short stories

Spare parts and handshakes

March 2, 2018 By K. D. McAdams

Grep didn’t mind being on the Lowell. With all she knew about science and technology it still amazed her that the standard twenty degrees environmental here felt warmer than it did at Lagrange-4.

What amazed her more was the size of the ship being constructed just outside. There were limits to the scale of construction for a ship that would approach two tenths of light speed, but knowing them and seeing them were different things.

“They plan to burn the thrusters for something like forty years.” Burt explained needlessly.

“They’ll be accelerating for almost half a lifetime.” She observed.

“And cruising for the other half. Some of them are hoping their grandchildren will experience the deceleration and their great grand children will touch the surface of a new planet.” Her host here on the Lowell was no less impressed even though he was around the project every day.

Grep wasn’t sure that sounded humane. Her boss, and friend, Tanner Nazca was born on a long range cruiser. They had just finished a ten year burn when the event happened and Tanner turned the ship around.

What if a similar event happened forty or fifty years out? Anyone deciding to turn the ship around wouldn’t even be alive when it returned to Earth.

That was probably the point. After Tanner turned their ship around and came back the financial backers realized how easily an entire investment could be lost. They had to send the craft and crew far enough away that turning the thing around offered no benefit to those making decisions.

“Probably the most advanced cruiser ever built. And you guys want ten thousand salvaged connectors to complete construction?” Grep asked.

The only reason she flew over here was that the request was so preposterous. They went back and forth electronically, held numerous video conversations but neither side could convey their need.

“Projections show that the vibration from the thrusters will be incredibly minor, but after about thirty consistent years of it several sections of wire will be damaged. The engineering AI found these connectors in an old data base and said they would provide the wires with another fifteen years of life.” Burt maintained his faith in the automated system.

It didn’t surprise her that a human derived AI had developed a human like flaw.

“Those connectors have never been salvaged as independent parts. They’re all fastened to a larger circuit board.” She explained her side of the equation.

“So take them off.” Burt shrugged his shoulders.

He was probably told by the AI that this was the solution. Obviously he didn’t consider the cost or effort to remove a cheap connector from a cheap circuit board. It wasn’t cheap.

“They were fastened with an epoxy that is extremely durable. Our efforts to separate the parts have been labor intensive for poor quality results. Why don’t you double the wire shielding to get more life out of it?” She did not want to be responsible for their engineering job but couldn’t help the question.

“That much extra coating over that many wires would require a complete redesign of the ship. Everything was laid out to millimeter precision.” Burt admonished her.

Grep held her tongue. If that was true, how were they planning to fit connectors into that space? This was not her problem. She was here to make sure they could sell them something they could deliver.

Scrolling up on her display, Grep reviewed some notes. One of the disassembly bots predicted it could learn to generate a clean finished connector consistently after five hundred to seven hundred and fifty trials. With only ten-thousand-one-hundred-eighty-nine pieces on hand they would not be able to deliver ten-thousand finished parts.

Destroying all the assemblies and not selling one of the piece to Off Earth Manufacturing would leave them with two pieces no one wanted. At least when they were together they could sell a handful to Off Earth Repair and Maintenance for their refurbishment jobs.

“We cannot supply the full order. Would you be willing to accept ninety percent of the units and we’ll take a point or two off the final price?” She extended an offer.

“The proposal was for ten thousand plus, not plus or minus. I’m sure there will be some installation errors and losses. Ninety percent is not an option.” Burt emphasized their request.

“Well, good luck then. We’re out.” Grep hated to walk away from revenue but she knew better than to risk an order they were bound to fail.

“You cannot be out. This project will not be delayed. I’m sure you understand how tightly managed the ages of passengers and crew are. Even a one year delay could cause massive changes in their status. They’ve been planning this departure for fifteen years.” Burt looked scared.

Grep tried to imagine a five year old on the living room floor down on Earth. For her birthday she received an envelope that told her they would be sending her on a one way mission to deep space when she turned twenty-two. The rest of her life would be spent with people convincing her that she was lucky and this was a good thing.

