4 Isten 1117: Venad – Adar/Hinterworlds (0402 A221621-B Ni Po Na 324 Im M0V M6D)
Today was quiet. Well, mostly.
I found myself with nothing to do for the first time in the last few weeks. After taking care of some paperwork and other details, I decided to head into town.
I had barely left my hotel when I found myself in a crowd. A horde of people was heading towards the Starport and, with a curious shrug, I followed.
There was some sort of protest going on outside the main entrance. A large number of security guards were lined up inside the gate with more in a half-dozen air-rafts floating overhead. Another half-dozen air-rafts were circling the area, most showing the logos of various local news-net channels. Even more onlookers floated around, but they all stayed on the Startown side.
A podium was set up in front of the entrance, and someone that I vaguely recognized from the local news-net was ranting about how it was time for the Imperium to leave and let Venad return to Ral Rantan control. Much of the crowd was cheering loudly, but a not-insignificant portion of it was looking on in disagreement. But they also seemed to sense the group’s mood and didn’t say anything openly.
I was about to leave when I felt something tug at the edge of my vest. I spun and grabbed the wrist of the person behind me.
I saw it was a young boy, barely into his teens. My remote was in the hand I had grabbed, and I retrieved it with my other hand before releasing him. Without a word, he turned and raced off into the crowd.
I shrugged. It certainly wasn’t the first time someone had tried a lift on me, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Still, this crowd was probably attracting both professionals and amateurs, so I decided to make my exit.
I wound up only about a block down the street. I found a bar called Misjump and stepped inside.
My ears popped as I cleared the pressure door and, looking around, I smirked at the decor. It was made up to look like the interior of a starship, but one as imagined by Captain Spaceways or some other net drama. Which meant that it was way too open and way too clean. There weren’t many actual ship crews in here; this was for locals and tourists. But I decided that I might find more solitude here than I would in a more crew-friendly place, so I went up to the bar, found an empty stool, and ordered the local beer.
They had a human bartender here, which was a plus, though I knew his presence would be reflected in the price. Still, I took my beer, tossed him a few extra credits to make sure he remembered me, and then started pulling up info on my comp.
I looked more closely at the data on Fugitak, trying to decide which cargo would sell best there. They basically didn’t have anything. The planet was barely populated; about 100 sophots lived in a single, central “city,” with another 150 divided among about two dozen “claims” scattered across the surface. The main colony made its living by extracting chemicals from the exotic atmosphere, while the outlying outposts seemed to make theirs by harvesting mineral outcrops. The outcrops had reacted with their exotic atmosphere, creating wildly shaped and colored crystals. They carefully removed them to be sold as they were, as decorative pieces, or to be refashioned by artists and sculptors into other forms of art.
In return, they needed to buy anything and everything. Their fabricators would give them basic food, shelter, and life support, but anyone who has tried living on what comes out of a fabricator for too long will tell you how desperate you become for absolutely anything else after a while.
Foodstuffs would be obvious for trade, but Venad wasn’t the most farming-friendly planet either. Finally, I decided that entertainment items would be the best choice, followed by repair parts. There isn’t a lot to do when you spend most of your life in a hostile environment suit or in an underground habitat, and when you’re living under those conditions, you want to make sure the machinery around you keeps working. Your life literally depends on it.
I spent some time checking the local market boards, looking to see what I could find. I put in a few offers on some smaller lots — I didn’t want to commit to too much quite yet — and also registered our planned departure time and destination with the starport net. That would let freight shippers and anyone who actually wanted to travel to Fugitak — for some unknown reason — contact us.
That took a while, and I was several beers in by that point. When I looked around, I noticed that evening had fallen and that the crowd inside had picked up. Most of the tables and seats around the bar were filled, and several groups were standing just inside the entrance while waiting to find a table. I saw one group of three women there, one of whom had been looking at me but who looked away when she saw me looking back. I picked up my pack, which had been occupying the seat next to me, stood up, and gestured towards them. There was a brief look of surprise, a few laughs directed towards the woman who had been looking at me, then they came over.
I found out that the three were a group who had just graduated from some university over in the Old Expanses. I promptly forgot its name and the name of its planet. They were spending about six months Travelling before they had to go back to the “real galaxy” and start work.
They were all Medics. Well, two Medics and an Exobiologist. The Exo was the one who had been looking at me. She was embarrassed at first, but after a bit, she revealed that she had been sure I was an actual Traveller as opposed to just some random local in the bar, and her companions hadn’t believed her. The fact that I actually had my own ship was a bonus, and she wasted no time rubbing it in her friend’s faces.
We eventually retreated to a table. There was food, drink, conversation, and dancing. After a while, her friends had wandered off, and I found myself alone with Halley.
“So…” I said as the crowd was finally starting to clear out a bit. “Need me to call you an air-cab?”
She looked around with a slight frown. “Yeah… I guess. I don’t see Nicana or Orean around…”
“Or…” I paused. “There’s a pretty good bar at my hotel. We could have one more there?”
She slowly smiled. “Sure! Sounds good to me.”