Belters: A Space Oddity

Belters

A Space Oddity

Tales from Far Reach Station

By Greg Alldredge

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-1-949392-38-8

Contact the author at

Greg.alldredge@gmail.com or

@G.Alldredge on Facebook

@MrAlldredge on Twitter

greg.alldredge on Instagram

© 2020 Greg Alldredge

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover Art by Ryn Katryn Digital Art.

Melinda Campbell, Copyeditor

www.MCEdits.com

For my wife, Connie.

Chapter 01:

Chapter 02:

Chapter 03:

Chapter 04:

Chapter 05:

Chapter 06:

Chapter 07:

Chapter 08:

Chapter 09:

Chapter 10:

Chapter 11:

Chapter 12:

Chapter 13:

Chapter 14:

Chapter 15:

Chapter 16:

Chapter 17:

Chapter 18:

Chapter 19:

Chapter 20:

Chapter 21:

Chapter 22:

Chapter 23:

Chapter 24:

Chapter 25:

Chapter 01:

AD 2050 Kuiper Belt – John Huss

Elliot stared at the numbers flowing over his screen. John… How is sector forty-three… I’m reading a slight variance in the processing speed.

The disembodied voice of John answered back, I find all systems within acceptable parameters.

Life in deep space remained boring. Even the most advanced ship in the solar system could not make the tedium of space travel any more exciting.

The John Huss was a marvel of computer engineering, and Elliot was fortunate to be one of the crew, the only person who kept the computer system running smoothly. The loneliness of space was compounded by the fact that Elliot spent his shift alone, segregated in the main computer core, far away from the rest of the crew. His only companion was the computer interface that made the John Huss unique.

He removed his augmented reality helm and let it retract to the storage armature. A push of a button rotated the workstation from a bed to more of a recliner.

Past the six backup monitors hung a portrait of John, an elderly black man, statically placed over the direct access panel to the computer core.

The first in its class, the Huss, was an experimental ship designed around the unique computer and the life it held. Very few things on Earth could claim to be the first and unique. Elliot felt honored to be stationed on this one. The posting was a career-maker, a once in a lifetime chance.

Life proved a word thrown around too lightly these days. Too many people were quick to ascribe human qualities to inorganic beings. Even toys with complex algorithms were ascribed lifelike qualities, but the John Huss was different.

The test ship John Huss, built by the FlyRight Corporation, was the first of its kind. A hybrid between man and machine. Inside the one thousand terabytes of storage, Elliot was responsible for maintaining the first human brain digitized into a computer and placed into the body of a ship. The first installed to work in tandem with a true artificial intelligence. A ship built to change the way humans explored the stars. Touted as unified intelligence, or UI, many in FlyRight saw the merger as the next step in human evolution.

The holy grail of computing, true artificial intelligence proved harder to achieve than programmers originally envisioned. No matter the complexity of the design or the intricacies in the code, there were some things a human brain was vastly better at doing than a machine. Many described the shortcomings of the algorithm as a lack of soul. In truth, it came down to the hundreds of unique connections the human brain might make during the course of the waking day.

Programmers never cracked the code to allow the machines to distinguish between right and wrong or removed the bias incorporated in every human programmer.

Where a human brain could not compete with a machine was the crunching of numbers. Calculations that might take a human a lifetime, the proper program finished in seconds.

What the John Huss did was meld the two, human and machine, into one. Given the low temperatures of space, information flowed at breakneck speed. Orders of magnitude faster than the quickest computer on Earth.

Elliot knew there was more involved. After long discussions in space with John, Elliot knew the machine was alive. John Huss’s soul somehow beat inside the memory modules of the ship’s systems. FlyRight did one thing right: they named the ship after the man who was the brain of the thing. Ship and brain could not be separated.

The ship had stopped accelerating, Elliot pushed off from his workstation and floated to the oil painting of John. Long hours had been spent examining this face, anything to learn more about the person inside the machine. Safeguards were in place. John didn’t have full access to the ship systems yet. Even with the extensive training the old man had before he passed on, there was an extreme amount of adjustment needed to perform at the anticipated peak performance.

Resistance to the new normal persisted in the shadows. Many in FlyRight doubted this project would ever work. There were simply too many unknowns lurking in the UI system.

Back on Earth, irrational fears of the unknown held back advanced computer experimentation. In an effort to demonize the humans brave enough to make the first steps into the digital realm, the name PITA was hung on the brave as a label of degradation. A play on words. Most brains could be held in a petabyte of storage. It also remained the acronym for pain in the ass. Humans normally feared what they didn’t understand.

Fear of AI, or computers in general, and destruction of humanity drove the Earth’s governments to pass laws that forbade the advancement of computer science. Even human augmentation with cybernetics had been legislated into paralysis. Lawmakers didn’t care about science, or the lives damaged by their decisions. The next election or, more importantly, staying in power became their only concern.

