I've salvaged what I could from my craft, which isn't a whole lot. A pair of oxygen canisters, a spare suit filter, my laser drill, some extra omni-packs, suit patches, and a tether line I've hooked everything but the laser drill to in a makeshift harness. Micro-gravity will at least make carrying it all easy. In full gravity, those oxygen canisters alone would probably be more than I could lift.

I'm not sure what to make of the rock walls of this crevice. From what I can make out with my helmet lamp this isn't normal rock, it's a black glossy material that I've never seen before. It's a very brittle and sharp material, and if I'm not careful, I'll tear my suit on it without even noticing.

I use the optical interface in my helmet to bring up my plotted route on my hud again. The rest of this trip would have taken minutes at most in my craft, now I'm looking at hours. You wouldn't think moving long distances in microgravity would be that physically demanding, but you'd be surprised. Sure, I'm not running a race, but I have to make sure I don't push off too hard and send myself spinning off into space or another outcropping. It's also mentally draining, trying to stay aware of my surroundings and find my landing site. The biggest challenge will be endurance. Staying awake and alert when the only sleep I've had in the past 16 hours is a short nap won't be easy. I didn't have a chance to refill my usual supply of stimulants I usually grab before I head out either, so no boosters.

Taking a careful step, I gauge how much inertia I'm dealing with from the mass on the tether line. I've tied it into a makeshift harness with the canisters on my back with the rest on the front for easy access in an emergency. The laser drill I'll carry by hand with a safety cord attached. I think I've gotten a good feel for the mass of the equipment, so it's time to see whether I'm right.

Well, I didn't die from ramming facefirst into an outcropping, so I'll call that a success. The landing was a bit heavy, and I slid a few feet, but overall not a bad first attempt. Now to do this several thousand more times without killing myself. I push off, and the only sound is the hiss of the suit cycling air and filtering out CO2.

That's all I do for the next few hours. I hop, stop and find my next landing, and repeat. If it wasn't for the clock on my suit interface I would have completely lost track of time. There's nothing to indicate the distance I've traveled other than the distance to my waypoint marker changing. I've traveled maybe a third of the way there. I descend from another hop when I stumble, and my foot finds a bump in the surface of the asteroid, causing me to trip.

"Oh, scrap-" I slam into the brittle, craggy ground, my helmet barely missing a small formation of pointy rocks that would have gone right through my faceplate.

I carefully get to my feet, careful not to tear my suit as I get up. Inspection of my suit and the lack of alarms indicates that I avoided any breaches, but there are several spots on my suit that have been abraded by the sharp rocks.

I reorient myself in the direction I need to go as my heartbeat pounds in my ears and my breathing calms. I check my oxygen levels and see that I'm below fifty percent. Now is as good a time as any to resupply. It's a simple matter to connect the hose between my suit and one of the oxygen canisters I brought. A few minutes later and my suit storage is full again. I also err on the side of caution and use some of my patches to reinforce my suit.

I set off again, struggling to keep my mind focused. I have a couple more close calls, but I manage to recover before I go crashing into the rocks again. I'm so tired my body is sluggish, and my limbs don't respond the way I want them to anymore.

I trip again, and this time there's no recovering from it. I crash into the side of another small rock formation shaped like a plant made of blades. There's a sharp pain and the blaring alarm of a suit breach. I feebly struggle back to my feet and fumble with my suit patches.

Finally, I manage to grab one, and the sharp pain and bitter cold of the void in my side tell me where the breach is. I slap three patches on the side of my suit before the alarm stops. I don't know how badly hurt I am, and there's no way to treat it. I just have to keep going.

At the rate I'm going I'll end up killing myself before I get there. Every time I have to land is a risk I'll crash into something. I have to start taking longer jumps and risking running into things I can't see from my starting point. The fewer times I have to land, the fewer chances of me killing myself on a rock spike.

I set out again, and my side twinges in pain every time I jump. The longer jumps give me more time to prepare for my landing and brace myself properly, and I'm making good progress now, I'm over three-quarters of the way there. The pain at least keeps me alert and prevents me from falling asleep.

The crevice is dimly lit now, by what I don't know. The light source must be artificial, but that is all I can be sure of. The light reflects off the glossy black rock, providing an ever-present illumination with few shadows. I spot shadowy dots moving in the distance, and my stomach turns to a ball of ice that has nothing to do with the chill of space.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I can make up any theory I want to explain what I'm seeing, but I already know the truth. This is a perfect environment for a Kab infestation. Kab are giant rock mites that live unbothered by the hazards of vacuum. They eat rocks, extracting trace carbon elements for fuel and repurposing the waste materials for their carapace. Having a source of energy, even something as weak as this dim light, only allows them to reproduce even faster. If there's one thing all miners agree on is that the only good Kab is a dead one.

