Ben Bova - The Rock Rats

When Lars had first told Amanda about the orbiting habitat, she’d been worried about the radiation. One advantage of living inside a big rock was that it shielded you from the harsh radiation sleeting in from the Sun and deep space. But Lars had shown her how the habitat would use the same magnetic radiation shielding that spacecraft used, only stronger, better. She studied the numbers herself and became convinced that the habitat would be just as safe as living underground—as long as the magnetic shielding worked.

Lars was up on the unfinished habitat again with Niles Ripley. He and the Ripper were working on a recalcitrant water recycler that refused to operate as programmed. Meanwhile, she was running the office, routing prospectors’ requests for supplies and equipment to the proper inventory system, and checking to make certain that the material actually was loaded aboard a ship and sent to the people who had requested it.

Then there was the billing procedure. Miners were usually no problem: most of them were on corporate payrolls, so whatever they owed could be deducted automatically from their paychecks. Prospectors, though, were something else. The independents had no paychecks to deduct from. They were still searching for an asteroid to mine, waiting to find a jackpot. Yet they needed air to breathe and food to eat just as much as did miners working a claim. At Lars’s insistence, Amanda ran a tab for most of them, waiting for the moment when they struck it rich.

Strange, Amanda thought, how the system works. The prospectors go out dreaming of making a fortune. Once they find a likely asteroid they have to make a deal to mine its ores. That’s when they realize that they’ll be lucky if they can break even. The prices for metals and minerals roller coasted up and down—mostly down—depending on the latest strikes; the commodities markets Earthside were hotbeds of frantic speculation, despite the sternest efforts of the Global Economic Council to keep things under control.

Yet there were just enough really big finds to keep the stars in the prospectors’ eyes. They kept doggedly searching for the one asteroid that would allow them to retire in wealth and ease.

The real way to make a fortune, Amanda had learned, was to be a supplier to the prospectors and miners who seemed to be rushing out to the Belt in steadily increasing numbers. They did the searching and the finding, the mining and refining. But the people here on Ceres were the ones who were getting rich. Lars had already amassed a small fortune with Helvetia Ltd. Humphries’s people were piling up bigger and bigger sums in their bank accounts, too. Even the twins, with their virtual reality bordello, were millionaires several times over.

The real profits, though, went to the corporations. Astro and Humphries Space Systems made most of the money; only a small percentage of it stays with people like Lars and me, Amanda knew.

Amanda rubbed at the aching back of her neck. It had become stiff from staring at the wallscreen for so many hours on end. With a tired sigh, she decided to call it a day. Lars would be coming in soon. Time to scrub up and put on a clean set of coveralls for dinner and maybe take a walk to the Pub afterward. Before shutting down for the day, though, Amanda flicked through the list of incoming messages awaiting her attention. Routine. Nothing that needed immediate attention.

Then she noticed that one of the messages had come in not from the ships plying the Belt, but from Selene. From the headquarters of Humphries Space Systems.

Her first instinct was to ignore it. Or perhaps delete it altogether. Then she saw that it was addressed to Lars, not her. It was not marked personal, and did not bear Martin Humphries’s signature. No harm in reading it, Amanda thought. It won’t be a two-way conversation, face-to-face. She glanced at her mirror by the bed, across the narrow room. I’m certainly not dressed to impress anyone, she thought. But even if it is from Martin, it was recorded and sent hours ago. Whoever sent it won’t see me.

She didn’t bother to take off her filter mask as she called up the message from HSS.

The wallscreen flickered momentarily, then showed an attractive dark-haired woman with the kind of sculpted high cheekbones that Amanda had always envied. The ID line beneath her image read diane verwoerd, special assistant to the ceo humphries space systems.

“Mr. Fuchs,” said Verwoerd’s image, “I have been authorized by the management of Humphries Space Systems to engage in negotiations for buying out Helvetia Limited. The buyout would include your supply depot, inventory, and all the services that Helvetia performs. I’m sure you’ll find our terms very attractive. Please call me at your earliest convenience. Thank you.”

The screen blanked to the HSS logo against a neutral gray background. Amanda stared at it, seeing the woman’s image, hearing her words. Buy us out! We could go back to Earth! We could live well and Lars could even go back to graduate school and get his doctorate!

She was so excited that she paid no attention to the message from the supply ship that was supposed to make rendezvous with The Lady of the Lake.

“Don’t you see, Lars?” Amanda said eagerly. “We could go home! To Earth! You could go back to your studies and get your doctorate.”

Fuchs was sitting on the edge of their bed, his thin slash of a mouth turned down grimly, Amanda beside him. Together they had watched Diane Verwoerd’s full message offering him ten million international dollars for his supply service and its facilities on Ceres. “It’s a bribe,” he growled.

“It’s the opportunity of a lifetime, darling. Ten million inter-national dollars! Think of it! Ten million, free and clear, just like that!” She snapped her fingers. “For nothing more than signing your name.”

“And getting out of Ceres.”

“And returning to Earth. We could go to London, or Geneva, if you prefer.”

“It’s a bribe,” he repeated stubbornly.

Amanda took both his big, callused hands in hers. “Lars, darling, we can go back to Earth and live comfortably wherever you choose. We can begin a new life together.”

He said nothing, simply stared at the blanked wallscreen as if he were looking down the muzzle of a gun. “Lars, we could have children.”

That stirred him. He turned his head to look into her eyes. “I want to have a baby, Lars. Your baby. We can’t do that here, you know that.”

He nodded bleakly. “The gravity…” he muttered.

“If we lived on Earth, we could lead normal lives. We could raise a family.”

“The frozen zygotes are waiting for us at Selene,” he said.

She slid her arms around his neck. “We won’t need them, Lars. Not if we live on Earth like normal people.”

He started to pull her to him, but then something crossed his face. His expression changed; he looked almost as if he were in pain.

“They want us to leave Ceres.”

“And you want to stay?” Amanda had meant it to be joking; lighthearted. But it sounded bitter, almost like nagging, even to her.

“The prospectors. The miners,” he said, almost whispering. “All the others rock rats out here… our friends, our neighbors.”

“What of them?”

“We’d have to leave them.”

“We’ll make new friends. They’ll understand.”

He pulled away from her and got to his feet. “But we’ll be leaving them to him, to Humphries.”

“What of it?”

“Once we’re out of his way, once he’s bought us out, he’ll be the only source for supplies in the entire Belt. No one else would dare to compete against him.”

“Astro might. Pancho—”

“He’s on Astro’s board of directors. Sooner or later he’ll take control of Astro, too. He’ll control everything! And everybody.”