6th SEPTEMBER 7079, POMATTAN CAVERNS

Madison's self-recriminatory notion regarding her lack of armament was dispelled further on past the fossil. A glint of something at odds with its immediate surroundings near the water caught her attention. She nudged Brewster and pointed to the riverbank a few paces away. "There's something over there." She started toward it, finding something caught up amid some small stalagmites.

Brewster was at her side. "Whitney's radio," he breathed.

Madison stooped to retrieve it, the water's spray kicking up over her and dampening her fur. She gave the device a quick once-over, finding nothing wrong with it. A sudden flash of Tigris Prime afflicted her memory, and she sighed.

"Does it work?" Brewster asked from behind her, barely audible over the river.

Madison nodded. "Seems to." She touched the screen, and it blinked to life.

Brewster looked back to the water. "There's something else as well, just further down." He pointed a short way ahead.

Madison followed his paw to another range of rocky protrusions. There was indeed another object over there; it looked bigger. She handed Brewster the radio and went to check it out. She didn't have to get much closer to it before recognizing it as a weapon, no doubt from one of the guards. It was shorter than a typical rifle, and had a wide muzzle. Its large ammo chamber gave it away as a shotgun. She grabbed it and slung it over her shoulder; the magnetic equipment strip on the back of her vest held it snugly.

Brewster was still fiddling with the radio as she returned to him. "Calling the Laika on OSA channel S179. Captain Hunsiker, do you read me?" he was calling. The mutt looked up at Madison hopelessly. "It's no good. I can't get through. We must be out of range." He clipped the radio onto his belt and stood. "We'd better get moving." He stopped to gesture at the weapon on her back. "Nice shotgun."

Madison felt a twinge of misgiving, but she knew how she'd react were she in Brewster's place. The weight on her back added some reassurance as well. "Sure. Let's go."

Brewster produced the radio a short time after and continued to poke at it as they walked. He snorted as something got his attention on the screen. "Hey, look at that. September the 6th," he said.

"What's that to do with?" Madison asked.

"Constitution Day on Omaril," Brewster sighed. "And I'm not even home for it." His ears drooped even lower. "I just hope Kelly's having a nice time. She's probably not, though. She's probably wishing I was there." He stowed the radio back in its place.

"I'm sorry," Madison said.

"S'not your fault," Brewster mumbled. "I'm sure you had plans."

Madison nodded. "I did. Vacation on Racale. I guess I'm in the same boat as you, really. Hoping they're having a nice time and knowing they're probably thinking about us." She twitched her ears.

Brewster opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, cautiously. "No offence or anything, but who are you missing? Can you have a boyfriend or girlfriend, or...?"

"My team," Madison said, not feeling in the least bit slighted. "My regular team."

Brewster nodded. "Ah."

"And as to your second question, I don't think so," Madison added. "At least, not as I understand relationships. I haven't been given the relevant programming." She paused. "I mean, I can care about others. Like Jeff."

"You're carrying that about with you, aren't you?" Brewster asked her, his eyes glinting curiously.

Madison nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I was only doing what I was designed to do. Salvage. Thing is, we were on a leisure period. I should have been focusing on relaxing, having a bit of fun before we got back to work. But no, I just had to have my mind on the job constantly." She felt something within herself, a sort of hot sensation that made her mind foggy. "I found something in the scrap pile we were playing on. I can't even remember what it was, some kind of small device like Whitney's radio. It was easily fixable; all we needed were some components that were easy to procure. I sent Jeff over to one of the other piles, and on his way over there, he fell." Her internal frame felt like it had gained three tons.

Brewster put a paw on her shoulder. "But you couldn't help that. Like you said, it's what they designed you for."

Through a swelling haze of memories, Madison tried to control herself. "They put me in for a behavioural analysis after that. Apparently several parameters were set too high. I got fixed, reassigned and sent somewhere else. Away from my homeworld."

"That's not your fault," Brewster said.

"It still feels like it was," Madison mumbled. "What if it wasn't the parameters? What if it really was me telling Jeff and Taylor to get those components? It was still me."

"You can't feel guilty about a programming error," Brewster told her evenly.

"Yeah, well, I still do," Madison said softly. She was sad, she knew. She hated feeling sad. It felt wrong somehow. Maybe she'd have been happier if she were just a mindless drone like some of the other OSA robots. Ignorance is bliss, she thought bitterly.

