Chapter 15- Miner Difficulties

I spent a little more time at my office, setting up my affairs for the next week or so. I sent a scroll to Celestia informing her of what I'd be doing, and had left Ori instructions on how to reach me if she absolutely had to, otherwise she knew I planned to be gone for an indeterminate amount of time.

I made my way toward the industrial section of the city. I teleported from my office to about a mile or so away from my destination, and trotted the rest of the way by hoof. I wanted to be seen you see. I was disguised as a mottled brown and black earth pony. I used this disguise about once every three months or so at irregular intervals to make my way into the Undercity. I worked a long time to establish myself down here as a part time drudge for hire. My cover was that I had a semi-regular job in the city as a construction pony. But that I also had a bit of a gambling problem. When money got tight I would come down to the Undercity and hire on a work crew for about a week or so working for hazard wages to get me back on my feet. This gave me an excuse to come and go from Undercity without appearing suspicious. I used this alias to snoop around every so often for info. And, if I was being fully honest, every so often I would also do it just to kick back and unwind from the stress of being Celestia's favorite errand pony.

Most people think that diamond dogs are vicious, smelly, stupid, meat eating barbarians, with no culture, class or manners. Actually only most of that is true. You're average diamond dog is roughly as intelligent as your average pony, (of course in my experience you're average pony isn't all that bright either). The main difference is that a diamond dog tends to be more straightforward. They have less guile, less deceit. This is because what most ponies fail to understand is that at least fifty percent of a diamond dogs perception and communication is done with visual cues and their sense of smell. They see no need to state the obvious when they speak with one another, so the subtle nuances of their interaction with others go right over a ponies head.

For example, if I were a diamond dog, and I ran into another diamond dog coming home from a night spent working in the mines, verbally I might say something like “Howdy,” and he might respond with “Evening,” and we'd pass each other and be about our business. But in the language of scents and twitches the conversation would be more like:

“I see you have spent an exhausting evening digging in the lower east tunnels, and hauling tin ore. I hope the pocket of natural gas that was breached didn't cause anyone any harm. I'm glad to see that the gash on your leg hasn't become infected, and I must say that the new perfume your wife is wearing reminds me of the good old days back in the Everfree where I used to play in the sunlight as a pup.”

“Yes, it was quite a long day, but I'm sure your day mucking out the sewer line under 118th street wasn't any better. I note that they are using a new batch of herbal shampoo in the decontamination showers, I'm glad the lobbyists got that approved. And don't think I haven't noticed traces of her perfume lingering on your fur buddy, I'd advise you to go sniffing around a different house on Saturday nights unless you want to come down with something far worse than a case of rabies.”

It's for this reason that I didn't try to mess around with using illusions to make myself look like a diamond dog, or even metamorphosis spells. Even if I crafted the perfect illusion, or changed my body to perfectly mimic one of their species, it wouldn't fool them for a second. There is no way I would ever smell right. Even if I used magic to hide my scent entirely. If anything, that would make them more suspicious to have a being in front of them with no scent at all. Diamond dogs may be stupid to the ways of ponies, but there is no way a pony, no matter how magically gifted, is ever going to fool the nose of a diamond dog.

It didn't take me long to make it to the other side of the tracks. That isn't just an expression by the way, the industrial section of Whinnyappleous is criss-crossed with more train tracks than anywhere else in the city. This is the part of the city where everything is made. Cotton is brought in from the farms outside of the city and made into cloth. Ore and gems are brought up from the mines and refined, they even have something called a cannery. Apparently they have figured out a way to keep food from spoiling by sealing them in cans. I've seen a section in the grocery store just for 'canned goods'. I must admit, the idea of having fresh peaches in the middle of winter does sound quite appealing. And it must seem that way to other ponies as well, since I see the cannery has expanded into the lot adjacent to it.

If Luna ever dropped her spell, and time resumed it's normal speed, I wonder what our city would look like to the ponies outside? Some fantastic futureland no doubt. But I digress.

Just down the block from the cannery, situated on the corner but well back from the street, was one of the public accesses to the Undercity. It was a large industrial size elevator. The stink hit me before the doors even opened. Oh yeah, I should mention that, the Undercity isn't known for it's hygiene. Quite the opposite. The very fact that I DON'T stink will label me as a topsider. There isn't a lot of traffic between topsiders and the Undercity mainly because for Undercitizans to be allowed up top, they must first undergo a decontamination shower to get the stink off. This is mandatory, no exceptions. Then of course, sooner or later they must return home, and their lack of stink will make them the focus of ridicule. For this reason there actually exists a small but profitable 'stink' business working the areas outside the entrances to the Undercity. They specialize in... well... stink for sale. I really don't like to think about it.

