Disclaimer: see Chapter 1
A/N: Grateful thanks to my reviewers! I wasn't sure if this story would appeal, and I'm pleased to learnthat - so far, anyway - it is of interest to some people. Thanks for the reassurance! There is still a long way to go.
Chapter 4
With his kitbag swung over a shoulder and a plan of the layout as his guide, Malcolm steered a course through the confusing maze of corridors towards the main Admin Office, located near the centre of the accommodation section.
The Facility was sturdily built but would win no prizes for aesthetics. The same neglect that Carlotta had shown was exhibited here, too. Malcolm grimaced as he took it all in. The dingy cream-painted walls, relieved by the usual bright safety notices and warning signs, had bare patches with signs of corrosion showing through. It was only superficial but spoke volumes for attitude. Exposed pipework ran along the upper walls and was suspended from the ceilings, with the occasional dangling cable or taped-up connection showing where ad hoc repairs had been carried out and then left to become permanent.
Malcolm made a final switchback turn which took him up half a level and reached the Admin Office. Since the door was open, he stepped in over the raised doorframe, giving a sharp rap on the wall to announce his arrival.
The small office was full of equipment and furniture, with banks of monitors taking up most of the walls. A slew of terminals ranged over a central desk in an arc - the heart of power - behind which sat a man in a grey coverall. He was bowed over a PADD, his sandy hair falling down over his face, and showed no sign of having heard Malcolm's knock.
"Hello?" said Malcolm.
The man grunted a response of sorts, but didn't look up or stop keying into the PADD.
Not wishing to disturb him, Malcolm dropped his bag on the floor and walked over to idly inspect a set of displays. They turned out to be concerned with life support and air recycling functions. Everything appeared to be well within the green range. Comforting, thought Malcolm, taking note of the different listed sections. He scrutinized what else he could without encroaching too much on the admin official, who was still engrossed in his task, and then pulled out a chair and sat down.
The man eventually put aside his PADD. He had a rumpled appearance and hadn't shaved that day, by the looks of it. Malcolm wondered if he'd just come on shift.
"Malcolm Reed," said Malcolm cheerily, impatient to get on with things.
"I guessed it was," said the man, unsmiling. "We don't get much in the way of casual visitors here."
"I guess not," said Malcolm, feeling rather stupid.
"The name's Young," said the man, pushing back his hair. He didn't offer to shake hands. "You travelled in on the Carlotta."
"Yes. That's right," confirmed Malcolm.
Young scowled at him. "The inertial dampers are shot. That little stunt you pulled caused a lot of damage."
"It was necessary, otherwise the entire ship would've been lost," Malcolm replied firmly, folding his arms to emphasise the point. So - Gomez or Bailey had already spoken to Young, had they? Had they also kept their promise to get him off the hook?
Young fixed Malcolm with a bleary gaze for a long moment while Malcolm stared confidently back. Then Young sniffed, breaking the spell. "Yeah, well, Gomez and Bailey say the same. But next time, remember: you get to pay."
Malcolm gave a non-committal grunt, not allowing his immense relief to show. That was the first hurdle overcome! Now that particular worry was out of the way, he could proceed as planned. He got down to business before Young could change his mind. "I've got some cargo to unload."
"Uh huh. We got your credit transfer. I need you to go through the account to confirm deductions, then I'll show you your quarters and the rest."
"Okay," said Malcolm, settling back in his chair.
Young consulted his terminal. "You'll need to go over the safety regs - I'll ask you some questions on them tomorrow. You'll also need to do competency tests for EV activities and explosives. I assume you do need to be cleared for explosives?"
Malcolm hesitated. His Starfleet ratings would be more than adequate to enable him to skip the Facility tests, but he was mindful of Gomez' advice about how Starfleet was viewed by the miners.
Young misunderstood his indecision. "I don't know what you've heard, but we do have some rules here, you know. We don't care what you do to yourself, but we don't like it if you kill anyone else. I'll put you down to do the competencies tomorrow. Okay?"
"Okay," agreed Malcolm.
"Good," said Young, tapping in an entry. "Shamir will take you through them." He pointed to a monitor next to Malcolm's elbow. "Use that to access your account. Check it and confirm with your authorisation code."
