Flynn eased
Calypso into the asteroid mining
facility feeling more than a little uneasy. Small mining vessels flitted about cutting
into the rock with lasers. They would slice off a section, grapple it, then
haul it to a collection ship, which used a gravnet siphon to put the pieces in
a holding area. While the flight path Flynn was on was supposed to be reserved
for traffic into and out of the mine, miners zipped around Flynn’s ship from
all sides. They had to in order to make their quotas.
One
particular mining vessel didn’t just dart in front of the cockpit, it
sideslipped using its RCS thrusters to face Flynn instead of where it headed.
The pilot inside was well lit, and he gave Flynn a two-fingered salute as he
went past, perhaps a dozen meters in front of Calypso.
That man will get someone killed, but he
does have skill. The mining vessel only served to remind Flynn he needed to
hire a better pilot. He did okay, especially in system, but he was still trying
to re-learn how to sail, which meant they couldn’t take some of the more
lucrative trade runs. Flynn couldn’t get there fast enough, or the winds were
charted as being more than he could handle safely.
So far his
ad in the local news feeds and system nets hadn’t yielded anyone Flynn felt was
qualified, but that was expected in some of the systems he had been flying to.
Another
mining vessel . . . no, it was the same one, flitted back in front of him, this
time along his vertical axis, passing from dorsal to ventral in front of the
cockpit, only the ship was also in a port spin. He got the same two-finger
salute from the man . . . no, it’s a
woman. What’s whe playing at?
She
disappeared, and Flynn didn’t see her anymore as they docked, for which he was
relieved with all of the other traffic in the area.
As Flynn
waited for the mine to finish loading a cargo pod, he sat at the station’s
pitiful café drinking some tea. Station
doesn’t have any coffee, or any kind of sweetener. This is not a good life. He
knew a lot of the miners out there were actually convicts given the choice of
serving out their time in prison or at least working for a living, albeit in a
remote star system with few amenities. Mine duty often was faster than prison
because of the service to the Alliance. Other people simply had no choice but
to come out to the mines to make a decent wage. Mining did pay fairly well
because of the hazards.
Flynn was
just finishing his cup when a woman walked up to him. In her thirties, she
stood a little shy of two meters, and was coated in sweat and dirt. Her
ponytail was equally soaked, making it hang with real weight instead of bounce
like normal hair.
“I’m your
gal,” she pronounced.
Flynn shook
his head slightly, “Not interested, thank you.”
“I’m not a
doxy, you space brain.” She read from a data slate “ ‘Pilot wanted aboard nereid
class ship Calypso. Private bunk,
good wages and accommodations. Inquire with Calypso
Captain.’ ” She lowered the slate. “Ann Tierno, pilot extraordinaire.”
“You’re the
one that buzzed my ship.”
“Twice.” She
held up her fingers.
“Have a
seat,” he gestured. “Let’s talk.”