The Black Shard: Part VII

The Black Shard is a story about two lovers who must survive their way of life by illegally mining in space. They hope to make billions of dollars in one lucky run, but find that there is something else out on the rocks aside from a few precious metals.

The Black Shard: Part I - https://theprose.com/post/323367/the-black-shard-part-i

The Black Shard: Part II - https://theprose.com/post/323606/the-black-shard-part-ii

The Black Shard: Part III - https://theprose.com/post/323912/the-black-shard-part-iii

The Black Shard: Part IV - https://theprose.com/post/324436/the-black-shard-part-iv

The Black Shard: Part V - https://theprose.com/post/324870/the-black-shard-part-v

The Black Shard: Part VI - https://theprose.com/post/326810/the-black-shard-part-vi

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The Black Shard: Part VII -

With survival at stake, Hoitt took action with Jennifer.

“Computer, call back the droids,” He commanded.

The computer acknowledged the request. “All seven droids recalled. Time to complete is one hour,” It said.

Meanwhile, Hoitt saw Jennifer making preparations to get the ship’s engines online. She moved to the driver’s seat and pushed three buttons on the overhead console. After holding the last button, she cranked the throttle to warm the fusion engines.

Hoitt jerked his attention away from her and ducked back through the hallway. He had an idea. He climbed up a wall ladder and popped open the hatch.

There it was. Hoitt was looking at the deactivated emergency beacon sitting in its frame with the wiring disconnected.

He removed it and brought it back to the cockpit. “Let’s give them something to look at other than us,” Hoitt said to Jennifer, holding up the device.

Jennifer smiled. “Good idea,” She replied.

Hoitt got to work programming the beacon. He knelt down at the base of the console and plugged the beacon into an available port.

The computer chimed: “Emergency beacon is online. Do you want to do a handshake with the hailing ship?”

Hoitt ignored the request. Instead, he commanded: “Enter reprogramming protocols for the emergency beacon.” The console flooded with information about The Flying Weasel. The data even came available with standard hailing responses. Jennifer got up from the driver seat and stood behind Hoitt.

“How long will this take?” She asked him.

Hoitt shrugged his shoulders. “Thirty minutes, give or take. The idea is that I’ll be connecting a battery to the beacon and eject it into space. Space Force will think we’re trapped in the asteroids. While they’re distracted, we should have enough time to get back to Mars in one piece,” He said, looking up at Jennifer.

She smirked: “That’s an idea so dumb it might just work,” Jennifer leaned down to kiss Hoitt on the lips: “Now, get to work,” She said.

Hoitt nodded and got to work. After 30 minutes, Hoitt erased the information on the beacon about The Flying Weasel. He replaced it with a simple message:

Help! We don’t know how we got this far. We’re stuck in the asteroids, and our ship is in shambles. To conserve oxygen, we’re going into stasis. Please search for us.

Jennifer had retrieved the battery for Hoitt several minutes ago. He unhooked the beacon and rigged it to the battery.

The computer registered the beacon as disconnected while recording a new ‘unknown’ beacon.

“Good, It’s working. Here’s hoping everything else goes well,” Hoitt thought.

He pushed a button on the console and hailed Jennifer, who had gone to the cargo bay to inventory the drones.

“Hey, beautiful. It looks like I got the dummy beacon to work. It’s broadcasting now,” Hoitt said.

A few moments later, Jennifer responded. The loudspeakers gave her voice a tinny and hollowed effect. “Good to hear, handsome. Almost all the droids are back, and they got an impressive haul. Now what?” She said.

“I’m going to launch the beacon into space. Stay there, I’m coming to you. --And make sure you have your suit and helmet on,” He said.

“Way ahead of you. I need to have the suit on to breathe while the drones are coming in, you dolt,” She replied.

Hoitt didn’t answer back. Instead, he looked up and through the cockpit’s viewing port.

He studied the swarms of asteroids and spotted the destroyed one they had been mining from. Hoitt sighed in disappointment.

“If only we had more time. We’d be much richer,” He thought.

Then, he squinted his eyes.

A small dot was crawling or flying near the top of the damaged asteroid. Perhaps it was one of the drones? It disappeared into space.

“What was that?” Hoitt said to himself aloud. He shuttered the thought and stood up to grab his suit and helmet from the wall. He ducked out of the cockpit and went to change in the cabin with the beacon underneath his arm.

Once inside his suit, Hoitt made his way into the cargo bay to the left of the cabin. Through the hallway, Hoitt ducked into a depressurization chamber. He pressed the button on the wall, and the door sealed shut behind him. With a long winding hiss, the sealed door in front of him began to open.

Hoitt motioned at the door with his free arm and a closed fist before opening it and mouthing out: “Open sesame!” Hoitt knew it was childish, but there wasn’t anyone there to judge him, and no real constructive use of his time.

Jennifer was waiting for him on the other side and saw some of his antics.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

Hoitt tried to make an excuse. “Just doing some stretching?” He replied.

Jennifer didn’t buy it, but she didn’t inquire further. “Okay, then. Let’s stop fucking around and launch the beacon,” She said.

Hoitt considered that one a bullet dodged. He followed her into the cargo bay feeling glad he didn’t have to explain himself.

The area was large, with some headroom for a change. Hoitt thought it was better than the cramped compartments in the rest of The Flying Weasel. To his right, six drones were charging in ports along the wall. Next to them, 6 more indentations advertised the spots where other drones could park.

On the floor, rollable racks set on tracks held several stacked plastic crates. Some containers were full of gold, silver, rocks, and other materials. Hoitt eyed a half-full platinum crate. Black soot and char painted the deck near the racks. --Contrasting against its original gray steel color.

“Drones recalled,” The computer said, its voice projecting over the overhead speakers.

Soon after the announcement, Hoitt saw the cargo doors opening on the left side of the wall. Hoitt was happy to see D-7, whose broken arm was dangling downward under the force of gravity.

D-7 let it’s broken appendage drag onto the floor as its jets stabilized its momentum. Once settled, it shifted towards the racks and deposited the rest of the gold it had found into the shelves. It turned around and jetted towards the nearest charging port. D-7 plugged itself in before shutting down its propulsion.

As soon as it was safe, Hoitt walked to D-7 and readjusted the broken arm that was dangling out the charging port wall.

“I really have to fix you up someday,” Hoitt said to it.

“You really do,” Jennifer agreed.

Hoitt walked towards the cargo doors and held down the lowest button to open the doors manually. As the doors opened, Hoitt walked towards the center and readied to toss the beacon out of the gravity well.

“Be careful with your aim,” Jennifer warned.

“I know, I know,” Hoitt assured her. If he threw the beacon even a little off course, then it would collide against the gravity spinner. If that happens, no more beacon.

Hoitt aimed for the opening near the gravity spinner porthole and threw. He pointed slightly higher to take into account the downward force of the gravity well.

The throw was good, and the beacon flew right through the porthole and into open space. The beacon blinked a soft green as it drifted towards the remaining asteroids.

“You did it!” Cheered Jennifer. She slapped him on the ass in excitement and made Hoitt yelp in surprise.

She laughed at him for it.

“Let’s just get back to the cockpit,” Hoitt said. As they walked back, Hoitt asked the computer how much time until the Space Force ship arrived.

“45 minutes,” It said.

Hoitt hoped the beacon would buy them more time.

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The Black Shard: Part VIII - https://theprose.com/post/385432/the-black-shard-part-viii

I appreciate your support! -Ryan