Brewster scratched at his muzzle. "Look, Madison, the past is past. You can feel about it however you like. I do empathise. But some of my... our teammates are very likely to be in danger, and I need you to stay focused and help me. Can you do that?"

Madison blinked to clear her vision. It helped to clear her mind a little as well. "Yes."

Brewster smiled. "Thank you. I'm worried about them, you know." He chortled a little as they both resumed walking. "Yeah, Whitney's a pill, but she's been our leader for ages. She's driven and determined, and I like that about her. Even if I have to cop an earful every so often."

"Our leader's called Henrik," Madison said. "He's more of the laid-back variety. Of course, that's not to say he's sloppy. He's really thorough and takes his time. That's what I like about him."

"Jen and Donny are great too," Brewster went on. "Real laid-back like your guy. Of course, they're always pulling stuff. Real pair of cards." He let out a sigh. "I do miss them right now. Can't wait to see them again." He glanced at Madison. "Again, no offence."

"No, I understand," Madison said, feeling a little better now.

Brewster licked his muzzle. "Yeah, and..." He trailed off as something up ahead caught his attention.

Madison took the hint and looked forward. A short distance away, piled up against the wall of the cavern, were several steel barrels. "Are they from the wreck?" she asked.

"Let's check 'em out," Brewster said. "Just not too close. They could be dangerous."

They both ventured closer to the barrels. They were marked with the standard Core symbol for explosive cargo, but Madison could see that several were empty. In any case, there was more text on them.

Brewster studied one. "Shiffrin Mining," he read aloud.

"Don't remember them collaborating with the OSA," Madison offered.

Brewster shook his furry head. "No. And these barrels are clearly a lot older than the wreck." He ran a paw across the faded finish of the barrel he had been inspecting.

"Shiffrin's from Omaril, right?" Madison asked rhetorically, remembering what she knew about them.

"Like me," Brewster replied. "Major rival to SubTechnology. Unlike me."

"What are these doing here?" Madison wondered, deciding to raise the most salient point.

Brewster shrugged. "I wonder." He shook his head again. "Anyway, enough sightseeing. We need to look for the others."

Madison looked back to the river, and another point of interest made itself known to her. Up ahead, the river bent sharply and disappeared into an enormous chasm. "We've hit a waterfall," she told Brewster solemnly.

Brewster looked up and ran to the edge of the bank. "Great," he sighed. He scrambled onto the slippery rocks near the chasm and peered into the frothing oblivion. Madison followed him and looked over his shoulder.

The waterfall's depth was nothing short of spectacular. Madison calculated it as roughly two hundred feet ending in a large lake of murky water at the bottom. The beam from her shoulder lamp could barely reach it.

Brewster growled. "That's going to take a lot of safety line."

Madison checked the spool on her belt. The counter showed roughly four hundred feet left, give or take a few inches. "I've got enough."

Brewster checked his own. "Me too."

Madison looked back down the falls. "Do you think they're..."

"I'd rather not consider that," Brewster said tightly, reeling out a length of line. "We'll have to attach this to something that can take our weight."

Madison teased out some of her own line and hooked it to a stalagmite, giving the line an exploratory tug. "I think these'll do."

Brewster did the same and let out a woof of satisfaction. "Okay, let's do this." They both lowered themselves over the lip of the chasm and started down.

"Well, this is a treat," Brewster barked some time later, shying away from the thundering water beside him as he worked his way down the cliff face. "Come to Pomatta for the OSA-directed operation, stay for the extreme abseiling."

Madison snorted. "That's job perks for you."

Brewster yelped as a rock came loose under his boot and plunged into the lake below, landing with a distant splish. "Watch yourself," he called to her.

Madison lowered herself a little more, careful not to step on anything that looked even remotely loose. A small cascade of stones skittered from beneath her right boot, and she quickly reconsidered her route, moving slightly to the left. Once they were at bottom, they could snip the lines and drop safely into the water. Then it'd be a small matter of reattaching their spools to the line and winching themselves back up when they'd found the others.

She'd barely finished imagining that comforting scenario when the cliff suddenly began to shake. "What the..."

Brewster yipped in alarm. "Look out! Move right! Move right!" he howled.