No one would ever mention that there were other choices. Stay on Earth or in orbit and learn a trade. Wait until you’re eighteen and make your own decision about what you find interesting and what you want to study.

Those who were older and had either taken or passed on their chance to follow their bliss were less concerning. A thirty year old signing on to manage some mundane task on a ship barreling into the great void of deep space was fine. Stupid, but fine.

The seniors on the flight would be so old and so far from Earth by the time they realized what a mistake they had made it wouldn’t matter.

“Why don’t you manufacture the pieces?” Grep realized that they had missed the obvious.

Burt was silent. He carefully looked at his tablet and scanned some piece of information.

“Burt?” She prodded.

“Our capacity won’t meet demand. And we’d have to delay another project that has better revenue impact.” He conceded.

This was the kind of thing that drove Tanner crazy. It was also the type of thing that would get Burt fired if anyone found out he told her.

As was often the case the toughest engineering problem was made so due to artificial human constraints. She had an idea that was a little risky, but just the kind of chance Tanner liked to take.

“We’ll sell you ten thousand finished connectors with a condition. You need to send us seven-hundred-and-fifty that meet your design specs. We don’t want to run the risk of sending you something that won’t be approved.” She hoped he was too nervous about the project to see how she was trying to leverage them.

“I don’t have seven-fifty to send you.” He protested.

“Make them. The only way you’re getting out of a huge penalty for failure to deliver is if you take a small revenue hit on that other project and make some samples.” She pushed.

The small conference room fell silent. Burt was considering the offer and she hoped he would take it.

“If I send you two-fifty to start will you begin working? I’ll send another two fifty a month later and the final two fifty in the third month?” He countered her proposal.

It didn’t really matter when he sent them, as long as they arrived before she was due to send the final shipment. Grep fully expected that the last connectors delivered to the Lowell would be units that had been manufactured there anyway.

“Our quality control could damage a few units. I’ll need the first fiver hundred in the first month, you can spread them out however you like. The final two-fifty need to be delivered in the second month. We’re not going to drive urgency if you guys don’t deliver on your side of the project.” Grep hoped this wasn’t tool aggressive.

Burt did not respond immediately. He was working on his tablet moving numbers and playing with dates. She let him work as a small smile crept across her lips.

“One hundred a week for the first five weeks and the final two-fifty on week ten.” Burt announced after several minutes.

“Deal,” Grep extended her hand.

They shook and both parties leaned back in their chairs.

With all their technology and science, business still came down to a cheap alloy connector and a hand shake. Perhaps the human element was still involved to keep everything at the right pace. If this negotiation had been turned over to the bots it would have been solved months ago. When problems moved out of the way departure dates started to come closer and people considered their second thoughts.

An old timer stops in

January 26, 2018 By K. D. McAdams

Grep felt her heart racing. This wasn’t the first time they were heading out on a dangerous job, but it still wasn’t easy.

The Cthulhu ships were strong and the team was clear on the technique, but it was still risky. Flying into the vacuum of space to retrieve an oversized delivery pod sounded like a standard operation for the salvage crew. But the pod was experiencing a thruster malfunction and orbiting out f control.

Salvage bots were refusing the work because the odds of a successful capture were below sixty percent. A failed capture would result in collision that would generate even more debris which could easily cost Off Earth Salvage more money than a successful capture would generate.

Tanner insisted on stepping in and going for this job. When they salvaged a cargo pod they owned the contents. So not only were they getting paid to eliminate the threat, they would be able to profit from the contents. A double win.

Grep also knew that as they closed on the cargo pod, the odds for successful salvage would change. Hopefully they would increase and the bots would take over and complete the salvage. If not, Tanner and the other ship commander Lyra would manipulate their navigation systems until they were in synch and the odds improved.

But this was the most difficult time, standing in the salvage bay waiting for the ships to be ready.