They can cut a man in half just as easily as starship plating with their mandibles. Their rock carapaces are incredibly tough. Void forbid if they nest on a mineral that leave them almost invulnerable. My handheld mining laser was going to do scrap-all to these things. You can't hide from something that has thermal vision either, so there was no way I was sneaking past them. I'm certain their territory extends to the end of the crevice, too. Void only knows how long they've been here.

My only chance is simply to move fast enough that they can't get a hold of me. Genius plan I know, outmaneuver a giant rock-eating bug that would love to slurp up my yummy carbon-based insides. But what choice do I have? There's nowhere else to go. My craft is a wreck, and even if I'm rescued, the only thing awaiting me is being the main dish on a merchant lord's table.

I can already see Kab coming to investigate the intruder on the edge of their territory. The only way forward is through. I watch them, waiting until they've left a largely empty stretch of ground behind them, and then I jump.

I safely land the first time and immediately jump again. They may be bugs, but they're smart bugs. They'd immediately turned to follow me as soon as my feet left the ground. They're well adapted to micro-gravity environments, and their feet have microscopic spikes that allow them to hold on to the ground and run as if it was full gravity. I can only hope to jump fast enough to avoid them, I won't be able to stay ahead forever.

I manage two more jumps before the Kab have closed in enough that it's too dangerous to try to land. I sling my mining laser, unhook my half-empty oxygen canister, and open the valve. The boost in speed is nothing spectacular, but I still have trouble holding on to it in micro-gravity. Life-sustaining oxygen in exchange for keeping my life from ending at the jaws of a Kab.

The light is getting brighter, revealing the skittering horde chasing me in all its glory. Looking behind me, I can see the edge of the crevice now, and whatever is providing that light is so bright I can't make out anything. The ground is swarming with Kab in every direction now, on both walls of the crevice.

I lose my grip on one side of the canister, veering off towards one of the walls swarming with Kab. I have no time to curse or scream or pray. I frantically spin so that my feet are pointing toward the ground. I land hard, having built up significant speed from my improvised oxygen rocket. I lose my grip on the oxygen canister, and it goes soaring off into space.

I grit my teeth as a sharp pain shoots up my leg, and I feel something snap. I push off again with no care for anything but avoiding the snapping mandibles. The kab are mere feet behind me, and many leap into the void in pursuit. They float impotently just out of reach of me, incessantly snapping their mandibles at me in hunger. One's aim is much more accurate. I spin, desperately trying to avoid the giant bug, but it decides to take a consolation prize anyway.

"AHHH!" I can't hold back the scream of agony as my left leg is cut clean off in a single swipe right above the knee.

More Kab leap into the void, sensing my injury, while others squabble over my leg. The blood from my leg freezes quickly, making an impromptu seal over the suit breach. My suit beeps continuously, alerting me to the massive breach it has detected, void save me from braindead computers.

My eyes water with pain and the freezing cold of the vacuum of space only adds to my agony. My breath comes in short gasps as I struggle with my harness, before finally managing to pull it off. Bringing it around, I point my last canister of oxygen at the pursuing Kab. Opening the valve, I send the whole thing off toward them. There's no time to take it off the harness.

I grab my mining laser as the harness reaches them, a mere dozen feet or so from me. Aiming for the exhaust of the canister, I pull the trigger. The oxygen ignites, and the reaction travels back up into the canister. The canister's valve is too small to expel the expanding gas inside it fast enough. The entire thing explodes with a flash of light as the burning oxygen expands, sending shards of metal in all directions. I curl into a ball to try and protect myself as best I can. The shockwave pushes the Kab away, and me further toward my goal.

I've reached the edge of the crevice, and find myself floating in a large cavity inside the rock itself. The light source is merely a beacon placed here, likely by the same miners who I scavenged the pad from in the first place. It is a dead end, and there is no ship to be seen.

A hysterical laugh bubbles past my lips. All this was nothing but bait for a trap long since abandoned. There was never a ship, just a conniving pirate ploy to bait in the stupid, greedy, or desperate. I spitefully level my mining laser at the beacon and hold down the trigger until it is nothing but a pile of slag. The light disappears, and I turn off my helmet lamp, leaving me in total darkness save for the blue glow of my HUD.

Another alarm adds to the symphony of noise in my helmet. My oxygen is depleted. Even though I just filled it a little while ago, the universe has conspired to hasten my death more, as if it can't be rid of me fast enough. The shrapnel from the canister explosion probably punctured it.

My eyes grow heavy, and even the pain of my missing leg is becoming distant and unimportant. The shrill blare of my suit alarms fades, and I submerge into a void of sensation. I can feel my thoughts slowing, fading away. There was something important that I was doing. Ah, that's right, I was going to be free.

I feel a warm light on my eyelids, my oxygen-starved brain manages to send one final order, and my eyes open a crack to see a beam of light illuminating me in the darkness. I feel my body being pulled up towards the light, my limbs trailing limply behind me, then darkness.