Chapter Text
Space. A vast emptiness dotted with the occasional spec of rock or blob of gas, so rare and so miniscule when compared to the totality of the void that they might as well not exist at all. Tiny blips in a cold and uncaring universe that stretches off into eternity. Silent as the grave[1]. For some though, even these tiny anomalies can be an opportunity.
A soft ping made Daniel look up from his data-pad. The sound of the friendly proximity alarm indicating the return of the mining drones with the samples collected from nearby space debris.
“Computer, proceed with drone docking and refueling, then get an analysis on those core samples for any valuable minerals.”
“Acknowledged.” A soft, feminine response from the ship’s computer system.
Right. That was probably a good time to stop for lunch then!
Daniel slid out of the comforting shell of the pilot’s seat and stretched, barely sparing a glance for the view through the front window. The ship was sitting just outside a massive debris field, a huge mass of stone and dust that hung like a cloud in the sky above the remains of its home world, thrown into orbit by the kiss of a truly massive asteroid. The impact had taken place less than a century prior, leaving fully one third of the planet just gone. The debris field was just now showing signs of forming into a huge ring that stretched out for hundreds of thousands of kilometers. The core of the planet remained exposed, a molten mass that glowed with a soft yellow light that filled the ship’s cabin.
What had once been a dazzling and wonderous sight had grown mundane during the weeks, both of them, since he had arrived. At first, he had spent hours gazing at the mass of shattered stone, contemplating the vastness of the universe and how fragile life really was. He had considered how easy it would be for his own home, earth, to be shattered by such an impact. How most of his species could just be erased by a single poorly aimed cosmic shotput thrown by some celestial giant billions of years ago from across the galaxy[2].
By now he had thought all the thoughts, pondered all the possibilities, and contemplated all the vast mysteries of existence that his mind was going to be able to handle. The repetitive and mind-numbing process of selecting chunks of rock for the mining drones to examine, then waiting for them to return so the samples could be processed had dulled any sense of wonder he had felt.
***
There was a hiss from the container of self-heating noodles as he pulled the plastic tab out of the heating element at the bottom, followed three seconds later by the pop of the lid and a puff of steam indicating that the noodles were cooked to perfection!
Daniel sighed. He was getting tired of eating instant noodles. Sure, the ship had a full kitchen stocked with plenty of frozen or otherwise preserved food that he could have prepared. It wasn’t even that he disliked cooking. He loved cooking when he had others around to share it with. Unfortunately, cooking for one was one of the many things that had lost its appeal pretty quickly.
“Captain, the sample analysis is complete. High concentrations of iron and magnesium, nothing else of note. Sending full chemical composition to your datapad now.”
Fuck, just another chunk of basalt. If Kira had been there, she probably would have located deposits of platinum or rhodium by now and they’d be happily processing away, stuffing the hold with valuable minerals to sell at a massive profit. She’d always had a sort of sixth sense about asteroid mining, able to home in on valuable minerals floating through space like she could smell them from thousands of kilometers away.
The memory of his friends and longtime business partners sent a pang of loneliness through him. Kira, a talented geologist, and John, a mechanic who could fix a nuclear reactor with a paper clip, a wad of chewing gum and three rolls of duct tape[3]. The three of them had been asteroid miners for over a decade. Good ones too. Good enough to make enough money to pay for this mining vessel outright, something that very few crews could claim.
Kira and John had eloped together, deciding that they wanted to return to earth and settle down to start a family. Daniel didn’t begrudge them this, but he did wish they had stayed on a few more years until he could save up a little more money. As it was, he was basically broke after paying them both out for their share of the ship. Once the cost of fuel, food, and repairs had been accounted for, he hadn’t had enough left over to pay the up-front portion of the wages for a new crew member.
Thankfully, they weren’t strictly necessary. Automated systems could handle most ship-related activities just fine, even on an older vessel like this. The huge mining barge was several hundred feet long, a flattened ovoid that had been painted a dark brown. Most of the ship’s bulk was devoted to drone bays, ore processing, and cargo storage. Even so, the crew quarters, relegated to a boxy structure that looked strangely out of place emerging from the top of the otherwise curved silhouette, were spacious enough to easily accommodate a captain and up to four crewmembers.
