Chapter 4
Joey neared the first street of the village. The street for miners with sons. Farther along the main path were streets of one-room apartments, and beyond that were the six-to-a-room bunkhouses. The crowd had thinned to just a few others.
The apartments were boxes, three meters tall and ten meters along the side. Each box had a large oval window and a heavy airlock hatch facing the street. At the corners were attachment points for transportation. Every other surface was wrapped in a dozen insulating layers of crinkled white Mylar and hex mesh.
Joey turned down his street, and when he was sure no one watched, he played. He jumped over the shadows of the anchor straps that stretched from box to box across the path overhead. Each narrow shadow was a massive chasm that could only be jumped by the bravest of men. When he was tall enough, he would swing from the straps. For now he was content to pretend.
As he approached his apartment, the last in the row, he decided he would not discuss the death of Felix unless his dad did.
He swung the outer airlock door open. Felt the grit in the hinges. They would have to be cleaned soon. He stepped through the hatch and pulled the door closed.
Inside the cramped airlock vestibule, Joey punched the large green button with the base of his fist. The buttons took effort so they could not be engaged accidentally. As air flooded the small chamber, the muffled sounds of the apartment joined the claustrophobic reverb in the Angel suit. A blast of air buffeted him as it removed any remaining dust that clung to the shell.
The green button lit up, telling him it was safe to breathe inside. Joey vented his suit and worked his jaw to equalize the pressure in his ears. He removed his helmet, enjoying the unrestricted movement of his head and the symphony of sound. In the Angel he mostly heard his own breathing, the creaking of the suit’s shell, and the knife slice of stainless-steel ring joints.
Step-by-step, Joey peeled himself out of the AGLS, releasing the dozens of straps that ensured each micro thruster group affected the right part of the body. Once the last strap was loose and he stepped out of the boots, he felt the freedom of RN-3a’s low gravity.
After hanging the suit on the hook next to his dad’s, he attached the ventilation hoses that would clean, dry, and freshen the interior. Seeing the two suits together gave him a swell of pride. It was his first cycle as a miner, and he was already exceeding quota, just like his old man.
Ben Junior and the others could call him Olly if they wanted. Just last week, they had looked at him like a slug in their food when he suggested they could beat quota if they dug based on the color of the rock rather than only the grid they were assigned.
“Look at Olly over here,” Michael had said. “This first-cycle brat thinks he knows how to mine better than TMS. Kid, they been at this generations. I think they know what’s what.”
Joey mostly dug the grid now, and TMS saw his output. That’s what mattered. Joey was sure his way was better, but maybe Michael was right. TMS probably had a good reason for the way they did it.
He grabbed his notebook and grease pencil from the holder on the hip of his Angel and put them in the back pocket of his undergarment. He grabbed the latch handle for the inner airlock door. On the other side of the window, Joseph Senior was already in his house clothes, snug but flexible quilted pants and a long-sleeve knit shirt, in a light cream color that showed any potential dust clearly. Joey smiled and yanked the latch to slide the door open.
The piercing door buzzer went off, then was silenced when he latched the door behind him. The buzzer sounded again. It was an awful sound that demanded attention. Joey pulled the handle hard until the solid clunk told him it was seated.
Joseph Senior was cooking dinner. Though he was a stocky man, dense with muscle, without the AGLS and in the low gravity, he was graceful as he prepared their meal.
“Hi, Dad,” Joey said.
“Joey,” Joseph Senior said. He was beaming. “Hurry and get showered. Food’s almost ready.”
“Okay,” Joey said. He stepped into the washroom right off the entrance opposite the compact kitchen.