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- Herausgeber: Eduard Meinema
- Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019
Some things shouldn't be found
Old satellites are becoming a problem. Space junk that needs to be removed. Luckily there are professional cleaners. These satellite sweepers are scavengers trading all they can find. However, sometimes they find things that shouldn't be found.
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Eduard Meinema
Laystall
First published by Words and Vision (Published / written by Eduard Meinema, The Netherlands). 2019
Copyright © 2019 by Eduard Meinema
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
First edition
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Old satellites are becoming a problem. Space junk that needs to be removed. Luckily there are professional cleaners. These satellite sweepers are scavengers trading all they can find. However, sometimes they find things that shouldn’t be found.
Contents
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
About the Author
1
“Chimney sweep.”
“You say what?”
“According to my grandfather, that was a fair profession: chimney sweep,” said Brad. He collapsed in his seat and placed his heavy work shoes with the extra sturdy metal noses on the dashboard.
“Dude, chimney sweeps were already extinct before your grandfather went into his coffin,” Joshua responded roughly.
“Well thanks Josh, don’t bother my feelings. My grandfather died when I was ten. So that was in 2119. In those days there really were chimneyswee…”
“Yeah. Right. What do I care Brad?” Joshua sighed impatiently.
“Hey! You just said that you don’t know of any profession of which you immediately know what that profession entails. Well, a chimney sweep sweeps the chimney. No dubious ‘Manager’ - title. Just sweep. Go into that chimney. And sweep. Period.”
“Whatever you want Brad. It is your day. Now, would Mr. ‘Junk Manager’ be so kind to give me the coordinates? I would like to hear from you what area we are going to clean today,” said Joshua Skidmore in a consciously affected voice. “Then I can steer this flying pile of scrap in the right direction.”
Brad Bershey rose. Entered his password on the monitor on his side of the dashboard and waited for instructions from headquarters. “You don’t have to be so derogatory about our ship,” he grumbled. “This ship is the most innovative tool that has been developed in recent decades. And you know, most managers, ‘the leaders’, may have a lease shuttle from the company, the value of those luxury shuttles is 2.5 million Union Dollars at most. While this…” He made a grand gesture with his arms. “This Satellite Sweeper is worth more than 45 million dollars. And you’re the one in control of it, Josh!”
“Yeah. I also love to take my family along in this vehicle when we go away for the weekend,” Joshua sneered.
Brad shrugged. Listed the coordinates that he just got and went back to lean.
As once determined by management, Joshua entered the coordinates on his monitor for checking. Check - check - double check. The destination immediately appeared on the screen. “Zone nineteen,” Josh read aloud. “Way to go dude, send us back to that part of hell,” he complained.
Brad grinned. Zones fifteen to twenty were orbits around Mars where so many unused satellites were still hanging around that nobody knew how much there actually were. Satellites that had not been in contact for years; devices that had gradually fallen into oblivion. Moreover, the majority of those satellites had fallen apart decades ago. The individual parts of it, often so small that they could hardly be traced, had now become life-threatening projectiles whizzing around the red planet at top speed and seriously jeopardizing all flights to and from Mars.
Joshua sent the ship, the Boyan Slat, to the specified area. There they would remove as much space debris as possible today. The Boyan Slat, named after the Dutch student who had come up with an ambitious plan to remove the plastic soup from the oceans on Earth in the early 21st century, was a specially developed vessel, with the sole purpose of wiping clean the areas where the satellites, or the remains thereof, were orbiting around one of the planets in the solar system. Space debris had been a problem around the Earth for centuries. An adequate solution was never found. After all these centuries cleaning space debris was still like filling a bucket full of holes. Where people came, waste was left behind. And someone had to clean it up.
2
Kzzznnngg. Plonk, plonk, vrrrt.
The two cleaners were not even shocked by the sound of a loosening bolt bumping into the hull of the ship at a speed of hundreds of kilometers per hour from out of the space, then being led over the hull to eventually end up in the ship’s sweeping installation. The hull of the Satellite Sweeper was composed of a mixture of titanium, grapheen and goethite, which made the ship resistant to much heavier impacts. Ever since Brad found out that goethite, the hardest natural material ever found on Earth and able to withstand a pressure of no less than 4.9 gigapascals, was a mineral found in the teeth of sea snails, he called the ship ‘The Slug.’
“Got it!” said Joshua; knowing that the bolt that had just hit the hull of the ship had now been collected through the ingenious sweeping system, transported to a small waste bin in the hold and taken back to the warehouse for investigation. The warehouse, usually lovingly called ‘the laystall’ by employees. A team of specialists would determine which satellite the bolt came from to try to make an inventory what else was in the orbit around Mars.
Undeterred, Joshua kept the ship on course. “How many items do we need to pick up today?”
Brad was slumped to sleep. He pushed his uniform cap off his face and looked sleepily at his colleague. “Seven commercial satellites.” He stared at his monitor. “Seven golden oldies from the time the first settlers settled on Mars.”
Joshua tapped his monitor with his index finger to temporarily turn off the intercom and the black box. He knew that everything was being recorded, everything was being monitored. But they didn’t have to know everything at the office. “Do you have more information? Are there valuable materials inside?”
“Think so. Those things are from the beginning of the 21st century. They contain raw materials that we have not had for so long; they must be worth some money.”
“Great, so we’ll be doing overtime,” Joshua grinned happily.
“Sure,” laughed Brad. “Only…”
“Only what?”
“Don’t you think it’s strange that we have to pick up seven satellites? There is room for eight. And knowing headquarters…”
“… they won’t leave the available space on board unused,” Joshua added. “Well, it gives us some extra workspace to dismantle the satellites on board,” he said laughing. He warned Brad that he reactivated the intercom and the black box.
Immediately after the activation, he was shocked by the voice of the operator from the head office coming from the ceiling: “Having problems guys?”
“No,” said Brad. “We just checked what had hit us. It turned out to be a bolt.”
“Hmm… No damage?”
“Not that we know.”
“Okay… Listen. After that last incident you have lost all goodwill. So. Whatever you are planning… Forget it. And leave the intercom on! Over and out,” the operator confirmed.
