The Diamond Moon

A One Shot for SciFi Spring 2024

Jun 05, 2024

water droplets on glass during nighttime — Photo by Maria Lysenko on Unsplash

Disciple of the Pickaxe, Log #378

Long ago when our kind gained sentience beneath the crags of Dun Craith we knew of horrors in the dark. Stories of the distant dark, deep gods, and surface walkers filled our evenings, scared our children, and guided our thoughts.

But somewhere along the eons we forgot.

Once we climbed out of the ground and saw our star we began to forget the old ways and once we reached the moon we believed ourselves to have overcome the superstitious beliefs of our ignorant and primitive ancestors.

We were wrong.

The Diamond Moon, designation LS-00015, was spotted far beyond the gravitational pull of any known star. Free moving, free floating, the solid sphere of perfect diamond orbited nothing in the deepest of space. In truth the Moon was the size of a small sun or very large gaseous planet but three craters, perfect convex shapes, on its surface were reminiscent of Dun Craith’s own moon. A nod to our homeworld intended to be cheery yet now leaves us wondering on the malevolent forces and the deep magic of the universe. Those who read this log without seeing the Diamond Moon first-hand I implore you not to cast aside my aspersions as hogwash or the backwards belief of a primitive kind. Heed my words, they may yet save you all.

The discovery began like any other aboard an excavation starship. Probes were sent to every nearby system to catalogue the moons and planets for minerals, raw fuel sources, and any other material resources useful to the Ghol’moran. At first the probe that reported a sphere of solid diamond was ruled an error but protocol insisted a second probe be sent to confirm in such an event. This second probe reported the same and failure rate among probes is so low that two failing in a row is impossible. Smaller teams were sent to a nearby system to extract a small amount of darkiron ore and heraceum gas while the main ship headed towards our two probes. Diamond, it should be clear to you all, is used in everything from coinage to cutting tools to jewellery, the pinnacle of wealth and status, a the lifeblood of our society. A Moon of the stuff, well let’s just say none of the four thousand dwarves aboard Defthand would need to work again, nor their children, or grandchildren, or great-grandchildren. Spirits were high and admittance into the Mining Guild’s Hall of Fame assured.

Problems began as soon as we arrived in the moon’s orbit. As a lowly Pickaxe I was not privy to conversations on the Bridge or between officers but all were hot beneath the collar and tugging their beards from stress. The Diamond bounty was out in deep space, far away from anything else, and beholden to nothing, not even the galactic core or some supermassive star many parsecs away. I overheard a pilot in the mess discuss how keeping orbit had become a gargantuan task as if the moon lacked a gravitational force. I did not know enough to keep up with him and hushed voices distorted much of the conversation. The Diggers, Pickaxes, and other Clans were despatched immediately to the surface of the moon. It goes without saying there was no atmosphere to speak of and the gravity was unusually low that we all had to remain tethered constantly to prevent any dwarf from floating off into space.

That Diamond… oh how she shined. Her glassy and pale blue shimmer dazzled us even so far away from any star. Our torches and the ship floodlights only made her more startling. The first Digger fell under her spell, drooling down his beard and muttering about how the myriad of colours sparkled off her perfect form. Four men were required to carry him back aboard the Defthand where he was tied to his bunk with darkiron chains. Late at night he could be heard thrashing and raving about how he must needs to gaze upon her beauty once more. The men sharing his room soon left to find alternative accommodation, as did those in the rooms near his.

With no impurities to the gemstone it was a matter of cutting the raw diamond into shape, not a job for Diggers or Pickaxes and one rarely done aboard an extractor. Fortunate, or unfortunate in hindsight, the Defthand is one of the few ships that carries of delegation of Goldsmiths fully equipped for such a task. My role, and that of all my fellow Miners, was soon reduced to simple labourers, which, for once, I was thankful for.

On the fourth day, and many tens of millions of karats later, the first Goldsmith went mad. He spoke of shapes within the diamond, shifting black marks that could not be cut off or polished out. The young man was confined to quarters and left to whimper of that which no one else could see. As I understand it he was a middling member of the Goldsmiths Guild, which I have subsequently learned deal in far more than gold and gems but that is by-the-by.

The perfectly convex crater was made deeper and wider until it covered a third of the moon’s surface. That was when the crimson layer was found. Red diamond, as pure and brilliant as the faint transparent blue crust, formed a hard core to the Diamond Moon. By this point the Defthand’s cargo holds were full and a dozen other extraction ships had been called in to assist. The crews were giddy at simply imagining their ten per cent. Even split four thousand ways it was more than enough to buy an island on Dun Craith, build a formidable castle, and earn a family crest.

Red diamond, reserved for only the finest of talismans and decorations, is notoriously difficult to work. Or so I was led to believe by the Goldsmiths. Less than a third were able to work with the gemstone and those that were never ceased to complain. Not soon after the first one began raving, eyes flaming white, and sprinting about the hallways of the Defthand in a frenzy swinging his hammers at anything and everyone he could. His was the first death.