On the other side of the coin, topsiders seldom want to visit the Undercity because the smell usually is bad enough to cause them to pass out. Even with the filters provided to the public for free at every station, the smell is still very… noticeable. 'Stink' merchants also usually have a sideline of industrial grade nose filters and deodorants for visiting topsides.

Thankfully I had no intention on going into the Undercity proper. I was just going to the mines, with a quick stop on the way to register myself at the labor office.

The labor office was crowded, as usual. Diamond dogs, ponies, humans, and even a griffin, were all impatiently waiting in long lines. These were the people that had no permanent jobs. They came here every week for short term employment, hoping each time to be picked up by a crew. Sooner or later, if you were a good temp, some crew would hire you on for good. But at least half the beings here would never make that cut. Either for being too unskilled, too old, or just plain lazy, they would come back week after week, taking whatever jobs came up and making the best of it. It sounds harsh I know, but there are more job openings down here than in it's counterpart topside.

The mines are always expanding, and there is always a need for grunt work. More often than not a topsider comes down here looking for work, and if he's any good ends up staying. This is because, stink aside, the pay is very very good. All work in developing sections of the mines is considered 'hazard pay', because of all the additional risks. And a month of 'hazard pay' down here is more than anypony usually makes in six months topside. Of course it's called 'hazard pay' for a reason, and the death toll in new mine sections usually averages around fifteen to twenty percent. This is why usually only the brave or the desperate sign up for it.

Before long the inexorable tide had bore me to the long sought sign-in desk. Amanda was working tonight, and she recognized me (or rather my alias), immediately.

“Long Shot? I knew you come back soon. Been too long. What happen THIS time?” The portly diamond dog asked in amusement.

{Sigh}, “oh, the usual. Betting on the ponies. The WRONG ponies. I swear, I'm beginning to think they are all conspiring together just to make me lose.” I say, feigning exasperation.

“Is true,” She replies conspiratorially. “Is all big plot by mining commission. They want to keep you working tunnels, make them rich. Every time you bet, they pay off pony to lose, then you come back.”

“Amanda, I knew it was a bad idea to give you those mystery stories. It's making you paranoid. But back to why I'm here, do you have anything, um, hazardous open?” I asked, trying to sound a little desperate.

“Well, is one crew, Big Tom's crew. He be glad to see you, but half of crew is new. Mine shaft collapse last week. We not usually put pony on crew with that many new dogs. You know why.” She says, lowering her voice so as not to be over heard.

I certainly did know why. And if I was any other pony, or wasn't working on a deadline, I'd avoid the whole thing. But I had to get a hazard assignment. That was where the explosives were used the most. And there were people I could talk to in supply. If I took a regular digger shift, there would be no way to talk to them without looking suspicious.

“I get what you're saying Amanda, but I have like a uh… pressing need, for a lot of funds in a short amount of time.” I reached into the quickly grown replica of my mane and pull out a well hoofed paperback book. “Would this help to ease your conscious at all?” I asked passing it over.

“Is new Sam Spavined book?” She asked, eagerly hopeful. “Long Shot, why you do this to me? You good pony. Me like you. If not for deadbeat husband, me would take you home and sire many puppypoines on you. And you come and ask me to try and kill you. Over and over. Long, you need to stop this. They ponies up there,” she says pointing at the earthen ceiling, “they help you shake gambling. Shake like fleas. Only it gone for good.”

Oh Amanda, you have no idea how much it hurts me to do you this way. But it's for the greater good. Next month I'm buying you a subscription to the 'Mystery of the Month club', I think to myself.

“I know Amanda, I know,” I reply trying to ride the line between appreciation, and the desperation of an addict. “But I really need this job. Please? This one last time? I just need to pay off some leg breakers and that's it. Done for good. Honest.”

“Long, you say this every time. Then you go away, and me think maybe, maybe this time he make it. But then you always, always come back. Me never know to be mad at you or relieved. But me no want you legs broke either, so here.” She says passing over the job assignment and location. “Just do me one favor. Don't get killed.”

“Believe me Amanda, that is the one thing I plan to avoid.” I say sincerely, before I make my way out of the ever increasing crowd.

