IMPERFECT STRAIN

His left leg reminded him every morning that he was less than human.

The limp wasn't a flaw in the Gamma mines—it was a feature. The crippled weren't sent to the deep fronts where tunnels collapsed. They stayed in the upper layers, sorting scrap, living another day. That was how Kai survived. That was how others died.

Kai's fingers, worn raw by torn metal, peeled a copper shard from a pile of debris. He tossed it into the cart. The clang of metal against iron was the only rhythm his life had. Pitch-black darkness covered everything except the dim helmet lamps that turned workers' faces into pale masks. The air was thick with silica dust and the smell of stale sweat.

Fifteen more hours. Then back to Mira.

Her name pulled him forward like a lifeline. She wasn't his real mother—he never knew who his real parents were. She was the woman who found him among the waste, a crying infant beside a dead woman's body, and took him in. Taught him to count. Taught him that dignity wasn't in blood, but in what you did with what little you had.

But Mira was weakening.

During the break, Kai sat on a cracked rock and pulled off his dust mask. The wounds on his palms were splitting open again. He opened his water ration—his daily share—and took a small sip. In his jacket's inner pocket, his fingers brushed the small grey stone she'd given him weeks ago.

"If they ever come for you, remember there's a world beyond these mines."

He had laughed then. Who comes for a crippled Gamma miner? But Mira always saw things others didn't. Her eyes were betraying her now, weakness invading their whites with yellow, and her cough hadn't stopped for two months. The central clinic had refused her treatment. The nurse said coldly: "Gamma. No priority."

Kai clenched his fist. His knuckles almost groaned.

Suddenly, every cart stopped.

The mine's noise vanished at once, as if someone had choked all sound. Kai turned. Other workers raised their heads, faces a mixture of fear and curiosity. The red indicators above the main entrances began to flash.

The horn. Not an ordinary horn—a deep, low-frequency blast from above. From the surface.

The Great Summons.

Kai saw an old man beside him drop to his knees, whispering: "The purity... the purity test..."

The horn screamed again. Then came the amplified voice, cold, official:

"All Gamma-class workers, born cycles 37 through 42, must stop immediately. Mandatory genetic scanning will be conducted. Absence is treason, punishable by execution."

Kai's heart froze.

He was born cycle 39.

He raised his eyes to the rocky ceiling, and saw it for the first time: a small white aircraft landing in the main ventilation shaft, bearing the Aethel emblem—a golden sun piercing a half-moon.

Five soldiers descended, their white suits untouched by mine dust. They didn't look at anyone, but Kai felt their eyes searching. Specifically for him.

One stepped forward, a black device in his hand, like a long pistol. He aimed it at the crowd. A blue light swept slowly across faces, hands, bodies.

Kai stood paralyzed.

It wasn't his crippled leg he felt in that moment. It was Mira's stone in his palm, suddenly burning his skin.

The blue light reached him.

It stopped.

Then the device turned blood-red and let out a shrill whistle Kai had never heard before.

The soldier looked at him, and for the first time, Kai saw something in the man's eyes beyond coldness: raw terror.

"You. Follow me. Now."

Kai tried to speak, to say he couldn't, that Mira was waiting, to give him one minute—

But two soldiers grabbed his arms and lifted him off the ground as if he weighed nothing.

His head spun. He saw the other workers staring. Some whispering. Some tracing the sign of fear on their chests.

And in the corner of the camp, he saw an old woman standing at her hut's door—white hair, face pale as death.

Mira.

She was looking at him. She knew. Maybe she'd known all along.

She raised her trembling hand and placed it over her heart.

Then she mouthed silently two words he didn't hear—but he read them:

"Come back... for me."

The mine lights went out completely, and everything drowned in darkness, while Kai was dragged into the unknown—and his only heartbeat was Mira's name and a promise he hadn't yet made.