Overboard
The transit between Jupiter’s moon Io and Mars was, by all
accounts, a normal one. In the ship’s holodeck, a well-dressed Martian-born man
with a long beard and glasses sipped from a flask of Earth-grown brandy. Two
other men sat with him, one of them being a native of the sky colonies of
Venus, who made his fortune selling powdered oxygen; and the other an
entrepreneur from Luna who owned a large number of intersystem freighters. All
three of them were focused on a table of the game Pristese, a popular gambling
avenue among those blessed by luxury. The holodeck windows were, at the moment,
displaying a beautiful beach with white sand, green palms, and beautiful blue
ocean.
“Have you heard about that boy Carl?” said the Martian. “I
hear his father owns the two biggest non-equatorial space elevators on planet
Earth. He’s a right brat about it, too. His mother is a softie and he gets away
with murder when he’s around her.”
“Two million credits a month, is his pocket change,” said
the Venitian. “And he does with it as he pleases.”
The Lunatian chuckled. “Pisces,” he said, putting forth his
sticks in the game they were playing. He took in a big draught of his nicotine
vape, blowing out a cloud of sweet, sickly smoke. “His mother is a fragile
lady. Not the kind of woman who would go about disciplining her child.”
The door to the holodeck opened and a young boy of about
fifteen entered. He was wearing the latest in smart technology, a pair of
augmented reality glasses on his face, and a well-tailored old-fashioned suit
on his chest. His countenance was childish, too young for his age.
“You fellows open to take another player?” he asked. He took
out a small vape and puffed it.
“You’re far too young for this game, lad,” said the Martian.
He tapped his painted fingernails on the game board.
“If you don’t let me play, I’ll make you regret it,” said
the boy.
The Martian looked at his compatriots and frowned. “What,
are you going to complain to your mama?”
The boy wrinkled his nose in disgust. “What if I paid you to
let me join?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cred stick.
The Pristese players shuffled the table and the tiles
without a break in their motion. The Martian took another puff of his vape.
“You want to play?” he said. He extended his hand, and in it was a pill. “Prove
you’re a man. Take this pill.”
Now, Carl always fancied himself the adventurous type, and
he wasn’t about to let himself look like a coward in front of these prestigious
spacers. He took the pill. “What kind of a drug is this?” he said.
“A happy drug,” said the Martian, a glint in his eyes. “It
will make a man out of you.”
Carl’s vision began to swirl, and he moved his arms in front
of his eyes, admiring the tracers. “This is some strong stuff,” he said. He
turned towards the door of the holodeck. “I think I’m going to go get some
air.”
“We’re in space, boy,” said the Venutian. “There’s nowhere
to get—”
Carl walked out of the room, the door closing behind him. He
wandered through the hallways of the luxurious space cruiser, admiring the
pretty colors that swam across his vision. He came to a more industrial-looking
part of the liner, with five sets of tubular entrances on either side of the
wall. One of them was open, wires coming out of it, and a sign that Carl could
not read in his stupor, but which said “Danger. Under maintenance.”
Carl stumbled into the open crevice and caught sight of a
control panel. He sat down in the escape pod’s helm and began tapping away at
the controls, thinking he was back on the pod racing circuit.
The door to the escape pod closed, and a sharp force pressed
Carl against the back of the chair.
“Ahaha,” he said, his world turning shades of green and
blue. “I’m a dragon …” And then he blacked out.
He came to inside of a tiny, cramped room inhabited by a
single, tough-looking man who appeared to have grown up on a planet with high
gravity. His muscles bulged and his form was stocky. He turned his gaze to look
at Carl.
Carl felt his stomach float in his abdominal cavity, as if
he were at the top of a roller coaster. He vomited into the air, and it
collected into an expanding ball of acidic goo.
The stocky man sighed and took out a small vacuum, sucking
up the contents or Carl’s stomach. He placed it neatly back in its place.
The drug’s effects had worn off, leaving just a small
afterglow.
“Where am I?” said Carl.
“Where?” said the stocky man. “AB-Four-two-seven.”
“That doesn’t mean anything to me!” said Carl. “Do you know
who I am? I’m Carl Rube, and my father will find me.”
“Ah,” said the man. “The name’s Derrick. Why don’t you
settle down there so I can meet my quota of H-3 and nickel.”
Through the glass port at the front of the small dinghy,
Carl could see an asteroid approaching.
“What, what’s that?” said Carl.
“Why that?” said Derrick. “That’s the money.” A drill
extended from beneath the dinghy, and began lasering the asteroid, breaking off
misty chunks. The rocks were broken into smaller pieces by a secondary laser,
and then a stasis field sorted out the valuable elements into loosely
configured balls of material. An outer vacuum snaked through the debris and
sucked up the concentrated balls of material. The dinghy shook with eve motion,
as if it were about to spring a leak and depressurize at any moment.
After an indeterminable amount of time, the dinghy
disengaged and headed towards a small light in the asteroid field. The light
turned into a small schooner class spaceship that looked like it had been
cobbled together from at least three other ships.
“We’re last in today, eh?” said Derrick. “I hope we have
enough cargo to make that worthwhile.”
