Treasure
hunters have existed since the glint of gold first romanced the eyes of man.
The objects of these hunters changes with the collective whims of society, but
the pursuit of cheap, easy money drives those who hunt it.
The job of treasure hunting, while still a process of striking out for unknown planets hoping to find a planet infused with metaphorical gold, has largely become commercialized. Perhaps one in a hundred treasure hunters seek planets never before mined. Everyone else, commonly coined as junkers (though those in the business call themselves “property hunters”), are people who look for the treasure in neglect.
Astoria Blank, 15-year property hunter veteran, stared at her Galaxi-globe, confused. “Hey Gina, what’s the star map looking like on your side?”
In an era where space travel is more common than walking to a grocery store, there are still tiers of luxury. Co-ordinate guidance systems are the easiest way to fly and, thus, the most expensive. Plug in your co-ordinates and take a nap--just like the grounded computerized automobiles that sprang into fashion in 2060s. Star-guided systems kept the control of the ship with the captain, but pointed out the right flight path. It is moderately priced and quite comparable to the GPS systems that gained common usage in the 1990s. The Galaxi-globe gave as much guidance as a good old map. The pilot has to plot the course and navigate, and if things get rough, compare the star patterns to the star map, then translate the star map information to the Galaxi-globe.
Astoria could barely afford the Galaxi-globe.
“Star map is,” Gina Strator trailed off as she tried to align the outside stars with her star map book. A special scanner captured the outside star configuration, calculated the view, and a little printer spewed a ticker-tape of figures. Gina glanced at those and flipped in her star map--laid out not unlike a world atlas. “Looks like we’re bearing too far relative left.”
With a flick of her wrist, Astoria adjusted her Galaxi-globe left to get her bearings. “Ok, I’ve got us positioned right now. Looks like we’re a half-an-hour away from Satellite Storage.”
Satellite Storage was a facility for individual entities or corporations to store items. Back when people were stuck on Earth, there would be buildings where they could rent storage space. Satellite Storage took that idea and put it on a universal scale: instead of a building, Satellite Storage bought asteroid fields, regulated the individual asteroid positions, placed a security magnetic field around them, and rented them out to those who wanted a storage area. The individual asteroids served as little planets that patrons could do as they pleased with--some people simply dumped items on the planet, others built buildings to store them in, and a few ambitious people tunneled into the asteroid to store things inside.
Everything would run smoothly unless the person or corporation stopped paying for their asteroid. As needed, Satellite Storage would auction off these abandoned asteroids. The purchaser would then be given four days to clear the asteroid of everything so that Satellite Storage could rent the asteroid out to someone else.
The only catch was that bidders only got a brief fly-by of an asteroid--so within the span of the fly-by they would have to determine if it was worth bidding on and how much to spend.
Satellite Storage had a small space station parked outside the asteroid field with a parking dock. It was only used by the few employees that had to be on-site and by any potential renters and, on auction days, the people there to bid. If Astoria tried to steer her ship straight into the asteroid field it would quickly become unusable and she would be stranded and at the mercy of the Galaxy Police Department. Renters were given a specific code that they plugged into their ship computer system that would allow them direct access to their asteroid.
It was a slick system and Astoria suspected there was a lot going on that she didn’t even know about. Despite the progress that the intelligent beings of the universe had made, things were still prone to go wrong--Satellite Storage, on the other hand, seemed to make everything go right.
With a few clanks and a groan from the ship, Astoria and Gina found themselves docked in Satellite Storage’s docking garage. With a frown Astoria surveyed the other vehicles parked there.
“Looks like there will be a lot of people here today--look at all of these ships!”
“They’re large and classy, too. Looks like these people might be able to flash some cash.”
A portal connected the ship to the space station. Climbing through they emerged in a large receptionist area. A crowd of people were huddled on one end, a murmur of voices audible but unintelligible. A man with a clipboard and a bow-tie hurried towards them.
“I assume you are here for the auction?” he asked, and without waiting for them to respond continued, “I’ll need your Galax-ID.”
He took the card Astoria handed him and pressed it on his clipboard. A yellow light flashed a few minutes later on the side and the clipboard printed out a sheet of paper. “Ok, I’ll need your signature here,” he pointed to one line toward the bottom, “and here,” he concluded, pointing to the line right below it. “Ok, we’ll be departing in 3 minutes, so just hang out with the rest of the auction participants over there.”
The man hustled off to intercept another person who had just come through a portal from the dock.
Brisk attitudes such as his were standard for these sorts of events--it was disarming the first few times, but Astoria had quickly learned to appreciate it. The less she had to say the better.
“Attention, attention everyone,” said the man hurrying back toward the crowd. “My name is Josh Greeley and I’ll be your auctioneer today. If we could please head through the exit, follow me now! Stay together, we don’t want...” his voice trailed off as he himself went through the exit.
