The Delicate Crunch of Marshmallows

“Turns out the last president’s mother was born there. A local group had it declared a historical landmark and sued me for an easement to it. I didn’t fight them. So they put up a stone marker on this little bluff where her trailer had been, opened it to the public, and there was an accident. A little girl fell from the bluff and was crippled for life. The group hadn’t bothered to get insurance, and I wasn’t covered as a public park.”

“Aw, geez, gawdamned lawyers,” Erica snorted. “Took you for the whole damned thing, lock, stock, and barrel, didn’t they?”

Zerk shrugged with resignation. “And still get most of every paycheck. Probably will until I die. Hell, I expected it from the lawyers. It was the judge and jury that surprised me. The judge cited me with contempt for not being at the trial in person. Didn’t matter a bit that I had no way to get back from the Belt to Earth. And the jury seemed to think I made too much money for the work I was doing. Dr. Thompson, you wouldn’t believe how little respect we get down there.”

“Want to bet? That’s all I hear from ’em. Considering how much personal risk we each took to come up here, how little support they send compared to what they expect us to produce, and how stinking rich they expect to get on asteroid materials, I’d say we work pretty cheaply.”

“I don’t know. Maybe they’re right.” Zerk put his arms on Erica’s desk and laid his forehead against them. “Maybe this whole damned idea was screwed up from the start. What idiot decided a few hundred people could come up here in a couple of habitat modules with minimal tools and build a fleet of fusion-powered ships, anyway?”

Erica hesitated before answering. “Me.”

“Sorry.”

“So am I, sometimes. Look, the concept is sound. This place is just dripping with raw materials. The Belt miners are only shipping back the rare earths and other high value stuff. The cost of raising materials to Earth orbit is too high for building large ships. The economics of this approach are good. And we’ll have more help arriving in about a month.”

Zerk raised his head for a moment. “Great, another week and a half lost as we lash everything down, spin down the station, mate up a pair of habitat modules, spin back up, fix everything that went out of kilter in zero g, and find everything that wasn’t lashed down and floated into a corner. And let’s not even think about the toilet situation. I sure as hell hope they brought their own tools.”

“Yup. And everything we said we needed two years ago.”

“Gee, in another two years, maybe we can get all the stuff we’ve been without since then.” Zerk plopped his head back onto his arms.

“Oh, don’t be so negative. Once we get the kinks out of building this first transport, things should get a lot better.”

“That’s not how I see it. The situation is going to hell in a handbasket, and as hard as I try, I can’t even slow it down. And, you know, I’m not sure I even give a damn anymore.”

Erica thought for a minute. “Tell you what, why don’t you take the rest of the shift off. I’ll see what I can do to work something out. You’re dismissed.”

When Zerk was gone, Erica turned to her computer and composed a short packet inquiry. The incoming electric rocket freighter would drop off two habitat modules full of technologists, then take on a full load of rare minerals. The ship had a small and cramped crew compartment, but they generally could squeeze in one or two more in an emergency. Erica hated to impose on the freighter crew for the eighteen-month trip back to Earth, but she didn’t see that she had a choice.

Erica eased down the climbway into the mass of onlookers peering down to the deck below, where she caught a glimpse of the station MD. She elbowed through the gawkers, then clambered down the ladder.

Dr. Santi looked up as she came down the ladder. “No use hurrying now. Erica. He’s been dead for hours.”

Erica looked up at the curious technologists. “All right, you’re not helping the situation. Back to work.” She turned back to Buzz Santi. “Cause of death?” she whispered.

“Suicide.” Dr. Santi pointed to the vents in the berth, which had plastic taped over them. “Blocked off his air, closed the door… then he opened this.” He held up a small nitrogen bottle.

Erica glanced at the makeshift bodу-bag. “Who was it?”

“Zerk Peterson.”

“Bloody damned hell. That’s who I thought it might be. He’s been having problems lately. Got into a helluva fight yesterday.”

Dr. Santi nodded. “I know. I had to stitch up his victim.”

Erica shook her head. “Poor guy. He was having trouble dealing with all the pressure we’ve been under. Turns out he lost all his savings to a lawsuit lately.”

“I know. Everybody knows.”

“Bad news travels fast.”

“Erica, that’s old news. You mean you just found out about it?”