Chapter 1

For five years after the Windymere massacre, Martha and I worked on the Sutter’s Mill. During that time, we worked hard, made friends, and, most importantly, learned new things. Martha had signed on as a 3rd class kitchen assistant and eventually worked her way out of the galley and into medical as a nurse. This was mostly due to the work she had done at Windymere crater. Martha became a minor celebrity after several other survivors vouched for her efforts.

I started out as a pick and shovel man in the refinery. Eventually, I worked up from grunt work to piloting a rock knocker. That was a premium job. My base pay was fantastic, but the commissions made the difference. If I hauled in a profitable rock, I could score more in bonuses than a year’s pay working for the Phobos company.

The difference this time was that they treated us better. Our safety had a higher priority. The ships people knew that we were not expendable.

But the time came that the Sutter’s Mill needed to head back into Mars. They had maxed out their payload and only had enough fuel to get what they had back to the Mars market. There was a reasonably active job market in the belt. And we were offered jobs by other ships, or we could return to Mars. Part of our original contract was free travel back. Martha and I decided that things being what they were, we should come back and see what was available. If we didn’t like what we saw, we could always ship over for another contract. Or, if we got lucky, the Sutter’s Mill family would accept us in.

On the way back, there wasn’t much need for pilots, so I worked in hydroponics and later the cultured meat sections. This was a way to expand my resume. I have to admit that it was the best learning experience of my life. I realized that two areas always needed workers. The first was medical. The other was hydroponics and cultured meat. My thinking was that people had to eat, and people got sick or hurt. Everything else was nice, but those two always needed experts.

When we got back to Mars, I looked at our accounts. We were in good shape. Not excellent, but good.

While we waited for the right opportunity, the Sutter’s Mill would be in refit for a year or two, so we had plenty of time to decide our future. I went to work for a freight hauler as a pilot. I would travel around with a string of cargo pods. Dropping off and picking up at various locations around the edges of the local area. The freight company didn’t have haulers that could handle long-distance, so most of my routes only took a week or two between stations.

I had to run a load into Armstrong station when I heard about an abandoned mining operation. It was an asteroid that had been hard rocked rather than slagged. According to the catalog, the mine had been in operation, mostly pulling out low-grade veins. It had been in operation for almost 50 years, barely making the mortgage each month. But when the oldest surviving original owner passed away, the heirs just walked away from the operation.

The lawyers had taken up the cause and were trying to milk the last bit of cash they could. They had scheduled an auction for the next day. I had some leeway in my delivery schedule and decided to layover and bid on this rock.

The next day the crowd gathered at the auction house. The asteroid I was interested in wasn’t the only thing on the block. There were other mining claims. Equipment like smelting furnaces, low gravity stamp mills, rock knockers, and even a distillation plant.

My lot was “As is and All-inclusive.” This included all habitats, ships, and smelters. Everything on the rock was included. When I heard that, I got a little discouraged. This sounded like a ready-made operation, which probably would go for a lot more than I was willing to spend.

The auctioneer started the bid at 100,000.00 credits. And then spent 15 minutes trying to get somebody to accept the bid. Nobody took the bait. He dropped the bid to 90,000, then 80,000. It wasn’t until he got to 50,000 that he announced that he would pull the lot off the market if there were no bids.

That’s when I spoke up and offered 40,000. The auctioneer got a sour look on his face then looked over to a bored guy sitting on the sidelines. He looked up from his computer, glanced around the room, and then nodded.

The auctioneer spent another 15 minutes trying to talk the price up to no avail. He was then forced to gavel it out at 40,000 credits. I was now the proud owner of a defunct mining claim.

Once we got the paperwork filled out and my payment cleared the bank, we recorded my title at the local recorder’s office.

When I got back home, Martha acted like I had bought a handful of magic beans.

To be honest, I had also gone through a bout of buyer’s remorse. I had just spent a lot of money on something I still hadn’t seen.

I spent an additional 7500 credits for a reliable family buggy. Something that could handle an extended trip but had minimal cargo capacity.

I packed up Martha the kids, we had two by this time, and headed to my property.

Our arrival was less than memorable. Fortunately, the landing codes I had been given were functional.

When I transmitted the unlock code, the landing pad lights lit up, and the approach beacon flashed. I grounded, and the overheads closed.

I was overjoyed when the atmosphere pressurized, and we were able to crack the hatch. At least we had a functional cargo bay.

As quickly as I could, not trusting the equipment, I hustled everybody through the airlock.

We were home.

As soon as the airlock cycled and we were inside, I started my inventory. The auction paperwork had stated that there was a functional life pod and sufficient air and water for survival. This was technically true.

What wasn’t said was that when the mining operation had been shut down, the work crew had just sealed the hatch and walked away. The life pod did indeed have air and water to survive. But the rest of the operation also had air and water.

I didn’t know it at the time, but there were approximately 500 miles of tunnels honeycombing that rock. And all of them were pressurized. There was also a water purification system that could handle about 10000 gallons a day. And had a purified cistern able to hold ten times that amount.

The air purification was also a premium system. It could support 1000 people at any one time. And under strain, it could go up to 1200. I found all this out when I checked out the command cabin. According to the paperwork, it only had a year on the counter.

The life pod was nothing more than an emergency shelter. Capable of supporting ten people for a month. Just beyond the pod was the operations spaces. Housing, medical, food services, engineering, etcetera. And like I said, they had just walked away from it all. There was also a fully stocked pantry. There were enough dry goods to keep a mining crew going for 30 days.

But probably most important was the motor pool. Not only did it include a fully stocked workshop, but there was also a nearly new Caterpillar deep space ore hauler. This beast could go out, find and haul back small to medium-sized asteroids. The tanks were topped off, and the station’s fuel storage tanks showed 90 percent.