Madison looked upward to see a big slice of rock work its way loose and fall toward her. She knew that the second she had taken to look up had fatally delayed any notion of evasive action, and she registered the impact before she could move.

The world blinked out.

Shapes danced in Madison's head: green shapes in inky black. They duly resolved into letters and numbers:

EXTREME PHYSICAL TRAUMA DETECTED

EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN REQUIRED TO PROTECT SYSTEM

REINITIALIZING...

STAND BY... STAND BY...

CHECKING MEMORY... RUNNING COMMAND NO. 23484983589

MEMORY APPEARS TO BE OK

CHECKING FOR DAMAGE...

NO ACTION REQUIRED. INTERNAL STRUCTURE OK

REACTIVATING...

Madison's eyes opened. She moaned and put a paw to her head, reflexively feeling for injury despite the results of her diagnostic. It was just something she was programmed to do. Make her more normal.

She evaluated her surroundings. She was lying on rock. More to the point, she was lying on rock next to what appeared to be a natural lake fed by a waterfall. A short memory check reminded her that she had accompanied a fellow salvager to look for somebody. Her knowledge of who that somebody was would return in a few moments, she knew.

"Madison!"

Her ears rotated in the direction of the shout, and a skinny mutt was making his way towards her from a nearby cave opening. "Brewster!"

Brewster smiled as he approached, relief on his muzzle. "Welcome back. I was afraid you'd been... uh, deactivated."

"Like I said, my frame's reinforced," Madison said nonchalantly, trying not to think about the fact that the impact would have killed her had she been organic. "I feel like I've been hit with a bag of potatoes, though."

Brewster grimaced; Madison remembered Whitney. "Don't mention potatoes. Kelly and I make mash as part of our Constitution Day dinner." He held out a paw. "Need help?"

Madison took the paw and he hoisted her up. "Thanks."

Brewster smiled again and looked back at the water. "They're not here. And I saw tracks leading away from the lake. They're alright." He paused. "I hope."

Madison looked in the direction of the cave mouth he'd emerged from. "You've scouted ahead?"

"Yep. After I hauled you out of the drink, I had a look-see at what awaits us," Brewster replied. "More cave. Though there's bits and pieces of equipment here and there, so I think we're headed in the direction of a mining facility." He hoiked a thumb at the cliff face. "I left us some safety line so we can go back up. Yours broke off when you were hit."

Madison grinned. "Thank you for helping me."

Brewster winked. "Well, I owed you one." He motioned in the direction of the cave. "Let's get going."

Luckily, Madison's equipment had survived the rockfall, and her shoulder lamp once more lit the way as she and Brewster headed into the mineshaft.

"One of the tunnels along here caved in, and just recently," Brewster said. "I hope they didn't go that way."

They passed the rock-filled entrance and made their way past a disused Omita-branded generator. "You weren't lying about the equipment," Madison said.

The tunnel soon broadened into a small cavern littered with large stones. "I only got this far," Brewster said. "It's uncharted territory from here on in."

They stepped into the cavern – and the night became day. Madison yapped as her eyes rapidly adapted to the light that seemed to be coming from out of nowhere. She blinked and managed to triangulate the source – lamps on the ceiling. Four of them, bolted to an overhead gantry.

Brewster was rubbing his eyes. "Bugger me, that was sudden."

Madison steadied herself. "I think we've reached that mine."

Brewster snuffled, switching his shoulder lamp off. "I think we can lose these."

Madison did the same with hers. "Good idea." Just ahead, revealed by the lamps, was a short length of wire fence separating this area of the cavern from what lay beyond, and in that fence was set a double gate, flanked by tall metal posts.

"Think that's our way in," Brewster deduced unnecessarily.

Madison left any responses to that end unspoken and approached the gate. Not three seconds later, the posts hummed loudly and projected twin beams of light that swept down on Brewster and she before they could react. "Identifying," a cool female voice intoned. "Madison Clutterbuck. Salvage operative for the Outworld Scientific Authority. Gender: Female. Species: Synthetic of class not matched by current records, modelled after Arctic Fox (Alopex Lagopus)."

Madison gasped; Brewster was chortling beside her. "This thing's got your number," he woofed.

