The Quarry Camp stretched out like a scar carved into the earth, endless pits and trenches dug by men too hungry to stop. Rusted watch towers leaned over the perimeter, manned by guards with rifles and hollow eyes.
Inside, tents and shacks clustered together in uneven rows. Children ran barefoot in the dirt while mothers clutched them close, wary of the guards. Food lines wound long past the corrugated metal mess hall, where quartermaster Elias Vorn decided who ate and who went hungry.
Captain Mercer's shadow loomed over the camp. His orders barked across the quarry daily, and no one dared challenge him. Beside him, sister Alina's soft voice preached obedience and sacrifice, as if submission itself were holy. Mostly only the love struck boys and men fell for her stories. Together, they ruled the Quarry Camp like a kingdom of despair.
I, like most people here, don't actually have any family. Each crew lives in tent areas connected to make work more efficient. The dig team I have been assigned to for the last few years isn't all bad. We usually get assigned to the furthest sites. It helps break up the day. I also get to work with my buddy, Mason. Since I can remember, it has been just us looking after each other. No one else was going to.
Our small crew was assigned to a pit on the far eastern edge, where the ground had begun, coughing up, strange shards of black and steel.
"Pick it up, Hale." Jonas Pike barked, sweat rolling down his smug face. He wasn't in charge, but he sure enjoyed, pretending he was. His shadow, Ox, the musclebound lackey, chuckled beside him.
Mason Hale shot me a look. "Don't know what's worse, the rocks or him."
I smirked under my mask. "At least the rocks don't talk."
Clara Wynn, as usual, stayed quiet. As one of our security detail, she had the option to not help, but she was always there helping anyway; almost methodical in her work. She never wasted energy, never looked exhausted, just as steady as the sun.
Then my pickax struck something that didn't sound like stone.
Clang.
The vibration rattled through the shaft in my arms. I froze. Mason glanced up.
"You hear that?"
At first, I thought it was just another damn rock. After all, we've been digging at this site since sunrise. We were currently laying trenches for the outpost powerlines. My back aches, and the mask clung to my skin, soaked in sweat. The air stank of dirt, oil, and something worse, death that had long since gotten comfortable around here.
I knelt, brushing away dirt until a faint metallic shape emerged. A smooth, curved plate, black as obsidian, humming faintly beneath my touch. The air felt charged, alive.
Clara's eyes narrowed. She said nothing, but her gaze lingered.
"Looks valuable," Jonas muttered, crouching next to me. "Might even buy me a ticket out of this hellhole. Go on, hand it over." my hand hovered over the object. For some reason, my chest tightened, like the thing itself wanted me. I swallowed hard, forcing a laugh.
"Relax, Pike. It's probably just junk."
But when I attempted to pry it free, my fingertips burned with an energy that was anything but junk. Mason leaned closer, whispering just for me:
"Careful. Whatever that is… it doesn't belong here."
The panel lit up. A surge of light shot from it, blinding us both. My fingers locked around the metal, and for a split second, I felt it, a heartbeat. Not mine.
Then the pain hit. White-hot fire spread from my hand to my shoulder. I screamed, falling to my knees as the thing fused into my skin. My veins glowed beneath the surface, streaks of light crawling toward my chest, like living circuits. I heard voices, digital whispers, overlapping, chaotic.
[Biological host accepted.]
[Sync initiated.]
[Genome: unstable.]
And then, beneath it all, a sound not from any machine. A growl, deep, primal, ancient. When the light faded, I was gasping. My pulse thundered, my muscles vibrated.
Mason, clearly frightened, was backing away slowly with his eyes wide open.
"I'll be right back, just need a quick recharge." And then, the world went dark.