All That Glitters

All That Glitters - Prologue:

Mining in space can be hazardous to your health.

© bigtddybr February 2020. The story 'All That Glitters' cannot be transferred in whole or in part to any other site. Edited Jan 2026.

Due to this story's numerous abbreviations, ships, and characters, I have included a glossary in an appendix titled'All That Glitters: Notes'. It contains all the essential information about the series and will be frequently updated.

There is little attempt to explain the backstory, so it is necessary to read previous chapters to fully understand where we are.

I claim sole responsibility for the storyline. This story is a fantasy, with no basis in reality. Any similarity you may perceive to current events, people, or situations, real or imaginary, is completely unintended. Look no further than the storyline for its intent and purpose.

A big shout-out to my editors, who wish to remain anonymous, for all the help they provide. If you find any errors still left in this chapter, they are mine, as I have ignored sage advice to make a silly point.

Please rate and comment, but keep your comments respectful. If you rant and rave or are disrespectful in your commentary, it will be deleted.

'Nuff said... Enjoy.

Mining Cage Five, Liramor-23 Mining Platform, 109 Piscium Star System, 106 Light Years from Terra

Sean Murphy was a big man. A native of planet Éire Nua (New Ireland), he was tall, broad, and heavily muscled. Now, he was paying the price for his size.

He had been on the Liramor-23 Mining Platform for just over two years and had regretted his choice of the Liramor Mining Company (LMC) more often than not. LMC was miserly, doing everything on the cheap. While they provided the necessities, any luxuries were paid for by the employee. Everything had to be imported; nothing was made on site. That meant you paid handsomely for those few luxury items that were available, which the company imported, at a hefty price.

Sean didn't fault the company for this. Companies of any kind were all about profit, and things that got in the way of profit were frowned upon. As such, equipment, especially suits, were generic sizes, meaning that nothing fit Sean's 210cm height properly. So, if you wanted, or in Sean's case needed equipment alterations, you had to pay for it out of your own pocket.

He'd been on the platform for twenty-six months now and it had taken him till just two months prior before he could actually afford any equipment upgrades due to the shipping costs. Which meant that he often wore very tight-fitting mining suits for Extra Vehicular Activity (EVA) work on the rocks.

Mining in space was difficult and dangerous, made more so if your equipment was ill sized for you. The price of suit parts was such that Sean had to make choices when he recently ordered his new upgrades. He had chosen custom made arms that would fit his oversized body. That meant he was still crammed into an ill-fitting upper body and even tighter lower limb assembly. He could, however, now use his arm and glove assembly with much finer dexterity than ever before, which pleased him immensely.

Sean's job was to monitor, direct, and repair the various mining bots in the work cages that hovered around the rocks being picked apart for their mineral wealth. He often had to fine-tune bots by delicately adjusting the settings. Thus, the extra dexterity was a godsend.

However, his ill-fitting suit had led to his current problem...

Suit time was strictly limited on Liramor-23. Overtime was heavily discouraged by the company. Which meant that a ten-hour shift included one hour of in brief and suit-up time, eight hours of EVA time, and one hour to de-suit, debrief and brief in the next shift. But therein lay Sean's problem. To wit, there was no next shift.

Despite the best efforts of the various mining companies to prevent it, diseases still slipped onto mining platforms. The Flu had come to Liramor-23, in a big way. In this particular case, it was a variant of the disease that the infirmary did not have inoculations for. The disease had rampaged through the platform before the hospital could replicate the necessary vaccine.

Due to medical improvements over the centuries, people no longer died of the Flu. But it still caused general sickness that needed caring for. Over half of the platform's workers were medically excused from EVA work for their own protection. Many were isolated to private quarters or the infirmary, depending on the severity of their individual cases, in order to control the further spread of the disease.

But with no one to take over from him, Sean's EVA time was being racked up on this shift, so much so that he was currently fourteen hours outside on this EVA. With the exception of emergency situations, the maximum allowable external suit time was restricted to twelve hours. Part of this was safety concerns, but the other part was LMC practices. They simply didn't want to pay double overtime, which kicked in at fourteen hours. At least he would be getting time-and-a-half for his last three hours and double time from fourteen hours onward. Worse, as far as LMC was concerned, was that double time-and-a-half kicked in at sixteen hrs.

