The Dig

[VaevictisAsmadi]

10-5-834
Lost in the upper caverns

---

The constant thundering sound of the sandstorms was something new to Arthur. In his opinion Pygars surface was ruled by a bloodthirsty deity. Bashing its fist against the ground, trying to pluck the poor saps from their holes and eat their souls. The haphazard flickers of the ceiling lights didn't help. Synced with the great roar of the furious god from above, they sent strikes of terror in his soul. He didn't like living in confined spaces, and he hoped he wouldn't die in one either. On each blink of the lights he stopped not knowing what to do, while the locals just continued their steps.

It was three days since his search started and he had no luck. Covert skills weren't his forte, nor was luck on his side. In the begining he moved around bars asking drunks, brigands and blackguards, but to no avail. Everybody knew an artifact was found, but of it's nature nothing was known. "A ship!" said one drunk Zoner "A mighty ship, which will take us back to Sol!". A trader and his security were sure it was of Nomad origin. "It's an egg. It will birth a new alien queen, and the entire Omicrons are forfeit." the security officer said quietly. "This is my last drink here, and I am going to good ol' Liberty.". There were numerous pastors out in the streets screaming "Woe be upon us! We have found a instrument of the Devil! Destroy it good people! Destroy it or perish!".

Arthur didn't know anyone of authority in the various settlements. Even if he knew, he wasn't sure they would confine in him. He wasn't able or knowledgebla to hack into databases or comm channels. So he went for a more natural approach. Where there's smoke there's fire or in his case, were there is cause for celebration, there is alcohol. Where there is work, tools are needed. Going through various bars was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Beside he didn't believe any of the eggheads doing the excavating would be let to roam free. Loose lips sink ships as they say.

A scientist will have taste, will want good quality alcohol. He would need fine tools. In one of the houses great agencies will move like clockwork, secrecy would be ensured by cloak and dagger. But in the world of the free Zoners, words spread quickly. A contractor would try and cut costs as much as possible. Legitimate traders would have documents, accounting, paper trails. So he went around seedy dealers, asking for big purchases, machinery, alcohol, food, labour. This led him to the upper caverns. They were closest to the star ports, but were also closer to the turmoil on the surface, making rent dirt cheap. A perfect recipe for a shady rogue. Arthur had another lucky break, the same smugglers valued their life more than credits and skipped town. "May you live in interesting times" was a curse among their kind.

Another strike of darkness, and then light. Arthur found himself in front of the "Blind Barber". He tried to brush off the sand and muck from his ragged coat but a voice from inside yelled "Come on in, young man. Dontcha worry bout the dust.". The front side of the building was built, but the insides were a small dugged out alcove. The room didn't have a normal shape and although it was mostly empty till the middle, the far side had numerous corners, which were filled with big stacks of boxes. The more you looked at the far corners, the more confused you got. A faint smell of rubbing alcohol filled the room.

"Now now, boy. Dontcha stand there, take a seat and let Mr. Basil here, give ya' a nice clean shave." said the old man. Arthur already tired of trying to take in the room, turned to the barber, and confusion hit his senses again. The man was dressed nice in comfortable brown pants and white shirt, with a colorful bowtie around his neck. His beard was a ragged mess, while his hair, or what was left of it hadn't seen water in a long time. His was full, but not all of his teeth were present. His left eye was clearly fake, while the other was muddled.

Infront of the man were torn leather chairs and mirrors. Arthur knew the smuggler had a legitimate front, but he didn't expect it to be a barber ship. Basil went up to Arthu surprisisngly quick for his age, and gripped him under the arm, pulling him to the chairs. The lamps stopped for a good few seconds. Arthur felt a pull and when the room returned he was by the old barber chairs. "Hey there youngling. Dont look so sheepish, I can see you need a nice clean cut, yessirree.". Arthur was almost pushed to the chair, the cobwebs and dust softening his descent. "Whats it gonna be now sonny. Mr. Basil here can win you a few looks from the ladies. I can give you a buzz cut, only on the right side, a fade, a choppy, a nice good hot shave, a..." the man continued to list his services, but for Arthur he might as well be speaking in tongues.