Daniel maintained that the ship resembled a huge potato with a shipping container jammed into it[4]. He had even suggested christening the ship ‘The Space Potato’ but he had been outvoted, and the name ‘Terra Fortuna’ was painted along the sides in blocky white letters.
The ship had been one of the first models mass produced about five decades ago, just after humanity successfully achieved faster than light travel and were allowed to make first contact with the larger galactic civilization. The resulting race to the stars had led to the creation of all manner of hastily constructed vehicles of all shapes and sizes, most of which were still floating through space to this day[5].
Humans were still new to the galactic stage, but in the half-century since they had made their debut, they had made great strides in establishing a foothold. While still a rare sight, humans were confirmed to be living and working in almost 60% of galactic common stations, meeting and mingling with the rest of the several dozen other races that were members of the galactic community. Meanwhile, human representatives in the galactic senate were busy establishing sovereign control of the space closest to Earth. Thousands of ships like the Terra Fortuna roamed the otherwise uninhabited sections of the Orion arm, each one seeking to stake a claim, to build a better future for humanity[6].
This was Daniel’s first solo-mission, and it wasn’t going well. He had been so confident when leaving the station, but it hadn’t taken him long to realize that he had no idea what he was doing. Taking his dinner with him, he headed to the drone control, noisily slurping down noodles while he tried to select a new batch of likely candidates for the probes.
Kira had made it all look so easy, pouring over the readouts from various radar and spectrometer scans, guiding them this way and that until something piqued her interest enough to warrant a closer look. The numbers made Daniel go cross-eyed, unable to discern any rhyme or reason to the reams of data. Fuck, he was basically just choosing rocks at random by now and it was getting him nowhere. Sure, he had enough time and fuel that he would be fine out here for a while, but every day he spent, and every failed probe by the mining drones made his margins thinner and thinner.
With a few button presses, Daniel brought up a holo-display depicting the debris field. Several large sections were colored red, indicating areas that had already been probed and found lacking. Fuck it, maybe the other side of the debris field had something good. Just as he reached out to select a zone on the other side of the planet, the voice of the ship computer spoke up.
“Captain, I am picking up a distress signal. Self-identification indicates it is from a T’chrienian vessel. Origin is eighty degrees along the rotational axis of the planet, just outside the debris field. Would you like me to patch it through?”
A distress signal? An alien distress signal? That was strange. There shouldn’t be anyone out here. This section of space was uninhabited, and way out of the way of any of the main shipping routes. What’s more, it was in a section of space claimed by humanity. What was an alien vessel doing out here?
“Yes, please patch it through,” he responded, slurping thoughtfully at his noodles again.
The sound that came over the speakers was an unintelligible series of clicks and whirrs that lasted for a few seconds before the universal translator kicked in. “… completely disabled. Request pickup or tow to the nearest galactic common station… Repeat: This is the T’chrienian ship Rensal. We have experienced FTL engine failure. Life support and impulse power are still holding, but FTL travel is completely disabled. Request pickup or tow to the nearest galactic common station…”
The voice recording cut out, replaced by that of the ship’s computer “shall I set a course for a near rendezvous point?”
Daniel didn’t reply immediately. It didn’t sound like the distressed ship was in immediate danger. As long as they had impulse power and life support, it wasn’t like this was a race against time or anything.
The origin of the signal was near several sections that had been marked as red on the holo-map. It wasn’t far, but the time and fuel it would take to get back over there would cut even further into his potential profits. It would be even worse if he ended up taking them to the closest station about three weeks away. Could he just let it go for a while? No. Better to just go check it out. They were alright now, but who knew how quickly their situation could deteriorate?
“Yes, please set a course.” He hit a few buttons to power down and store the drones for sub-lightspeed travel before heading for the cockpit.
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[1] Those that use this expression have clearly never been to space, as the deafening silence of the void makes graves look lively and boisterous in comparison.
[2] Fortunately, the celestial giants got bored of the shotput millions of years ago. Unfortunately, they have since moved on to the discus.
[3] Don’t try this at home! Duct tape will melt when exposed to the high temperatures of a nuclear reactor. Try gaffer tape instead.
[4] Ship model SW3ER-P0T4T.
[5] A few even still held atmosphere and had working engines!
[6] Or at least a better future for their bank accounts.