The more constricted the laws of Earth became, the more businesses formed into great combines to wield their influence. Tax laws in the early twenty-first century had made multinational corporations more powerful than the governments that struggled to control them.

Legal skirmishes turned into several coups d’état shaking the foundations of democracy to the core. The populations of Earth struck back at the more egregious players of the corporate world. Mobs of freedom fighters destroyed company assets, doxed shareholders’ private information, even murdered the employees. All in the name of social revolution.

Through much pain—for a short time, the governments of Earth regained control of the system. The corporations merged, changed their names, and worked hard to clean up their images.

For the safety of the investments, the most powerful combines shifted their nefarious operations into the covert world of black ops. Conducting distasteful or illegal business operations in the shadow world of the darknet and shell corporations and, when possible, using private contractors for the wet work. Anything to give the appearance of social acceptability to the major companies. All in an attempt to keep the lawmakers off the trail, shareholders happy, and the population ignorant.

That was why the construction and testing of this special ship moved off Earth into space outside the orbit of Saturn. Over a million kilometers outside the orbit of the Ceres international station.

John Huss was built in a secret facility far from the prying eyes of the Earth authorities, maniacal protestors, and stealing spies of the other corporations.

Most people smart enough to know understood that, in space, the corps made the rules and enforced the laws. They decided what was most important. Individuals stood little chance against the combines.

Smart people knew to not cross the companies if they wanted to live. Power grew exponentially stronger the greater the distance from Earth’s gravity well.

The governments of Earth focused on the problems of climate change, overpopulation, doing what they could to survive on a dying planet.

The masses that scraped by living in space did so with no support from the few elected governments representing the stations. The combines never worried about niceties as a social contract, human rights, or life and liberty. Increasing the wealth of the shareholders’ investments was the only responsibility the combines concerned themselves with.

Elliot smiled while he studied the old man’s eyes. The wrinkles in the dark skin and gray curly hair made John look kind and wise. The computer tech wished he’d known the man before he uploaded and died. It would have made the process easier for the two of them.

For the moment, John made little extra conversation. In time, Elliot prayed that all would change.

<=OO=>

AD 2100 Inner Belt – Daniel Frazier

There was a time I strained to see the stars at night… now not so much. Jacob had been mining long enough to do this stint with his eyes closed. His powered vac-suit did the majority of the work. He was there in case the computer needed a gentle nudge in the right direction. All thanks to the joys of algorithms, Jacob remained a passenger along for the ride—most of the time.

The heads-up display of the pressure helmet told him he had three hours left on his shift, with plenty of life support to spare. Power… all systems remained level in the green, five by five in the lingo.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever reach Earth, not even if I’ll return to Mars. Ava’s voice echoed in his ear. All that water and air… The thought of it all makes me moist.

Everything makes you wet. A stern voice cut in over the coms.

The glaring eyes of captain Allen Wang flashed into Jacob’s mind. Something about the disapproving tone of the ET’s voice made the miner cringe. The captain proved a hard man to read. Geometric facial tattoos that disappeared under the navy turtleneck and the lack of gravity didn’t help with reading the man’s body language.

Given he’d spent his entire life in near-zero gravity, the captain towered over seven feet tall. However gaunt Captain Allen might look, the man was strong for his type. Taller than most Earth sports stars. The problem the captain faced was he would find the gravity of Earth crushing. Even the relatively light gravity of Mars would be unbearable to the ET. He was stranded to live out his life among the stars.

Aw, Cap’n… this is so boring out here… Can’t we keep each other company? Ava mewed. She had a way of talking that made everything seem about sex.

The stern voice of the captain rolled over the speaker, Ava, I wouldn’t mind, but I’ve heard the same words coming out of your mouth since you both started six weeks ago. Jacob, you need to tell her why you strained to see the stars.

Captain Allen, you know why. Jacob wanted to chuckle to relieve the tension of the work, but he couldn’t find it in his heart. Allen was an ET, a man born of the belt. He was a creature of space now and forever. Jacob knew the captain would never be drawn to Earth like anyone born in a gravity well would be.

Normally emotions were hard to interpret over the com’s unit. Not Allen’s. His words dripped with disdain for the Earthers. "That’s all right if you don’t want to admit Earth has become a shithole, with more people wanting to leave than stay. Pick a calamity, overpopulation, pollution, acid rain, global warming, unemployment… the list goes on. I see no reason to need to visit the place."

Ava cut him off. Captain, that isn’t fair.

No… the captain’s right. Anyone with the skills, brains, or the money wants off Earth as quickly as possible. The waiting lists for the elevators off Earth is… unacceptable or too expensive for most. The Ravens are making a fortune shuttling people off-world. Any of the low-earth orbit stations like Gagarin Station are always looking for people to mine the trash field. Anyone with half a brain is fighting to escape… Jacob wanted to add, like rats deserting a sinking ship, but didn’t. He escaped the gravity fifteen years ago at the tender age of twenty. There was no reason for him to ever return to Earth.