“Okay, Grep and Stew are with me. Chance you’re with Lyra. Remember that you don’t want to make contact using a tip. If you attach to this thing with a tip it’s over for you and my problems expand exponentially.” Tanner reminded them.

If the tip of an arm from the Cthulhu ship latched on to a tumbling cargo pod, the body of the ship would wind up whipping through space and wrapping around the pod. Ending in a violent collision. That was how Tanner lost Cthulhu-3 and a veteran commander.

“Tanner I still think we should hold off until it burns off more of it’s fuel.” Maddison, the operations manager checked her tablet.

The bean counter wasn’t going to be out there risking her life, what did she care.

“The sooner we capture it the more we get paid. You know how it works, the longer this thing is out of control the more risk the launch company faces. They can’t finance new projects or conduct any other launches while this is in orbit.” Tanner pointed out the driver for taking this risk.

“Excuse me, Tanner?” A young man approached the small team.

“What?” Tanner asked.

“I was told to let you know that we just received a distress request and granted permission to land.” The young man said.

“I don’t need to be involved in that.” Tanner dismissed the information.

“They said to tell you it was a very old signal and the ship appears to be an antique. They don’t think the salvage bay is a safe place to stand while it’s coming in.” The messenger explained.

“These distress calls are going to ruin our business. Maddison, make a note to bring this up next time we talk to someone from the Planetary Operating Alliance.” Tanner assigned an action item.

“Got it.:” Maddison replied confidently.

“Sir?” The young man checked timidly.

“WHAT!” Tanner replied.

“Shared logs show that this ship was launched before the POA existed.” He explained timidly.

The Planetary Operating Alliance was formed shortly after the first orbital war. It crafted, enforced and adjudicated the rules for all of Earth as well as the growing community orbiting the planet. They were the ones that conceived and enforce the restrictions on returning to the planets surface while one still maintained debt. They also defined the requirements for assisting vessels in distress.

Whenever one ship approached another in space they would share logs to understand compatibility between technology and cargo. The dangers of operating in space required the craft to keep track of localized resources and potential safe places in the event of an accident. It was important to know if you could dock with another ship or if it was only available for umbilical connections.

The fact that this ship was sharing logs meant it’s owner made updates to stay current with the laws. It did not mean that the ship had been retrofitted to modern equipment.

“Fine. Clear the deck. But I want to see the owner as soon as they are docked.” Tanner turned and led the team off the floor of the salvage bay.

Grep felt bad for Tanner. If he didn’t have bad luck he wouldn’t have any at all. They needed to get out and salvage that cargo pod to maximize the reward. But now they had to wait for this crazy old ship to land. For free.

The group turned and looked through a window in the conference room where Tanner led them.

A small ship appeared in the entrance to the salvage bay. It waggled slightly and Grep thought for a second that it may not be under the control of it’s AI pilot.

After a big, dramatic dip of the right side of the craft it spun so that the thrusters were pointing towards the back wall of the salvage bay. It was all very showy and not how an AI was trained to land a ship.

“Do you think that was done by a human?” Grep asked Tanner.

“Sure looked that way. I can’t imagine what that felt like on the inside though.” He smiled his reply.

Once the ship settled on the floor of the salvage bay the room went silent. They were waiting for a door or a ramp to appear. No signs of life were present.

“This is Tanner Nazca and you just landed on my rock. State your name and your emergency.” Tanner was speaking into a communicator along the wall.

“Can’t believe there’s still as Nazca on this rock. I thought for sure Kai was going to find a way to get himself killed.” A tired old voice came back.

“He did, this is his grandson. What is your emergency?” Tanner was not ready to reminisce.

“My oxygen reclaimer quit on me. No way I could have made it to the next station, you saved my life.” The voice explained why they needed help.

“What’s your name?” Tanner asked.

“Wilbur.” The tired old voice did not elaborate.

“Do you have a ramp or a door or any way out of that old bucket?” Tanner’s tone began to soften.

