For the time being, they let it drain into the forest. Didn’t seem to hurt the trees. But eventually Kalico was going to have to do something with it. Figure some way of processing it for the metals. She didn’t want it contaminating her farmland, toward which it would eventually drain. Heavy metals in their diet were already a problem that required constant vigilance and chelation therapy.

Kalico nodded to Tappan Mullony where he was fixing a jury-rigged light as she climbed up to the mucking machine with its waiting crew. Ahead of her, she could hear the clattering of the pneumatic hammers as they drove a length of steel rod into the brittle head rock at the top of the working face. The steel would stabilize the roof while fragmented rock was removed and shoring built. Once the shoring was extended, and the potential for cave-in was stopped, the pipe would be withdrawn and carried forward to be driven into the ceiling rock for the next length.

Five foot four in height, and built like a black-haired block of a man, Aurobindo Ghosh stood in the center of the tunnel, lights silhouetting his hazard-suited body. He had his hands propped on his hips, helmeted head cocked as he watched Jin Philon and Bill Masters run the pneumatic hammer. The two men were perched atop a scaffold, each bracing the heavy piece of machinery. Kalico stuffed her fingers in her ears, deafened by the noise. The others all wore hearing muffs with integral com.

“That’s it,” Ghosh called as the rod was driven even with the last length of chabacho-wood shoring. The sudden silence left Kalico’s ears ringing. She lowered her hands, calling, “How’s it going?”

Ghosh turned. “Hey, Supervisor. We’re making ten feet a day through this rotten stuff. Talovich is out with the sawyers dropping trees along the haul road. We’re shaping every timber and fitting it before hauling it in to be placed.” He pointed. “Got to shore along the top as we muck out the ore. Sort of like extending a ceiling before building the room. Then we pull back, muck another meter or so, back the machine out, set more timbers, and do the whole thing over.”

“Monotonous,” Jin called, a smile on his wide lips. He had an arm slung over the top of the large pneumatic jackhammer as if it were his best pal.

“What the hell else you got to do?” Kalico asked ironically. “Go gamble at Port Authority?”

“Naw,” Masters called derisively, “Ol’ Jin here, all his plunder goes to keeping his man-part vertical while the rest of him is horizontal at Betty Able’s.”

“Don’t be jealous, Billy Boy,” Jin chided. “At least I got something that will go vertical. Bet you wish yours did.”

Kalico shook her head. “You’re both what I’d call hard luck cases.”