Gan sealed the clasps on his pressure suit and checked the oxygen levels and seals one last time. He had been scavenging for precious minerals on a small, airless asteroid for a little over a week, and he had found success. He had discovered a rich deposit of rare and invaluable minerals, and he had been working quickly and carefully to extract as much of it as possible. He had successfully avoided Marau patrol ships. He had also had to dodge the occasional piece of space debris or meteoroid, but his quick reflexes had saved him.

Gan turned the wheel of the airlock to open the door and stepped out into the abyss. He clipped his safety line to the ship and gazed around at the infinite stars sparkling in the depths of space and at the rocky surface of the distant asteroid. His heart pounded with admiration for this heavenly blanket of stars and dreams of a universe full of secrets. He was unafraid; he had accepted that he might never make it back home, but he was determined to complete his mission.

Gan used his suit’s thrusters to propel himself along the safety line that tethered him to his spacecraft. As he drew nearer to the asteroid, he kept his eyes peeled for the faint beam of light that marked the spot where he had found the minerals and had set up his drilling rig. He also felt the reassuring tug of the communication line that connected him to his ship. He knew he had to be careful not to break it. If he did, he would be lost in the infinite void of space. Gan checked his communications systems, reaching out for a signal from his home world or his mentor Elo, but all remained silent. He felt a sudden pang of guilt, as he hadn’t responded to any of Elo’s calls in a while. He knew that his Paktu could be overprotective at times.

Gan’s drilling rig stood as a testament to his ingenuity and resourcefulness. It was a compact modular contraption assembled from a collection of spare parts and reclaimed materials, each component carefully selected and repurposed for its new role in the machine. The rig’s modest size belied its remarkable power and versatility—attributes that were central to its success in extracting valuable resources from diverse celestial bodies.

The heart of the drilling rig was the fusion reactor, a cutting-edge piece of technology that provided an efficient and endless supply of energy. It was the perfect power source for Gan’s portable drilling operations.

It was a compact version of the stellar furnaces that powered the stars themselves. The underlying principle of fusion energy is that lighter atomic nuclei are combined to create heavier ones, releasing massive amounts of energy.

The device was no bigger than a large suitcase, its surface a sleek blend of advanced materials designed to withstand the immense temperatures and pressures within. Inside was a smaller containment unit where the fusion process occurred. A magnetic confinement system, using powerful electromagnetic fields to control the plasma, kept it away from the physical walls of the reactor.

As the fusion reactor started, deuterium and tritium—both isotopes of hydrogen—were introduced into the plasma state within the containment. Under the immense heat and pressure, rivaling those found in the heart of a star, these isotopes combined to form helium. This fusion process released neutrons along with a tremendous amount of energy.

The energy released—in the form of heat—was harnessed by a thermoelectric generator that converted heat into electricity. His portable fusion reactor represented the pinnacle of advanced energy production, combining compactness and efficiency with immense power output.

Attached to the reactor was the rig’s core component: the drilling assembly. This mechanism featured a robust frame and a powerful motor that drove the rotating drill bit with unrelenting force. The drill bit was fashioned from high-grade steel and tipped with industrial-grade diamonds, ensuring unparalleled strength and durability. This combination of materials allowed the bit to maintain its razor-sharp edge even after penetrating the toughest rock or metal surfaces.

The rig’s modular design made it customizable, allowing Gan to swiftly adapt the machine to suit the unique requirements of each drilling site. The rig could be outfitted with an array of specialized attachments and accessories, such as extendable arms, hydraulic stabilizers, and advanced sensor systems. These enhancements not only improved the rig’s performance and efficiency but also allowed Gan to extract samples with minimal environmental impact.

The drilling rig had a sophisticated control panel that provided Gan with real-time feedback on the rig’s performance and status. It displayed vital information such as drilling depth, bit rotation speed, and torque, granting Gan expert management of the drilling process and the ability to make adjustments as needed. This advanced interface ensured the rig operated safely and efficiently while maximizing resource extraction.

Gan’s drilling rig was more than just a machine; it was a reflection of his resilience, creativity, and determination in the face of adversity. Its humble origins and ingenious design served as a constant reminder of the lengths to which Gan would go to fulfill his mission and protect the resources he sought. His Paktu, and probably the Council as well, would not have approved of his initiative and industriousness in building it, but they would be forced to admit its effectiveness. It had allowed him to triple what any of the other Scavenger crews had sent back so far.

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Gan had used it to bore into the asteroid, searching for the minerals that he had detected, and he had struck gold, or rather, platinum, iridium, and a host of other rare and valuable elements. Gan had been ecstatic when he had found the minerals, and he had immediately set to work extracting as much as he could. He worked day and night, barely stopping to eat or sleep, and he had finally managed to fill his storage tanks and bags with the precious material. He had been exhausted, but he had also been exhilarated, and he had felt a sense of accomplishment and pride that he had never experienced before.

