Time Scape, Evelyn J. Steward [snow like ashes txt] 📗

Time Scape.

The deep orange sun cast long spear like beams of light as below the weight of black leaden clouds, it sunk lower in the sky. It was not evening, but a strange phenomena that happened once every six revolutions.
The planet held an erratic orbit and was pulled slightly off course by it's sister sphere which had a faster rotation. The sister planet's gravitational pull caught and took her five degrees above her normal rotation, every six days. Her days, that is. The sister then spun away again, dropping this planet back into it's normal place.
Syme stared at the vivid colours that had begun to flash across his view, the sky fireworks that were like the lightning back home on Earth. But here, unlike the blue-white arcs he knew so well, the jagged bolts came in the guise of opaline shards, ruby daggers and amethyst rapiers.
He was loathe to admit that such beauty caused a great deal of damage to their new installation. Had he known earlier that they would be bombarded by a regular incursion of such vicious ionised lances, he would have moved the plant to the Southern Hemisphere.
As it was, he could do little but watch this amazing Technicolor display and hope deeply that the safety precautions instigated after that first-fall survival, would be enough. There was always a margin of tolerance allowed but would the level be sufficient, he wondered? And how long could they stay in the battle?
He had radioed back and help was coming, but his was not an A1 priority right now, not with the war going on back on the far side of the galaxy.
Head of a reserve mining operation, it was his job to salvage and mine ore and minerals. True, they and their stocks would be needed once the battle was won, whenever that might be, but his was one of many such operations spread across this half of the galaxy rim. They would expect him to glean as much ore and products as possible. If something happened to change that, then, it was up to him to hold out or go under.
The darkness was surrounding him as the sun sank to halfway below the horizon. Placing a foot on the step up to his office, he could see lights way back in the darkened landscape. They were racing for home. For the safety of crew quarters which he had ordered double covered in rhillium. They might survive, he doubted the Plant would.
Syme torched the beacon before he stepped inside his office and switched the light. No use wasting precious fuel for a scatter lamp when there was plenty of burnable material for the taking, dry and ready to be consumed. He assumed the vegetation had been razed by the 'fireworks' some time in the past. It was like a gigantic box of charcoal. Loads of it, scattered across the plain for five thousand klicks. Must have been some forest he mused, when it was growing. Some trunks, for want of a better word, were wider than his office floor. They had had to chop it into manageable sizes.
He could hear the whine of the drones now. They would make it, but only just. At least they all knew when each occurrence would commence. They had worked that out to a fine art by now. His only wonder was why the ordinance team hadn't picked it up. They had been based here long enough. Well, it mattered nought now. They were here for the duration, win or lose.
He brewed a cup of coffee. Not the real stuff of course, he was saving what little he had of that for special occasions. This was the ersatz coffee they had all become used to in the last three years, earth years, he reminded himself, not what passes for a year on this barren lump of rock.
There was a crunch outside and a soft whining that meant the men were home and driving into the grav shed, badly. They would get a warning for that, even if they were in a hurry to miss getting caught in the lightning showers outside. Who knows how long they would be stuck here? It was criminal to treat equipment so carelessly. What seemed like over compensation in the beginning, was rapidly turning to desperation now.
Voices could be heard coming through the airlock. Syme had insisted on an airlock after that first time. Dust particles rose feet thick from the ground after that kind of bombardment. It sucked through crevices and lay like treacle, clinging to work surfaces and furniture alike. It even managed to get into the storeroom where they kept the Mess supplies.
Aranza was laughing as the men tumbled through the second door. Jerrad and Mimps stopped short when they saw the look on Syme's face. The rest bumped into them as they all tried to crowd into the small space behind Jerrad and Mimps. Aranza's smile died on his lips.
"Who scraped in by the skin of their teeth?" Syme was serious and the men studied his face to see what they could get away with.
