Deep Language

[VampiricTouch]

It was a pain in the ass.

Tristana Sinclair trudged out onto the barren rock. Wistfully wishing for the automated drones that collected ground samples for her. As opposed to this low budget affair, of collecting it manually to bring back to the lab for analysis.

She grimaced and tried to scratch an itch where her oxygen supply connected with her suit. She was certain that whoever mass produced these suits and put the connection valve over her left hip, did not expect its wearer to have hips and never wore it for more than ten minutes. Especially because after an hour, the weight of the tank brought the valve down against her butt cheek, where it would be chafing on the same bloody spot that was impossible to scratch through the goddamn suit. A reminder of why the drudgery of manual collection was quite literally, a pain in the ass.

The chore of moving out a kilometer, hammering in an anchor so that she could drill past the asteroid crust, punch out a sample, extract the rock, and pop it into her geotagged container. Rinse repeat.

Doing a hundred odd samples and trying to ignore that itch she couldn’t reach.

She’d only been on those fancy factory ships once. The contract had been to take apart an M-class asteroid and the money had been so lucrative they had barges stopping by every three months to offload the refined rare earth metals back to the IPL satellite. Space Exxon had financed the extraction and had spared no expense for the high profile operation. She had so many drones collecting samples that she had considered putting the title Queen of Drones on her CV. But… since she wasn’t allowed to keep her new toys, nor could she afford a drone fleet of her own… her royal title would’ve been short lived.

In the end, it was just a lucrative gig that paid the bills.

Eight months on the Belt and four months off at the IPL Satellite. The InterPlanetary Launch Satellite was the only hub that shuttles could refuel before making the trip to Jupiter, or Mars. It had ports dedicated for construction barges to dock, factory ships to offload their cargo, in addition to the docks for commercial and military sector vessels. The entire operation was a beautiful chaotic mess of logistics with a city of people to support it all. It was home.

Space Exxon was quite proud of announcing its majority share involvement in the IPL project. The story that no one talked about was how the project nearly bankrupted the company. Not anymore. Not when it now cashed in on it’s monopoly, skimming off the royalties of everything that came in and out of IPL. Reinvesting and building the IPL into the vibrant city that it was. While officially the Eurasian Hegemony of Old Earth controlled the IPL, the reality was that Space Exxon executives held the power. There were people who were born and raised on IPL. The sprawling city and its corporate overlord, the only thing they knew.

Tristana was one of them.

Some people daydreamed of visiting old Earth. Tristana just wanted to be back on a Space Exxon payroll. Or just own a small drone fleet. She’d take the drone fleet.

(This story is for Vail_Indigo)

 

[VampiricTouch]

A whoosh of recycled air rushed in as the room re-pressurized. The sound made her relax, knowing that she could finally get out of the suit and scratch the itch that had now become a small bruise.

“Still doing analysis?” One of the mechanics had joined her. While Tristana was busy surveying the rock they were on, the engineers were busy getting the drill and machinery assembled.

“Yep. another hundred some odd rocks to analyze.”

“Alright, Well you just let me know where to point and shoot”

She waved him off and pushed her cart of rocks into her lab. This was the part of her job she loved. She dragged her hand through hair, smoothing back the stray strands that wisped into her face and picked up the first specimen to drop into the analyzer.

The AstraLaser logo was scratched out and above it, in neat handwritten print was “LACIE”. There was a muted flash of light from behind the panel. The few seconds of pulsed laser pulverizing the sample before analyzing it’s contents. The spectral breakdown populated on the screen for a final check before she added it to the map of resources that lay hidden beneath their feet.

She’d lost count of how many samples she’d processed. It never got old. She still got a thrill from handling them. Each sample unique unto itself and beautiful in it’s raw form.

And this one… was extra shiny.

Gently she removed it from the case and ran her fingers over the rough patchwork of minerals, watching the light glitter off the edges. Iridescent and captivating. Just touching it’s raw form brought a happy shiver down her spine.

Never fault a girl for liking sparklies… however it’s form.

Had she been doing trace analysis, she wouldn’t have been allowed to touch it, at risk of cross sample contamination. But in the search for rare earth metals, that risk was practically nill. Tell the crew where they had the best chance of finding what they want. The more the better. Trace metals didn’t matter. God she loved her job.

“Hey sparkly…” She cooed softly to the sample. “Meet Lacie. She’s going to tell me all about you… and your dirty little secrets..”
She carefully pushed the sample into LACIE, eagerly waiting for the results when the machine beeped red.

-- Organic Compounds Detected --

That was a first... She popped open the panel and clattered the sample gently in it’s case.

Definitely a rock.

Tossing the sample back in, she overrode the laser to continue analysis. She heard a muted -pomphf- and the walls shook for a brief second. The flash of light stopped short from behind the panel and the error came back

-- Organic Compounds Detected. Laser Shut Down --

She cursed under her breath and reopened the panel, fanning out the smoke rising from the abused sample and chamber. There in the partially nuked rock… was a glob of god knows what. Definitely not a rock.

Shit. She should’ve trusted LACIE…

Now she had to clean the contaminated machine, and she had Not-a-Rock sitting in her lab. LACIE, was a major mea culpa and she apologized profusely to her dear friend, taking responsibility for not trusting her precious analyzer the first time as she gently wiped down the ash and other contaminants from her chamber.

Figuring out the Not-a-Rock… sitting in it’s forlorn half nuked case… That was not her job.