I make my way to one of the elevators that leads down to the mines, and press the button to the lowest floor. From there I navigate the twists and turns indicated on the map until I come to a vertical shaft leading down into the darkness. There is an old cage style single person elevator at the edge of the shaft. Next to it are mining helmets with light crystals on them, and a variety of digging tools for different species. I select a tooth pick made for earth ponies. No, it isn't for cleaning your teeth, it's a specially designed pick for earth ponies to use with their jaws. It definitely took some getting used to the first time I was here. I had to keep fighting my unicorn nature to simply levitate it with my horn. But after a day or so I managed to figure out a workaround. Magic on the sly as it were. Now to the dogs that knew me, I had a reputation as being one of the hardest working ponies in the mines.

Thankfully the pick was relatively clean. I wiped it off any way with a rag from the rag bin, and tuck a few of the rags into my mane. It was nice to have my mane and tail back, even though it was only temporary. As soon as the spell wore off it would all fall out again, and my coat would return to it's original color.

I select a miner's helmet made for a unicorn and fit it over my invisible horn. I take a moment to craft the illusion that the hole in it is gone, making it look exactly like it's earth pony counterpart, then I enter the cage, and press the 'down' button.

As the cage buzzed and slowly descended I took a moment to examine the walls of the shaft. Excellent. This was very new work. Less than a week old. This shaft was made quickly and not as well as I would have expected. They must have discovered a new seam of ore, and are following it until the vein widens out for excavation. This is exactly what I was looking for. My only problem now will be the new dogs.

I knew the leader of this crew pretty well. Big Tom and I have worked together several times. He was gruff, he was tough, and he didn't take any crap from his pack. If you did your job well, he was good as gold. Screw up once too often, (and too often that was only once), and he'd beat seven shades of night out of you before sending you back topside. This was because if you screwed up down here, you could end up getting not just yourself, but every member of your crew killed. He and I got along just fine.

Only thing is, according to Amanda, at least half this crew were new. Oh, not new to the mines. That would be suicidally stupid to send greens down to the most dangerous part of the mine. I'm sure these dogs were from other crews. But it all amounted to the same thing. A dog pack had an alpha. That alpha in this case, was Big Tom. All the other dogs below him were expected to find their own place in the pecking order. Now in his old pack, I had already established myself, and I was usually left alone. And I'm sure the dogs that remember me will give me my space. But if what Amanda said was true, half these dogs would be looking to place themselves 'above' me. And that just wouldn't do. Low dog gets given all the scut work, and although I wouldn't care myself about that, I also wouldn't be able to move freely about during downtime. No, the best thing I could hope to do is figure out who among the new dogs was highest in rank and start from there.

The cage had lurched to the bottom, jarring me from my thoughts. There was a single tunnel before me, with light crystals evenly spaced along the wall providing small pockets of illumination. Up ahead I could hear the sounds of picks, and the booming voice of Big Tom shouting orders. I folded up my map. I wouldn't need it anymore, there was only one place left to go. Slowly I made my way down the shaft, taking the time to examine the hastenly raised support beams. This crew was too new. The construction was barely adequate at best. They must really be putting pressure on Tom to make an experienced foredog like him skimp on safety like this. What could they be after so badly? Copper and tin prices remained steady on the stock market. I had heard rumors that the big corps had been hiring crews to scout out some new kinds of ore, but I had never been able to find out anything more than rumors about them. It was on my to do list to investigate further when I had the time. Could I have accidentally assigned myself to one of those teams? If so I might be able to kill two griffins with one stone.(A very racist saying from the bad old days, and also fiendishly difficult to actually achieve. Believe me I know).

Before much farther the mine shaft widened out into a large cavernous area that was being laboriously excavated by Big Tom's crew. It only took me a moment to locate the foredog himself, due to him constantly barking orders to the crew. Give the dog credit, even with his back turned, he still smelled me coming, despite the stink of the mine.

“By Luna, is that Long Shot I smelling?” He said, not bothering to lower his voice, causing all the dogs in the room to look up momentarily. “Oh sweet merciful Moon, it is! The Great Alpha has finally answered one of my prayers, and sent me a decent miner right when I needed one the most!”

Tom rushes over to me and gives me an honor that scandalizes all of the newbies in the room. He gives me a long lick on one side of my muzzle. Disgusting? Yes. But a tremendous show of respect from an alpha to a subordinate.

“Listen up you newbies.” He says clutching me to his side like a brother. “This pony be Long Shot. Him hardest working pony in the mines. He worth any four of you newbies put together. Now that him here, we can finally meet quotas again. Him going to be in charge of section four from this point forward. You newbies pay attention to him. He keep you alive. You listen to him, and he teach you how to dig!”

