By Wayne Harris-Wyrick
There are certainly easier ways to earn a living than being a belt jockey. Kareth Coleman knew this.
Even if you wanted to be an asteroid miner, it was much easier to catch on with a driver crew. The drivers rendezvous with large Apollo and Helin asteroids, those that had orbits near Earth.
The driver crews installed mass driver engines on the asteroid. Using part of the asteroid as reaction mass, the engines steered them into L4 or L5 capture. It was hard, honest work installing the computerized driver systems. The drivers had to be programmed very carefully using detailed mass, density and geographical data of the asteroid. The reaction-mass mining section had to be very specific about where it dug. If one were to randomly remove mass from a small asteroid body, a mass driver could start the whole thing spinning so badly, the course would be essentially random. Kareth recalled back in '87 when one had to be pushed out of orbit with a Dyson drive to avoid hitting the Moon. Calculations showed that none of the lunar bases would have been hit, but the incident precipitated a complete redesign of the driver stations.
Kareth knew working with a driver crew was respectable work, and one ten-year stint almost paid enough to retire. But it was the crew part that bothered Kareth. She was a loner. Like all belt jockeys.
She was flying prograde and in, returning with a cargo hold full of a carbonaceous chondrite, rich in organics, and a small NiFe rich in rare earths. It would bring a good payday.
The screeching of the console alarm brought her out of her daydream. The computer screen flashed COURSE ALTERATION. Her flight path had deviated by a few degrees.
Kareth’s jaw dropped as she studied the Navcom. Her course continued to deviate. She was in orbit. “Orbit? That’s impossible,” she said to no one.
The jolt almost loosened her handhold. Her ship had struck…something. At the same time, the Navcom flickered then flashed DATA LOSS. She stared at the stars out her window. Suddenly one star turned into a series of arcs, then a ring, arcs and back to normal. “Stress must be getting to me.” She rubbed her eyes and looked again, trying desperately to determine the problem.
The stars were moving through the window, something only seen when she changed direction. But they were moving fast. There! Another star distorted and returned to normal. She was in orbit, alright, but only one known object could cause stars to do that and not otherwise be visible.
Kareth was in orbit around a tiny black hole. A tight orbit. “Had to be a primordial black hole or she’d already be in the event horizon’ she thought. And no stellar mass black hole could approach and fly through the solar system without being detected long ago.
She noticed her communications antenna floating by the window. “Great. Now I can’t even send my story to the Inquirer.” The CC contained plenty of H2O, but food would eventually be a problem.
She stared at her instruments, trying to figure out if she could jury-rig some kind of radio. Suddenly there was a flash of light out of the window. She stared as broken pieces of her ship slid into the black hole, each making a final thermal death cry as is disappeared.
A signal!
She quickly broke off pieces of the CC in the hold, donned her suit and went EVA. After a few practices throws, she had the timing down. Then she threw pieces in a repeated pattern: three slowly, three quickly, three slowly. Again and again she repeated the action. Throw, pause, throw, pause, throw, pause, throw, throw, throw, throw, pause, throw, pause, throw, pause. The flash of lights as each piece hit the hole repeated the pattern.
Would anyone see it? Or understand it?
Are there any more boy scouts?
There are certainly easier ways to earn a living than being a belt jockey. Kareth Coleman knew this.
Even if you wanted to be an asteroid miner, it was much easier to catch on with a driver crew. The drivers rendezvous with large Apollo and Helin asteroids, those that had orbits near Earth.
The driver crews installed mass driver engines on the asteroid. Using part of the asteroid as reaction mass, the engines steered them into L4 or L5 capture. It was hard, honest work installing the computerized driver systems. The drivers had to be programmed very carefully using detailed mass, density and geographical data of the asteroid. The reaction-mass mining section had to be very specific about where it dug. If one were to randomly remove mass from a small asteroid body, a mass driver could start the whole thing spinning so badly, the course would be essentially random. Kareth recalled back in '87 when one had to be pushed out of orbit with a Dyson drive to avoid hitting the Moon. Calculations showed that none of the lunar bases would have been hit, but the incident precipitated a complete redesign of the driver stations.
Kareth knew working with a driver crew was respectable work, and one ten-year stint almost paid enough to retire. But it was the crew part that bothered Kareth. She was a loner. Like all belt jockeys.
She was flying prograde and in, returning with a cargo hold full of a carbonaceous chondrite, rich in organics, and a small NiFe rich in rare earths. It would bring a good payday.
The screeching of the console alarm brought her out of her daydream. The computer screen flashed COURSE ALTERATION. Her flight path had deviated by a few degrees.
Kareth’s jaw dropped as she studied the Navcom. Her course continued to deviate. She was in orbit. “Orbit? That’s impossible,” she said to no one.
The jolt almost loosened her handhold. Her ship had struck…something. At the same time, the Navcom flickered then flashed DATA LOSS. She stared at the stars out her window. Suddenly one star turned into a series of arcs, then a ring, arcs and back to normal. “Stress must be getting to me.” She rubbed her eyes and looked again, trying desperately to determine the problem.
The stars were moving through the window, something only seen when she changed direction. But they were moving fast. There! Another star distorted and returned to normal. She was in orbit, alright, but only one known object could cause stars to do that and not otherwise be visible.
Kareth was in orbit around a tiny black hole. A tight orbit. “Had to be a primordial black hole or she’d already be in the event horizon’ she thought. And no stellar mass black hole could approach and fly through the solar system without being detected long ago.
She noticed her communications antenna floating by the window. “Great. Now I can’t even send my story to the Inquirer.” The CC contained plenty of H2O, but food would eventually be a problem.
She stared at her instruments, trying to figure out if she could jury-rig some kind of radio. Suddenly there was a flash of light out of the window. She stared as broken pieces of her ship slid into the black hole, each making a final thermal death cry as is disappeared.
A signal!
She quickly broke off pieces of the CC in the hold, donned her suit and went EVA. After a few practices throws, she had the timing down. Then she threw pieces in a repeated pattern: three slowly, three quickly, three slowly. Again and again she repeated the action. Throw, pause, throw, pause, throw, pause, throw, throw, throw, throw, pause, throw, pause, throw, pause. The flash of lights as each piece hit the hole repeated the pattern.
Would anyone see it? Or understand it?
Are there any more boy scouts?