“Is this cave really pressurized? Can’t always trust these old sensors.” Wilbur answered.

“Yes, I’ll come meet you.” Tanner let a small smile creep across his face.

The team filed out of the conference room and made their way to the base of the ship that just landed in the salvage bay.

Several meters about the floor of the bay a door slid open. The rungs of a ladder rose from the skin of the ship.

Up at the door they first saw a boot and then a puffy pant leg. The toe of the boot probed for the top rung. Slowly a complete body emerged and Wilbur carefully made his way down the ladder.

Grep and the others stood in silence. When the man was down the ladder and standing securely on the floor his arms went up over his head and stretched to his right.

The man turned and they could all see his mouth moving through the visor of his helmet. When the man noticed that they were not wearing helmets or suits he smiled broadly and reached to the latches around his neck.

It was a far more complicated system than their modern suits. By the time he unfastened the last latch they could hear a faint hiss of air escape the joint.

“Last time I was here, this cave was smaller than my ship and you could not stand out here and breathe.” Wilbur explained.

He didn’t look old enough to have been in space before the POA was formed. Which would also mean he couldn’t be old enough to have visited Lagrange-4 while Kai was still excavating the salvage bay.

“Your shared logs say you launched before the POA was formed. Is that true?” Tanner challenged.

“Give or take. The ship was assembled before the POA existed. I activated most of the systems on the surface almost a year before launch. Wanted to make sure I could be grandfathered into any rules meant to proceed the orbital pioneers.” He looked like a cat who had swallowed the canary.

“How old are you?” Maddison could not resist asking what they all must have been thinking.

“Late seventies I suspect, what year is it?” Wilbur was not phased.

“2092,” Grep answered quickly.

“Then yep about seventy-six or seventy-seven years old. I’m telling you, last time I was here, Kai had me tether my ship to an anchor out there. Had to do an EVA through a tiny hole and into what must have been the very beginning of this cave.” Wilbur turned to survey the salvage bay.

“And where have you been since?” Grep would have known if there was a ship this old living and working in Earth orbit.

“Out and about. Went to check out Mars and then the asteroid belt. Thought that if Kai could wrangle one of these things then so could I. There’s more than one Lagrange point you know.” Wilbur answered like he had been just down the hall.

“What happened?” Grep hoped there wasn’t an asteroid making it’s way towards them.

“Landing on one of these things that doesn’t already have systems is not easy. I could never find a way to touch down.” Wilbur frowned.

“How did you get supplies?” Grep was fascinated with the old timer.

“We have to get on with our project. You can stay until we get back. I think Grep would like to have dinner with you and pick your brain.” Tanner wanted to move along.

“Appreciated. Is there someone I can see about repairs for my oxygen reclaimer?” Wilbur asked.

“Maddison can help you. We might even have some spares of your vintage.” Tanner nodded to his operations manager.

“Do you have modern currency?” Maddison asked.

“Last time I had any money it was on the chain. Guessing that approach is gone?” Wilbur was referring to the old block-chain currencies.

Maddison looked worryingly at Tanner.

“We’ll figure out payment later. Get his reclaimer fixed and find him a place to relax. We have a cargo pod to go recover.” Tanner shook his head.

For a guy that was so intent on paying off his debt and setting foot on Earth Tanner didn’t seem to care much about getting paid sometimes. It was an odd discrepancy and likely a big part of the reason that he was still in debt.

Grep suddenly realized how minimal the scope of their risk really was. Wilbur and Kai had been out here in space when AI was still learning and making mistakes. They were pioneers and had no safety pods or other ships that could help them in the event of an accident.

It wasn’t that their hearts didn’t beat fast or they weren’t scared. They were probably terrified at times. But they pushed through and made progress. If it wasn’t for humans pushing ahead and trying things that AI’s deemed too risky they might still be bound to the planet below.

Taking risks was part of being human. It was why the AI’s were never going to rule them all. Her heart pounding in her chest wasn’t a warning sign, it was a sign of hope and possibility.