"What about an old fashioned drink?" interrupted Arthur. The old timer exposed a straight razor in his hand and stopped. Arthu was unsure if he wanted to continue, the speed of barber was incredible. "Old Mr. Basil here, could fix you up with something strong, sonny. But you don't look cut out for this." the barbers right eye was fixed on the mirror. "I just want some information" stammered Arthur. "Oh, really now? You are a curious sort." Basil looked at the man in the chair from top to bottom "Not a fighter by the looks of ya. Not a trader or an academic, your clothers are too moth-eaten. And you don't have a devilish glare to your eyes, so you can't be a scoundrel or a brigand.". The barber laughed, but the razor in his hand moved slowly to Arthurs neck "Are you the first honest man, to enter the 'Blind Barber'?".

The lights flickered, the razor moved closer. Arthur hoped the hesitation was a sign of curiosity and pleaded "How about some tit for tat? I ask my question, you ask yours? I leave your shop, you leave a honest man alive?". The razor stopped, both men held their breath, even the thundering whistle of the sandstorms above subsided. Terror burned Arthurs throat and the smell of alcohol made him dizzy. "A game? Your life is on the razors edge and you propose a game?" the old timer laughed "Don't be fooled by my lack of sight. I haven't met a man that I couldn't read."

"What do you know about the artifact?" Arthur asked, trying to stay as still as possible. "I know enough to stay away. I know scholars from far away are comming to tinker with it. If I had my sight I would leave." the barbers razor touched the young mans neck. "Now who are you? Who are you working for?". Arthur took a heavy breath. "I'm Arthur Gaehan, born on Erie. I work for no one.". "So you came here all alone? Do you not value your life?" the hand holding the razor tightened, the barbers brow furrowed. A thunder on the surface and darkness covered them. A more macabre smell sneaked by the mask of the alcohol "You said you wanted a honest man, not a smart one!" Arthur pleaded.

Laughter errupted from the old timer, the edge distanced from the sweating neck. "Do you know where I can learn more about it?" the younger man sat up in the chair. "Now hold on sonny, you're getting a little too big for your britches." Basil hand pushed Arthur back into the cobwebs. "Aye. I helped a few people meet, shook some hands and prepared some purchases. Specific location I can't tell you. But I can nudge you in the right direction. But we have yet to decided will you be leaving." the barber swinged the chair, facing his victim to the back of the room "You ain't the first man, to ask questions about things they shouldn't know.".

From here you could see behind the facade of boxes. Horror, decay and death laid there. The spilled alcohol and spirits initially masking the miasma gave way to its full grisly stench. "I take no joy in my line of work. But some secrets must be protected. Now defend your case. Why should you know?". Color faded from Arthurs face, not for the first time panic clenched his soul. Shaking hands gripped into the armrests. A long time ago he vowed to not fall to fear, but this was his first trial since then. Slowly time passed, the cruel deity from above listened silently, a stone faced killer examined the his next victim patiently. Arthur closed his eyes and only darkness remained.

First he forced his breathing. Slowly he let go of the armrests and moved to get up. His hands still uneasy, were clenched into fists infront of him. The barber didn't move, he watched more confused than worried, as the younger man willed his hands open. "I killed a brother on Erie. I watched a lover die on Canaria. I am a sinner." Arthur opened his eyes, looked directly into Basils cloudy eye "I am a nobody who wants to help Pygar, and maybe find a little forgiveness. Mr. Basil, please help me.".

"Damn fool, a sinner he says." angry swears filled the room. "You've got some balls kiddo, showing up and just blabbering. I ought to let you lie with the others in the back." The razor moved, but the young man didn't. Their eyes still locked, a couple of drops of blood were hanging on the blade. Basil didn't miss, if Arthur flinched he would have been dead. "And the worst thing is you believe yourself." the razor disappeared just as quickly as it came, a grimy piece of paper taking its place. "You will never come back here. You will die a miserable death if you don't get smart. Leave."

Arthur took the note and walked to the door. Turning to the blind barber, he said "Thank you." and left as quickly as possible. The cacaphony of the slums engulfed him, and he forced himself to cross a few blocks before puking. On the way to his room he shivered, when there he collapsed to the floor. Fear still gripping his heart and his soul in shambles.