A shadow fell across the window. Hable glanced out, pen hand poised over his journal, his mouth slowly forming into a frown. The sky held only the ghosts of clouds. This shadow was cast by one of the midrocks, a large one. It's arrival meant-
Sure enough, the bell sang shrilly calling all miners to the propel station. Slapping his book shut, he leaped into denims, shrugged into the shoulder straps and hopped out the house while hooking his boots. Leaning out from the metal rail, he snagged a zip bar and kicked into the air. Miners lived in a ring of towers. The propel station was on the ground.
With the gravity assisted descent, he arrived in seconds, along with eight others in the same garb. Some bantered loudly as they hoisted heavy gear packs. Hable glowered and moved rhythmically. Together they lined up to enter the box.
Launcher was not in his seat by the amplifier. He was arguing with two people wearing oddly formal suits. Hable checked his gear, watching and waiting. This probably wasn't good.
Comments (1 so far!)
Average reader rating 5.00/5
Good action scene, quick, clear, and you get a sense of personalities and danger.
- Posted 11 days ago
- 5 out of 5
Inspired by (sequel to):
On clear nights you could see the distant glimmering pinpricks of light denoting the city's presence…Asbriong
- Published 12 days ago.
- Story viewed 7 times and rated 1 times.
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