The job of treasure hunting, while still a process of striking out for unknown planets hoping to find a planet infused with metaphorical gold, has largely become commercialized. Perhaps one in a hundred treasure hunters seek planets never before mined. Everyone else, commonly coined as junkers (though those in the business call themselves “property hunters”), are people who look for the treasure in neglect.
Astoria Blank, 15-year property hunter veteran, stared at her Galaxi-globe, confused. “Hey Gina, what’s the star map looking like on your side?”
In an era where space travel is more common than walking to a grocery store, there are still tiers of luxury. Co-ordinate guidance systems are the easiest way to fly and, thus, the most expensive. Plug in your co-ordinates and take a nap--just like the grounded computerized automobiles that sprang into fashion in 2060s. Star-guided systems kept the control of the ship with the captain, but pointed out the right flight path. It is moderately priced and quite comparable to the GPS systems that gained common usage in the 1990s. The Galaxi-globe gave as much guidance as a good old map. The pilot has to plot the course and navigate, and if things get rough, compare the star patterns to the star map, then translate the star map information to the Galaxi-globe.
Astoria could barely afford the Galaxi-globe.
“Star map is,” Gina Strator trailed off as she tried to align the outside stars with her star map book. A special scanner captured the outside star configuration, calculated the view, and a little printer spewed a ticker-tape of figures. Gina glanced at those and flipped in her star map--laid out not unlike a world atlas. “Looks like we’re bearing too far relative left.”
With a flick of her wrist, Astoria adjusted her Galaxi-globe left to get her bearings. “Ok, I’ve got us positioned right now. Looks like we’re a half-an-hour away from Satellite Storage.”
Satellite Storage was a facility for individual entities or corporations to store items. Back when people were stuck on Earth, there would be buildings where they could rent storage space. Satellite Storage took that idea and put it on a universal scale: instead of a building, Satellite Storage bought asteroid fields, regulated the individual asteroid positions, placed a security magnetic field around them, and rented them out to those who wanted a storage area. The individual asteroids served as little planets that patrons could do as they pleased with--some people simply dumped items on the planet, others built buildings to store them in, and a few ambitious people tunneled into the asteroid to store things inside.
Everything would run smoothly unless the person or corporation stopped paying for their asteroid. As needed, Satellite Storage would auction off these abandoned asteroids. The purchaser would then be given four days to clear the asteroid of everything so that Satellite Storage could rent the asteroid out to someone else.
The only catch was that bidders only got a brief fly-by of an asteroid--so within the span of the fly-by they would have to determine if it was worth bidding on and how much to spend.
Satellite Storage had a small space station parked outside the asteroid field with a parking dock. It was only used by the few employees that had to be on-site and by any potential renters and, on auction days, the people there to bid. If Astoria tried to steer her ship straight into the asteroid field it would quickly become unusable and she would be stranded and at the mercy of the Galaxy Police Department. Renters were given a specific code that they plugged into their ship computer system that would allow them direct access to their asteroid.
It was a slick system and Astoria suspected there was a lot going on that she didn’t even know about. Despite the progress that the intelligent beings of the universe had made, things were still prone to go wrong--Satellite Storage, on the other hand, seemed to make everything go right.
With a few clanks and a groan from the ship, Astoria and Gina found themselves docked in Satellite Storage’s docking garage. With a frown Astoria surveyed the other vehicles parked there.
“Looks like there will be a lot of people here today--look at all of these ships!”
“They’re large and classy, too. Looks like these people might be able to flash some cash.”
A portal connected the ship to the space station. Climbing through they emerged in a large receptionist area. A crowd of people were huddled on one end, a murmur of voices audible but unintelligible. A man with a clipboard and a bow-tie hurried towards them.
“I assume you are here for the auction?” he asked, and without waiting for them to respond continued, “I’ll need your Galax-ID.”
He took the card Astoria handed him and pressed it on his clipboard. A yellow light flashed a few minutes later on the side and the clipboard printed out a sheet of paper. “Ok, I’ll need your signature here,” he pointed to one line toward the bottom, “and here,” he concluded, pointing to the line right below it. “Ok, we’ll be departing in 3 minutes, so just hang out with the rest of the auction participants over there.”
The man hustled off to intercept another person who had just come through a portal from the dock.
Brisk attitudes such as his were standard for these sorts of events--it was disarming the first few times, but Astoria had quickly learned to appreciate it. The less she had to say the better.
“Attention, attention everyone,” said the man hurrying back toward the crowd. “My name is Josh Greeley and I’ll be your auctioneer today. If we could please head through the exit, follow me now! Stay together, we don’t want...” his voice trailed off as he himself went through the exit.
No comments:
Post a Comment