The figures were wrong, thought Malcolm, as he scanned through them to the final tally. There should be more than that left in his account. He tabbed back to the top and concentrated on the individual items. Room rent, workspace, cargo space... atmosphere and life support. They charged separately for that! What was the point of renting a room if it didn't come with air? He shook his head and gave a grunt.
"Problem?" said Young.
"You quoted me a price for rent. Now I see you've bumped it up with additional services charges."
"That's how it's done. It was all quite clear in the documentation."
Malcolm pulled a face. He bet it was. Tucked away somewhere obscure, no doubt. Now he understood why the paperwork had been so difficult to navigate. He followed down the list. Everything and anything had its own entry. They even charged extra for docking facilities and he didn't have a vessel!
He challenged the item.
Young said, "You'll be coming and going, won't you? It's all wear and tear."
"But you've already got an item for general depreciation. That would include it!"
"No, it doesn't," said Young. "It's all in the definitions in Schedule 2. Read it."
Malcolm shook his head again.
Before he could argue the point, Young said, "The thing is, you either accept our way of doing things, or you go somewhere more to your liking. I don't care which."
Malcolm gazed pensively at him and decided he would make no headway, except to find himself at odds with the Facility management. He didn't want to start off like that. "Okay," he said, admitting defeat.
He swiftly checked through everything else, grimly amused to see the competency testing fees tacked onto the end. "I'll authorise it - all of it," said Malcolm, keying in his codes. It would leave him with less than he had budgeted for, but, with Gomez agreeing to his deal, he hoped to pick up paying business soon. He would have to. He couldn't allow himself to eat into his emergency reserve. That was solely to cover transport back to Earth if he wanted to ship out of here.
Young stood. "Come on. I'll show you your quarters."
As he spoke, raised voices could be heard outside, coming closer.
"That's the rules!" exclaimed a woman. "You know that!"
"Bullshit!" came the uncompromising reply. "We know you can bend them if you want. It's not like it's impossible."
"But it is..."
The two antagonists entered the Admin office, the woman dressed like Young in a grey coverall and the man wearing decidedly work-worn casual clothing.
The man was furious. He stabbed a finger in the woman's direction and shouted, "Elmira says she won't accept my ore!"
Young said calmly, "Well, she's right. You're too late."
"Too late! It's only thirty minutes past. What harm will it do, huh?"
"A deadline is a deadline, otherwise it puts all the scheduling out."
"If I have to wait for the next collection, it's going to tie up my racking and I won't get my money this session."
Young raised an eyebrow. "We can extend the credit line."
The angry miner slammed both hands on Young's desk. "Don't! That is not a joking matter!"
"Who said I was joking?"
Malcolm was watching this show with detached interest, until the miner turned to him and spat out, "You're new around here, huh? Don't let these thieving bloodsuckers get their claws into you or you'll never be free of them." He gave a final slam on the desk and stalked out.
Young and Elmira grinned at each other. "Another satisfied customer," said Elmira slyly.
"Come on, Reed," said Young. "You've paid for the amenities. Might as well get to see 'em!" He gave a short laugh and set off down the corridor.
Malcolm grabbed his kitbag and followed, thinking about the rigid application of the deadline he'd just witnessed. It puzzled him. That didn't gel with what his investigations had thrown up about this place. "So, you're a stickler for the rules, eh?" he probed.
"Always," said Young.
"I thought this Facility was supposed to be unregulated?"
"It is. It doesn't fall within Mining Guild Guidelines, but that doesn't mean we haven't got our own rules."
"I'll try to remember that," said Malcolm dryly. He had no illusions who those rules would be set to favour.
His quarters were in the outer sector of the accommodation section and consisted of a single room, smaller than the one he'd had on Enterprise, with a bunk, closet, small desk and terminal. The communal wash facilities were down the corridor.
"Sure you don't want the next grade up?" asked Young. "They've got individual bathrooms."
"Quite sure, thank you," said Malcolm. He'd had to share bathrooms for most of his life - at school and as a cadet - and it didn't bother him overmuch, certainly not when they charged so much here for the privilege.
Malcolm dumped his gear, and then went with Young to inspect the workroom that he had been allocated. That was much more satisfying, with plenty of space for his day-to-day work and the research he intended to do in his spare time. The tour ended with a trip to the cargo bays. All Malcolm's freight had been safely offloaded and stored where it was accessible.
"I'll leave you to settle in," said Young, as they arrived back at Malcolm's quarters. "Shamir will get you tomorrow for the tests."
