Asgyr

Posted on Thu Aug 22nd, 2024 @ 7:39pm by Commander Kevin Lance
Edited on on Thu Aug 22nd, 2024 @ 7:40pm

Mission: Deep freeze
Location: BS Neva
Timeline: Current

on:
{Nevan Mines}

His name was Asgyr. Or at least that was what he had been told.

The tall, well-muscled, blond-bearded male walked along the roughly hewed passageway, casually swinging a club in his right hand. The collection of workers digging, shoveling, or picking into the rock walls did their best to avoid his notice. I wasn’t clear how he had come to be in charge but his strength, short-temper and cruelty left few who wished to openly challenge him anymore. At least amongst the smooth brows.

A smaller group of persons had pronounced ridges on their foreheads and skin a deep shade of bronze or brown. They were either very brave or too stupid to keep out of Asgyr’s way at first. Yet none had been able to stand against his blows for long regardless of the number of times that they tried. An informal truce now existed between Asgyr and these others. They mainly kept to themselves refusing to mix with the other workers. Still, periodically one would stand to challenge Asgyr and would be on the wrong end of a very hurtful lesson.

The rest of the workers, the smooth brows, were a polyglot of different breed and variety. All were roughly the same shape, with two arms, two legs, and a head. There were variations of skin, hair, and eye colors. Some had oddly shaped ears or a different number of digits on their extremities. Asgyr felt a primal fear of those that were different. A fear that he kept in check by being ruthlessly aggressive.

On his walk, he came across a bald, blue female kneeling on the ground, her head bent and sobs wracked her body. Asgyr stopped the casual swings of his club as he brought it to greater readiness. “What’s this then,” he asked flatly.

The blue female scrambled away from Asgyr, pressing herself against the rockwall in an effort to avoid the reach of his club. “The pain,” she wailed as she held up blistered hands, “It is too much!”

Asgyr frowned as he looked at her collection bucket. It was barely filled a quarter of the way. At this rate, she would miss her quota. “Perhaps I can make you forget the pain in your hands,” he said as he raised his club.

“Asgyr! Don’t!” a short dark haired male said as his interceded his body between Asgyr and the blue female. Ochi was the male’s name.

“Out of my way,” Asgyr demanded, “or I will deal double to you.”

“If you do that,” Ochi reasoned, “we will both miss our quota. I doubt that the Masters will be happy. And when they aren’t happy, things go poorly for the Overseer.” This final name was delivered so pointedly that Asgyr could hardly fail to understand the boy’s meaning.

Ochi was correct. As Overseer, Asgyr was responsible to the Masters for this team’s production. They would punish him if the quota wasn’t met. It was why he used violence and the threat of it against the workers. That and he drew an inordinate amount of pleasure from it. “If I get punished, so will all of you,” he threatened.

Ochi’s eyes betrayed his fear but his voice was unwavering. “I will make quota for both myself and Izma,” he replied, “if you will spare her the punishment.”

Asgyr did not want to accept the offer. Fear was his most effective tool but if the workers thought that he could be reasoned with, they might stop fearing him. “Double quota,” he demand, “from both of you or I will break her legs.”

Ochi’s brows knitted in concern. He wasn’t sure that there was enough time in the shift for him to extract what amounted to almost four times what was expect of him but he felt he had little choice. “Done,” he agreed.

Asgyr grunted as he turned and walked away. Ochi’s feelings for the blue-skinned girl would get him into trouble. Punishment from the Masters was the one thing that Asgyr feared. It wasn’t a physically debilitating as his own ministrations but it was much more intense. He reasoned, however, even if the double quota was missed by Ochi and Izma there would still be more than enough to met his own quota to the Masters.

Asgyr’s thoughts were interrupted by a female arm slipping his left. Hera was a female with short blond hair about a half a foot shorter than himself. “That probably wasn’t the smartest move, lover,” she whispered. She had convinced Asgyr to redistribute her quota responsibility amongst the other workers and although she wasn’t an overseer, she was spared the grueling physical labor.

“Quiet, woman,” Asgyr ordered, “or I shall take out my anger on you.”

“Promises, promises,” she teased then more seriously, “You can’t let the workers think that they can negotiate with you.”

“As you negotiated with me?” he asked cynically.

“I am a special case,” she replied, reaching for his groin.

Asgyr pushed her hand away. “Save that for later,” he demanded.

“As you wish, Overseer,” Hera answered, demurely adverting her eyes downward.

:off

Commander Kevin Lance
Executive Officer
USS Chuck Norris