This last statement was a HUGE insult to any diamond dog. A pony showing a dog how to dig? Big Tom must be having all sorts of trouble with these guys for him to use me to piss them off. Between that and making me a section chief he pretty much guaranteed that I was going to have problems with every dog in here I didn't know. He confirmed this with his next statement.

“Sorry bout dis Long.” He said in a much quieter voice. “These new dogs all tink dey hot stuff. They get pulled off of other crews for dis 'special project'. Ting is, dey all act like maverick ponies. Dey all dink dey know what's best and won't hardly listen none ta any dog else. I dun busted three heads since de cave in last week. Dat usually enough for normal dogs, but dese guys all thick. None of dem see da big picture. Dey slowin us down wit dere complaining, an gripin, when dey should be follwin orders an workin. Ting is, I can't say nothin bout it to da boss accounta dat shaft collapse last week. If dey tink I can't run my crew no more, then dey bust me back down and give it to anudder dog. I can't take no loss in pay. Connie just had her litter last month. And no way I can feed da eight of us on a digger's pay, even if it is hazard wages.”

I quickly got the picture. What Tom wasn't saying was, if I were to put these dogs in there place instead of the alpha, then they could never raise their snout to him again, unless they went through me. And Tom knew from personal experience that I was a really hard pony to get through. Tom is, in my opinion, way too smart to be wasting his time down here in the dirt. But his pa was a digger, and his pa before that, and Tom was considered the pride of the litter after he made foredog, so I know that nothing I say would ever make him leave.

“I get what you are saying Tom.” I responded quietly. “Pecking order?”

“Pecking order.” He confirmed. “All dat aside. I'm really glad you is here Long. De bosses got us down here for something special, and they want it pretty quick. You musta seen the rush job on the shaft coming in here. It's all for dis.” He says, reaching into his overalls and pulling out a small piece of ore.

He tries to pass it over, but as I am reaching for it I get a good look at the sample and jerk my hoof back like it was burned.

“By the Sky Stallion Tom! Are you crazy? That's Uranusium. Do you want to die?” I say, looking around the cavern in a panic.

Great Zacherle, is that what these dogs were after? We had to get out of here! Uranusium is some quirky metal that emits invisible energy call 'radiation'. Not very harmful in and of itself. But it also emits a gas called 'Radon' which, in high concentrations, such as found in an enclosed mine, can very easily make a person sick, and or die.

“Calm down, calm down, is no radon in here. Bosses fix, see?” He says pointing a paw at some kind of strange skeletal tower in the center of the cavern.

“Okay. I see it. But what exactly does 'it' do?” I ask warily.

“Is some new magic boss ponies send down. It suck up all radiation from Uranusium. It suck up all radiation from Radon. It collect in little lead bottle at bottom. When bottle full, it emit a signal. Pony come down in funny suit and switch out for new bottle. We been here a week and no dog has got sick. Little tower work good.” He says proudly.

Although a little more at ease, I'm still very confused. “Okay, so magic tower keeps us safe. But what in Equestria do they want Uranusium for? Aside from making things glow, I don't see the use in it.”

“Ah you not here since news. Month ago, some pony find that if you deplete radiation from Uranusium, it become very hard and strong. Stronger than steel. Boss ponies in big rush to mine as much ore as they can. But very few veins of it in mine. We find this one by accident in collapse over week ago. They send me more dogs to get as much as we can, as fast as we can. Is big bonus if we make quota. Now that you here, maybe we can.” Tom says hoping to reinforce his earlier point.

I have no choice at this point but to play along. But I fully intend to run a few tests myself before we bunk down for the night. Magic tower or not, I won't rest easily until I determine this place is safe on my own.

Tom gets me settled into my new section. As I expected, every dog here is new to me. This won't end well I can tell. I make sure that everyone knows who I am, and that I've worked with Tom long enough to know how he wants things done, and that I expect everyone to pull his or her weight. I got a few grunts at that and more than one set of eyes rolled, but they all at least made an effort to work for now, and that let me concentrate on my own little patch of heaven.

