A bright light hovered over Jerro, engulfing his view. Rodents in medical scrubs rotated into the edges of his narrowed vision. Metal instruments clattered while the team spoke in serious, clipped tones, calling out their every move. Jerro drew a deep breath of latex and iodine before a mask covered his face and the smell was replaced by an acrid sting.

  “Keeper… is she…” His voice trailed off under the mask.

  Darkness took him again.

  Jerro opened his eyes slowly. Sticky dryness tugged at his lips. Bile coated his tongue, and he swallowed hard, forcing it down. The room was sterile, but not cold. One door faced him. A smoky window was set three quarters of the way up. Packed earthen walls held their shape, smooth and clean. Glowing mushrooms pooled soft light along the edges, and a simple metal lamp on the bedside table cast a warm downlight across his blankets.

  His mind drifted briefly to Builders Basic. The peanut incident. A group of Cogs had slipped peanuts into his lunch, convinced it would be funny.

  “It wasn’t funny,” he muttered.

  His face tightened, then the memory let go and the reason he was here rushed back in.

  Jerro reached down to feel his leg. The bone wasn’t sticking out anymore. It wasn’t cast or secured, just wrapped in a simple bandage around his upper leg. The area was sore, and he could feel lumps beneath the wrap. His head was wrapped too, in a thick band that felt cool to the touch.

  A shadow crossed the window, and a quick knock followed. Before he could answer, the door opened.

  A beaver entered wearing an open, long white coat. She carried a pad tucked under her arm. A mask hung under her chin, and a colorful headband held back her fur. It was hard to tell, but she looked little older than Jerro.

  “Good late lune. Or is it morning?” She smiled faintly at her pad. “I’ve lost track. My name is Doctor Mossbank. I performed your surgery, and I’m overseeing your recovery.”

  “What happened to Keeper Aleese?” Jerro asked.

  The doctor’s smile faded. She pulled a chair from the corner and sat at his bedside.

  “I’m afraid she didn’t make it. I’m sorry.” She paused and then spoke gently, as if she were placing each word where it belonged. “She was gone before she reached us.”

  Jerro looked away and fought the knot forming in his throat. “What happens next?”

  The doctor shifted upright, pad resting on her lap. “Once I clear you to return to duty, you’ll be back in the paws of The Builders. From there…” She exhaled. “That’s out of my domain.”

  Jerro kept his gaze fixed on the wall, holding his expression still.

  “Let me see that leg,” she said, patting the mattress beside his injured thigh.

  Jerro propped himself up on the pillows. “Wasn’t it broken? Why isn’t it cast?”

  “No… Well, yes.” She smiled, like she’d been waiting for that one. “Yes, it was broken. No, we didn’t use a cast. You’re the newest recipient of a novel tech from the Burrow Health Institute. Nanomites.”

  Jerro blinked. “That’s cool. What exactly are nanomites?”

  Doctor Mossbank tapped her pad and lifted it. A diagram of a tiny robot filled the screen.

  “Miniscule inorganic machines. We injected them after I reset your leg and put everything back where it should be. By now they should’ve rebuilt the bone lattice and are currently speeding up tissue regeneration.” Her eyes brightened. “Let’s look.”

  She gently lifted his bandaged leg and began unwrapping it.

  The door swung open without warning.

  Ordinate Rull entered, accompanied by a nutria sentinel who stood guard.

  “Cog Jerro,” the Ordinate said roughly, then cleared his throat. “I’m glad you’re awake. I have a few questions regarding your encounter.”

  Jerro sat straighter against the headboard. “Of course, Ordinate.”

  Rull turned slightly toward the doctor. “How’s he recovering? I heard you used the new nanomite tech.”

  Doctor Mossbank inspected Jerro’s bare leg. The spot where the bone had protruded was already closed.

  “Amazing,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone.

  She bent his leg and guided it through its full range of motion. “How does that feel? Any pain?”

  “It’s a little sore,” Jerro said, surprised by his own smile. “But no pain.”

  The doctor beamed and glanced at the monitor on the wall behind him. “Vitals look great. I’m going to recommend discharge. Take it easy on that new bone for a lune or two and come back for your follow-up. We want to record the progress and make sure you don’t need additional treatment.”

