Move Sixteen Ton

Zookajoe

Space Marshal
Donor
Nov 6, 2016
659
2,750
2,650
RSI Handle
Zookajoe
Ping

Ping

Ping

He hated this part, crawling across the lunar landscape, flashing his ass at any pirate within a hundred klicks. But it had to be done, pay-dirt would not just jump on your face and wiggle, you had to look for it. He sighed heavily.

Ping

Ping

The sensors lit up.

Yes! A large concentration about two klicks out, he noted the heading and locked it in. Thrusters firing, he gave the mains just a little juice, as he maneuvered his small vessel over to the ridge line where the strongest signal had come from. He began a more focused sweep and was rewarded with several enticing readouts.

One stood out among the rest: Mass: 4198. Composition: Tungsten 12%, Corundum 5%, Laranite 1.25%. Resistance: 70%. Instability: .99

He let out a low whistle. This would be a tough one to crack, but the payout would be good. With this haul, he would have enough to fully restock “Doc”. The refuel/repair ship could use with a topping off of the more basic supplies. He might even have a bit left over to celebrate with. Hell, he could even let Shep have the day off, with pay. The kid worked hard, he deserved a break.

Putting “Grumpy” into a hover over the deposit, he extended the boom and fired up the laser. He nudged the small ship closer and closer to the deposit, until the housing of the laser was practically touching the rock face and ramped the power up to maximum. Sparks flew as the target area turned a dull cherry red, then to a bright orange, the cabin filled with a dull roar as the power plant struggled to meet the output demanded of it. Still, the energy level of the rock refused to climb more than ten percent, well shy of the sixty that he would need to maintain for a successful fracture.

He began to adjust the power settings, reducing power to the shields and to the engines, and bolstering the power to the mining system. Pulling up the correct screen on the MFD, he overclocked the mining laser, knowing this would put more strain on the components, but it was either this, or give up and move on.

The energy level began to climb in the deposit. He began to nudge the “Sweet Spot” the balanced input needed where the energy inside the rock would begin to resonate and lead to a controlled fracturing of the node, into smaller, more manageable pieces. Now began the tricky part, keeping the energy level within the three percent sweet spot where the fracture stresses would build up, without overcharging the deposit which would lead to an explosive and disappointing end with vehicle damage and the material shattering to dust.
Ease off on the laser throttle, and the gauge dropped to the low end of the green zone, nudge the throttle back up a tenth of a percent at a time and watch the level dance back and forth of its own violation.

ERT! ERT! ERT!

The overcharge sensor began to climb rapidly, he eased Grumpy back a few meters and dialed back the laser, the sensor began to drop back towards the green zone, then almost past it, he put more power into the laser to compensate.

“I swear this is going to give me an ulcer”. He mumbled under his breath. He began to breath easier as the sensor settled back into the sweet spot. He actually began to entertain thoughts of how and where to spend this haul. His revere was abruptly shattered.

ERT! ERT! ERT! ERT!

Heat spike! “Dammit!” he swore as the overcharge climbed dangerously high, nearing one hundred percent. It must have been latent water in the deposit that had super-flashed to steam under the power of the laser.
He shut the laser off. Full reverse thrusters! The ship responded, but more sluggish than normal because of the power diverted from the engines. Not much slower, but slow enough. Too slow.

The deposit detonated with a deafening roar, even through the thin atmosphere of Yela. Rocks weighing hundreds of kilos were launched with incredible force into the air, and into the small ship that was frantically trying to pull away.

The shields crumpled instantly, the granite boulders slamming into the ships hull, gouging and pockmarking it and flinging the vessel somersaulting, into the lunar sky.

Inside the cockpit the old miner swore in three different languages, and two dialects as he wrestled the controls of the gyrating ship. Finally getting it under control, he began to assess the damage. Everything was still on one piece, that was something, he cut power to some of the less crucial systems and most of the sparking subsided, the atmospherics struggled to scrub the smoke from the cockpit.

He unconsciously began breathing a small prayer to St. James, as he scanned the area where the deposit had been. There were fragments. Some like the ones that had struck the Prospector were rather large, large enough to need fracturing themselves. But there were smaller fragments. Small enough to tractor in without further work needed. He estimated, there would be enough to fill the saddlebags that had mercifully survived the violent shattering of the node.

Not enough to really celebrate with, but enough.

He toggled the Comms. “Hey Shep”. The tousled haired youth looked up, “Yeah Boss?” He paused, calculating how much payout he would have after repairs to Grumpy. “Take the day off”. Shep's face lit up “Hey! Thanks Sarge!”.

The old Sargent killed the Comms, sat back, sighing heavily and muttered to himself “Another damned learning experience.”
 
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