Interlude: The Snows over Cygnus Four

Interlude: The Snows over Cygnus Four

It was snowing again on Cygnus Four.

The delicate flakes of frozen oxygen and methane floated down slowly in the thin gravity of the planetoid, coating the barren hills surrounding his new home. The communication towers of the spaceport reached for the stars, branching out to form barren, metal trees that turned white while the snow was drifting down. Six-wheeled rocket carts taking miners to work on the crater wall threw up plumes of white behind them, their drivers enjoying a bit of fun while fish-tailing back and forth to see who could toss up the biggest plume. Weighed down by loads of ore, they crawled slowly but released from the bondage of weight; they accelerated so fast that drivers were known to black out and crash into the crater wall. The white flakes they kicked up would take their time coming back down. It was always snowing on Cygnus Four, and Julius wondered again why he was here, looking out through the small window of his cell at the snow-covered hills.

The hills were, in reality, the rim of a huge crater formed when a small comet had collided with Cygnus Four millions of years ago. The rock had melted and vaporized, and what was left pushed outward in a ring-shaped tidal wave that built higher and higher before freezing in place as the wave cooled, leaving a perfectly formed crater that would someday become a spaceport. The spaceport was there, sitting in the center of the crater, to service the tugs that grappled the huge ore barges and pulled them skyward to be loaded onto tramp freighters. The ore would be processed somewhere else where energy and manpower were cheaper. Cygnus Four had only three things on it: The mines that delved into its rocky walls, seeking the valuable parts of the shattered comet, the spaceport, and the prison.

The prison was there to provide the manpower needed for the mines. The work was done in cheap vac suites, and casualties were high. Men and women struggled to swing picks or man the laser drills in clumsy, old-style vacuum suits that the rest of the universe had quit using a thousand years ago. Each held only eighteen hours of air. Just long enough to get to the mines and back to work a double shift. The prison didn't need to guard the miners; without air, no one was escaping, and besides this one crater, Cygnus Four was a barren planetoid without air, heat, or a way to leave. Once a year, the guards were changed. Other than that, only ore left the spaceport. The miners were never going home, their life sentences bought by Omnicorp. You mined, and you got to eat and rest. The social life was limited and as dangerous as mining.

Julius was preparing for his first shift in the mines, double-checking his air and making sure there were no pinhole leaks in the seams of his suit. You lost atmosphere that way, but also heat, and it was a debate as to which would kill you first. Dozens of frozen miners could be seen near the trails leading to the mines. There was no place to bury them, so their friends put their frozen bodies in groups or perched them on rocks where they had a good view. Some even looked like they were waving to friends. One small mistake and Julius knew he'd be there forever with them.

There is no sound in space, but there is vibration, and he felt it now through the solid rock of the prison's floor. A ship was landing. Not a tug, a full ship! He could tell from the unbalanced engines that it was in trouble. It was a tramp freighter with barely any shields and malfunctioning engines. He wondered if it could even take off again or if the crew was doomed to join him here. It was calling out as it landed, broadcasting over the emergency radio frequency. His suit radio picked up the message

"Mayday! Mayday! This is the Free Trader Solar Queen out of Luna7. We need emergency repairs to our engines, refueling, and air for our life support. Repeat: Solar Queen is making an emergency landing in need of air and refueling."

"Attention Solar Queen. You are trespassing on Omnicorp property. This isn't a damned repair station. Take your battered piece of junk and get the hell out of here."

"Omnicorp? Damn, I thought this was Hogan's Hole. Can we cut a deal? We're overweight, and I need to dump twenty tons of fissionable so I can shut the drive down. I need ten hours for repairs. That's twenty tons of high-grade uranium fuel rods in exchange for some grub, some O2, and some time. What do you say, guys?"Thi/s chapter is updated by nov(e)(l)biin.co/m

Ten minutes of silence followed the offer and then a reply. "Attention Solar Queen. This is Jordan Bauer of Omnicorp. You have a deal, but one trick and we blow you to atoms. Unload the fuel rods, and I'll send out a crew to get them, along with the air you need."

"That's great, Mr. Jordan. Be careful with the stuff. It's not in shielded containers, so you'll want people in hard suits to handle it for you."

Bauer turned to his warden. "Send out the twenty inmates we have here waiting to work the next shift. They can load the fuel rods. A few years off of their lives won't matter."

And that's how Julius found himself, along with nineteen other unfortunate miners, heading out to load radioactive fuel rods in an unshielded vac suit. The work was difficult, despite the low gravity that made moving the heavy crates easier to shift. Mass didn't change, and while you could get a crate moving with a hard push or two, stopping it was a different story. A lot of new chums had died making that mistake. Four crates were loaded onto a cargo mover, and they started back to the prison, always watched over by two guards on the walls, manning the laser cannons. Halfway there, they spotted the second ship coming in, jets flaring at full power.

Julius stared in wonder. The fat engine module looked four times bigger than it should be, and she was burning a lot of hydrogen. Some idiot was shooting past overhead in a custom-built racer with a quad-fusion system. Someone in Omnicorp was yelling on the radio, and the laser cannons were swiveling to target it as it made its pass.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

"The plasma cannon was awesome. When this damned game goes live, I'm buying me a dozen of them."

Julius looked from one to the other, "How the hell are you two even here? I only arrived a few hours ago and thought I was going into the pod for a routine medical checkup. Then I woke up in a prison cell. Damn, that felt so real. How the hell did they make that work?"

One brother shrugged. "Simple shit, just a post-hypnotic suggestion. As you're going under from the anesthetic, the pod whispers sweet nothings in your ears. Sets the scene nicely. We started in the middle of a bar fight, a familiar situation. Took us a little bit to figure out why we were fighting aliens and corporate goons."

"Hell of a lot of fun, and the beer tastes like it should. I have high hopes for the seedy bars in this game."

A dozen people walked into the room. Julius recognized Steven Duran, whom he had briefly met before entering the pod. "I hope you don't mind the little surprise."

Julius shook the offered hand, smiling. "It was amazing. I can't wait to get to work, even if I don't know exactly what you want me to do."

Ron and Don had ideas.

"The Bar in the Dead God's skull."

"The Taco Stand on Helldiver7."

"Gullivers Last Stand Bar and Grill."

"Mama La Forges Salon and Engine Repair."

"The Fusion Club in the Epsilon Ring."

Steven nodded to them. The brothers had proven to be experts on the lore of SC6, much of which had never been officially published. "Everything. As of today, you are officially the lead designer on

Star Command Six. Another team is handling the creation of the universe, physics engine, economy, and ship technology. We need you to flesh it all out and breathe life into the universe. You'll have all the assets you need to do the job, and if you need something else, just tell your assistants."

The brothers grinned. "That's us, Doc. They recognized our genius and hired us. Plus, pods were shipped out to two dozen of the old crew, anyone who wants to be involved in playtesting."

Julius looked at the pod. It still felt real, like he had always imagined it to be. And now, he could create the world he loved for everyone else. "Then let's get to work. Those bars won't create themselves, and we have a rebellion to launch and evil corporations to get running."