Something to be done
A red flare lit everything up.
I’m no Lookout; I’m busy drilling outside the camp compound – prospecting for platinum-group ores. Not supposed to be any risk on this neutral-area rockball
No sound in the vac to warn me. Things lashing past me. Huge explosion. I’m turning. The whole camp’s erupting in one supra-blast. Not so much as a blip or a squawk on anything electronic. Completely caught-out and wiped-out we were. Shike! That’s the end of our mining this asteroid.
Ten, fifteen seconds later, I’m still watching the huge red fireball swell away from the surface and up into the Big Black.
Damn. The Astons have found us.
‘Mop-up crew next,’ I’m saying to the laser as I get the power switched up.
Sure enough. Five more seconds, and I see this GH fighter swinging in, expecting to scorch survivors out. He’ll be lucky; bet there’s none left, ’cept me out here on the rim.
‘Come on, you Aston krut. I’m powered up and ready, you evil little scuffer.’ Famous last stand on Rockball Four-oh-four this is not going to be. Infamous, maybe. Last, definitely. ‘Come on. You’re just one last something to be done.’