  She removed the sensors, one from his forehead and another from his finger, then unwrapped the bandage on his head.

  “Your gear should be in this cabinet,” she said, opening a small door against the far wall to show him. “Oh, and the nanomites will break down after about ten lunes. Your body will take care of the rest from there.”

  Ordinate Rull shuffled to the bedside chair and took the seat the doctor had been using. “Thanks for putting him back together, Doctor.”

  She nodded and headed for the door. The nutria sentinel opened it for her. “Of course. And sorry to move your Cog out so quickly. As you know, we’re short on beds.”

  “Understood, doctor. Thank you for your concern,” the Ordinate replied.

  The latch clicked.

  He rested his gnarled cane between his legs and stacked both paws on its end. He did not take his one good eye off Jerro. “Sentinel, leave us.”

  The nutria obeyed. The door closed again.

  “Tell me, Cog,” the Ordinate said, voice low. “What happened down there?”

  Jerro explained what he could, working through the ordeal in the order his mind would allow. Their attempt to slow the flooding. The cloaked creatures. The dead sentinel. The turbine gallery. Keeper Aleese.

  “Can you tell me where they went?” Ordinate Rull asked.

  “I have no idea,” Jerro said. “They had this hoop thing.”

  “What did it look like?”

  “They put it on the wall, and it filled with black liquid. Like a thick ocean. Like a lake of oil.” Jerro swallowed. “I don’t remember much after that. I think I was knocked unconscious, then the sentinels showed up.”

  Ordinate Rull sat back and frowned. After a moment, he shifted his weight and stood. “This stays between us. For now.”

  Jerro’s throat tightened. “What am I supposed to do now?”

  “I’m placing you on medical leave until you’re cleared at your follow-up. Go home and get some rest.” The Ordinate’s voice softened just slightly. “You and the Keeper’s bravery were exemplary of The Builder code.”

  Jerro stared at the blanket, focus slipping. “Keeper Aleese…”

  “She was a hero to The Burrow and our order,” Ordinate Rull said. “She will be posthumously awarded the Builder’s Timber Cross.”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Jerro’s eyelids dammed the tears. He shifted on the bed, trying to breathe past the pressure in his chest. “Her kits,” Jerro said, staring at the blanket. “She had two. They’ll grow up without her.”

  The Ordinate reached a paw to Jerro’s. “In Deepworks, you learn quickly,” he said, thumb pressing once into Jerro’s paw, “you can’t save everything.” He held Jerro’s eyes. “You know how that goes as well as anyone. We’ll make sure her kits are taken care of. That is what we can do.”

  He hobbled to the door, then turned back and rendered a salute. Jerro returned it from the bed, quick and unsteady. The Ordinate exited.

  Jerro waited only long enough for the latch to settle before swinging his legs over the side. He reached for his issued jacket, and his paw betrayed him, a fine tremor he couldn’t still. The Keeper’s eyes flashed up, glassy and wrong.

  He pushed through the feeling, whispering the eulogy of The Burrow to himself. “We burrow.”

  With a deep breath, his paw steadied. Jerro snatched his gear, shoved his way into the hall, and dropped his transit disc. The tunnels blurred as he took off.

  He swept into a marble-lined antechamber where gray and black swirls climbed into shadow. A long glossy counter ran the length of the wall, tucked beneath a cantilevered recess. Velvet ropes marked an empty queue, and holoscreens behind the desks looped Deepworks history for visiting citizens. A recorded voice drifted through hidden speakers, cheerful and neutral, the kind meant for tours.

  “The Builders trace their history back as far as The Folding, a time before recorded history…”

  The vestibule felt hushed in that polished way, all echo and distance, until a sudden pounding cut through it. Beyond the semi-transparent doors, two large silhouettes and a smaller one hammered at the barrier, shouting over one another. Their words came through as dull, swallowed syllables.

  The sentinel on the left turned and yelled toward them. “We already told you, no one gets in. Facility is locked down by order of the Ordinate.”

  Jerro dismounted carefully, sitting and swinging his legs to the floor. The sentinel on the right, dark brown fur slicked flat, nodded at the pad. “If you’ve got orders, scan out. Things are especially tight right now.”

