The Price of Freedom Read Free Page A

could have happily smashed Bragan's skull in. His anger must have been written on his face, because Logan elbowed him, shaking his head in warning.
    The guards didn’t let them linger long enough for Jess to figure out what she was doing. They moved quickly through the room to a large staging area. Along one wall were lockers containing the pressure suits they wore to work the mines. Along the other wall—securely locked—were the lockers holding pressure suits and equipment used by the Pilgrims. Jess had never seen those lockers open.
    Each man shrugged silently into his own suit. Then he and Logan took turns checking each other’s suits to make sure they were sealed properly. A suit failure could mean death. Jess tried to have two different men check his—the week before one of the slaves had actually sabotaged another man’s suit, killing him. None of them knew why he had done it, although Jess and Logan had been among those who had “questioned” him. Shortly afterwards he had perished in a mining accident. Justice among the slaves was swift and unforgiving.
    Within minutes the men were suited. Under the watchful eyes of their guards, the line of workers trouped out the far end of the staging area. In groups of ten, they passed through an airlock and into the mouth of the mine. The walls gave way to rock, and the floor sloped noticeably as the tunnel went down into the asteroid’s surface. They arrived at an elevator, and once again entered in groups of ten.
    Jess waited his turn silently, gazing at the rusty, ancient elevator apparatus. Soon he would enter the metal box, which would carry him deep into the mine’s depths. His partner, a young man name Trent, stood next to him quietly. Jess could hear his heavy breathing through the two-way radio they shared—their only way to communicate the entire time they were underground. Last week the radio had gone out shortly after they started work, and Trent had a panic attack. Jess had to work twice as hard to meet their quota, while his partner sat and cried. Trent was only 19 years old, enslaved for stealing. Jess had already come to the conclusion that the kid probably wouldn’t last too long. He wished Logan was his partner but bunk-mates weren't allowed to work together.
    “Come on,” he said, giving his partner a push when it was their turn to enter the elevator. “It’s not going to be that bad. We’re in one of the upper tunnels today. You can do this.”
    “I know,” Trent said. He shuffled ahead of Jess, turning to face the front of the elevator with slumped shoulders. The elevator door made a screeching sound as it closed, then the car started its slow descent into the vast darkness of the mine. When they got to their stop, Jess flicked on his helmet light, and stepped out of the car. Trent followed him, then the car door slid shut with another screech and they were alone.
    “Do you want to drill today, or do you want me to?” Jess asked, looking to his companion. They traded tasks off regularly, one running a powerful drill to prepare for the blasting the Pilgrims would do the next cycle while the slaves slept, while the other focused on removing the ore knocked loose from the previous cycle’s blasts. When Jess had first arrived on the station, the sounds of blasting while he tried to sleep kept him up. Now he hardly noticed…working at "night" had become normal to him.
    “You can drill,” Trent said faintly. “I’ll do the ore.”
    Jess nodded his agreement, then turned to the equipment they had left the day before. Picking up the heavy drill, he hefted it over his shoulder and started carrying it down the tunnel, the cords that powered it trailing behind him like a long, skinny tail. Normally he and Trent would work at the same end of the tunnel, drilling and hauling ore together. It was certainly safer that way. But they had been ordered to separate last week. Apparently their Pilgrims masters were having a disagreement over which