“Let’s do this!” She cheered and marched off toward the Cthulhu ship she was assigned to.

The Chondrule Club

January 19, 2018 By K. D. McAdams

One of the longest running jokes on Lagrange-4 is that when Kai Nazca excavated through the first vein of DeGrassium and revealed the Chondrule Club, Kinkaid was already behind the bar.

Of course the Chondrule Club didn’t actually exist until it too was excavated but the joke gets some funny looks when a newbie first hears it.

Maddison Holtz was not a newbie. It was more than two years ago that she accepted her job with Off Earth Salvage and moved here to Lagrange-4. She was a quick study and learned early that you don’t ask Kinkaid questions and if you ever hope to enjoy a cocktail you avoid pissing him off like you avoid the airlock.

Suddenly Maddison couldn’t remember if the joke was because of how old Kinkaid was or the fact that he never seemed to leave the bar. Probably a little of both.

“Hey Kinkaid how is everything in here?” she leaned through the door.

The Chondrule Club was technically closed, but as the operations manager for the whole rock Maddison had business being just about anywhere. She needed a drink, but hoped she wouldn’t have to ask.

“Fine Ms. Holtz,” Kinkaid studied her face int he dim light. “Come on in and have a seat.”

He read people better than most. Only those that ‘did it right’ became a friend and Maddison hoped that she was one of them.

Maddison walked past the tables with their chairs upside down and on top. At the corner of the bar she bent over and lifted the case of beer off the floor. Placing it gently on the top, she slid it down the entire length and pressed it neatly against the wall. The lessons her parents taught her on Earth served just as well here in space. If you see something that needs doing, do it.

“Thanks. The ore sorting team Mike brought in near cleared me out.” Kinkaid explained his need for restocking beer.

In truth there was always someone new cleaning him out. Maddison almost never saw invoices or cargo manifests for alcohol and didn’t know where most of it came from, but Kinkaid kept the place stocked.

“No problem. Don’t see too many beer drinkers these days.” She couldn’t help but think about the water used in making beer.

“Ore sorters are the greenest of the green. If they stick around they’ll learn. Speaking of, any word on that A.I.? Paying these guys can’t be good for Mike’s bottom line.” Kinkaid wondered.

“Still in therapy. It is convinced that was a human hand it saw. It won’t even sort simple finished pieces.” Maddison smiled at the fact that a computer program wouldn’t work because of an image.

“Well I suppose most of us wouldn’t be out here if those instances always did what they were supposed to.” Kinkaid chuckled.

Maddison sighed deeply. It was unintentional and she hated that it was going to look like she wanted to talk about a problem. Even though she really wanted to talk about her problem.

“You ever been around for a lighting?” Kinkaid pretended to ignore the sigh.

“No, I hear it’s amazing.” She answered quickly.

“Hold on,” Kinkaid disappeared around a short wall.

Moments later the walls came to life. Little bits of color shone in the black stone surrounding it. The glass chondrules refracted and bent light into colors people on Earth could never imagine. It was more colorful than a perfect rainbow and more dazzling than a sky full of stars.

Maddison left the bar and walked to a wall. She gently touched one of the pieces of glass. The elements in this crystal may have been around when the universe was formed. That made them even older than Kinkaid.

Everything glowed. The walls, the ceiling, the floors, even the supports underneath the bar had chondrules in it lighting up. Someone told her that it was all from a single laser beam and somehow each orb was connected by fiber optic strands winding their way through the rock. Different colors came from the bend in the fiber optics, not the chondrules themselves.

Then the room went dark. Not exactly dark, but back to it’s traditional level of dim.

“Can’t leave the laser on too long. One of the structural A.I.’s says it heats the fiber optics and could allow for a fissure in the stone.” Kinkaid explained why the light show wasn’t a permanent feature.

“Thank you for sharing. I’m glad I got to see that.” Maddison replied gratefully.