  “The Ordinate cleared me, should be in system,” Jerro said, placing his paw on the adjacent pad. A soft red glow lit beneath his skin, then flipped to green with a swift positive tone. He looked towards the doors. “Who’s out there?”

  The sentinel shrugged. “A little gopher and the biggest, grumpiest marmot I’ve ever seen. Said they’re checking on a friend. But…” He lifted his paws. “Lockdown.”

  Jerro’s eyes lit, and a grin broke through his exhaustion. “Oh. I may be able to resolve this situation for you guys.”

  The guard straightened and rendered a sharp salute. Jerro returned it with less formality and strolled through the doors.

  The Builders’ crest flanked the entrance to Deepworks on two enormous banners. A black circle with a white triangle overlaid, and centered within them, an engineer’s hammer.

  On one side of the foyer stood a copper bust of the first Ordinate. On the other, a wall-sized illustration depicted the original construction of Deepworks.

  Jerro pushed open one of the massive doors leading to the stepped entrance.

  “Jerro!” Mari shouted. She sprang up from the top step where she had been sitting and wrapped her short arms around him as far as she could reach.

  Greg approached with a tired smile as Jerro and Mari broke their hug. He and Jerro placed a paw on each other’s opposing shoulders.

  “It’s good to see you both,” Jerro said. Then his nose wrinkled. “Why do you smell so bad?”

  “And Phlip,” Jerro added, just as Phlip bounded forward and knocked him to the ground, nuzzling his giant floppy face into Jerro’s.

  “Alright, alright,” Jerro laughed, struggling under the rabbit’s enthusiasm. “That’s enough, you big ball of fur.”

  He pushed his way up finally, and the four of them started back down the dig together.

  “Mari, don’t you have a trial coming up?” Jerro asked.

  “Yeah. I wanted to ask you about that, actually.” Mari’s voice shifted. “We were at Tailweaver’s earlier. How long ago was that?”

  Jerro narrowed his eyes. “Before my shift. Maybe ten or twelve hours ago. Don’t you remember?”

  “I do,” Mari said. “But that was the last thing I remember before waking up in an old ruined cave on the north end of Long Valley.”

  “What?” Greg cut in, louder than he meant to. “You were out of The Burrow again?”

  “Yeah,” Mari said. “But I don’t remember how I got there.”

  Jerro glanced at her, serious now, as they passed a collapsed section of the dig wall. “Unsanctioned excursions are forbidden, Mari. You’re going to get in trouble one of these times.”

  “Jerro, I know you don’t approve, but this is different. I have no idea how I ended up out there. Don’t you think that’s odd?”

  Jerro stopped and paced in front of her. Mari rolled her eyes and waited him out.

  “It is,” Jerro admitted. “And maybe that’s the point. Beyond the birds, there are anomalies on the surface.” He paused. “Rufus might know something. He hoards old history and ancient tech like it’s treasure.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Mari said. “I stopped by Tailweavers when I got back, but he wasn’t around.”

  Jerro turned his attention back to the breach in the dig wall. “This is worse than I thought,” he said, looking over the damage and then down the muddied tunnel. Debris was scattered and embedded in drying muck.

  Then his gaze snagged on something else.

  Chunks of worm flesh decorated the periphery.

  Jerro pointed at a hunk of jellied tissue. “What’s all this?”

  “Oh yeah,” Greg said without slowing. “We killed an earthworm.” He dropped to all fours and took off ahead, leaving Jerro and Mari behind.

  “Yeah,” Mari called after him. She lowered her voice and focused her attention on Jerro. “It was pretty cool. And also likely why we smell bad.”

  Jerro blinked, then hurried to keep pace with Mari and Phlip. “Must have been drawn to the water,” he said. “How exactly did you do that?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure,” Mari said. “I think it was mostly Greg’s psionics, not mine. But I used a duo technique Mister Craghorb had been teaching. That was the first time I got it to work.”

  Jerro gave her a look that held both surprise and respect. “I’m impressed. Even the sentinels have a hard time taking down errant worms.”