"Sorry Loo -tenant," piped up Greeward from the back of the pack of bodies. "Last in! Bolt just missed my back end. Scared me rigid, I can tell you. They are coming closer, sooner today."
"That's never an excuse, and you know it. You knew today was fireworks day. You should have started back earlier. Why did you delay the return?"
Greeward looked at his team-mates, a slight grin formed around his mouth. "Well.......," he delayed his answer to heighten the tension in the room. "We sussed out a big rhidium seam, close to the surface. If we can just find enough time to get in there, put up some kind of shelter and start the mining going before the next hit, we will have enough for our quota and more." His bright fresh-faced smile matched his dancing eyes as he searched for his partner.
Bodies moved aside as the shortest of the crew edged forward, almost falling to the front as the last two gave way.
"He tells it like it is, Loo-tenant." Janqua the Hem piped up.
Syme had never quite become at ease with Janqua. He was never even sure what to call her/him other than by the name. How Greeward stood it, he would never know or want to either. Not natural. Even those ugly disgusting Hrrgas had two sexes plus a double sexed variety. A hem was neither. No sex at all! But for all that, he had to admit that Janqua worked good and on that score, he/her, whatever, was o.k. on his team.
Well, the crunch would be logged but forgotten, if this seam panned out like Greeward said. Syme had never faulted him yet, but could they mine it under these conditions?
Syme studied the pair carefully. They had tried this before. The last seam was poor quality, not worth the setting up that had taken them three Earth weeks. "Are you certain it's up to standard this time?"
"Of course Loo-ten......," Janqua stopped short as Syme's face reddened. "Sure Mr Syme, Sir. We both checked it. We tapped one end, then the other. The middle is about five meters deep. It's a good enough seam alright." The hem eyed her/his partner, warning him against more jokes. Now was not the time to make Syme any angrier than he already seemed. The storm would worsen and it would be a long time in passing. Tempers frayed easily under that kind of pressure. The hem had more than his/her fair share of bad treatment when the others were scared witless by the raging outside.
"O.K., but only if you are sure. We haven't that much spare equipment after the last time you messed it up. Sheer waste. It was pointless. You knew it would count against you when the tally was made and we finally got off this rock." Syme drove the point home, hoping for another bite at the retribution cherry but Greeward was grinning again. He had already made three times what everyone else had. A lucky titanium pocket, then there was that diamond field, industrial of course, but that was what they were after.
"Come now Syme, I'm the best you have and you know it! I always come in with the big loads. That's why you booked me on your team again." He had an insolent attitude that Syme abhorred. What was worse, he had to admit that Greeward was right. He had asked for him and yes, he did find seams of ore where everyone else stopped looking. There was an obstinacy in his manner that drove him on where others gave up.
"Yes, but you're an awkward bastard to work with," Syme countered. "You'd better bring those figures on through to my office. We'll check your readings, just the same."
Janqua picked up two cups and followed the pair through to the back, letting the others snatch a brew. Panchett made his way into the kitchen area to start some food for them all. The others took their cups and moved away to un-suit and sprawl over the seating that made up their version of a rest area. Now that they were safe, there was much jovial banter. It helped to have a sense of humour out on the Rim. Misery was out-voted and out-moded. A bad-temper never lasted long in their business. Something always happened to those few who slipped the system. Anyway, they were all hand-picked and Syme chose his men with care.
Music helped to drown the violent sounds from outside. The Boss ignored the lesser din inside and started to go through the calculations with the odd pair. "Well," he said at long last, "I must say you've come up with the goods this time Greeward. Got a nose for it, you have."
"Just lucky," the miner passed it off.
"Not luck," quoted the Hem, "good solid homework and a sharp eye. I found that out some time ago. Why do you think I picked him? Funds were running short so I studied each one on that Castrim run. He was the best. He was for me."
Greeward grinned fondly at his partner. Syme watched, wondered what went on between the two. Their personal business was none of his, unless it upset the rest of the crew. No one had complained so far, but you could never tell.

Copyright Evelyn J. Steward 2001