"Brewster O'Keeffe," the voice went on, immediately shutting him up. "Salvage operative and pilot for the Outworld Scientific Authority. Gender: Male. Species: Dog of indeterminate heritage (Canis lupus familiaris). Age: 28." There was a brief pause. "These profiles do not correspond with the personnel roster for this Shiffrin Mining installation. Your presence has therefore been flagged as a security risk and security officers have been notified. Thank you for your cooperation." It promptly switched itself off.

Silence descended for a few moments. "I don't think anyone's coming," Brewster mused.

Madison shrugged and shouldered her way through the gates, which opened easily. "All to the good."

Inside the fence was something Madison would recognize as a mining facility: a collection of modular buildings with a control tower in pride of place; several vehicles fitted with a multitude of lasers, drills and shovels; rail carts filled with some kind of mineral or precious stone; and a host of power-generating equipment which, despite being clearly abandoned, was still humming.

"Geothermal power, I'm guessing," Brewster remarked. "SubTechnology do it all the time, so why not this lot?"

"I'm more interested in what's in the carts," Madison said, pointing to the glittering material inside. She trotted over to an overturned cart and took a paw-full of the stuff. It was crystalline, hard and smooth, and shone red in the artificial light. "It looks like volainium."

Brewster whistled. "Wow, that went out a while ago when jalenium took over. How old is this place?"

Madison shrugged and deposited the stuff back in the cart, her curiosity exhausted. "Let's check out the buildings." She looked toward the control tower. "And I'm thinking we should start with the biggest one. Whitney and the others could be in there."

Brewster nodded. "Right."

One clamber up a rickety stairwell later, Madison and Brewster slipped into the control room atop the tower. Disconcertingly, everything was still on. The cheerless glow from snowed-out security monitors cloaked the room in a pallid haze, throwing shadows from the pile of folders, books and planning scrolls atop the table in the centre of the room.

"Must've been a blast working here," Madison snorted.

"No sign of them," Brewster said, his voice heavy. "No Whitney or anyone else." He wandered over to the table and sat on of the chairs around it, burying his face in his paws. "If they were in any of the other buildings, they'd have seen us by now."

Madison sat with him. "They must have taken that other tunnel. We can still look."

Brewster lifted his head. "Right. Right." He ran a paw over his face. "Let's just rest awhile. We've had a few close calls."

Madison riffled idly through the pile of detritus on the table. Something interesting was peeking out from beneath a scroll. "Hey, look. A video cartridge."

Brewster studied the cartridge as she lifted it clear from the mound. "Suppose we could see what's on it. Hopefully it's something funny. I could use a laugh."

Madison took it over to one of the monitors and plugged it into the media slot. They both shuffled their chairs closer as the inert screen blinked into action.

It was somewhat grainy, indicating a hasty setup, but the image of a youngish Sheep with curly brunette hair was still clearly visible. Audio emerged from tinny speakers. "Audio log one," the Sheep was saying. "Volainium mining operation on Pomatta is a go." She suddenly grinned. "And I'm bloody excited. Hi, Momma!" A short burst of hilarity later, the Sheep continued. "Lisa here. We've begun extraction of volanium seam. Preliminary scans indicate a large lode, to the volume of eighty-two thousand tons. Eighty-two thousand! Unbelievable. Uh, so, er, anyway, I'm just making this to confirm the equipment is working okay now. We've had some hitches, but it all looks green now. I'll have more later." The image winked out.

"Well, it obviously didn't work out," Brewster muttered. "Jalenium probably got discovered the next day."

Madison was about to reply when the screen blinked back on. Lisa the happy Sheep was talking again. "We've hit the seam," she was saying, a massive grin on her face. "And it's..."

The screen snowed out, indicating a cut, and it suddenly changed; the orientation was the same, but Lisa had clearly changed in an eyeblink. Her curly hair was messy, her face was ashen, shoved into the camera, and her eyes... Lisa spoke, and her voice was low and strained. "We dug too deep," the Sheep rasped. "In our arrogance, we dug too deep." Her face swelled into the camera until her nose was touching the lens. "It's here now, and it will not spare us." Her voice became a whisper. "Fear the Barghest."

There was a loud screech from somewhere behind Lisa, and the screen went dead.

The door to the control room burst open. Madison was on her feet in a nanosecond, the shotgun in her paws, and she fired.