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Nucleus - Falling Sky

[v1.0 Scenario - Not a mod]

“Welcome to Nielsborough!” Enthused the estate agent convincingly. In doing so he raised one arm, as if unveiling the colossal dust cloud for the first time: They had in fact been approaching for weeks.
“It might not look like much now, but with the help of this beauty, your very own asteroid will coalesce in no time!” In a repeat gesture, accompanied by a starboard manoeuvre, he revealed the unremarkable metallic sphere his body had been obscuring. The buyers had done their research, so the head-sized object required no explanation. Unaware, the agent began an avoidable spiel.
“This is an asteroid core. Inside the protective alloy shell is the densest, most massive element known to man — Stabalt! In a premium dust cloud like this, a single core has more than enough gravitational pull to form a healthy asteroid for you to call home.”

Richard dimmed his helmet light and set his comms to private. “Premium? Don’t you think it looks denser behind him, hun?”
Eileen was eager to correct her husband, but too polite to break away from the ongoing pitch. She tried to ignore him, so not to appear distracted. Faced with silence, he rejoined the public channel, only to interrupt directly.
“Sorry, Dan?”
“Almost!” The agent upheld his chirpy façade, despite the disruption. The rehearsal hadn’t prepared him for this. “It’s Dom.”
“Yeah, Dom. Just an observation, but I think this spot looks a little sparse? So how about this: We push the core further in and don’t tell anyone, so — you know — you don’t get into trouble or anything like that?”
Eileen switched to private, now more abashed than eager. “We’re in a dust cloud, Richard. It’s like fog. The further away you look, the more particles you see, the denser it appears. And in case you haven’t noticed, we’re in space… everything is really far away.”
Dom replied simultaneously, sending two voices into Richard’s earpiece. He ignored his wife out of habit; an unintentional response to criticism.
“Sir, believe me when I say: We couldn’t move it if we tried.” Dom outstretched his arm, disturbing a veneer of dust, and engaged his suit’s thrusters. The core remained still. “It took a commercial freighter to move them here.”

And so it was, the newlyweds returned to cryptosleep, alongside thousands of other pioneers, to await the formation of their new home. Meanwhile, Dom lived and died, fathering no children. His only legacy on the asteroid home of a couple he had met centuries ago — an enormous handprint, they had turned into a pool.

“I made scoffee.” Eileen whispered from the landing. “Yours is on the bench.”
“Thanks hun.” Richard glanced over his shoulder with a smile. “Just tucking in the girls.”
“Tell us another story.” Pressed the eldest. Her sister had already rolled over.
“One’s enough sweetie. It’s late.”
“But Dad. You always tell us about the swimming pool.”
He peeked at his youngest, confirming she was in fact asleep. “Ok, but just a quick one. And don’t tell your sister. Or Mum.” She nodded vigorously in response.
“Once upon a time, when the town was still new, me and Mum had a pet dog called Laika.”
“Before I was born?” Molly interrupted.
“Yes dear. Before you were born.” He leaned in close and lowered the volume. “Back then, people were used to living planetside, so mistakes were common. Late one night we had guests, and as they were leaving, Laika followed them into the airlock.” Her eyes widened, and Richard pre-emptively pressed a finger to his lips to shush her. “They didn’t notice her, or perhaps they just forgot, but when the outer door opened, she was sucked onto the yard without a spacesuit.”
Molly gasped once at the story, and a second time as the bedroom door swung open. “Richard! You’d better not be telling our daughters about Laika? They’re far too young.”

Eileen wasn’t wrong, but the difficulties of interplanetary life were ever-present, and taught from a young age. They ranged from tragedy to minor inconveniences, the latter going unnoticed by younger generations. The pool, for instance, had only been filled once; the water rapidly evaporating into the neighbourhood. Since then, the family jokingly ‘swam’ in the empty cavity using their suit thrusters. It even had a diving board.

Not all problems were met facetiously though, and there were many: From birth, residents of Nielsborough were subjected to mandatory exercise routines to combat muscle atrophy. Microgravity impaired the gravitaxis of plants too, lowering harvest yield, and leaving the community reliant on expensive imports. Unpredictable solar flares caused violent dust storms, and occasionally a stray micrometeoroid slipped through the Buffer. The list goes on, and cumulatively they contributed to the eventual abandonment of the town, several generations after the passing of Richard & Eileen in a freak airlock accident.

---

“Wake up Mr Rutherford. We need your assistance.”
“Isabel? Where am I?”
“No, no. I’m the new CEO, Emilia. Mia, for short.” Mr Rutherford was last awakened a century ago, to decide whether his company’s surplus Stabalt should be sold to ammunition manufacturers. Few of his employees had actually seen him in person. “We’re in Nielsborough. The town has been deserted.”
“Well, what do you want me to do about it? Move in?”
“No sir. Management are in dispute: They can’t decide whether to reclaim the Stabalt or not?”
“Isn’t it your job, as Chief Executive Officer, to settle such disputes?” Sensing her falter, he decided to answer his own question, but not before letting out a condescending sigh. “Yes it is, and no, of course not. There’s barely enough here to crack a bloody egg. This town was an investment, and as an afterthought, a human trial. It wasn’t built to last. Now put me back to sleep — chop chop.”
“Noted.” She spoke gingerly. “But wouldn’t you like to meet the team first? I’ve arranged a banquet for this afternoon.” Rubbing shoulders with the founder was a rare and curious honour. Mia and her reporting officers had dressed to the nines for the occasion.
“Certainly not. It doesn’t sound like they have a brain cell between them. That, or you roused me for a hand shake. So if you don’t mind...” He laid back into the cryptosleep casket, pulling the lid down with him. This wasn’t the first time he’d been needlessly woken.

On that day, Mia was the only living person to have met Mr Rutherford; that she knew of, at least. As such, she couldn’t have known he was accustomed to demeaning his staff. When you flicker through time, nobody you wrong lives long enough to hold a grudge. Her, Dom and myriad others, reverted to uncaring dust by the centuries. The lack of consequence, and unfamiliar aeons, made it increasingly appealing for him to skip the niceties in favour of slumber. Connecting with the oddly dressed inhabitants of the HQ ship didn’t seem worth the effort.

Admittedly, opportunities were few and far between, but had he only attended the banquet that afternoon, he might have stumbled across some common ground: He and Mia shared the motto ‘actions speak louder than words’. A perk of his longevity was the capacity to see long term changes, of which few were made by words. For Mia, actions were what raised her to the very top of the company. Had he known she was a doer, and not a talker, he’d at least have made the effort to be pleasant. Not out of respect, but out of apprehension. For the next time he would wake, he’d still find himself in Nielsborough — a millennium later. In an act of retribution, the long dead CEO had jettisoned his cryptosleep casket from the ship. Like the town, he was forsaken.