Chapter 847: Kamirate (1)

Kamirate, Third Mining Zone, surface settlement "Dust Lung Town".

The sky is a perpetual dim yellow, with thick, heavy clouds saturated with metallic dust pressing down low.

Dry winds blow across the rocky surface year-round, whipping up fine grit that hits the crude alloy shacks with a rustling sound.

The air is permeated with a pungent odor—a mixture of rust, machine oil, and some kind of chemical extract. This is the scent of Kamirate, which seeps into the lungs and clothing fibers of everyone living here, impossible to ever wash away.

Old Tuoke hunches his body and crawls out of the low doorway, subconsciously tightening the scarf around his neck—so dirty its original color is unrecognizable—to cover his mouth and nose.

He wears a heavily worn orange jumpsuit, stained with grease and mineral dust.

A pair of rough, large hands are covered in calluses and cracks that never heal.

He looks up at the dim yellow sky; there is no spark in his turbid eyes, only day-after-day numbness.

Another day.

"Tuoke! What are you dawdling for! The conveyor belt at Shaft No. 3 is jammed again! Go fix it! If you delay the mining progress, watch out for your rations this month!"

A sharp, piercing voice rings out through the loudspeakers scattered across the settlement; it is the voice of the foreman Bulake, filled with impatience.

Tuoke's body shudders subconsciously, and he quickens his pace toward the nearby mine entrance.

He has been hearing such urging for nearly thirty years.

Kamirate, a world labeled as a "resource planet" by the Feng Qi Xing Alliance.

The level of civilization here? Tuoke does not understand such things.

He only knows that beneath the surface of this planet lies a special mineral called "Spirit Element Ore," an indispensable core catalyst for certain high-precision equipment and energy weapons of the Feng Qi Xing Alliance.

And the vast majority of people living here, including Tuoke himself, are "Star Alliance Assets."

Their ancestors were shipped here, or they were sent here due to debt or crime, becoming a single screw in a massive mining machine.

At the very top are the few management personnel appointed by the Feng Qi Xing Alliance; in the middle are the well-equipped "Fengqi Garrison" responsible for maintaining order, and foremen like Bulake; at the very bottom are countless miners and workers in auxiliary industries like Tuoke.

They have no freedom, no hope.

Their daily work is to go deep into dangerous underground mine pits, operating old, frequently malfunctioning machinery to extract crystals.

Their reward is a ration of synthetic food that barely keeps them alive, dirty drinking water, and narrow living spaces.

Any slacking or resistance will invite the foreman's whip, the Garrison's suppression, or even the reduction of their already pitifully small rations.

There are no local armed forces here, only the Fengqi Garrison wearing purple Power Armor and holding intimidating Energy Guns.

They occasionally patrol outside the settlement in armored patrol vehicles to prevent riots by miners and suppress any "trouble" that might arise.

Under the pressure of endless labor and survival, the only "entertainment" is that every so often, the Feng Qi Xing Alliance ships in some cheap energy drinks and strictly filtered "Gladiator Arena" program recordings, using this cheap sensory stimulation to numb the workers' spirits, letting them temporarily forget the pain of reality amidst virtual blood and violence.

Tuoke's son, because he was obsessed with those gladiators when he was young and always fantasized about becoming one, ended up breaking mining equipment while trying to imitate gladiator training; he was dragged away by the Garrison and has had no news since...

Most people here are like Tuoke: working, collecting rations, and curling up in narrow bunks to spend their short rest time, until death.

Dreams, the future, dignity... these words have long since disappeared from their dictionary.

"Old Tuoke! Hurry up! B Zone collapsed again! Two people are buried! Damn it, this shitty mine!"

A young miner runs over, his face covered in black ash, his voice filled with terror and despair.

Tuoke's hand movements pause for a moment, then resume.

Collapses, accidents, pneumoconiosis from inhaling dust... these are too common here.

The Garrison will not come to save them; they only care if the crystal output is affected.

He silently repairs the conveyor belt, watching it emit a creaking sound as it starts running again.

Then he picks up his tools and walks toward B Zone; the people certainly cannot be saved, he is going to clear the channel to ensure mining can resume as soon as possible.

Kamirate, Third Mining Zone, B Zone Channel.

Tuoke carries hydraulic shears and a pile of cleaning tools, walking with uneven steps in the dim channel leading to B Zone.

Half of the lights at the top of the channel are broken, and the remaining ones can only emit a dim, weak light, barely illuminating the uneven road underfoot.

The closer he gets to B Zone, the more oppressive the atmosphere becomes.