"Right," said Malcolm. He saw Young out, then locked his door, kicked off his boots and lay down on his bunk. He had been travelling for so long and now wanted nothing more than some hours of uninterrupted sleep in a place that was his alone. He didn't even have the energy to get cleaned up - just lay back on top of the covers. He would unpack later. Within moments, his eyes closed and he drifted off.
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Malcolm woke up suddenly, senses on full alert. It took a moment for him to recall where he was, then he lay back down again with a sigh.
A deep thunk resonated through the Facility structure, followed by a powerful shudder. Then another similar sequence. Evidently, that was what had roused him. Malcolm had no idea what it was. Was there a problem? He jumped up, stumbling over his discarded boots, and checked his terminal, all the while listening out for sirens or alarms. The station network showed no warning message and there were no noises of an evacuation drill being put into action - no running feet or emergency signal. The status of the Facility was designated 'normal' on the comm network and, whatever the disturbances were due to, they seemed to have subsided. Malcolm decided he could safely relax.
That was one way to get a wake-up call! Malcolm yawned and poked his finger around the corners of his eyes to winkle out the sleep. Yanking his kitbag onto the bunk, he tipped out the contents and grabbed his wash kit. It was time to try out the facilities.
They were a few metres down the corridor and were deserted. Malcolm had a shower, noting that he had had to enter his charge code to operate it. More expense! This place didn't miss a trick. He was determined he was going to beat their game.
He returned to his room and changed into fresh clothes, feeling a lot more human. Now his stomach rumbled, reminding him it was time to refuel. He drew a comb through his hair, pulled on his boots and set off to the mess hall.
There was a sole diner - the man who'd had the argument with the Admin people earlier, still in his dirty clothes. Malcolm walked over to the serving hatch and rang the bell.
"Yes?" said the chef, stepping over and wiping his hands on a cloth.
"What have you got?" asked Malcolm, craning his head in an attempt to see what might be on offer.
"Try me!"
"Okay, how about steak, veg, pudding of some sort."
"No problem. Coffee?"
"Please." Malcolm keyed in his charge code.
"I'll bring it over when it's ready," promised the chef.
Malcolm turned and started automatically for a table in the far corner. Then he hesitated. It went against his nature, but he had to learn how to get business. He altered direction and sauntered over to the other man, who was concentrating entirely on his food.
"Excuse me," said Malcolm.
The man looked up briefly, then back at his plate, aiming for a potato with his fork. "Yeah?"
"Do you mind if I sit here?" Malcolm nodded at the place opposite him.
"Suit yourself," said the man dismissively, although it was accompanied by a pointed look at the empty places all around.
"The name's Reed," said Malcolm with forced brightness.
"Johansson," replied the man.
"Pleased to meet you."
Johansson grunted, his attention once more on his meal.
Malcolm gave a taut smile and tried again to get a conversation going. "Thanks for your warning, about the charging regime here."
"What?"
"In the Admin Office."
Johansson said, "Oh, yeah. Like I said, watch out for them. Don't trust them an inch."
"I'll be careful."
Johansson took a gulp of coffee and raised his head to consider Malcolm. "You just arrived?"
"Yeah."
Johansson nodded but remained silent, putting another block on any discussion as he returned to the serious business of eating. It was very obvious that he didn't want to talk.
Malcolm chewed nervously at his lower lip as he sought a way to bring up his proposition. What was the best opening gambit? The chef brought over a jug of coffee and a mug, and Malcolm occupied himself in pouring a drink. Then he fiddled with his mug, rotating it in short steps. This was ridiculous! He had to say something otherwise Johansson would leave and be none the wiser!
Malcolm cleared his throat. "Do you do your own blasting?"
"What's it to you?" replied Johansson, quite aggressively.
"Well... I'm a freelance - explosives that is. I'm able to take on new work at the moment. I'm confident that I can increase your profitability if I carry out your blasting."
"Listen, I don't know if you were paying attention earlier, but I don't have the funds to employ anyone right now. Sorry." Johansson seized his mug and took another noisy gulp.
"You would pay me out of your increased profits. You would make more, even with my fees."
Johansson said nothing, but his face showed disbelief as he regarded Malcolm over the rim of his mug. However, he did not dismiss it out of hand, which Malcolm took as a good sign.