Still, he had not been able to feel his feet for the last two hours now. It was time to get them to call this shift.

"Ops Five, this is Charlie One-Two-One, Over."

"Ops Five: Go."

"One-Two-One: Is there a replacement for this shift being readied?" Sean asked. "I haven't been able to feel my feet for some two hours now. Over." He hoped that fact would light a fire under them.

"Ops Five: There is no one available to take over the next shift. We want you to park the bots for maintenance for the next two shifts. Over."

Damn,thought Sean,that meant he would be at least another two hours getting all the bots parked!

"One-Two-One: Alright, but I want triple time-and-a-half on this one. Over."Let them stew on that!He thought.

"Ops Five: Agreed. Get the bots parked then head in. A recovery team will be there to help you. Ops, out."

Sean worked as fast as he could to get the bots parked. Usually, there was one attendant for every four bots, but Sean was out alone with all twelve mining bots assigned to cage five, a second breach of safety protocols. The first, and more serious breach of protocol, was that miners should not be out alone.

He cursed and swore at the company name as he worked for over two and a half hours to corral and park the widely spread-out bots, making his EVA sixteen and a half hours in duration. Finally completed, he hooked up to a 'Bus' and headed for the recovery landing.

The miner's shuttle system, often referred to as the 'Bus', was an automated shuttle system that crept along the cages allowing miners to hook up and be brought to and from the cages and the platform. They normally followed a programmed circuit route or could be directed to one cage, as was done for Sean. The Bus took twenty minutes to bring him back to the platform.

"Ops Five, Charlie One-Two-One: Heading in. Open the barn door, over." Sean sent as he approached the recovery landing.

"Ops Five: Door is open, don't let the critters escape, out." Sean smiled at the old joke; an admonition to hurry inside. The critters, if there were any, would not survive long escaping into space.

As he approached the platform, he detached himself from the Bus, aiming at the recovery landing. Short puffs of his suit drive sent him to the landing just as the hatch cycled open. He braked hard and slipped inside, starting the procedures for activating climate controls. He heard the clicking and groaning from his suit as the warm air cycled into the airlock with a high-pitched whistle and began to impact on the cold exterior of his suit. He felt the gravity plates activating, and he was slowly pressed into the deck.

He realized he would need the recovery team as gravity forced him down and he was increasingly unable to remain upright. He was beginning to get worried. This had never happened to him before, but then, he had never been out this long either.

That was when the pain hit him. The upper part of his legs sent shockwaves into his body as gravity took him into the deck, his legs unable to support him.

People will tell you that you cannot hear screams in space, but Sean's screams were heard four bulkheads away...

Conference Room One, Central Control, Delta Deck, Liramor-23, The Piscium System

Fiona Marsh, Director of Operations for Liramor-23, stormed through the conference room door an hour after the initial incident was recorded. She was furious at the reports she had received on the incident.

"What the hell happened?" she snapped, looking to her HR (Human Resources) specialist Diane Ancien.

A tall, forty-three-year-old red head, Diane's body showed the years of experience she and her family had in space. People who lived in space tended toward long and lean bodies, and Diane was no exception. She was the Senior Administrative Executive for the platform. She originated on planet Nouvelle France, and spoke standard with the soft lilt that French speakers had.

"Miner named Sean Murphy was in EVA for more than the recommended time," Diane began. "He's a big man and doesn't really fit well in any of the standard mining suits, even the large sized ones.

"He bought some customized upgrades recently, but they were for his arms. He was fitted into a suit that could barely accommodate his size. He had done this many times before but had never been in EVA this long. Company policy usually does not allow for more than a twelve-hour max outside. However, with the current problems with the Flu epidemic, we had no follow-on for his shift, so Ops Five asked him to stay out. He agreed. But after fourteen hours he requested a return to the platform as he 'Hadn't felt his feet for the last two hours'.