The dinghy docked with an airlock on the side of the mining
ship. The doors opened and Derrick floated through with ease.
“How do I get up there?” said Carl.
“It’s on the floor, dude!” said Derrick, before disappearing
down a corridor.
All of a sudden Carl was upside-down. He felt like vomiting
again, but kept it down. Grabbing on to a piece of equipment, he oriented
himself, and then floated down through the airlock to the ship proper.
A young kid about his age floated through the cramped
hallway. “Heyo!” he said. “The name’s Jake.” He extended his hand. “I’m the son
of the captain here on board the Let’s Go. He wants me to take you to
meet him.”
“Good luck with that,” said Derrick, floating past.
Carl fished around in his pocket for his credit sticks, so
that he could give one to Derrick in thanks for saving him. They were gone.
Unwittingly, he had almost caused himself huge embarrassment, and once he knew
Derrick he would understand how close he came to being an absolute idiot.
Derrick floated up into a hole above Carl and disappeared.
“This way,” said Jake.
Carl followed with a clumsy hand, several times bumping into
exposed electronics and equipment. By the time he made it to the statesman’s
cabin, he was covered in bruises.
A tall, thin man, clean shaven, with bright piercing eyes
was floating in the stateroom.
“Thank you, Jake,” said the man. He extended his hand. “My
name is Thomas Grook.”
“If you turn this ship around and take me straight to Mars,”
said Carl, “I’ll be certain that you get paid triple whatever this ship is worth.”
“Ha!” said Thomas. “Derrick told me he smelled some
psychoactive compounds on you. You’re still not sober. Why don’t you go down
and get something to eat before you do something stupid.”
Carl slammed his hand against the nearest wall, causing him
to spin in the opposite direction. “You stole my credits, as well,” he said. “They
were in my pocket and now they’re not.”
Thomas pushed off his seat with practiced ease and came
close to Carl. “I can take a lot of things,” he said, “But I can’t take being
called a thief.”
“And a thief is what you are!” said Carl.
Thomas slapped him.
Carl spun in a circle and crashed into the wall.
“Jake!” said Thomas. “Get this boy back to the sleeping
compartment so he can cool his head.” He turned away. “The boy fancies himself
a fairy or something like that.”
Jake gave Carl a light smile. “My father rarely gets angry,”
said Jake. “You must have done something stupid to earn his wrath. My father is
nothing if not just.”
“I just demanded him to turn this ship around so that I can
return to where I belong.”
Jake chuckled. “Well, whatever you demanded of him, it must
not have been very smart. He only gets angry when people put down the things he
loves.”
“I did say something about giving him three times what this
ship is worth.”
Jake laughed out loud. “Yep. That’d do it. If anyone insults
the Let’s Go, he earns himself a knock in the teeth.”
Carl sighed as he entered into a small bunk area that looked
just big enough to fit four people, sardine style.
“There are eight people on this ship, including you,” said
Jake. “The seven of us crew members share this compartment. We hot bunk.”
“Hot bunk?” said Carl.
“It means we share beds. When one person is awake, another
is sleeping.”
“Um, Derrick, he said something about this being a mining operation?”
“Indeed it is,” said Jake. “We’re belt miners. We make our
living out in space, free form the stifling atmosphere of a planet or moon.”
Carl turned towards the door. “You look kind of young to be
working as a space miner.”
“Been doing it since I was a kid,” said Jake. “I’ve known nothing
but.”
Carl sighed, putting his hand in his now empty pocket. “I
think I owe Thomas an apology,” he said.
“You know where his stateroom is,” said Jake. “I’ll be
waiting here.”
Carl floated through the corridor until he came back to the
state room. The door was closed. He knocked.
“Yes?” said Thomas.
“I want to talk with you,” said Carl.
“Go ahead,” said Thomas. The door opened.
Carl floated in. “I apologize for my behavior earlier. I
didn’t realize you held your ship in such high regard.”
“Well, she is the best ship this side of the Kuiper belt,”
said Thomas. “And there’s no denying that.”
“I wasn’t trying to offend you,” said Carl.
“Good,” said Thomas. “On this ship, you don’t eat unless you
work. After you meet the crew, I’ll have Derrick and Jake teach you a thing or
two about working the mining dinghies. We lost one of our crew just a week ago
in a depressurization incident. He was not much older than you are now.” He paused.
“You still up on that fantasy of yours about being a king and all that?”
“No sir,” said Carl. “I don’t think anyone would believe me,
anyways.”
“That’s a good way to think about it,” said Thomas. “Great.
Get some sleep and we’ll wake you up next rotation so that you can start being
an asset to our crew.”
“How long has Jake been working on a mining crew?” asked
Carl.
“Long enough,” said Thomas. “Now get to sleep. It’s the most
valuable commodity we have aboard this ship, besides our crew.”
Carl nodded, and backed out of the stateroom. He floated through
the corridors until he came back to the tiny sleeping berth. Each bed contained
a sleeping bag that was attached to the wall. Carl had never tried sleeping in
zero g before, but he fell asleep before he could contemplate much more than
that.
2
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