The sound of hammers thumping nails into wood could barely be heard over the howling wind. Another snowstorm was blowing in, and the prisoners hauled timber from the permafrost tundra to various places around the perimeter before adding to the wall. It was nearly complete, progress having been slowed by frequent badger maulings. Although no one had died, there was scarcely a prisoner in the gulag that didn't bear scratches or bite marks from an attack. Leaning against the nearly-finished bridge, Dohon peered to the north for any signs of the caravan that was coming. Like the other guards, he now wore a fur cap and a woolen scarf wrapped around his face, veiling everything but the slit for his eyes to look out upon the world. The prisoners were not so lucky, and had to make do with gloves and hats. They frequently took breaks to warm their ears and noses to ward off frostbite, and bemoaned constantly the lack of proper clothing for this bitter cold.
A few months back, as the biting fall was just starting to get frigid, another party had arrived. This one had two guards, one of whom was married and had to bring his wife and toddler child with him. Dohon and Dishmab had found this dwarf, Conan, to be an odd addition. Why would they send someone with a family to this outpost? No one was certain, but the odd circumstance was going to have to be dealt with, as always. The other guard, MacDuggan, was also an aspiring mechanic. It was when he arrived that they decided to get to building the bridge, since they would have someone capable of rigging it to raise and lower on command. This group had only brought two more convicts with them, both of whom were quickly assigned to help build the clay buildings and get the place in working shape. Dishmab was upset to learn these two guards also had no gear, and so she resorted to ordering the guards to practice sparring and close-quarters combat until they could get their hands on some weapons. It had not been a good start to the fall.
Now, Dishmab stood guard over a massive pit in the ground; she had decided to expose the aquifer to the arctic winter, and freeze it. Afterwards, they would dig into the ice, put up walls, and plunge through the aquifer into the ground below with a massive stairwell. If the plan worked, the stairway would stretch to the surface, and double as both a mineshaft and entrance to the guards' quarters. Dohon saw something on the horizon, and watched warily. Soon, he could distinctly see a group of pack animals being led by handlers towards their crude gate. He turned and went over to Dishmab, his voice muffled through his scarf. "The supply convoy's here! I'll watch the diggers," She nodded and handed him their only axe before going to the depot on the tundra.
Snow blew and whipped across the clay floor as the haulers unloaded the supplies. The trader extended a thickly gloved hand to Dishmab, shouting over the cold wind. "Lovely little slice of hell you've got here, soldier! I'm Olin; the queen's authorized a credit of 1,000 rubles for you to resupply. Anything over that, you'll have to buy or trade for."
"That's it!? A thousand!" she yelled back at him.
"Sorry, there's a shortage of supplies back at the mountainhome. We're constantly fending off attacks and trying to fund new outposts. You get what you can. The liaison is here as well; maybe he can help you out with a larger stipend next year, I'm just a merchant. I don't have that kind of pull."
"Just give me all the ore, stone, food, booze, and seeds you've got that I can buy with that, and let me talk with the liaison!" Her voice struggled over the wind, and another dwarf stumbled towards her, his hand gripping a fur hat that the wind threatened to kidnap with each gust. She figured he was the liaison, and motioned for him to follow her. They made their way into the tunnel, and a few yards from the entrance she sank into her chair, motioning to the other one across the simple wooden table with a bag beside Dishmab's chair. A firepit beside them provided heat, and the two guard dogs were leashed ahead of them, guarding the way in. A little further in and closer to the fire were a few rough beds, a pony keg and some scattered mugs, and some toys. Otherwise, it was bare earth as far as the eye could see. The dwarf pulled off his hat and pulled down his scarf while Dishmab left hers in place; no point in getting undressed when she'd be back outside in a hurry anyway. "Pleasure to meet you, mister...?"
"Ethmor, Mayor Ethmor."
"A mayor?"
"Formerly," he shrugged, taking a deep breath. The slow exhale was marked by a stream of cloudy air as his humid breath froze in the tunnel. "Anyway, you must be Warden Dishmab. Sorry we're so late; I know it's almost winter and all-"
"Spare it, with all due respect Mayor. We're just glad you survived the trip." She opened the bag beside her chair on the floor, and pulled a plate free while stacking a few odds and ends on it. "Care for something to eat?" The plate was set on the table, bearing fresh blackberries and raspberries, hard boiled eggs, hard tack and salted pork. "Or a drink?"
"Oh, some fruit and eggs would be nice. We're living on salted pork for the journey, and a beer would be great." A few moments later the Mayor was eating his first fresh meal since they departed, and sipping his beer while Dishmab merely waited. "So," he began after popping another berry past his lips, "Oh, these are great. Wild fruit out here? Amazing. Sorry, anyway, so we've brought a bit of everything. Didn't know what you might need," His fist rapped the table and the clay platter in turn. "I'm guessing stone, then? You haven't dug deep enough to get to any?"
"There's a salt water aquifer below us; we have no drinking water, and no stone until we bypass it."
"Oof, that's bad. I hope nobody gets injured before you get some drinkable water."
"That makes two of us. I need any metal you can spare: ores, bars, toys and cages we can melt, anything. Charcoal and fuel for my smelters and forges to boot, and some flux if you can spare it. After that, seeds and plants, and booze. Beer in particular."
"Mm. Some of that will be hard to get."
"What? Why on earth are those difficult requests?"
"Well, we're in a crisis here, Warden. Anything with value for the army or new colonies has to get priority. We're trying to bring our civilization back from its deathbed."
"What about clothes," Dishmab sighed, "I've got barely anything to keep these prisoners covered up."
"You want more clothes for them? Why? Their comforts aren't a priority for the queen, and frankly shouldn't be for you either."
"This isn't a matter of comfort," Dishmab sat up in her chair, looking him hard in the eye. "This place is arctic, Mayor! A few yards south of where we're sitting is permafrost clay and loamy sand; it's like digging through solid rock! I'm not trying to cushion these dwarves, but they're useless to me dead. They won't survive a second winter in the clothes they're in now, if they even survive this one. I need clothes, or the means to make them. Even a few sheep would be good enough. To say nothing of keeping my own guards properly clothed and protected from the snow and wind."
"Alright," the mayor nodded, "I'll see what I can do. I know 1,000 rubles isn't much in the way of purchasing power, but the queen is adamant about this place being self-sufficient, even helping support the kingdom. Just, keep that in mind. I will try to help, but the official view is that we need you to help us, not the other way around."
A week later, after the purchasing was done and the business of meetings and the like was handled, Dishmab saw the convoy leave for the mountainhome. She was soon interrupted by shouting from the pit. She raced over to see a very happy Conan and Dohon. "What's going on in that pit?"
"We're through the aquifer, and there's limestone and magnetite." Dohon chuckled. "We've got steel." Although her face was entirely covered by a woolen scarf, it was still obvious that the Warden was grinning.
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Topic: The Gulag (Dig Deeper GOLD Community/Story Fort) (Read 5243 times)