The Ox and the Meteor

Graham Elgin was 57 when he died. He'd been grizzled, graying sideburns framing his face with a scar carving across the bridge of his nose. His eyes had been kind, full of mirth and flanked by laugh lines. The outer edge of the tunnel had been boarded up hastily while Andy was in surgery. Tunnel 467 ran just underneath 328, pledging off from the central branch of 460 to the west. A combination of planetary rumbling, excessive mining of the lower halls of 328, and a previously unknown crack in the stone killed him one week ago.