Billion-Dollar View

Molly's Song. Fiction. 2800 words, 14-minute read.

Image: Mining Outlook Magazine

I attended a family wedding this past weekend. Filial piety has a way of trampling all over writing time. So, the Planets 4 Sale serial is going on hiatus, at least for a week. Don’t worry, McGee and the gang will be back. Until then, please accept a rerun of a story I posted on Substack in April of 2024. Billion-Dollar View originally ran in Escape Pod Magazine in 2010. https://escapepod.org/2010/08/05/ep252-billion-dollar-view/ Billion-Dollar View (which I almost entitled “Molly’s Song” instead) has evoked the strongest reaction of any of my works. It’s a tale of human souls, finding and clinging to each other in the deep, dark void. I hope you enjoy.

Billion-Dollar View

by Ray Tabler

“Let’s have another song!” One of the trio of miners at the table nearest the stage sent a credit chip spinning lazily toward the singer.

The guitarist scooped the money out of the air and tucked it away. “Any song in particular?” He smiled and plucked at the strings idly, in the way musicians do. He floated in the microgravity, anchored to the stage in the center of the tavern with one nonchalant foot. The miners argued good-naturedly about their next request.

“What are they celebrating?” a weathered Belt rat near the door asked the bartender.

The bartender shook his head. “They came in a few hours ago. Seems they found a forty-meter rock, ten degrees spinward from Ceres that’s mostly high grade osmiridium ore. Consolidated Metals bought it at auction this morning.”

The Belt rat whistled. “Forty meters of ozzy! No wonder they’re getting drunk.”

“Yeah,” the bartender nodded. “First time out, too.”

“First time out?” The old miner’s face soured. “Frigging newbies get all the breaks. It’s not like the old days.”

The bartender shook his head. “Yeah, it sure ain’t like the old days, thank God.”

The three newly-rich miners had come to an agreement. “Play Molly’s Song, we love that one,” one of them bellowed and sailed another credit chip at the stage.

The musician stopped playing and stared at the three miners. The chip floated past the guitarist and ricocheted off the far wall. The crowded tavern was suddenly silent and chilly.

The musician cleared his throat. “Maybe you boys should pick a different song.”

“We want Molly’s Song! What the matter, don’t you know it?”

“Oh, I know the song. We all know the song. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to sing it, right now.”

Someone at a table near the miners leaned over. “You damned fools; don’t you know who that is over in the corner?”

The bartender apologized to a gray, old man, hunched over his drink in the corner. “Sorry Red, damned newbies don’t know crap. I’ll throw them out.”

“No,” Red rumbled, staring at the stained table top. “Let them be.” Red turned and looked at the guitarist. “Play the song.”

The guitarist didn’t move. “You sure, Red?”

Red nodded slowly. “Yeah, I want to hear it again.”

“In that case, Red, I’d be honored. This one’s on me.”

The guitarist bent to his work, fingers flying across the frets and strumming a fast, intricate rhythm. Then, his raspy voice began to sing about Molly.

#

“But my name is Simon.”

Molly shook her head and chuckled. “With a head of hair like that? Nope, from now on your name is Red.”

Simon felt his young face flushing with embarrassment, which would further cement his new nickname. “What if I don’t want to be called Red?”

“Too late, should have shaved your head before I bought your contract.” Molly winked at him, executed a back flip in mid-air and launched herself out of the Labor Mart. “Come on, Red. We ain’t got all day.”

Red struggled to catch up. His inner ear had been complaining about the microgravity environment since the flight up to the L5 colonies from Kazakhstan. The months-long trip out to Ceres had been spent sedated and fed intravenously, tethered in a pod with forty-nine other contract laborers. The end result was a general lack of coordination that the doctors assured him was temporary.

“Wait up!”

Molly slowed her progress down the rocky corridor enough to allow Red to keep pace. “I remember how it was when I first hit Ceres, but we have to move. They charge docking fees by the minute, so you’re already costing me money.”

“Look, I realize that I didn’t have much choice about who bought my contract, but I’d at least like to know what exactly I’ll be doing.”

A toothy, white grin spread across Molly’s chocolate face. “You didn’t have any choice, Red. Just be glad it was me and not the boys down in Waste Streams Processing. Now, as I said, we’re in a hurry. Just keep your arms close to your sides and your legs straight. If you get too scared, close your eyes.”

Molly grabbed Red’s coveralls by the scruff of the neck and abruptly towed him down the corridor, gaining speed with every hand hold she passed. Red had his eyes tightly shut within ten meters.

Red didn’t realize they were on Molly’s ship until she clanged the hatch shut behind her. “Welcome to your new home, the Rock Jockey.”

He opened his eyes to behold a cylindrical volume wide enough to stretch his arms out and about three man-lengths long, lined with white locker doors and instrument panels. A strong odor of dirty socks filled the air.

“Stow your stuff in here.” Molly tapped the door of a small locker the size of a toaster. Fortunately, the one-kilogram limit on personal items had pared Red’s personal items down to a volume that fit it, with room to spare.

