Private Lend You a Hand as I slide the Knife Through Your Back

[Zo'i Prihm]

​

Belazura
the edge of the Strip Mining District
one of many temporary tenements...​

Smoke billowed in the distance vanishing in the dark, dust-filled clouds overhead. The clash and clang of metal on rock and dirt was ever-present, muffled by tightly packed, barely-standing buildings of plasteel sheets, rusting tin rooves, and rotting wooden poles. These were intended to be homes for those displaced by the mining operations taking place nearby. They were "temporary" because these people were to be displaced once again as the mining operation grew and grew. Eventually, any trace of green vegetation and blue water the world once had would be stripped away and replaced by worthless dust and nutrient deprived, tainted dirt, and lava spills from those spots where the mining went too deep. For now, the displaced citizens of Belazura were being shuffled from camp to camp to camp where they were given "opportunity" to work in the mines to make enough for travel offworld.

No one made enough to afford the few transport services offered. The only places most of those transport services went were directly to other worlds where the mining was underway because all of the available transports were carrying equipment or ore or anything else relevant to mining. The only other people visiting the world were private capitalists looking to invest or buy or visit the "resorts," entirely indoor places filled with so much plastic wildlife to make anyone visiting forget the devastation happening just outside the veiled windows.

This was the fate that befell Belazura after the world had been forcefully taken over by Diviak Manfloon, member of the Corporate Authorities of Denon's DireX Board, a ruler and a businessman.

And this was where Luminous Sun, fellow DireX Board member, of equal status to Manfloon, decided to pit herself against her competitor. This was where she would attempt to topple Manfloon. Because if there was one thing Sun was good at, that was being dramatic. She didn't have to try hard on Belazura. The tenements were disgraceful. She wouldn't be caught dead in the horrid conditions. So she had sent her underlings while her HoloNet crews back on Denon edited Luminous Sun into every shot they received from those on the scene.

Hence why a demure Rhéala Aleyv and a rebellious Zo'i Prihm were there doing the dirty work, the work Sun said she was going to spearhead and use as a political campaign against Manfloon. "A humanitarian crisis" Sun had called the place. Though Zo'i was pretty certain that Sun had no intention of saving anyone. She was just using the "crisis" as an excuse to one up Diviak. Whatever the case was, these people needed help and Luminous Sun was bankrolling the operation. And Manfloon had done the smart thing and not caused himself a PR nightmare by allowing the rescue operation to land.

Rhéala broke Zo'i out of her daze as she walked dumbfounded through the maze of shacks. Rhéala's voice was so bland and devoid of feeling, nothing like the vibrant woman who had convinced Zo'i to travel with her. It hurt to hear her guardian so lifeless. "The Nakaioma representatives will be arriving soon. I need to meet with them. You should join up with the other medical aid teams from Denon. They'll have tasks for you."

"Is that an order? Or are you making a suggestion, Mom." Zo'i bit out her words with more venom than she meant. And the human woman wasn't her Mom. Not really. But the word felt right to use as an insult. Zo'i regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. Rhéala visibly recoiled but said nothing in response. "Darkwire is here too, you know. They were invited. Offered pardons and credits and whatever else by Sun for assisting." Her words were softer this time, reaching out, hoping to find some trace of hope. Rhé just nodded. "Maybe I can go with them? Maybe they can help us too?"

The hurt on Rhé's face steeled over, the human woman looked like she was doing an impression of the stone-faced Chiss woman that should have been her romantic partner. "Do whatever you want, Zo'i. I'm going." With that, she walked off.

The Zeltron teen watched the woman leave, losing her quickly among the cramped space of shacks and depressed people. She just sighed, turned and left to find the Darkwire people who had come.

Spoiler: Look here for prompt

So Zo'i is going to go and look for the Darkwire folks: Noah Gloom and Doc Painless and Rhéala will meet with the representative that Saro Nakaioma sends. The world is actively being mined, the people are suffering, and the DireX are using it all as an opportunity for grandstanding and political rivalry. More plot to come as we go along!

 

[Doc Painless]

“I need a pressor field,” the Doc snapped, uncharacteristically brusque in the heat of the moment, “and I need it now.” The young woman on the makeshift operating table before him was losing too much blood. Another cave-in thanks to a hastily, sloppily-dug mining tunnel had smashed her leg, making her one more casualty of Divak Manfloon’s infinite greed. A standard year ago, this woman - barely more than a girl, really, maybe eighteen or nineteen - had been a seasonal worker at one of the local resorts. Now she was homeless and penniless, another indentured wage-slave.

It made the Doc think back to the song he’d heard the work gangs croon out nonstop since he’d arrived, a catchy bit of melody with sardonic lyrics: “Great Balance don’t you call me, ‘cause I can’t go; I owe my soul to the company store.” After literally bulldozing their homes, Manfloon had dangled the prospect of escape in front of the desperate refugees’ noses, promising offworld transport to those who fulfilled their work quotas for long enough. But it was only to keep them on the hook. He’d make sure they sank deeper into debt instead, forced to pay him for food and rent in the squalid work camps.

To Manfloon, these people were just another resource to exploit.

“Field generator is fried, Doc,” his impromptu surgical assistant told him, trying to hold the patient steady. Baaso, an aged and hunchbacked Rodian, had been a resort’s staff nurse Before Manfloon (B.M. in Belazura’s new and dark history), and he had the most medical training of anyone the Doc had been able to find. The street medic cursed. He seldom left Denon - the people of Seven Corners needed him - and he hadn’t brought much equipment. He’d been expecting depression and malnutrition among the refugees, not this kind of traumatic injury.

Clearly he’d underestimated the depths the Mining Union would sink to.

Okay, no pressor field. Gritting his teeth, the Doc reached for a hemostat clamp and fastened it tightly above the injury, cutting off the blood flow. He’d have to work fast, or this kid would lose her leg. She might not thank him even if he did manage to save the limb; there would be no way she could work while she recovered, and her debts would only mount while she lay in her leaky tent. But there wasn’t much he could do about that. One street medic couldn’t fix a planet, but he could fix a wound. With a sigh, the Doc leaned in close, setting bone and stitching sinew, losing himself in the work.

All around the improvised medical tent, working men and women sang, their voices strong and bitter. “You load sixteen tons, and what do you get? Another day older, and deeper in debt.”