GARRISON REEVES
After responding to the request for experienced space workers, Garrison took a few days to make certain Seth was happily ensconced in school, then he flew the Prodigal Son out to the Fireheart nebula, where he offered his services as part of the Big Ring project. With his copious skills in space construction, engineering, life-support systems, suit maintenance, the project chiefs accepted him without reservation.
He had worked in Iswander’s Sheol lava-processing facility, he had shepherded dangerous lunar fragments around Earth, and he had served at the CDF shipyards to repair the numerous vessels damaged in battle against the Shana Rei at Plumas. With his résumé, he was in great demand.
Hundreds more new workers had arrived for the final stages of the giant construction project. When he docked the Prodigal Son and checked in, he was immediately approached by Station Chief Beren Alu. “Everybody wants to work on the Big Ring, Mr. Reeves, but we have extensive work opportunities at Fireheart—some of our projects desperately need help. Would you consider a different assignment, at least temporarily? You’re certainly qualified.”
“The Big Ring is what brought me out here,” Garrison said.
Alu’s face fell, and he stroked his long mustaches. “That’s what everyone says, but we’ve got to be practical. Fireheart is a business operation. The isotope sifters bring in a lot of outside money, but they’re mostly automated. I’ve got crews working overtime just to keep up with packaging the power blocks. At the moment, our biggest need is mounting then retrieving the absorptive films in the collecting farms. For months now, all new power blocks have gone straight to Kotto’s project, and I’ve got outside customers clamoring! The profit margin on those things is how Fireheart keeps running. We need your help.”
Garrison doubted Fireheart Station was on the verge of bankruptcy—in fact, it was one of the wealthiest of all Roamer installations—but he could see the stress on the station manager’s face. “We have to fill the orders and pay the bills. Would you consider working on the power-film farm for, say, double the pay?”
Garrison could tell the beginning of negotiations. “I really wanted to put the Big Ring project on my résumé.”
Alu snorted. “Why do you need a résumé?”
“To get jobs like this.”
The station chief sighed. “All right. Work on the power farm for a week, put in overtime, help me fill four large outstanding orders. After that, maybe we can split your time.”
“After that, I want to be assigned to the Ring construction teams.”
Alu looked defeated. “A week, and then we’ll talk.”
Even with the inferno of ionized nebula gases around him, Garrison felt quite at home at Fireheart Station. It had been a long time since he’d felt so engaged in his work. Important work, and something he would remember for a long time … even if he wasn’t here with Orli and Seth.
Drifting in open space surrounded by ionized gases, Garrison felt dizzy not to have any anchor point. He had checked his environment suit himself, measured the rain of radiation from the nebula’s hot keystone stars, and knew he would be safe for three hours at least.
“Heads up, Reeves!” said his coworker Bowman Ruskin.
The two of them moved steadily along, unreeling sheets of gossamer fabric that was kilometers on a side, but only a few molecules thick. When bathed in stellar radiation, the sheets charged with energy, and once saturated they were packaged into dense wafers incorporated into power blocks. The delicate sheets required skilled labor to be stretched and mounted, where they would hang inside the storm of radiation for days.
Dismantling crews detached the charged films and folded them, again, again, and again, more than a hundred times until they were packed into a container less than half a meter on a side. One primary power block could power a colony town for half a year. More commonly, though, the energy-dense sheets were cut into pieces and sealed in much smaller packages to run households, ships, and other personal needs.
Garrison said, “I usually don’t let my thoughts wander, Ruskin, but with a view like this…”
Ruskin laughed in the suit comm. “You never get used to it—but you do have to get your work done. A tear in the fabric would ruin the whole power block. Even a wrinkle creates a hundred headaches—and the worst part is that you’d have to listen to Beren Alu complain about the lost revenue.”
“I hear you,” Garrison said, and Ruskin let it drop at that, much to his relief. Olaf Reeves would have lectured him for an hour about the same thing.
Around them, numerous suited workers mounted power-absorbent films to soak in the cosmic wind. Roamer trading ships came and went through the nebula’s dust barrier, carrying Fireheart’s specialized materials and products off to numerous markets.
When clan entrepreneurs had set up this installation, it was a true Roamer dream—seemingly impossible, spectacular, and ultimately profitable. The founders must have faced a great deal of disbelief when they showed their original designs, but early on Kotto Okiah had given his stamp of approval for the sheer audacity of the idea, if nothing else. And once Kotto gave his thumbs-up, the founders had no further difficulty getting people to join in the project.
Garrison and Ruskin had worked together for several days; after only four hours of training, Garrison intuitively knew how to do the job, so his partner simply let him work. Now, the two men finished hanging a new energy film in an empty array.
But Garrison’s eyes were constantly drawn toward the enormous torus.… To a Roamer with engineering background like himself, the Big Ring seemed as breathtaking a creation as the nebula itself.
“I’m only on your crew for a week,” he reminded his coworker. “That was my agreement with the Station Chief.”
“I heard it was ‘open for discussion’ after a week.” The other man already sounded disappointed.
“I’ve already had the discussion with myself.” He turned to face the enormous construction hanging in space. “I’m going to work on the Big Ring.”