of glistening crimson. Naval officers poured from the train, and Soran retracted his body further into the recess. He risked a glance through the narrow opening. A man of towering stature exited from the front-most car. He marched through the parted sea of his subordinates, receiving a wave of salutes as he passed. His skin was dark with a blueish hue that radiated in the reflected light of a neighboring moon. The senior officers trailed behind him as he picked at random shards, assessing the quality of the spoils and reacting with an unimpressed furrow of his brow.

Another Captain? Soran thought, observing the golden anchor embroidered into his lithesome, ivory cape. Before recent events, encounters with high-ranking naval personnel had been few and far between for Soran. Since his departure from the Hyacinth, they seemed drawn to him by some unseen force. As the man continued his inspection, he spoke with the Kahbohl who seemed uneasy in his presence. The barrel of the oversized rifle that peering over his shoulder a likely culprit for the apprehension.

“Hey, kid.” A voice whispered from behind.

Soran turned to see the gleeful smiles of the Horizon crew. Ranna held up his wrist. A Holo-projection displaying a small map of their location.

“Lucky for you, we installed trackers into our suits after El here wandered off damn near every mission,” Ranna said, met with an embarrassed downward glance from El. He offered the boy a hand, his face souring at the mangled state of his bound arm.

“I can’t believe you survived it. I mean, at the speed we were going, it's incredible,” Stuttered El, a look of amazement coating her face. She ran her fingers over his damaged limb, inspecting the damage whilst simultaneously soothing the pain. Even Tugg seemed surprised to see him standing there, patting at his body to make sure he hadn't returned as a vengeful apparition.

It didn't take long before El had set the majority of Soran's fractured bones, leaving behind a storm of purple clouds on his skin. Still aching from the ordeal but with his mobility mostly returned, he gave El a graceful thank you and slid his arm back into his suit.

“We need to hurry and get below the surface. Harrow isn't a Captain we want to tangle with.” Ranna said, keeping one eye on the statuesque man. Harrow was not a name Soran recognized, but anyone that had attained the rank of Captain needed no introduction.

Despite hardly knowing the man, Soran had come to trust Ranna's word. He certainly knew his fair share of unsavory characters and, unfortunately for Soran, was in the bad books with most of them. The four hunters departed the station, descending into a crater shaft and into the platinum mines below.

The piercing stench of the Bohlatite rose from the depths. It smothered their suits in a thick mist, leaving behind a gooey sludge on its journey to the surface. The intensity of the billowing heat grew as they ventured closer to the moon's inner sanctum. Being at the rear and thus, above the other hunters, Soran was taking great care to maintain his footing. The walls of the shaft had a low metallic content, making the Maglev boots nearly useless. Forced into what amounted to free climbing, the slightest slip would send the crew hurtling into the void.

Amber light glazed the walls of the shaft's lower reaches, and Ranna noticed the beginnings of a curve. Their descent concluded at a narrow opening, which was followed by a sizable drop into a sandy pit below. Ranna took the lead, sliding down the wall with ease. He emerged into a confined cavern, its walls glistening with unharvested platinum. Soran and El managed to follow their Captain with a fair degree of grace but, as usual, Tugg dove to the ground, a plume of crimson dust erupting in his wake. The cavern was of a similar size to the Horizon and upon examination, Soran could see only one other exit. A shadow-drenched tunnel, winding into the black with no end in sight. It seemed to be artificial, likely excavated by the Kahbohl to facilitate the transfer of material.

“Descending further into a pitch-black abyss. Delightful,” Sighed Ranna, switching on the shoulder-mounted torch of his suit. The beam penetrated a fair distance into the tunnel, but was insufficient in gauging its true extent; that was if one even existed at all. The crew exchanged glances, and Soran got the sense that Ranna was gathering a consensus. The Kahbohl were infamous for gnawing away at their host planet until it became unstable. Sometimes to the point of shattering. These events had caused the extinction of multiple Kahbohl colonies and had cost the Navy billions of credits in revenue. Before such a catastrophe occurred, the government would step in, transporting the group to their next target. The Navy often pushed the boundaries on the quantity of material they could extract from a single site, Kahbohl life, and profit not measuring equal on the scales. Not knowing your nearest exit would be fatal in the event of a planetary collapse, so interconnected tunnels like this were typical wherever Kahbohl were found. Never knowing when they might need to make a quick escape.

An ominous clap echoed from the craggy confines of the stone corridor. The entire crew was seized with fear, staring into the void as the encroaching patter steadily increased in pitch. As it drew closer, Soran recognized the rhythmic sound of footsteps, the footsteps of something big. Ranna extinguished his torch and, with heightened stealth, the crew backtracked to the entrance shaft; Each crunch of sandy gravel under their boots making them wince. They hadn't managed more than ten paces when a rosy glow penetrated the shroud of darkness. Ranna and Tugg drew their weapons. El grabbed Soran, shielding themselves behind Tugg's massive frame. The opportunity for escape had slipped through their fingers. Whatever it was that lurked in the shadows had arrived, and it was hungry.