Over and over my pick struck the cavern wall. The insulation of the specially made pick kept it from jarring my teeth, but what no one else saw was the tiny blots of magic that were being shot out of the point of the pick just before contact with the wall. In that tiny microsecond, a special variation of my dissolving spell would shoot into the rock and spread, dissolving long fissures deep inside. Then when my pick actually struck, these fissures would split causing chunks of the wall to break off and fall to the cavern floor. To an onlooker it merely looked like I was a really strong earth pony, able to seemingly tirelessly crack sections out of the wall. Once I had enough to fill a couple of good sized buckets, I would shovel them up and carry the buckets to a nearby mine cart and dump them. Once the cart was full, some dog or another would push it back the way I came in and load it onto the cage, where it would be sent up the shaft for processing. And this is how miners spend a 'good' day. None of us wanted to have a 'bad' day. That involved sections of walls collapsing onto somebody, random gas pockets erupting, discovering an aquifer behind where you had been patiently digging, oh there were all sorts of things that could give us a 'bad' day. And we all knew that sooner or later, before this job was over, that we would have at least one.

The hours passed by in tedium. Occasionally I would raise my head to check on the rest of my section. They were barely plodding along. Every other section had already cleared nearly double the amount that we had. I didn’t bother to say anything to them yet. I knew that all this would be settled at lunchtime. And I was right.

No sooner had Big Tom called lunch, then the rest of my crew, as well as all the other newbies, came over to 'sit' with me during my meal. I unpacked my lunch, (two daisy sandwiches, and one of Derpy's muffins with a thermos of coffee), and began to eat. As I had hoped, the biggest, smelliest, (and from the look of him, stupidest), of the newbies had something to say.

“Haw, look Jingo, little pony eating plants. Him must be sick. Work too hard for little pony.” The mass of muscle says. I'm surprised he can string that many words together, his brain must be overheating even as he speaks.

“Ya Bruno,” the scrawny dog called Jingo adds, “dogs only eat plants when sick.” He points a paw at me. “You must be one sick puppy.”

This passes for the height of humor among the rest who all start barking laughter. I calmly finish my sandwich, and start on the second.

The dog known as Bruno scratches his chin for a moment. “Yeah, pony must be sick. Sick pony no good in mine. Sick pony no good in charge. Tom not smart making pony in charge. Tom bad alpha. Bruno put sick pony down. Am doing a favor for poor sick pony. Then Bruno take over as alpha. Bruno lead good.”

This was what I had been waiting for. As Bruno reached for me with one of his oversized paws, I used the hoof I wasn't eating with to grasp it and twist. While doing so, spell runes flared to life unnoticed beneath my quick grown fur, and I easily brought Bruno to his knees, crying out as I held him there without breaking a sweat. Then, making a show of slowly putting down my sandwich, I got to my hooves, still holding onto Bruno, grasped him by the scruff of the neck with my other front hoof, and casually threw him across the cavern to smash face first into the rock.

Without sparing the others so much as a glance, I sauntered over to Bruno and leaned against the wall smashing his head onto the floor with my lower hoof as he had started to rise.

“All right you maggots listen up!” I say, raising my voice for the first time. “I'm about to teach you puppies the pecking order! There's YOU,” I smash Bruno's face into the dirt, “the DIRT,” I do it again, “the worms IN the dirt,” once more, “ME,” a final time, “and Big Tom. Any questions?!?”

“Yeah,” Jingo says, slow on the uptake, “we no take orders from stu-”

Unfortunately whatever else he was about to say is lost to history as I threw his buddy Bruno at him, knocking them both back several hooves in the opposite direction and cutting off his air as Bruno lands across his chest.

“Any MORE questions?” I ask, but this time even the slowest dog has caught on.

I didn't expect to have any more trouble out of my section, or from any other newbie here. After a moment all of my 'old' friends bring their lunch over and join me.

“Hah, me knew the minute me saw you this would happen. Right fellas?” A spotted diamond dog named Bigalo says.

“Yeah, we was all waitin fer you ta show de newbies de 'pecking order'. Haw, haw, haw,” another buddy of mine named Dirk chimes in.

“Seems like it was jus yesterday dat you taught ME de pecking order.” Bigalo says, settling in next to me. “I learnt that one pretty quick. Ain't no pony in dese here mines tough like our Long Shot!”

Grunts and barks of agreement are shared among the old timers. I glance over my shoulders and see that most of the newbies have gotten the message. The ones that haven't will before long. Tom may be a gruff so and so, but he does his job right, and keeps his crews alive. And now every dog here understands that he has me watching his back. Things should settle down pretty quick from this point forward.

And as far as I'm concerned, the sooner the better. I've got more important things to do down here than teaching puppies how to dig. Someone is sending explosives up topside to whoever has been trying to kill me. The sooner I find out who, the sooner I can finally put them down.

Author's Notes:

Some of you may notice a Team Four Star homage in there. It was just too appropriate for the mine to pass up.