"With no follow-up shift, Ops Five ordered him to park the bots for maintenance, to which he complied though he demanded triple time-and-a-half. That put him at sixteen-and-a-half hours in EVA, four-and-a-half hours past the time he indicated the previous loss of sensation in his legs, plus drag time on the Bus from Cage Five to the platform." Diana reported.

Fiona looked over to the Chief Medical Officer.

Dr. Mark Ronda was the CMO of Liramor-23. At sixty, he was half-way through his expected working lifespan in space. Like Diane, he showed his family's space heritage but unlike her, his dark hair was prematurely turning grey, an effect of his chosen profession. Originating from the Sol system, the human home star, he had spent twenty years of his early career in the military and was a veteran of the recent Terran Unification Wars. As were many people on the platform.

"Miner Murphy collapsed on entering the airlock after gravity hit him," Dr. Ronda stated. "He had lost the use of his legs from poor blood circulation due primarily to the constriction of the suit on his legs.

"Preliminary assessment indicates he will lose the legs just above the knees as he has had no circulation from mid-thigh down for several hours. We'll know more in eight hours, but I wouldn't count on a better prognosis. The only thing we can hope for is saving more of the legs during amputation. This is a bad one, boss." The CMO finished.

"Where is Ops Five?" Fiona asked.

"Right behind you ma'am." David Markham announced as he stepped into the room.

David Markham was a Terran who had headed out into space to 'make his mark'. He soon discovered he was best suited as an Operations Supervisor. He was good at it. A medium height, handsome blond man, he was still young at only thirty. Despite his age, he was a good Ops manager. He only had ten years in space and was the first of his family to work in space, which showed in the more compact dimensions of his body.

"I took over at Ops Five at 20:00 hrs, fourteen hours into Miner Murphy's shift. As there was no follow-on for his shift, or the next two shifts because of the current medical emergency, I asked Murphy to park the bots for maintenance. I had no idea of the end results of that request. Sorry ma'am." David spoke contritely. "The report is complete, just waiting for input from the CMO before it is signed off."

"Thank you Mr. Markham. Your shift is complete?" Fiona asked.

"Once the report is handed in, yes ma'am. Cavanaugh took over at Ops Five once I was declared implicated in the incident."

"The CMO's addition will likely not be available until after tomorrow, so forward what you have for now and go off shift." Fiona ordered with a nod. "You will not be available for duty until this situation is resolved. Your pay will be suspended during the investigation, but from what I can see this was a comedy of errors that will impact many people, and platform policy. That means you will likely not be charged for mismanagement or docked pay. That could change though, dependant on the results of the investigation. You are not confined to your quarters; however, I admonish you to stay away from any Ops group for now."

David nodded and quickly left, glad that he hadn't been pulled into what would likely be a long and boring session of recrimination and finger pointing. He had anticipated that his pay would be held back but was glad for the Director's statement at the end. They would have to overrule her now to charge him alone.

As soon as the door closed behind Ops Five, Fiona turned on her Senior Managers. "Comments? Suggestions?"

"We could say he was liable for his own injuries." Richard Fent, SOps (Senior Operations Officer), suggested.

"Not possible," legal interjected immediately. "He's on record complaining of the lack of proper fitting suits. The only thing going for us is that those sizes are rare."

"NOT. GOING. TO. HAPPEN!" Fiona snapped, emphasizing each word. "Any Boy Scout legal practitioner would be able to blow holes in that, never mind what a capable interplanetary attorney could do. WE ARE NOT GOING TO FIGHT THIS ONE!

"It will be cheaper in the long run to accept culpability and give the best medical aid we can to Miner Murphy. We WILL roll over like good little puppies and do everything we can to help in this tragic situation. IS. THAT. ABSOLUTELY. CLEAR?"

Looking at each of the senior personnel in turn to ensure they got the message, she made sure to use her maximum force of will on all of them, enforcing that they would back her on this.

"In the long run, it will cost us less to do this than to take the chance of a lawsuit that could cost us millions."

She looked to the CMO. "Make sure that you prep the amputation areas for reseeding. He gets new, medically induced legs from this. This probably means he's off the platform once he recovers from the amputation?" she asked.

