Payday - The Colonists

            "Hey, suit up. Got nice looking rock at three mill; I'm guessing fifteen to rendezvous."

            "Can't we use a drone for this crap? I hate eevays."

            "Bought with what cash? I don't know about you, but I got a powerful need to eat sometime this month."

        I grunt as I struggle into the suit, but I don't argue. You'd think a prospector would get decent pay, but no. Don't get me wrong; the money's     actually pretty good, if you find something. You wouldn't believe how many asteroids you had to go through to find one decent ore node. If you can     find the damned rocks in the first place.

        Fucking . . . three-generation-old . . . suit! Fifteen minutes. I swear to god the damned gloves alone take ten.

        Mudballers think 'asteroid prospector' and they think we're out here slaloming between mountains close enough to spit.

        I don't like the way that boot went on. Dammit. This strap . . .  that socket. . .

        Truth is, you’re lucky if you find two rocks within a million kliks of each other.  That’s a dense asteroid belt. We’re going to have to go back to     that system someday; that’s the money maker right there.

        And the helmet . . . where’d I put the damned helmet?

            “You almost done?” I swear to god, the bastard actually has the gall to sound annoyed.

            “Kanari anata no nakigoto! You know where I put the helmet?” Please don’t be the locker.

            “Check the locker.”

            “It’s never the locker.” It’s in the locker, isn’t?

            “That’s why it’s gonna be there.”

        Squeak!

        I gotta oil that. Where is . . . I hate you, Mak.

        Slam!

            “You’re welcome!” Birds fly in space. Who knew?

        I blame video games, really. You go looking for ‘roids in Genesis or its ilk, and it’s ores everywhere. In real life, it’s more like one in a thousand     has useful ores in useful quantities. If I never see another nickel/iron ever again, it’ll be too damned soon.

        Boot up. Come on, I don’t have all day.

            “Initiating startup protocols.” Yes! “User Jason Halit recognized. Loading user preferences.” Well, the HUD looks to be in order. Do we get any         stations out here . . . ? Yes! No. No. No. God, no. No. Never in a million years. No.

        A million channels and nothing good on.

        Beh, these guys are okay, I guess.

        How’s Mak coming with the ‘vous? Thank God the air pack’s slim. I do not want think about floating around this bucket in one of those retro gigs.

        Huh, that’s closer than I thought.

            “Oh good, you’re ready to go.”

            “How close are you putting us?"

            “Two-fifty?”

            “One-twenty-five.” Like hell I’m floating my ass out there a quarter of a kilometer.

        Come on Mak, don’t do this to me. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Beer’s on me, dude.

        Seriously; it’s bad enough I got to deal with nullgrav with a hull around me. I’m not a Marine, I can’t make orbit with a fucking fire extinguisher     and a string or shit like that.

        And there she is. Huh. An actual grey asteroid. You don’t see that every day. Usually a bit more colorful than that.

            “One-twenty-five; whenever you’re ready.” Thumbs up.

        Alright Jason, you’ve done this before. Line up and . . . push! A straight line? No way. Huh. Probably my best launch yet.

        And . . . touchdown! Don’t you dare bounce me. Don’t you dare bounce me! Of course the crust would be shit. Oh, God, that band’s horrible.     Gah! Kill it with fire! Switch! Agh, kill it before it lays eggs!

            “-Ensions between the Xenos Empire and- “

        News. Could be worse. Tch. Terrans. Xenos. Fuck the both of ‘em. Not enough to shit on us once, no. Now you gotta ramp up to do it again.

            “Hey Mak, get a load of this.”

        Tether up. Hammer time. Oh . . . I like the feel of that strike. Another. Oh, even better.

            “Oh, now that’s bullshit.” Glad we agree.

            “Tell me about it.”

            “Wasn’t Kelos nearby?”

        Come on you, show me the money. “Kinda. I think.” Poor bastards. Oh, hello, what are you? No. No. Don’t fail me now, mass spec.

            “Tondemo arimasen.” No fucking way.

            “What’s up?”

            “Payday, man. Look at the values I’m pulling up.” Might even finally be able to get that drone I’ve always wanted.

            “Bag and tag, Jase. We’re headin’ in.” No need to tell me twice.

        I just hope I get to use all the cash I’m getting out this before it all turns to shit.