“But it’s not what you were looking for. Can I fix you a drink?” The bartender always understands.

“You don’t have to do that. I was really just looking to clear my head and this helped.” She regretted poking her head through the door.

“I only offer once.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Got any vodka handy?” Maddison stopped waffling.

“ZG or terrestrial?” Kinkaid naturally had vodka.

Maddison knew there couldn’t be a difference between vodka distilled in zero gravity and vodka distilled on Earth or the Moon. Still something about terrestrial vodka was better than it’s ZG counterpart.

“Terrestrial please,” she moved to a stool at the end of the bar.

A small glass of clear liquid was placed gently on the bar. Kinkaid kept his hand over the top and slowly slid it in front of her.

“This is distilled in the Mariana Trench. They use nearly frozen sea water and geothermal heating. It is remarkably pure and about as opposite ZG as I could think of.” He smiled.

Maybe if she had gone ZG it would have been a bigger pour. The liquid swirled around the cup and she sniffed to detect a complete lack of smell. Then her lips parted and the ice cold liquor flowed easily into her warm mouth.

The contrast was startling but the purity obvious. Her chest filled with warmth which slowly radiated out to her limbs and the rest of her body.

“Wow,” she acknowledged the quality of his selection.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but my advice is to stop. If you’re meant to find whatever it is, you’ll come across it at the right time. If not, looking won’t do you any good.” The bartender explained.

The problem was that she thought she found what she was looking for. When she took the tablet off that freighter captain it matched Mike’s description of his holo-tab almost perfectly. There wasn’t much tech that age filling space on freighters and most of the stuff floating from that generation was already salvaged or burned up in Earths atmosphere.

It wasn’t the looking that bothered her, it was all the effort to repair that piece of crap. Effort that would have been worth it if the display showed Mikes dad. Instead she spent a month working on the thing only to have a series of crude sex acts projected when it finally booted up.

“You’re right. I just wish I could find nothing instead of tricking myself into believing I have what I want.” She explained cryptically.

“If it was found in salvage, it’s not what you want anyway. Most people are looking for a thing when what they really need is a feeling. When you find that feeling it doesn’t matter where you are or what you have, the feeling goes with you.” Kinkaid explained some more.

Of course he was right. She didn’t want the holo-tab. What she wanted was the good feeling she would get from giving it to Mike. That feeling she got when she saw Mike relaxed and happy was what she was looking for.

But even Kinkaid wasn’t going to hear that.

“How much for the drink?” Maddison asked.

“It’s on me.” Kinkaid smiled.

This wasn’t a bad feeling either.

“Thank you. I suppose I should get out of your way though. We both have work to do.” Maddison stood to leave.

“Don’t mention it.” Kinkaid replied bluntly.

“Okay I’ll see you.” She waved and headed for the door.

Facing the door it was hard to miss the massive arch of DeGrassium. Maddison had never seen it in this light before and it looked magical. She wondered what Kai Nazca felt when he first saw this vein of ore curving through his massive rock.

More than that, what was he looking for? She knew that he excavated most of the Chondrule Club by hand while the mining bots were focused on processing the ore filled with oxygen and elements used for fuel. The question she now pondered was why.

He must have been looking for something. And that may be where Kinkaid took his advice. Digging by hand though an asteroid in space is not done to find an object, it’s done to find a feeling. Accomplishment, knowledge, or fear could have driven Kai to dig. And one of those could just as easily have caused him to stop.

Kinkaid wasn’t a fixture in the Chondrule Club because of any material thing he had. He was able to stay in the role as long as he had because of his feelings. It never mattered if it was slow or busy, rowdy or subdued, Kinkaid worked the bar exactly the same. Somehow, he was able to find the feeling he was looking for and by staying here on Lagrange-4 he never let it go.

What was the feeling Maddison was looking for? And what feeling would make her stop?

There may not be one answer to either question, but for now she had to keep looking.