Molly leaned close to a voice pickup. “Rock Jockey to Ceres Traffic Control, we are undocking. What are the damages?”

A male voice crackled from a speaker. “What’s the deal, Molly? You’ve been docked for less than two hours. Don’t you like my company?”

Molly slapped the transmit button. “Dan, you’re too ugly to charge as much as you do for your company.”

“Marry me, Molly.”

“Get in line, Danny Boy, get in line.”

“I’m heart-broken. Your consumable levels are all topped off. The fees have already been deducted from your account. Rock Jockey, you are cleared to depart.”

As Molly nudged Rock Jockey away from Ceres she glanced over at Red. “Any questions?”

“Yeah, where’s the rest of the ship?”

Molly was chuckling about that one for days.

#

Over the next few weeks Red learned more about running the Rock Jockey, and staying alive in the Belt than he ever imagined existed.

“Molly, who is Bob?” Red eyed the nametag on the pressure suit Molly had handed him. There was an unsettling stain inside.

Molly sighed. “Who was Bob, you should say. Well, Bob got careless, and Professor Vacuum doesn’t grade on a curve. But, don’t worry; I’ll get your name on the suit before you go EVA.”

Once Red got used to the interesting stains, and odd odor, in the second-hand pressure suit he actually began to enjoy the opportunity to get outside of Rock Jockey, confining hull.

“Now pay attention to this part, Red.” Molly’s thick gloves danced over the keypad of the electronics package they had attached to the house-sized asteroid Rock Jockey, had matched orbits with. “There. Soon as we nudge this hunk of rock the way we want it to go, this unit will become active and continuously update the traffic center on Ceres with its position and velocity. Once she gets close enough to the construction site the big tugs can come out and tow her back to the smelters. If we’re lucky those knuckleheads running the smelters might even remember to take the unit off and set it aside before they start carving the rock up to fit in the feed chute. Even if they don’t, we still should get paid for another hunk of iron by the grand and glorious Extra Solar Development Corporation.”

“To build their grand and glorious colony ship.” Red was silent for a long moment. “Did you ever think about trying for a berth on that ship, Molly?”

Molly chuckled. “Who out here hasn’t, Red? Maybe I will someday. They’ll be a long time building it. In the mean time I get to be here, and I get to see this!” She gestured at the sky. “There’s Jupiter, shining like a beacon. Saturn’s over that way, and that tiny, blue speck is Earth. The richest people on Earth don’t have this view. It’s my billion-dollar view.”

#

Boom times came to the Belt.

Rock Jockey was one of a small fleet of independent contractors, gathering materials for ESD’s colony ship. The lucky ones prospered. Others ended up broke, or dead, or both. There was fierce competition between them, but also an abiding camaraderie that sprang from shared hardships and dangers.

Red held the rocket motor while Kenji Hijiyama anchored it to the asteroid.

Kenji kicked back a few meters, floating at the end of his tether to check alignment before he pulled himself back to the surface. “That looks good, Red, two done and four to go.”

Red powered up the motor’s control link. “Whew! Never shoved a rock this big before, Kenji.”

Kenji grinned at him; teeth white in his pressure suit faceplate. “Me neither, and we wouldn’t this time without help from you and Molly.”

Ceres control required backup steering rockets if a rock was big enough. Molly and the Hijiyamas had to pool most of their cash to lease the units, but the payoff would be worth it.

Red and Kenji clipped onto Rock Jockey’s auxiliary vehicle, the Broomstick, a four-meter length of structural aluminum with an engine at one end and a control box at the other. Red lined up the Broomstick with staccato bursts from the attitude jets. He was learning how to survive in the Belt the only way a newbie could, fast and well.

A healthy burn from the aft nozzle sent them back toward where Rock Jockey and Kenji’s ship, Hijiyama Maru, floated side by side. Molly and Kenji’s wife, Masako, were visible preparing another rocket motor for mounting. Three tiny pressure suits capered around the exteriors of both ships in a freeform game of zero-gee tag.

“Christ on a crutch, Kenji!” Red chuckled. “Don’t you worry about your kids floating off and getting lost?”

“Sure, I do.” Kenji rapped Red’s helmet playfully. “But what are we supposed to do, keep ‘em cooped up inside? They get stir crazy enough as it is. Besides, the Belt is their home now. They’ve got to learn how to live out here. Masako and I won’t be around to hold their hands forever.”

Red pondered that for a moment.

“Hey Red, speaking of kids, when are you and Molly going to start having some?”

“Aw, lay off me, Kenji. Molly’s just my boss. That’s all.”

“You sure about that, Red?”

“Yeah, of course I am.”

Kenji just grinned at him. Red didn’t say a word for the rest of the trip back.

#

Molly and Red worked hard and grew rich. They didn’t think of themselves as rich. In fact, they barely noticed at all. They were too busy, shepherding rocks across the sky. They grew close, alone with only each other and Molly’s billion-dollar view for company. How close? Well, that was their business and nobody else’s.

