View source for Comm-Link:The Lost Generation - Issue 1

Thunder crashed over the roar of heavy engines. The stench of diesel and scorched earth saturated the atmosphere. The driller’s break was just about over. He savored a last drag on his Stim. He could’ve sworn he just lit the damn thing. As he ground it out on the loose black scree, his body had already started fiending for another one. He ignored it and joined the rest of his shift on the long descent into the site. He passed a fleet of HaulerVats. The massive spherical vehicles floated on a bed of AG as their vacuum tubes collected the shattered lava for processing. Further ahead, there were the Scrapers. Their blades whined like banshees as they sawed into the rock.

Reaching his own Scraper, he banged on the window. Eventually, the driver powered down and climbed out. The driller didn’t know this new guy. He wasn’t going to bother trying, not at the rate the Corp burned through employees. The driller climbed in and got to work.

Over the next hour, the driller carved another thirty feet of lava. He could barely hear his music over the screaming blades and chugging engine. There was definitely going to be another trip to the ear doctor in his future. He needed to finish his certification and get out of the pits before his ears went for good.

Suddenly, the wall ahead collapsed. The computer flashed a warning and the driller quickly cut the blades. He must have hit a pocket of what passed for air on this planet, or some other gas. He waited and hoped the tunnel’s ceiling would hold. The drizzle of pebbles eventually stopped. He grabbed his air-sensor and climbed out. Company protocol strictly stipulated that pockets had to be tested for flammable gases before the machine could resume work.

The driller moved past the Scraper’s blades, still steaming in the cold air, and started scanning in front of the machine. Seemed all clear. Not hazardous, at least. He moved forward, trying to see what could have caused the collapse.

That’s when he saw it. The sensor clattered to the ground.

<nowiki>* * * * *</nowiki>

The junkworld of Spider in Cathcart System was allegedly a neutral zone for pirates, fugitives, and others of ill repute. It was anything but safe at the moment as Tonya Oriel, rogue scientist and explorer, sprinted through the narrow warped halls. This was getting to become a habit.

The payoff from the Kherium score on Hades was even bigger than she’d hoped. Most of it immediately disappeared in the maw of creditors and loan-sharks that were banging on her proverbial door. Another chunk enabled her to trade up to a sweeter ship but the remainder was going toward a treat: a Tevarin Codex, the original text for their warrior-religion. Only a couple dozen still existed after [[The Purge|the Purge]] of the Second Tevarin War. Various museums and collectors had snatched all of the known volumes up, but somehow this fixer got one. Only after Tonya showed up and paid, did he suddenly realize its value and tripled his price.

So Tonya grabbed it and ran. A laserblast zipped past her and seared the wall. Tonya glanced back. It was Nagia, the plunderer, loping after her with his bad leg, a gun, and a foul expression.

“You got nowhere to run, girl!” He screamed and snapped off another shot.

“We had a deal, Nagia!” She yelled back without slowing down.

“Deals change!” Nagia fired again as punctuation.

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Tonya burst past an arriving crew and cut down toward the hangars. They quickly obliged the lunatic with a gun.