This is an excerpt from a work in progress:
“It’s been nice working with you, Gina,” said Orson, powering down the work stations for the last time.
“Same, Orson. You’ve been great. Really. Good luck on your new assignment.” The last plunger had finally been shut down, and the company was abandoning the solar mining field.
Gina looked around. The corridors were empty and dimly lit. The lines visible through the portal were dormant. There were no glowing shafts from the surface of the sun, no thrumming vortices, no jets of leaking plasma—just a churning, desolate inferno.
She drew a deep breath. It had been a tumultuous two months. The company investors learned little after Vern Holloway’s visit. But two weeks later, the Space Mining Guild raided the Proxima Receiving Station, confiscating terabytes of production data. Within a week, Gina was compelled to host the Guild Marshall for an inspection of their field records. The company protested, but was unable to dampen the Guild’s resolve, or stop its progress. Another week later, the company announced its intention to close the field permanently, and Gina’s job focus changed from production to demolition.
Copyright (c) 2009 J. C. Conway