Gan reached the drilling rig and attached his harvester to the output pipe. He activated the harvester, and it sucked up the material that was being extracted by the drill. He watched as the tanks and bags filled up with the shimmering, metallic sludge, and he smiled to himself.

Others that had completed the training with him had been given larger ships with crews, a fact that puzzled Gan. If it hadn’t been for Elo, he might not have even gotten a ship at all, but he had, and here he was besting them all. Gan owed a lot to his Paktu. He couldn’t wait to see the looks on his peers’ faces when he returned to his home world.

Gan detached himself from the immense construct of the drilling rig, his eyes glistening with resolve and scrutinizing the measurement gauge affixed to the intricate machine. His lips curled into a contemplative frown as he noted the remaining twelve-hour window before the next batch of precious ore was ready for extraction. The work rhythm was unyielding, as relentless as the vacuum of space they traversed.

His attention was drawn to the mechanical arm of the Valtorian, a sophisticated piece of machinery that he knew Elo would insist he utilize. Designed for efficiency and safety, the mechanical arm was perfectly adept at transferring the bulging sacks of freshly mined ore from the meteorite to the ship. Yet, for Gan, there was a gaping void in this process—the lack of personal touch.

Using the mechanical arm was a sterile process, devoid of the tactile connection he yearned for in his solitary existence. It was an orchestrated sequence of automated movements, a dance lacking the soulful nuances of personal interaction. For Gan, there was no art, no tangible essence of his labor in its operation.

Pelve had been programmed with an uncompromising commitment to safety protocols. His digital entity was bound by the unyielding laws of his programming, which forbade allowing Gan to override the mechanical arm’s operations. Gan had attempted numerous times, pushing his persuasive skills to their limits, to convince Pelve to bypass the safety protocols. Yet, the AI stood firm, his dedication to Gan’s safety unwavering.

Gan’s preference, however, lay in manual labor. Transferring the ore, though labor-intensive, resonated with a sense of raw authenticity that the mechanical arm lacked. His hands, hardened by countless hours of toil, felt more connected to his work when they directly manipulated the fruits of his labor. The feel of the coarse sacks, the weight of the precious ore, these were experiences the mechanical arm couldn’t replicate.

He reached back in his suit and pulled two extra-large ore bags from its harness. He carefully attached them to his safety line and secured them in place before he tested it, tugging on the line, then clipping it onto his suit. With a light touch on the thrusters, he started moving forward, bringing himself and the ore back to his ship.

Gan clipped the large bags together and then on to his suit so that they floated several feet away from him. He could have just used his suits thrusters again, but Gan had other ideas. Gan pulled his safety line taut and then slowly began pulling both himself and the attached bags towards his ship in the distance.

It took a while, but all Gan had was time and the added benefit of working out some of his muscles. Gan often thought that some of his fellow Ellurians could benefit from what he was doing instead of relying on their electro-mechanical advantages so much.

Gan got close to the ship and had it drop the Force Field surrounding the hangar by initiating a voice command from his suit.

“Hangar Force Field Off.”

“You got it, boss,” Pelve replied in his deep mellifluous voice.

There was no discernible difference, but he wouldn’t have been able to get within ten yards of the ship or enter it via the hangar otherwise. Before he progressed inward, he needed to issue one other edict.

“Hangar Gravity Off.”

“Wuss!” Pelve taunted him before he turned off the Hangar’s artificial gravity generator.

Bringing material about in zero gravity was just so much easier than when the ship’s artificial gravity was on. This was one decision he knew that even Elo would approve of.

Gan traversed the remaining distance and found himself floating with the material in his ship’s hangar. He removed the attached bags and secured them in the hangar before he headed back to the asteroid.

Gan made multiple trips to the asteroid, hauling the harvested materials from its depths back to his ship. With each excursion, the task grew easier, as more of the asteroid’s valuable materials were mined. When he had collected the last of the resources, he entered the security codes into the fusion reactor’s control panel and triggered the shutdown sequence. Gan then began dismantling the Harvester and drilling equipment, packing it into containers for transport back to Valtorian. The dismantle process was simple, but the output pipe had become fused to the Harvester, requiring extra force to get it free.

Suddenly an emergency warning buzz sounded in his helmet and was accompanied by a low haptic buzzing across his suit.

“Emergency: Incoming micrometeorite shower in twenty-five minutes. Take shelter now!” Pelve said over the comm.

Gan scrambled to raise the force fields before the micrometeorites reached them, but it wouldn’t be enough to protect the fragile asteroid. Desperate, he tried to activate the protective force field around the portable fusion reactor that he had just shut down, only to discover it would take twenty-three minutes before it was operational again. He would be dead long before then if he couldn’t find another solution.

It was times like this that made space harvesting dangerous—and if he had to admit it, fun.