Tyre, Building New Canaan book 2
It’s been a while since I published a Saturday Snippet, but I thought you might enjoy the opening scene of my work in progress, Tyre, which is book two in my collaboration with M.D. Cooper, Building New Canaan. This series is an offshoot from Michael’s amazing Aeon 14 universe, and it covers the ten years of colonisation of the New Canaan system. Book one, Carthage is already live on Amazon. You can find it here.
Hope you enjoy the snippet!
Chapter One
As Jacob Cimorelli’s thick fingers adjusted the delicate controls of his ore handler, a soprano’s aria rang through his headset. The music helped the massive man to concentrate. Maneuvering a chunk of moon through space wasn’t easy, and the helium 3 had to be kept separate from the rest of the production of the mining operation. If he lost control of the ore before it was safely stowed aboard the hauler, Euphemia, Jacob would never hear the end of it.
Max was the meanest bastard of a supervisor he had ever worked for. Constantly finding fault, never satisfied, always skirting the line between overseeing and bullying. Jacob couldn’t wait for the day the man finally went too far and was demoted, or, better still, transferred to another project, preferably on the outer rim where operations lasted months with no time off. Then he might learn some manners and respect. Far from the gaze of the central government at Carthage, ore handlers had their own ways of retaliating against a vindictive boss.
Jacob dismissed his irritating supervisor from his thoughts. Allowing the music to soothe his ruffled mind, he focused his attention on his pincer readouts as they gripped the immense chunk of rock. Too much pressure and the rock would split, perhaps into several pieces, each with their own trajectory. Too little force and the rock would slip away. Jacob would have to fly the sluggish ore handler after it and try to catch the moving object. Chasing rock through space was annoying and embarrassing, and there was a danger of it colliding with the moon, or worse, a ship.
The readouts told him everything was normal, however. If continued slowly and steadily like he was, he shouldn’t have any problems. Under his breath, Jason hummed along to the opera, which was one of his old favorites: a story of misplaced loyalty and unrequited love. As he listened, the singer’s voice rose to an almost inhuman pitch while remaining delicate and light as a butterfly’s wing. A tear welled up in Jacob’s eye, burst over his lashes, and ran down his stubble before dripping from his muscled jaw.
If Jacob had to answer to the engineer twins, his working life would be so much easier, he mused. From the little he’d seen of them they seemed somewhat fresh and inexperienced to be put in charge of the operation, it was true, but he didn’t think that mattered too much. It was a straightforward job, or at least it had been until they’d hit the vein of helium 3. Yet the twins had handled that development well enough. Best of all, they showed their workers some respect.
Jacob made a fine adjustment, gritting his teeth as he brooded over his nasty supervisor, Max. He fought the urge to spit in disgust, which wouldn’t be wise in zero g.
Suddenly, an alarm flashed on his screen. Jacob scanned the readouts. One of the pincers was a fraction too loose. It was about to slip. Deliberately easing his grip to avoid transferring his tension to the controls, Jacob gently nudged the steel tip tighter while maintaining the same pressure on the others.
Two long seconds later, the alarm ceased. Jacob breathed out.
He was over halfway to the hauler, and one of the most beautiful and tragic parts of the opera was coming up. The forsaken lover would soon finally comprehendwhat every other character and the audience knew: she had been cruelly, heartlessly abandoned and her three years of waiting had been entirely in vain.
The music cut out. <Stars, Cimorelli, how much longer are you going to take?>
Max’s complaint had scythed through Jacob’s calm. <Nearly there, boss,> he replied, his words passing mentally through his newly gritted teeth. <This is fragile stuff. Gotta take it easy ya know.>
<Got to take it easy? Who do you think you’re talking to, bonehead? You think I got to boss you grunts around without knowing properties of helium 3 ore? You think I’m some kind of an idiot?>
<Not saying that at all, I just meant—>
<You don’t need to take all day, Cimorelli. It’s ore you’re handling, not your girlfriend’s tits. So do your damned job and stop holding everyone up.> Max was gone. The opera continued from where it had been interrupted.
Jacob cursed out loud, his deep voice rumbling around the cockpit. He directed Max to take part in several unnatural and impossible acts with himself and various relations. What did his dumbass supervisor expect Jacob to do, he wondered. It wasn’t his fault he’d been assigned the final task of the entire rotation. The job would take as long as it took. He would be stupid to rush it. All it would take would be a single mistake and everyone would be their wayback to Carthage a lot later, or maybe not at all.
Jacob turned up the music and checked his ETA at the hauler. If he maintained his current velocity, he would reach the ship in twenty-eight minutes. It was plenty fast enough. Max could go eat basalt.
That’s it for this week. Want to read some more snippets? You can find extracts from my other space colonisation series, Space Colony One, here.