THIS OLD ROCK
by
G. David
Nordley
“Damn bloodsucking tiny-skulled government bureaucrats!” Dolph
Wigner yelled as soon as the link dropped and returned the Hopper ’s
viewscreen to a view of their peanut-shaped asteroid. He slapped the worn
upholstery of the arm of the captain’s chair in frustration. “Sasha, I think it’s
a conspiracy to make us buy more junk from the friends of these vampires on
credit. By the time they’re done, we won’t own half of this rock!”
“Daddy?” a small, sleepy voice ventured from the compartment
directly under him.
“What is it Tina?” he snapped, much too loud, he realized.
“What’s wrong, Daddy?” she asked. “Are you mad?”
Tiny-skulled, Dolph realized, might sound like Tina-something
to his three-year-old.
“Not at you, Tina. Go back to sleep now, okay? Sweet dreams.”
“What’s wrong, love? It’s one in the morning!” Sasha called
from the wardroom below, which doubled as their bedroom. “Is Tina okay?”
“Tina is fine. I was just venting about whoever changed the
requirement on the air lock door motors three months after our shipment left
Luna! Forgot the time.”
There was a rustle of bedding, and his wife made the easy
one-sixth gravity jump up to the command deck from their bed, stretched her
skinny, almost scrawny, body, yawned, and ran a hand through her long, wavy,
hopelessly tangled black hair. He could see her bones; hell, he could see his
own. They’d both been cutting way back on rations and working like demons for
three months. But if they could just get approval, they’d have the old
hydroponics system going and be eating their own tomatoes in another month or
so.
“Can we afford the new motors?” she asked.
He smiled at her and sighed. There were many better things
to do with the night than fight refurbishment supply problems. But every hour
counted.
“If,” he answered, “we can use the old ones, or sell them,
the price difference isn’t that much. The problem is that there’s no way we can
get them here in time for our inspection.”
“They can’t hold us to that, can they? I’m getting tired of
this.”
He nodded. “This” was hanging out in a cramped, smelly,
spaceship swinging around with its nose tied to the end of a hundred meters of
tether when they had five hundred square meters of habitat of ready to inhabit
on the asteroid above them. But until they passed their inspection, they had
three rooms, three meters in diameter by two and half high with a head and an
airlock at the top.
“Look, I can’t do anything about it. It’s the damn
Interplanetary Association’s rules, and if we don’t follow the IPA rules, we
lose the homestead. So don’t vent me about it, okay? I’m sorry, darling.” He
immediately hated himself for snapping at Sasha. She was everything to him; the
only part of the universe that wasn’t trying to stomp him. At twenty-four, he
felt like a ninety-year-old curmudgeon with the world on his back, and
sometimes it showed.
“But it’s not our fault! They can’t make us leave our
homestead for something that’s not our fault.”
“I just don’t know, Sash, I just don’t know.”
They were interrupted by a two-note attention tone.
“Go ahead, Hopper ,” Dolph told the spacecraft. He
heard Sasha try to suppress a giggle. “Voice only,” he added.
“We have an incoming message from an Inspector Eileen
McCarthy of the local IPA Compliance Authority. She’s C&C on Belt Runner
four-one-two, a light-minute out from Pallas.”
Almost here, then. So it was too late to get anything more
done on the supplies or equipment. They’d pass with what they had, or not. “We’ll
see what she has to say later.” Dolph instructed. “We’ve gone to bed. Acknowledge
and record—I’ll reply tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, Dolph. I’ve sent the acknowledgment. Good night.”
The command deck lights dimmed, and Sasha started pulling
him down to their bed.
∞±∞
Two days
by
G. David
Nordley
“Damn bloodsucking tiny-skulled government bureaucrats!” Dolph
Wigner yelled as soon as the link dropped and returned the Hopper ’s
viewscreen to a view of their peanut-shaped asteroid. He slapped the worn
upholstery of the arm of the captain’s chair in frustration. “Sasha, I think it’s
a conspiracy to make us buy more junk from the friends of these vampires on
credit. By the time they’re done, we won’t own half of this rock!”
“Daddy?” a small, sleepy voice ventured from the compartment
directly under him.
“What is it Tina?” he snapped, much too loud, he realized.
“What’s wrong, Daddy?” she asked. “Are you mad?”
Tiny-skulled, Dolph realized, might sound like Tina-something
to his three-year-old.
“Not at you, Tina. Go back to sleep now, okay? Sweet dreams.”
“What’s wrong, love? It’s one in the morning!” Sasha called
from the wardroom below, which doubled as their bedroom. “Is Tina okay?”
“Tina is fine. I was just venting about whoever changed the
requirement on the air lock door motors three months after our shipment left
Luna! Forgot the time.”
There was a rustle of bedding, and his wife made the easy
one-sixth gravity jump up to the command deck from their bed, stretched her
skinny, almost scrawny, body, yawned, and ran a hand through her long, wavy,
hopelessly tangled black hair. He could see her bones; hell, he could see his
own. They’d both been cutting way back on rations and working like demons for
three months. But if they could just get approval, they’d have the old
hydroponics system going and be eating their own tomatoes in another month or
so.
“Can we afford the new motors?” she asked.
He smiled at her and sighed. There were many better things
to do with the night than fight refurbishment supply problems. But every hour
counted.
“If,” he answered, “we can use the old ones, or sell them,
the price difference isn’t that much. The problem is that there’s no way we can
get them here in time for our inspection.”
“They can’t hold us to that, can they? I’m getting tired of
this.”
He nodded. “This” was hanging out in a cramped, smelly,
spaceship swinging around with its nose tied to the end of a hundred meters of
tether when they had five hundred square meters of habitat of ready to inhabit
on the asteroid above them. But until they passed their inspection, they had
three rooms, three meters in diameter by two and half high with a head and an
airlock at the top.
“Look, I can’t do anything about it. It’s the damn
Interplanetary Association’s rules, and if we don’t follow the IPA rules, we
lose the homestead. So don’t vent me about it, okay? I’m sorry, darling.” He
immediately hated himself for snapping at Sasha. She was everything to him; the
only part of the universe that wasn’t trying to stomp him. At twenty-four, he
felt like a ninety-year-old curmudgeon with the world on his back, and
sometimes it showed.
“But it’s not our fault! They can’t make us leave our
homestead for something that’s not our fault.”
“I just don’t know, Sash, I just don’t know.”
They were interrupted by a two-note attention tone.
“Go ahead, Hopper ,” Dolph told the spacecraft. He
heard Sasha try to suppress a giggle. “Voice only,” he added.
“We have an incoming message from an Inspector Eileen
McCarthy of the local IPA Compliance Authority. She’s C&C on Belt Runner
four-one-two, a light-minute out from Pallas.”
Almost here, then. So it was too late to get anything more
done on the supplies or equipment. They’d pass with what they had, or not. “We’ll
see what she has to say later.” Dolph instructed. “We’ve gone to bed. Acknowledge
and record—I’ll reply tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, Dolph. I’ve sent the acknowledgment. Good night.”
The command deck lights dimmed, and Sasha started pulling
him down to their bed.
∞±∞
Two days
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