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It was Iggy's lucky day. He could feel it.

Wiping the dust accumulating on the visor of his helmet, he tugged on the suspension cord connected to his mechanized harness. The faint whirs humming from the machine above him filled his ears, bringing him solace as he descended deep into the monstrous pit full of crystals and ore. His partner was somewhere above him, manning the rig responsible for keeping him alive.

Exhaling, Iggy surveyed the caverns—man-made and natural—below him.

Novr's southern hemisphere housed tons of mines to this one. Thousands of Hands like himself—sentient laborers bound by contract to serve the Noblus families of the Elysian Empiree—scoured the quarries from sunup till sundown. Digging, mining, scavenging. Bringing back whatever they could in exchange for a few credits.

Iggy continued his descent. Bioluminescent bugs floated through the hazy air, their neon glows mixing with the harsh, artificial light bars running along the craggy walls.

"Be careful down there!" Squok warned from above. His mining partner continued reeling Iggy downward.

He tightened his hands around his safety cord—the only thing keeping him from plummeting into the bottomless void below.

This particular dig site boasted several dozen hollowed-out levels, most already picked clean from decades of scouring for raw material. Rusted scaffolding ran along the edges of metal platforms sticking out from the various points throughout the saffron-colored rock faces. Shuddering rail tracks coiled throughout the entire mine, carrying carts full of raw material and the occasional miner. The bustling sounds of industry carried out around Iggy as he descended lower into the mine.

Salt was the desired mineral. Sure, crystals and the rarer ores could be found in the deeper levels, but Iggy never went down there. Too many stories of explosions from the noxious gases in the air and unstable surfaces swallowing miners whole kept him confined to the upper levels.

Besides, salt was both abundant and in demand. The empire and traders from all over the galaxy paid top dollar for it. A full sack would earn him at least a thousand credits. It would've been enough for dinner and his mother's medications—maybe even a pastry from that shop in town he always saw on his long, arduous walk back home.

He salivated at the thought of it.

Today was his day. He could feel it.

As he approached level twenty-seven, he grabbed the box hanging from his suit. He mashed the button, hoping the signal was transmitting. Seconds later, Squok finished lowering him. Once Iggy touched solid ground, he unclipped himself from his safety cord and exhaled.

"You sure you don't wanna go a little deeper?"

"I'm good here."

"Suit yourself. I sure could use the extra credits, though."

"How about you come down here and mine then?"

"You know I would if I could. My ankle's still messed up from last month."

Iggy rolled his eyes. That had been his partner's excuse for their couple of trips. Tetraks didn't even have ankles.

"This level hasn't been touched much," Iggy said as he journeyed into the wide tunnel ahead of him. "Should be able to get a decent yield today." Clicking on the twin flashlights on his helmet, he examined the area for any signs of salt deposits.

"You'd better hope so, Iggs."

His tools hung from the utility belt wrapped around his waist. More dust littered the foggy air as he delved deeper inside. Distant explosions shook the ground. Pebbles rained from the ceiling, clattering against his helmet before rolling down his shoulders. Gritting his teeth, he urged himself forward.

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