Occasionally, miners covered in dust with terror on their faces stagger out from inside, or carry crude stretchers to transport things out in a hurry; the cloth covering the stretchers is soaked through with dark red.

Tuoke has long been accustomed to this; he just subconsciously tightens his scarf, buries his head lower, and quickens his pace.

He does not want to cause trouble, and even less does he want to waste time.

If the cleaning work is not finished, today's synthetic Nutrient Paste and water rations will be in jeopardy.

The feeling of hunger is much worse than seeing dead people.

When passing a slightly wider intersection with a small garrison checkpoint, he has to slow down.

Two Fengqi Garrison soldiers wearing purple Power Armor are lazily leaning against the wall, helmets tucked under their arms, smoking locally produced, pungent cigarettes.

Their Energy Rifles are leaning casually to one side.

"... So, what exactly is going on with Arena 40? How long has it been? I even bet quite a bit on those Xiuluo Holy Indigenous!"

A soldier with a scar on his face complains, exhaling a cloud of turbid smoke.

The other, slightly younger soldier shrugs, looking annoyed.

"Who knows? Heard the signal had a huge problem, the whole planet went 'black' as hell, can't see a damn thing! The higher-ups say it's 'interstellar energy flow interference,' yeah right! I bet it's those indigenous people who caused some big trouble, making the higher-ups look bad!"

"Damn it! What bad luck! That was three months of my allowance!"

The scarred face spits fiercely.

"Heard Supervisor Fenisi is furious and is pulling technicians from everywhere to rush repairs... but I think it's hopeless, probably just going to announce the project is closed and compensate with some coupons."

"Coupons are worth shit! Better to give us more 'Xiaoyao Agent'..."

The young soldier mutters, then suddenly catches sight of Tuoke, who is trying to pass quickly with his head down, and immediately shouts sternly.

"Hey! Old man! What are you dawdling for! Hurry up and clean the inside! If you delay production, we'll throw you all into the mine pit to fill it!"

Tuoke's body stiffens, and he hurriedly gives a muddled response.

"Yes... yes, officer..."

His pace quickened, and he practically jogged away from the checkpoint.

Gladiator Arena? Xiuluo Holy Indigenous? These terms were too distant and ethereal for him, far less real than his soon-to-expire ration slip.

These soldiers were in a bad mood; he had best stay far away.

He arrived at the B Zone cave-in site.

The situation was worse than he had imagined.

A large section of the passageway was completely blocked by collapsed rock and dirt, with metal supports jutting out from within.

The concentration of dust in the air was frighteningly high, and it was permeated with a thick, bloody stench.

Several miners who had arrived earlier were using shovels and pickaxes to clear the rubble at the edges, their faces devoid of any expression.

"Tuoke, you're here."

An elderly miner with a hoarse voice saw Tuoke and greeted him.

He was Duke, about the same age as Tuoke, and could be considered one of the few people in this hellhole he could actually talk to.

"Mm."

Tuoke grunted in response, set down his tools, and began assembling the hydraulic shears.

"How's the situation? Who's buried?"

"Who else could it be? Ake and that foolish apprentice of his."

"Wanted to dig a bit more ore to trade for some extra synthetic meat for a treat... and then... sigh..."

The two began to work.

No one mentioned rescue; their job was only to clear the passageway so that the mining machinery could resume operation as soon as possible.

"Coming over just now, I heard those purple-skinned dogs talking about some Gladiator Arena... seems like there was some kind of problem?"

After working for a while, Duke asked casually.

Tuoke didn't even lift his head, prying at a rock with all his might.

"Mm... seems like some signal was lost... something about losing money... none of our business."

"Yeah... none of our business..."

Duke repeated, murmuring to himself.

"Our 'Gladiator Arena' is right here... fighting for our lives every day against cave-ins and dust... win, and you get an extra mouthful of paste; lose... and you end up like Ake and the others..."

Tuoke didn't respond, only pulling the operating lever of the hydraulic shears.

The passageway was cleared bit by bit, gradually revealing the crushed mining cart behind it and... the remains that were too unbearable to look at.

Tuoke and Duke both tacitly averted their eyes and continued clearing.

"Work faster..."

"Finish early... and we might still make it in time for the evening ration... I heard today... it might be moss-flavored..."

"Heh... that stuff... eating it is the same as not eating it, and it scratches your throat..."

Duke gave a bitter smile, but still quickened the movements of his hands.

To them, the wins and losses of any Gladiator Arena or interstellar news were nothing compared to that little bit of synthetic paste that kept them alive at night.