"It will take him eighteen months minimum to regrow his legs and complete his rehab. That can't be done here. He will have to go to one of the more advanced planets to get this kind of work." The CMO stated.

"That will take him past his three-year term with us." HR commented.

"He gets paid until he is found medically fit. I want him to think the best of us. I want that he will have a desire to re-up with us after his rehab. That means he gets a proper fitting suit if he re-ups. Clear?" She snapped once again looking around the room.

"Whatever he needs he gets. I don't want this coming back to bite us in the ass. His recently purchased arms go with him. He has paid for them in more ways than one.

"I want new protocols in place to prevent this in future. If we can't provide the equipment, we will make it available at cost for basic suit parts at Liramor Prime. Any specialized parts are at the miner's own expense. You said suits of that size were rare, which means we will likely not need to do that often?" She looked at HR who nodded in agreement.

"Right, CCO (Chief Communications Officer) - you will make up a platform-wide communication on this one, explaining the incident and the new protocol. Make sure that all miners understand that this does not mean they start looking for improvement on their equipment. It is for 'unusual' circumstances. We will make sure that anyone else coming here with unusual requirements get those BEFORE they arrive on platform. Cheaper that way and shows how 'caring' LMC is to the needs of its personnel. Clear?"

"I'll get right on it, ma'am. You'll have a draft in half an hour." CCO stated. The SLO (Senior Legal Officer) nodded in turn assuring Fiona of his support.

"CFO (Chief Financial Officer), you will make an injury compensation package available to Miner Murphy and explain his upcoming expenses before he leaves the platform. I don't want him trying to contact us if his rehab is not with a Liramor Prime medical facility. The only way he could do that would be through a lawyer, who would likely jump at the chance to 'help' him. You and HR make sure he is fully aware of all compensations he is entitled to before he leaves the platform. Make sure you have input from Legal before everything gets signed off."

"It will be a couple of days before he can leave the platform, so we can produce a good package for his 'medical needs'," the CFO stated, HR and SLO nodded in turn.

"When is the next supply shuttle due?" Fiona asked SOps.

"Not until the end of the month, three weeks from now. Murphy will be on platform until at least then." He replied.

"Anything else that needs to come to my attention?" Fiona asked her senior personnel. When no one brought anything up, she dismissed the group. This one would be simple as far as medical emergencies went. She didn't have to communicate a death to a family.

Thank the Gods for small miracles.She thought.

She would allow Ops Five to be suspended for a couple of days without pay, but with the new protocols in place, he would not be found culpable and would not lose any pay over this incident. It showed due diligence without inflicting unnecessary grief on one of her better employees. Most people banked the majority of their pay as there were few places to buy things on the platform. So, in the long run, he wouldn't notice the temporary suspension.

Time to get back to work. She thought, heading for her office.

Infirmary, Hotel Deck, Liramor-23, The Piscium System

Sean Murphy slowly came up from the depths of a fog-induced dream. Momentarily bright lights were quickly dimmed, and a hand gently touched his shoulder. Garbled words impinged on his consciousness. He recognized his name.

"Sean? Sean? Can you hear me?" A soft voice asked.

Sean looked over to the shoulder that had the hand on it and slowly followed the arm upwards to a pretty face. The woman was in medical gear.

Shit. He thought.I'm in the Infirmary.

He tried to answer the question, but his mouth was very dry. A straw poked his mouth, and he trapped it with his lips and sucked gently, filling his mouth with sweet tasting water.

"What happened?" he asked but remembered half-heard comments. Something about his legs. "My legs?"

"You didn't have circulation in your lower limbs for at least four hours that we could determine. Your legs died in your suit. I'm sorry, we had to amputate. Your time in space has come to an end. For now."

"Amputate?" he gurgled, panic beginning to set in.

"Don't worry. I'm Doctor Xavier Margo, one of the surgeons on the platform. The amputation was necessary to save your life. But we made sure to seed the area for medical regrowth. You will be sent to an inner planet for medical care and rehab. It will take fourteen to eighteen months. You will continue to be paid until you are declared fit.