Ravens were the general slang term for the body smugglers, the modern-day coyotes. Taken from the first gang that started the practice. Now they would stuff ragtag ships with anyone who paid and fly them into low-earth orbit for a price, if they didn’t take your gold and leave your body in the mountains covered in a shallow grave.

There was no need to throw a person out of the airlock. Lifting a kilo of weight into low-earth orbit, specifically, a refueling platform like Gagarin Station, proved an expensive business. The remote Earthside locations of the smuggling sites made a body disappear all the easier.

Move that chunk, will ya? Ava’s voice cooed into his ear. Don’t want any Tommyknockers dropping it on us.

Humans might have advanced into space, but their ancient superstitions traveled with them. People born off Earth were the worst offenders. Gremlins, Foo Fighters, Trolls, and all manner of fabled creatures made the jump into space. Not for real but in the stories and insecurities of the uneducated crews that worked the mines.

With a thought, Jacob’s suit used the four mechanical arms to pull his body down the mine shaft. The legs and tail of the unit kept him in the center of the tube. Jacob loved the freedom the powered suit gave him. On Earth, or in anything more than microgravity, Jacob found himself restricted to a wheelchair. A genetic disorder, the same one that made him ideal for interfacing with a computer, left his legs weak and jittery. His life was destined for the stars at an early age. That or remain a cripple.

The thing he missed most in space was light. The feeling of the sun on his face. Despite the smoke and smog on Earth, the sky was brighter than this far out in the belt. The tube he worked in would be dark as pitch but for the work lights mounted on his suit.

It seemed the captain agreed. The man ensured a fresh coat of white paint was applied on as many bulkheads as possible, with full-spectrum daylight bulbs installed on most decks. All to maintain as much light as possible.

In most horror stories, darkness always proved the largest enemy.

The tiny rock the crew mined held little gravity. The suit’s augmented strength proved more than enough to lob the enormous stones off the surface. The huge chunk of ore spun toward the Frazier, where it would be hauled in and processed for precious metals.

If he ever made a lucky strike, he would consider gene therapy to fix his legs. That was one of the reasons he went into space training. To save up for the medical expenses, but once he slipped his weak body into a mining suit and discovered the mobility, the strength, the freedom it offered, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to go back to only two arms and two legs in a gravity well. In space, he found truer freedom than he felt possible with his human body.

He was one of the lucky ones. Not every mind could interface with a mining suit or any computer. He had a brain that was in demand. On Earth, his handicap would have been the end of him. In space… he could hold his own with any fully functional miner. Some might argue his control was better, as he didn’t have leg muscles fighting to do the work. He needed to rely on his mind. His suit’s real advantage was the prehensile tail. He controlled it as well as his hands. In the specialized mining suit, his perceived disability became his advantage.

I just miss going outside without a suit is all… feeling the rain on my face, Jacob pushed another boulder of ore out of the bore tube. A larger combine mining ship would latch onto a whole asteroid, but the Daniel Frazier wasn’t a bigger ship. It was little more than an independent scow making a living on the crumbs the big operators left behind. They scoured the belt, searching for rocks with enough ore to chunk away at. Rocks too small for the big boys to worry about… or come in weapons blazing if they caught a ship full of scalawags.

Some might consider what the Frazier did as amounting to little more than claim jumping, theft in deep space, but they had little choice. Most of the prime rocks had been taken long ago by the major corps or larger independent mining combines. If the little operators like the Frazier wanted to keep flying, they needed to work just outside the law and not get caught.

Allen wouldn’t let up. You mean the acid rain?

Jacob ignored the dig.

On Earth… weren’t you… aren’t you worried about skin cancer… lung cancer… all the other things you can catch? It’s so dirty… there is so much disease. Ava’s voice sounded concerned, which could only come from a person who grew up in the sterile environment of space.

Not really… I had most of the childhood sicknesses… My family could never afford the best of medical care. Besides, because of the anti-vaxxers, illnesses thought controlled in the twentieth century came back to cull the weaker children.

Back at the edge of the tunnel, Jacob let the momentum push the rock toward the hull of the Frazier. From this distance and angle, the age of the ship wasn’t apparent. This far from the sun, most of the ugliness the universe had to offer was hidden in the dark.

It’s a miracle anyone reaches adulthood… Ava cleared her throat. Is that why your legs… She didn’t finish the question.

This was Jacob’s first tour with this ship and crew. None had asked about his lack of working legs before, and he never volunteered that much personal information. Once they left the gravity of the spinning station, the chair was locked down in his room. The only time he needed wheels on the ship was during a long burn. Normally he would stay strapped in his ship’s chair for the shorter maneuvers. Jacob was surprised it took six weeks for the subject of his broken legs to come up.