A companion for sorting

January 12, 2018 By K. D. McAdams

Humans are messy and tricky. While I was thinking about artificial intelligence working aboard a space salvage station I realized that there would be some unlabeled parts. This was even before the story about John Young smuggling a corned beef sandwich on board a Gemini-3 launch. When systems can’t identify things, people are going to get the job. Below is a story about a junk sorter from the Off Earth Series world.

Before the first orbital war there were tens of thousands of pieces of space debris orbiting the Earth. Expended satellites were parked in a geo-stationary orbit where they wouldn’t affect modern, functional satellites. Smaller decommissioned satellites were de-orbited to mostly burn up in the atmosphere though in some cases their mass survived and plummeted into one of the oceans. It wasn’t a great system and many people believe it was the true cause of the first orbital war. A piece of Chinese space debris collided with a United States based space tourist station. One hundred and four customers died and an equal number of staff perished when exposed to the void of space.

When the orbital war was finished the every day amenities people on Earth were accustomed to were gone. No satellite communications, no global positioning and limited weather forecasting. There was so much debris orbiting the planet and so little information available that any space launch was considered a suicide mission.

Then Kai Nazca returned.

Flying the rock now known as Lagrange-4 back from deep space was remarkable enough. But when he saw the mess preventing him from returning to his planet his next idea was pure brilliance. Using old radio wave technology he was able to communicate with the early ruling body that was to become the Planetary Operating Alliance (POA). In exchange for cleaning up the debris circling the Earth he was granted exclusive rights to the stationary orbit of Lagrange-4 in perpetuity and passable to his heirs, as well as complete ownership of anything he was able to recover for a ten year period.

The ten year period for ownership ended long ago. Now they were required to purchase any debris from the owners before it could be salvaged. While every component of a ship launched into space was logged and labeled, humans were less precise. Tourists, laborers and stowaway’s all brought personal affects with them. When a vessel failed and the escape pods were used, plenty of unlabeled items were left behind, eventually needing salvage.

Artificial Intelligence and bots were great at processing individual labeled items. They were terrible at processing unlabeled items or products that were assembled from multiple-labled items. A.I. Would routinely label complex systems as something simple based on the component on it’s surface.

When A.I. And bots fail, humans get involved. That’s how Kurt Plaque ended up in the massive salvage bay of Lagrange-4 parsing through a motley collection of jewelry. The value of gold, platinum and silver dropped dramatically after it was discovered in abundance in several asteroid mines. Here in space there was a market for handmade Earth goods. A gold necklace with a locket made on Earth was worth more than it’s weight in gold.

Becoming Kai

January 5, 2018 By K. D. McAdams

This is a short story I wrote while planning my new Off Earth science fiction series. It is some deep back story that tries to get into how a human will take a risk so crazy that an artificial intelligence drone refuses to do it. So meet Kai Nazca, I hope you enjoy.

Image copyright Dmitry Islentyev via Dreamstime.com

The launch vehicle rolled and he caught a glimpse of the Nazca plain below. Simple, remarkable drawings sat motionless as they had for thousands of years. Who made them and why could not be answered regardless of how much technological progress humans made.

No matter how far into space humans went there would be no explaining much of their history.

Lowering the blast visor on his helmet, he finally permitted the tears to flow. Dreams of living and working in the stars belonged to his father. His heaven was on the ground, feet in cool damp grass waiting to hear his young daughters squeals of delight.

There was no one left that he wanted to hear squeal and no delight.

People always talked about the pace of change. Some felt it was always coming faster while others insisted it was a constant. He would rather not have had the proof of it’s increasing pace.

Transitioning from peace to war should have taken more time. All of the reporters and pundits promised that cooler heads would prevail, things were going to work out.

And then they didn’t.

The hot heads were in charge. Their constituents all salivating for war. Tired, simple people believing in the glory of standing up for an institution that abused, lied, and coerced it’s citizens at every turn.

The rest of the world looked on in horror as the United States tore itself apart. Armed militias stood up to National Guard troops and neighbors drew arms against neighbors. Any slight, real or perceived devolved into a gun battle in those first few days.

