The garrison runner was nineteen years old and did not want to be here.
Orvek could see it in the boy's face: the rigid posture, the rehearsed delivery, the way his eyes kept sliding to the massive drill rig looming behind Orvek like a steel cathedral. The rig had been cold for six days. The motors were still. The cables hung slack. It did not matter. The machine was enormous, and this boy had clearly never been this deep.
"Cease-operations order, sir. Commander Halsen. Countersigned."
Orvek took the folded paper. He read it. He read it again.
"The drill is already shut down."
"Yes, sir. The order is formal, sir. You are to secure all equipment and remain at the site pending further instruction."
"I secured the equipment six days ago. What exactly does the commander think I've been doing down here — running the thing in secret?"
The runner said nothing. He was trained not to argue.