No… I have something called HBS… Don’t worry, it isn’t contagious… My nerves don’t work like other people’s is all. It’s all in my genes. He laughed at his double entendre, though he doubted many of the crew would gather the second meaning. That was more information than Jacob wanted to share, but during his time on the ship, he’d learned to trust the crew more than most other people. Small ship, tight quarters, few other humans… the conditions bred a need for trust.

The people on the other side of the line might one day need to risk their lives to save their skin. With only a crew of nine, he grew to trust the two other people who worked his shift.

So that means your shit downstairs don’t work? Ava asked with a chuckle in her voice.

Allen growled, Show some respect, woman.

Jacob laughed before asking, You lookin’ for a date? It was the response he’d learned long ago when the impolite question was asked. It seemed to shut down the follow-on stupid questions about other bodily functions.

He should have known better with Ava.

Her reply came back just as quick in a sing-song voice, and with no shyness. Maybe…

Shit, Jacob thought. That was the first time someone called his bluff. Now he might need to find out if he could lie with a woman after all. In theory, he should be able to. He still had some control over his legs, just not enough to achieve his feet and walk without help. His junk should work as well as any other man’s. The problem is he had never let anyone close enough to test the theory. A wheelchair seemed to be the best kind of birth control for a man.

<=OO=>

AD 2050 Kuiper Belt – John Huss

Elliot sat alone in his workstation, diagnostics running on the efficiency of the connection between the human mind and AI. It was boring work, a task more suited for a trained monkey, but the data would be sent to the home station for analysis. Work Elliot was capable of doing but had been deemed outside his pay grade.

He remained happy to still have a place on this crew. Too many positions had been automated. Every day, more humans became obsolete. If this experiment worked, the day might come when humans no longer risked their lives in space. Ships staffed by AI/human-interfaced, labeled UI, craft would take over the exploration and exploitation of the solar system. Humans would be out of work.

In a way, Elliot worked towards his own obsolescence.

The image of a teenaged man, dressed in the ship’s uniform of gray coveralls, long dreadlocks held back with a bright red leather strip popped into view.

For the first time, John projected his image into the chamber filled with the proprietary Zen Mist concoction. The chamber gave the man inside the ship a holographic three-dimensional representation of himself to present to the humans he wished to interact with. The holo-tubes were placed at strategic locations throughout the ship. Places where people might congregate, bridge, mess, and engineering, the most likely spots for interaction.

Elliot had never seen the man inside the machine use the contraption before. He’d even checked the logs. The chambers had never been activated. Elliot double-checked, then triple-checked the unit’s operation. The projectors remained in full working order, if unused.

The computer tech saw no reason to ask John why he never used the containers. He left it up to one of the many oddities of being a disembodied brain inside a machine. The list of oddities seemed to grow daily.

So now, when the full-sized body sprang into life next to Elliot, he nearly jumped out of his workstation.

Sorry… It was never my intention to startle you like that. John’s image faded.

No… no… It’s all right, I just didn’t expect you to show up, all at once… so fast… It surprised me. Elliot righted himself in the chair, doing his best to regain his composure.

John’s head came back into view. Is this better?

Elliot shook his head. Not really… I think the crew would accept your whole body… more than your disembodied head. I’m just saying perhaps a little slower integration into the chambers would be better… It gives people a chance to know you are there, rather than a jump scare.

The image came into view much slower this time. Please tell me it isn’t too weird. I feel like a ghost using this thing. The young black man looked down at his projection.

Elliot wasn’t sure how, what, or if John could see himself. No… not at all. Elliot swiveled back to examine the creation more closely, comparing it to the mental image he retained from hours of studying the oil painting of the man in his older form. Is this what you looked like in real life?

John nodded. At least while I was young. I was much older when they… when I decided to reach for the stars. The image held his arms wide. In my youth, I was a bit of a rebel…

Elliot chucked, Weren’t we all? Yet you became a successful businessman. He motioned with his head to the oil painting.

Yes… most of my friends told me I sold out. The image cleared his throat, almost human-like. I guess I showed them. I will still be alive and well after they are long dead.

You had a great run of it after all… It is my understanding you made it to over one hundred. Elliot checked a few readings to make sure the chamber wasn’t taxing the system. With a few taps, he started the system diagnostics. We can’t all keep the indiscretions of youth going into middle years. My father would say… we all need to grow up at some point.

John sucked the hologram air between his teeth then added, One hundred isn’t what it used to be. He motioned to the painting on the wall. I often wonder if my younger self would agree with what I had… have become…

I doubt the ignorance of youth would understand the decisions made by the more—

Old.

I was going to say experienced.

"Same difference… Tell me. I have done a few calculations, and I have discovered this craft is greatly overstaffed. The ship needs only a crew