I wasn't there when the Board decided to convert the Dutchman from shields to mining scoops, but I imagine the conversation went like this:

 

"What if something goes wrong?"

 

"Never mind! Have you seen these profit/loss figures?"

 

"I see what you mean. Carry on!"

 

Since crew comes in for a share, Pico was solidly on the side of profit. Jaz, our new navigator, was skeptical. She's the smartest person on board, so I pay attention when she objects. But it was Frenchy's reaction that made me really nervous. When he flat-out refused to board after the "upgrade", I asked the Captain point-blank if it was safe.

 

"Doesn't matter, Chief," he said, shrugging. "Someone's got to be the first to test the new system. Might as well be us."

 

* * *

 

We were twelve hours out of Luna Three when Frenchy finally woke. Once he realized he'd been Shanghaied, his mood was as foul as I've ever seen it. Nobody swears like a pissed-off Québécois sailor. But he stood his watches.

 

"Someone has to make sure the ship don't blow when she hits the rocks, hein?" he said. Who am I to argue?

 

* * *

 

By the time we made Mars orbit, it looked like Frenchy might be wrong. In addition to our cargo, we offloaded eighteen tons of mixed space dust and small rocks, mainly C-type. The bonus was half again our base pay. At that rate of return, the new scoop would be worth a mint.

 

Frenchy was still unhappy, though, and that's bad for morale. The crew notices when the chief engineer is too busy watching gauges to get a decent night's sleep. Since he respects Jaz, I figured I'd ask for her thoughts. It was midwatch, and we were alone in the mess.

 

"I'm still new, Chief. I don't want to rock the boat, but..." she began, biting her lip.

 

"I don't carry tales, Jaz. I just want to know if there's anything I can tell Frenchy."

 

"I don't know," she said. "Nobody does, not for sure.

 

"Surely grav-scoop technology is fully tested by now," I said. "They use it on every mining skiff in the Belt."

 

She nodded. "Yes, they do. But they also have people working the tethers whenever they run scoops. We've only got a single grav tether, and it's automatic, a precaution in case something big gets too close."

 

"Aren't the automatics reliable?"

 

"They've been tested, but never from a moving freighter, especially at our speed," she explained. "We're the first ones to try it. We're guinea pigs."

 

"I see why Frenchy's so worried."

 

"That's not all," she said, dark eyes locked on mine. "You know our first defense against asteroid strikes?"

 

I had no idea.

 

"Asteroids are rare and space is big. That's it. We rely on statistics. We've mapped every orbiting rock we can see. Magnetics pick up metallics, mass detectors the big silicon rocks, and we use telescopes for the rest. Trouble is, most of the debris between Earth and Mars is carbon: lightweight, not magnetic—"

 

"—and matte black. Ouch."

 

Jaz nodded wearily. "And instead of deflecting, we're scooping them in toward us. That's why I've been on the scopes sixteen hours a day this whole trip. Without a shield, our only defense against a big rock is if we happen to see it in time."

 

* * *

 

She barely got the chance. Eight minutes after we came out of jump, before we'd even fixed our new position, a ship-sized chunk of carbon came rattling down the scoop. When it hit the grav tether it shattered, firing shards every which way. Cargo Three was wrecked, we lost half our crew quarters, and even Engineering got holed. The outer hull looked like Swiss cheese and the inner wasn't much better. I was in Main Cargo when we struck, luckily wearing my pressure suit — Jaz's suggestion.

 

Once I'd sealed off Cargo Three and patched One and Two, I sent my surviving cargobots to help Frenchy and went up to report. Jaz was glued to the scanners and Pico was too, and twitchy as hell. The Skipper looked bored, which meant the shit we were in was deep indeed.

 

"Tether's blown beyond repair. Without that, we can't risk running the scoop, and that's our only shield. We're sailing blind, naked, and oh yes low on air. Lucky nobody got killed. Anything else you need, or can I get back to work?"

 

I could see I was in the way, so I went down to bring Frenchy and his gang some sandwiches and coffee. They were happy to see me, or at least the grub. Frenchy went so far as to smile.

 

"It happen, just as I say it will, no? And we’re all still here! She's a lucky ship, I tell you, a good ship! Ha!" With that he took an enormous bite of sandwich and chewed noisily, grinning at me all the while.

 

"Skipper's nervous about running without a magnetic shield," I confided. "Seems to think we'll hit something."

 

Frenchy laughed, spraying crumbs, and his two mates hid grins. "I tell you, Bob, but you keep it secret for now, hein?" He pointed at a little coil gizmo sticking out of the reactor. I looked but was none the wiser.

 

"Simple, my friend. I knew the Captain, he would never listen. So, before we left, I arrange off the books to find us a spare grav shield modulator, for backup. Small, but it works. C'est tiguidou!"

 

"Tiggy doo," I repeated obediently. "So when are you gonna tell him about it, Jacques? They're running triple shifts up there, watching for asteroids that you say can't even hit us."

 

Frenchy frowned judiciously. "Oh, I think... Maybe tomorrow morning is soon enough. A leetle time will help them remember, no?"

 

I chuckled, then excused myself and went to brew the bridge crew some coffee. They were gonna need it.

 

What, tell them? Absolutely not. Unlike some people I could name, I listen to the Chief Engineer.