Sensing a break in Johansson's defences, Malcolm said quickly, "I can prove it to you. I've got some work lined up with Gomez. I'll cost everything up and show you the figures based on what that project demonstrates."
Johansson shook his head doubtfully, but he was definitely weakening.
"All I ask is that you consider it. There'd be nothing to lose and lots to gain!" Malcolm grinned at his potential client. He wondered if it looked as false as it felt.
Johansson narrowed his eyes, and then made a decision. "Okay. As you say, I've nothing to lose. Feel free to contact me when you're ready."
"Great!" Malcolm's enthusiasm was amplified by relief. Perhaps this initiative of his would work, after all? Perhaps he really would be able to make a living at it? He just needed a successful demo with Gomez and then he could build on it.
Johansson accepted a top-up of his coffee while Malcolm congratulated himself on a second promising contact.
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Malcolm made one last pass over the firing field. He had been meticulous in setting his charges. With the luxury of as much time as he wanted, he was not going to rush this. It was going to be perfect. Checking off the last charge, he waved Bailey and Gomez back. They would keep creeping forward. Absolutely no discipline.
He pressed his EV suit's comm button. "I'm almost ready. Get back to the safety zone."
"But we're fine here, Reed," argued Bailey, his voice sounding clearly in Malcolm's left ear. Malcolm lowered the volume a notch.
Malcolm shook his head, although the others wouldn't be able to see it. "I won't fire until you get back. If you want to waste oxygen, that's fine by me, but it'll put the costs up. And you're paying for consumables remember!"
Gomez cut in, partway through a laugh. "Consumables? I thought you meant explosives!"
Malcolm retorted, "I've been taking lessons from Facility Admin. You consume it, you pay for it!"
Gomez snorted in amusement and said, "Come on, Mot. Let's keep costs down."
They leapt in kangaroo jumps to the designated area. Malcolm caught them up easily. His new EV suit was proving to be much more manoeuvrable than the solid but old fashioned Starfleet model. He held his hand up, watching the thin, silvered material flex with his fingers. It had been expensive, the top of the line model, but he didn't regret its purchase.
He waited while his companions settled themselves, then pulled out his initiator. He re-checked the firing sequence.
"Are you sure this will work?" said Bailey.
"I guarantee it," said Malcolm, brimming with confidence. "If there's one thing I know about, it's explosives."
"Arrogant bastard," said Gomez, but with good humour.
Malcolm grinned to himself, recognising the truth in at least part of that remark, but unfortunately he resembled his father far too closely for it to be entirely true. He took one last look, then ducked down behind the shielding rock.
"Firing," he said, depressing the buttons in the start sequence.
Nothing happened at first, and then the ground beneath their boots rumbled and shuddered. A low boom reached them through the thin atmosphere, followed by a light rain of fine particles and dust.
Malcolm activated the ultrasonic cleaner to clear his visor and was first to peer around the rock. He gave a huge grin. How could he have ever forgotten exactly how good an explosion was for the soul!
It was exactly as he had envisaged it. A massive slice of ore-bearing rock cleanly excised from the surrounding rock layers, contoured for maximum yield. There couldn't have been a better demonstration. The high value ore was laid bare. All they had to do now was break it up into smaller chunks that would then be towed to the collection point. All that usual tedious drilling and cutting avoided.
Gomez gave him a thump on his back. "That's amazing," he said. "Can you do that every time?"
"Pretty much so, although it depends on the starting material, of course."
"Good work," said Bailey, grudgingly. He turned to Malcolm and grinned, clapping a hand on Malcolm's shoulder to emphasise the praise.
Malcolm looked once more at the results. A perfect blast, and a good omen for things to come… or so he hoped.
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The last rocks had been retrieved and were being scooted out to Delta 3, as they designated their holding point. These were the products of the final set of blastings. The whole series had gone better than Malcolm could have hoped, although he had stacked the odds in his favour by not shirking on any of the analysis required. Only a couple of firings had been less successful, but they had been still acceptable.
Malcolm had helped with the labouring work, clumsily to begin with, but gradually increasing in confidence as he got used to the heavy equipment and the masses involved. By the end of the two weeks, he was quite capable of handling the more straightforward manoeuvres, although he still deferred to the other two when more precision was necessary.