  They pushed on toward The Spine. Mari rode Phlip. Jerro skimmed low on his disc. Greg surged ahead through the rough patches, stopping only long enough for them to catch up, impatience carved into every glance.

  Blue light spilled around the last bend. The crystal’s glow steadied into its familiar daybreak hue.

  The plaza was crowded and half-turned into a relief camp. Bedrolls and makeshift awnings hugged the walls. Sentinels and medical teams moved through the churn, hauling, lifting, guiding the dazed toward triage. A throng of citizens pressed toward a white-columned building with blunt capitals carved across the lintel. THE BANK OF THE BURROW.

  Near the edge of the crowd, Mari spotted her dad speaking with two others she recognized from the war. Another gopher, broader than Jupi, with mechanical forearms that whirred softly as he pointed toward the empty podium. Beside him, a ground squirrel turned, and patches of fur gave way to smooth swirls of scarred skin.

  Mari backed a few steps toward Greg and Jerro. “I’m going to check in with my dad real quick. See what’s going on.”

  “Sounds good,” Greg said, voice flattening again. He nodded toward a massive marmot ringed by followers in small black cylinder hats. “I’ll just stay here. I’m not ready for that conversation.”

  “I’ll stay too,” Jerro said. His gaze swept the crowd. “No beavers. No riding rabbits.” He nudged Phlip with an elbow and managed a faint smile. “You can babysit us.”

  Mari slipped into the gaps and surfaced beside Jupi.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  He turned, startled, then softened. “Oh, hey my little carrot.” He pulled her into a tight hug. “Did you and Greg find Jerro?”

  “Yeah,” Mari said. “He’s okay. Well, mostly.” She pointed back through the crowd.

  Jerro and Phlip were circling Greg in a clumsy little game of tag. Greg sat still as stone, enduring it like a punishment.

  “What’s going on?” Mari asked.

  “Councilmember Kaet came out,” Jupi said. “They’re setting up ration distribution for displaced citizens. Repair plans too. The head banker is opening reserve stockpiles.” He glanced toward the podium, still empty, then back to her.

  The words had barely landed before a coughing fit folded him. He excused himself and staggered out of the crowd, doubling over. Mari followed, rubbing his bony back, tracing each rib until the attack passed.

  Jupi wiped a tear left over from the struggle. A soft smile tried to return, failed, and his mouth set into a straight line as his eyes fixed on Mari.

  “Dad?” Mari asked quietly.

  “Mari,” he said, voice low, “I’m so proud of you. Keep those boys safe. Promise me.”

  “What?”

  “Your friends. No matter what happens.” His stare held. Over Mari’s shoulder, his eyes flicked once to his old war pals in the crowd, then back, like a silent check-in. “They chose you. And believe it or not, I think they need you now more than ever.”

  “Dad, are you okay?”

  He pulled her into another long hug, then pressed her back with both paws on her shoulders, holding that intense look.

  “We love you,” he said, fighting back further emotion.

  Mari didn’t understand, but something in his tone caught in her anyway. They hugged again. “I love you too.”

  “Alright,” Jupi said, and his voice tried to return to normal. “You'd better get going. I’m sure the three of you have a lot to do.”

  He returned to the crowd. Mari returned to her friends, more confused than she’d been before she went to check in.

  ∞

  Merchant Hollow was quiet. A few vendors were setting up, and a group of young mice took advantage of the empty street. They’d split into two teams for a game of burrow ball.

  As the friends passed, a stray ball rolled in front of them. Greg booted it in the opposite direction. The mice stopped their game and watched the ball soar down the desolate corridor.

  Mari stared at him. “You could have just kicked it back to them.”

  “Could have,” Greg said plainly.

  “I get that you’re upset about Jake, but you’ve got to pull it together.”

  Jerro blinked. “Wait, what happened?”

  “I lost,” Greg replied.

  Jerro leaned forward, looking around Mari as they walked. “Greg… I’m sorry. Sounds like it’s been a rough lune. All around.”

  They reached the turn leading to Tailweaver’s and ducked down the alley. The stained glass was dark. No amber glow from the hearth danced through the windows.

  They stopped and looked at each other.

  Then Mari stepped forward, placed her paw on the latch, and opened the creaking door into the hushed room.