The Design of a Dream

THE FIRST PROOF

INT. ORBITAL MANUFACTURING FACILITY – TEST BAY

Randy’s prototype miner sits in the center of the enormous prototyping bay, work lights reflecting off its new, gleaming hull. The twin thrusters shimmer faintly in the sterile glow of the overhead lamps.

Engineers and executives gather around it, clipboards in hand, murmuring about weight, cost, and efficiency.

LEAD ENGINEER

(pointing at the forearm manipulator)

This is unnecessary. You don’t need four degrees of articulation for a simple grab. Two will do. Half the cost. Half the weight.

RANDY

(flat, calm)

Ever tried picking up a thirty-meter lump of ice with only two degrees of articulation while it’s tumbling at a quarter rotation per second?

Didn’t think so.

EXECUTIVE

(skeptical)

Mr. Holt, the market doesn’t pay for extra redundancy. Customers want cheap, reliable, mass-producible miners.

RANDY

(turning to face them, steady)

Cheap won’t save anyone’s life when they get pinned under a drifting asteroid.

Reliable doesn’t mean nothing breaks.

I want them to survive the breaks.

He steps forward, running a finger along the reinforced thruster mount.

RANDY

This hybrid thruster? Big muscle for hauling. Hydrogen-oxygen for fine control during long burns and docking.

One fails — the other keeps you alive.

That’s the difference between walking away and getting vacuum-surfaced into a belt of spinning rock.

Uneasy glances ripple through the engineers.

LEAD ENGINEER

That’s over-engineering. We can cut ten percent of the weight here. Reduce the arms to two degrees of articulation—

RANDY

(interrupting)

You can.

But in a real mission that “weight saving” will be the piece that snaps and kills a miner.

I don’t want someone cursing my design because they didn’t understand why I built it heavy.

He opens the living-quarters hatch, revealing the cramped but functional interior.

RANDY

Room to live for weeks. Space to repair, eat, sleep.

Your calculations don’t care about that.

A miner does.

Silence.

Executives scribble notes. Engineers fidget.

Randy steps back, arms folded.

RANDY

I want this miner to go where no one else dares —

and come back.

Everything else is decoration.

A long pause.

LEAD ENGINEER

(sighing)

Fine. But we’ll need compromises for assembly-line production.

RANDY

(nods once)

We’ll compromise where it doesn’t matter.

The rest? That’s my line.

The miner hums softly, a living machine waiting for the Belt.

INT. ORBITAL MANUFACTURING FACILITY – TEST BAY

Randy floats beside the first production model, scanner crawling across the hybrid thruster assembly. He frowns.

RANDY

Not again…

LEAD ENGINEER

What now, Holt?

RANDY

Microfracture in the primary motor mount.

At full load it fails in under twenty cycles.

You sell this and someone dies.

EXECUTIVE

(irritated)

That’s within tolerance. Fixing it delays the line months and adds ten percent to costs.

RANDY

Then we delay it.

We don’t sell death machines and call it innovation.

A heavy silence.

LEAD ENGINEER

We need a compromise.

RANDY

Reinforce only the high-stress sections.

Hybrid motor stays. Arms stay. Quarters untouched.

Everything else keeps your tolerances.

The executive exhales, defeated.

EXECUTIVE

Approved.

If it costs us revenue, it’s on you.

RANDY

I’ll take responsibility for lives.

Production continues.

But something important has shifted.

INT. BELT – ORBITAL MINING FIELD

Holts Miner #001 hums through the shadowed Belt. Twin thrusters glow. The hybrid engine roars.

Randy wrestles the craft toward a massive, jagged shard of rare-earth metal hidden in ice and debris. Riding beside him is Mira Talon, a line-production engineer watching history happen.

MIRA

(under her breath)

Come on… you can do it.

The manipulator arms lock around the rock.

Secondary thrusters fire.

The miner shudders — but holds.

SYSTEM

Stability holding at ninety-seven percent. Cargo secured.

A micro-asteroid slams the haul sideways.

MIRA

No—!

Thrusters flare. Arms strain.

For one terrifying second it’s almost lost.

Then the miner corrects.

Perfectly.

SYSTEM

Critical load corrected. Stabilization complete.

Randy exhales.

Mira stares at the controls in awe.

MIRA

Nobody else gets it done like you do.

The haul drifts toward Glory.

The cargo is worth millions.

When they dock, the station falls silent — then erupts.

Rumors spread like fire:

“That’s the Holts Miner.”

Randy leans back in his seat, watching the thrusters cool.

Worth every credit.

Worth every fight.