Hanging above the pockmarked asteroid surface, Malcolm waited patiently for Bailey to send the next load of ore in his direction. There was a lot of waiting around involved in mining, Malcolm had discovered. The sturdy frame around him was quiescent, arms and grappling lines tidily retracted until required. Occasionally, a small shudder travelled through the frame as the thrusters fired to make a positional correction.
Malcolm automatically checked his suit parameters. Everything okay. He turned his head to gaze out towards the stars, at now familiar constellations. He had been worried that he would soon grow impatient with the pace, but the firings had kept his brain challenged and the work of retrieving the ore had given him a physical workout, even with the equipment they used. And, in between, he had time to look at the stars and think. There were no demands on him to be always alert for threats, to be responsible for the safety of others and the ship. Until now, he really hadn't appreciated exactly how much pressure that had put him under.
He was content, he realised with surprise. When had he last been able to say that? He didn't know. There were other pressures, sure. He had to get to grips with financial matters - Admin's attitude made that a steep learning curve - and building the contacts didn't come easily to him, but it was a different type of pressure. Not life threatening. And no one could order him to do anything.
Bailey came over the comm. "Last load, Reed."
"Acknowledged," said Malcolm, thumbing the switches to bring the equipment on line, the panel array brightly flaring. He placed his hands on the levers and experimentally flexed the frame's arms to confirm its correct functioning. A touch of his thumbs brought both grappling lines on alert. The display, appearing to hover before his face, showed the trajectories of the ore as the pieces spun lazily in his direction. He set the autopilot to tracking mode and returned his concentration to his work.
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Gomez called a break period before the ore was to be gathered up from the collection points by the ship - the last part of the procedure. "No sense in killing ourselves," he commented to Malcolm as they thankfully stripped off their EV suits on board the Mariposa. "We'll grab some food and a couple of hours sleep, then carry on with the campaign."
Malcolm approved: Gomez was safe, on the whole. He had already heard scary tales about miners pushing too hard, mistakes being made and people dying or being maimed. Malcolm had determined he wouldn't be a part of that. He relished that he was a freelance, and that he could do what he damn well chose.
They sat wearily down in the galley and devoured their rations in silence. Malcolm chewed methodically, barely registering what he was eating.
Gomez set his fork down, pushed his clean plate away and sat back. "We'll be back early. Admin will think we've not bothered to get a full load."
"I told you having a proper blasting programme would make a difference," said Malcolm, shovelling in the last of his meal. "You will let me use the results?"
Gomez said, "Of course. That's what we agreed." He paused and then said, "I have a proposition. Why not work for me full time? You won't need to scare up work from elsewhere, then. It'd be guaranteed."
Malcolm shook his head immediately. "No. Sorry." Now he had his independence, he wasn't inclined to abandon it so readily.
Gomez nodded slowly. "Okay then. I'll make you a partner. That'll give you a say in the decision-making. And a straight cut of the profits."
Malcolm blinked in surprise. That was a generous offer and totally unanticipated. He sneaked a look at Bailey, who seemed unconcerned by the conversation. Of course - Gomez would have spoken to him first. Malcolm didn't know what business arrangement Gomez and Bailey had. Perhaps they were partners, although he had gathered that the Mariposa belonged to Gomez.
"Well?" prompted Gomez.
Malcolm considered the proposal. It would mean mining practically continuously. Out on campaign, rapid turnaround back at the Facility and then back out again. There would be some holiday time and unavoidable breaks, such as when the ship needed servicing or repair, but it was a pretty relentless routine.
That wasn't what he wanted. It would probably be inescapable to begin with, until he got his finances in improved heart, but then he wanted time to himself. He had research he wanted to carry out. Also, although he found Gomez easy to work with, and Bailey as well, surprisingly, he wanted to make contacts with the others. He didn't want to put all his eggs in one basket.
"Thank you for the offer," said Malcolm, "but I think I'll stick with my original plan. No offence."
Gomez lifted an eyebrow. "As you wish. No offence taken." He and Bailey exchanged glances.
Bailey had finished eating, too. He said curiously, "Where did you learn to handle explosives like that, Reed?"
Malcolm considered what he should say. "Here and there," he settled on and then added mischievously, "and a certain affinity." He gave a broad smile.
Bailey took the hint and left it at that.
The meal over, the men went to their cabins for some much-needed rest. Malcolm splashed some water over his face then lay down on the bunk, quickly falling into a satisfied and dreamless sleep.
TBC