Red held Molly close in the darkness. The instrument panels glowed about them like stars.

“What do you mean; I don’t look like a Molly?” She tousled his red hair.

“Well, you don’t.” Red stroked her cheek, and then struck a thoughtful pose. “You look more like . . . a Yolanda.”

“Yolanda?” Molly attacked mercilessly. Within seconds Red was helpless. She knew just where he was most ticklish.

Molly wrapped herself around Red as he slowly caught his breath. “You’re right about one thing. I wasn’t Molly before I came out to the Belt. The first rock I pushed turned out to be rich in molybdenum. Those jokers at the smelters started calling me Molly because of that. The name stuck.” She shrugged. “Does it matter what my real name is?”

After a long, slow kiss Red whispered, “Not to me, Molly, not to me.”

#

Then, one day while Red was preparing another rock for a long, looping trip to the smelters, the emergency code appeared on Rock Jockey’s display screen.

“What’s up Moll?” Red asked as soon as he had his helmet off.

“It’s bad, real bad.” Her dark skin actually looked pale. “Half of Hijiyama Maru’s propellant lit off all at once. Kenji and Masako are dead.”

“Christ almighty! What about the kids?”

“Hanna’s injured. Hiroshi and Maiko seem to be okay from what I can tell over the radio, but almost all of their Oh-two is gone.”

“Who can reach them in time?”

“Just us, sort of.”

Red felt his guts knot up. “What do you mean, sort of?”

“I’ve got it all worked out and the burns are already programmed into Jockey’s computer.”

Red studied the diagram of what Molly proposed on the screen. The physics wouldn’t work out for Rock Jockey to match orbits with what was left of Hijiyama Maru before the kids ran out of things to breathe. However, they could get close, relatively speaking. Then, one of them could strap onto the Broomstick. The Broomstick could match with Hijiyama, pick up the kids and make it back . . . barely.

“We don’t have much time.” Red reached for his helmet. “It’s a good thing I’m already suited up.”

“Red, you’re not riding the Broomstick. I am.”

Red noticed, belatedly, that Molly had her pressure suit on as well. “Like hell you are! This is way too chancy. I’ll do it.”

“Damn it, Red! It has to be me. I’m a better pilot, and I’ve got this calculated to the last gram. You’re just too heavy. If you go those kids are going to die!”

“You must have figured wrong.” Red reached for the computer keyboard.

“God damn it all to hell, Red! Don’t touch that computer! Don’t even look at it! I told you I programmed it to do the burns automatically. You know how thorough I am. I didn’t make any damn mistakes. This is the only way we’re going to save those kids.”

Red closed his eyes, trying to deny what he knew to be the truth. Rock Jockey executed her first burn.

“All right, damn it!” Red forced out.

Molly reached for her helmet.

#

Red watched the radar display as the Broomstick slowly moved away from Rock Jockey and toward the slowly scattering debris field which had been Hijiyama Maru. Molly called in every hour on the hour. The wait in between calls seemed to stretch for years. Red radioed Hijiyama Maru to make sure the kids knew what was going on and that they were already in pressure suits. Timing would be critical.

He silently cursed Kenji and Masako for bringing their kids out to the Belt. Then he had to admit that he had often wondered how it would feel to raise a family out here, with Molly. Finally, the speaker crackled to life ten minutes before the hour.

“Red, we’re on our way back. The kids are strapped in, but they’re sedated to conserve Oh-two. You’re going to have to maneuver and go EVA to snag the Broomstick when it gets close. It’ll be out of fuel by then.”

“Don’t you worry, I’ll bring you in. God, it’s good to hear your voice, Molly.”

“Kind of like the sound of yours too, Red.”

“Molly, did you lose something? There’s another blip on the scope, floating away from you.”

“Oh, that’s nothing, just some extra mass I had to jettison to make sure the fuel left will do the job.”

Red went out on Rock Jockey’s hull and snagged the drifting Broomstick on his third try. He had it secured before he realized that there were only three pressure suits strapped to the thing. With a sinking feeling, Red remembered the blip floating away from the Broomstick on the radar screen.

“Molly! Molly, where are you?”

“Don’t be angry, Red.” Molly’s voice sounded faint on Red’s suit radio.

“Why? Why’d you do it?”

“I told you I had this figured down to the last gram. It was the only way to save the kids.”

Red wept.

“Take care of the kids, Red. You’re all they got now.” There was a long pause. “I think I’ll just take some time to enjoy the view.”

#

The guitarist finished with a last slow strum of the strings. Silence echoed in the tavern. Red stared at his drink.

Three people had entered the tavern near the end of the song, a young, Asian man and two young Asian women. They shared an obvious family resemblance. The newcomers floated over to Red. The young man put his hand on Red’s shoulder.

“Pops, you shouldn’t be listening to that song. You know it just makes you sad.”

Red turned, a tear in his eye but a smile on his face. “Nothing could make me sad tonight, son. My kids are leaving on the colony ship in the morning, to found a new world.”

END

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