Yet the extraction continued.

It would be easy for me to rage about such a foolish decision but truth be told I supported it. So what if a handful of dwarves went mad, thousands of us, me especially, were about to be unimaginable wealthy. Rich beyond even the satraps of the Bounty. A new age was upon us, you could smell it.

I saw the shadow men, tall and long eared, after a long and arduous day ferrying red diamond shards from moon to ship. Twelve hours of glee and toil. At first I thought it was a fellow miner playing tricks on me but when I called out there was no response, not within my chambers nor in the halls beyond. I was alone yet a tall, long eared, and beardless shadow followed me about. I know not what it was but it certainly had a mind of its own, I could feel their presence. A press on the mind, a pressure, not quite a pain but close, and the distinct feeling of eyes following me around and a faint hum that I am certain were… are… words yet I can never make sense of them. After three days the one shadow man was joined by another and I swear the two conversed, not that I could hear them as if we were speaking. Thoughts came unbidden, not my own for they were in a language I cannot speak yet I knew the feel of them ~~and I knew we had to continue excavating the moon. The whole thing had to be broken down, it was an affront to the natural orchestration of the stars.~~ Ignore this, my mind… wanders.

The two shadow men lay along the floor and the wall but moved freely about the room yet lacked any form, they were literal shadows, black as night and impervious to light or dark. When drenched in light they remained dark, when covered in darkness they were always darker and distinct. I cannot explain it, nor could anyone else. Soon the pair had been joined by a dozen more, they began roaming the ship — much to the officers despair — and before long the shadow men were everywhere I went. In the mess, in the lifts, the Goldsmith’s hold, the administration decks, and, I heard, on the Bridge.

Still we continued to carve up the Diamond Moon. By month’s end she had been reduced to the red core and a lump of clear blue crust on the southern hemisphere. Then it was that ill-fated day.

I made my way, along with the other Pickaxes, to descend to the moon for another day of labouring. Tasks had yet to be assigned and our Head Pick was on the surface but as we boarded the transports we were joined by the shadow men. All of them. If not for their lack of corporeal form we would have surely been squeezed off the ships. The long eared louts towered over us and my transport was silent the whole trip, unheard of amongst dwarves. When we reached the surface of the Diamond Moon the shadow men rushed out ahead of us and gathered around a particular spot of red. There was nothing obvious about the spot they chose save it was close to our main camp. Suffice to say we were on edge, and little sets miners on edge, when the shadow men formed a great ring, all few hundred of them. There, within that ring of long ears, swam more shadows. Larger shadows. Black marks staining red diamond. Some of us boarded a transport and begged the pilots to take off but I was not one of them for I was enraptured. A desire to know had ensnared me and sealed my fate to live out my days in solitary confinement, a gentle punishment compared to what became of others.

The moon trembled. One shadow in particular shrank and grew beneath the red diamond, each time it grew there was a great crashing sound. The moon trembled. We noticed too late, dumbstruck as we were, that the ringed surface was cracking. With each crunch of crystal the shadow men thickened, their flat forms gained depth, then shape, and finally form. Twice the height of a dwarf, with prominent ears, golden hair, and hairless faces, but it was their eyes that turned my guts to water. Solid black orbs that with a glance clamped you where you stood and bore into you like a drill. Without a word I knew them to be ancient, imprisoned before the first dwarf had even the sense to craft a pickaxe. Such a weight of knowing caused a piercing pain through my mind. My Head Pick’s eyes burst into flames, his skull parting with a flash of light. He was not the last.

Between the long ears the Diamond Moon fell away, a perfect ring revealing a hollow centre. No wonder the pilots had struggled to orbit the celestial body, it was merely a shell. A prison, I learned that day. For hundreds of millennia those black eyed people had slumbered, trapped by a forgotten race, inside that Diamond Moon — and we freed them. A rush of elves, fully formed and riding six-winged beasts with four fins, emerged from moon. One of the shadow men, with hair finer than spun gold, clicked his fingers and all my dwarven comrades were reduced to dust. I remained, alone on the surface of that glistening prison, frozen by terror. He crossed the one hundred yards of gleaming red diamond and glowered down at me without a word. Pointing to the Defthand he waved his hand left to right as graceful as a perfect dancer and the starship imploded, reduced to mess of azursteel no bigger than my head. The twelve other ships were similarly destroyed.

I wept but my envirosuit prevented me from drying my eyes with my beard. How the long ears survived in space I cannot tell you. What beasts they flew, I cannot tell you. All I know is their rage and grief, their immense sorrow, along with the only words I ever heard them say, ‘Look upon all you hold dear and despair for the path from Hell is endless and the gods will not be watching.’ And with a click of his fingers I was transported to Dun Craith and when I awoke I was in this very same chamber, forbidden from leaving on pain of death. I have committed no crime but the ever changing guards have assured me I am a dangerous influence to all those who come near me. I know not how long I have been within these four walls and in that time I have been gifted a vision of worlds reduced to ash, of burning skies, and desiccated ships. All I can do is weep at our folly.