Video reporters loved it. Everyone clicked on their links and watched the violence with nervous excitement. Would it happen in their town? On their street?

Never. Most people believed that their own town was exempt from hostility and infighting. It was always the next town over or the people from the nearby city causing trouble.

Until it wasn’t.

Guns were everywhere. You could get shot for anything.

Cut someone off on the street, a barrage of bullets.

Music too loud? Gunned down.

Laugh at the wrong time? Executed in cold blood.

They didn’t have time to pack up and leave. Besides where would they have gone? San Diego had been their home for almost fifteen years. There was no family somewhere else that could take them in. Plus the war broke out so fast.

So they stayed. The bathtub was filled with water and canned goods were inventoried and rationed. Doors were locked and windows covered. Their house truly became their castle.

When the food got scarce he and his wife ventured out. Scavenging for cans and boxes of non-perishables in an abandoned market nearly got them both killed. A hail of hot lead exploded most of the packages they were able to gather. They went home nearly empty handed and shared the meager rations with the girls.

After that his wife wanted to leave. It didn’t matter where they went, she said. Just get my girls out of here before we get killed, or worse.

No, it’ll pass. They have to be almost done, order will be restored. We’ll be get by and start rebuilding, was his promise.

An ignorant man committing to things beyond his control. The bitter argument dragged into the night until they couldn’t fight anymore.

The next morning, before sunrise he snuck out. All he wanted to do was get a box of donuts or some packaged pastries to say he was sorry. She was right, they could leave.

He wasn’t gone long, maybe an hour or a little more. Not long enough for anything to happen.

It hurt to think about the injuries and the pain they must have felt. But their eyes were the things that almost killed him. Vacant, lost eyes looking at nothing but staring intently into the distance. Death robbing them of even the ability to close their lids

His blind rage was impossible to describe. It couldn’t be remembered. A manic animosity was all that was existed in him and it was deep in his soul.

The trail of blood and death was now his legacy. For days on end he prowled the city killing anyone and everyone he encountered. Young or old, man or woman it didn’t matter, they died.

How could a person who had lost what he lost, and took what he took go on? Where in the world was he supposed to go to escape this internal hell?

Nowhere.

By the time he came out of his murderous furry he was deep in the heart of Mexico. He couldn’t remember taking any vehicles for more than a few miles at a time. It was a hell of a walk, leaving him gaunt. But there were fewer people who appeared as threats and here they were not hiding. War was happening somewhere else.

What had been third world countries five years ago were now bastions of hope. Countries that embraced the space economy were too busy to fight amongst themselves. There were launches to plan and support.

And that was what led him to Peru. They needed people to get on rocket ships and go into space. It was dangerous, a better chance of dying than making it into orbit, but it was better than being on the Earth that he had just experienced.
Once he completed the required two weeks of training he had two days off before launch.

He was lucky enough to hook up with a mining crew destined for an asteroid that was out just beyond Mars. Other companies were sending out drones with artificial intelligence to do their mining. But drones were expensive and had a tendency to fail.

Failed drones required humans to fix them. So the company decided that they might as well just send humans, there were plenty of volunteers. A civil war in the most prosperous nation on the planet left enough desperate refugees that people were fighting over the chance to die in space.

There were twenty-eight crew members on board with him. The ones that had killed to get here were easy to pick out. Those that hadn’t had no idea who they were sharing space with and the type of person that last used the oxygen they now breathed.

Several of them were talking and trying to make friends. Typical banter, what’s your name, where are you from. Nerves permeating every word.

How many were telling the truth and how many were living lies? It didn’t matter, up here in space it would be a fresh start. If they made it.

“Hey, how about you buddy. Who are you?” A friendly young woman asked.

The launch vehicle completed its rotation and his view was now out to the black of space.

He didn’t respond immediately.

Who was he?

“Kai. Kai Nazca.” He finally answered.

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