The Mississippi Companyby Mark Kertzman |
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| Chapter 17 |
A tale of two individuals on opposite sides of a fraud stretching from India to the Asteroid Belt.
Gravity!
And a bar!
That was more like it!
After a miserable, nauseous day and a half traveling through space, Ravi’s feet were once again planted on terra firma. Or at least a reasonable facsimile thereof.
He was in awe of the simple ability to walk inside a station. The only reason he could was because New Kowloon was the largest station ever built, rotating so that all of its inhabitants were pressed against the outer wall.
Of course, that made for a vertiginous view, every time Ravi looked up. Through the incredibly tough polycarbonate sections above his head, Ravi could see the opposite side of the doughnut-shaped station, laid out upside down. The central core and access spokes blocked part of the view. It didn’t matter, however, since at least half of the remaining view was filled with the shining surface of the Moon. It was heavily cratered and looked like it would fall right on top of the station.
He was getting dizzy. Returning his eyes to the more level section he was standing in, he spied what he was looking for. With a little imagination, he could envision the vista as a kind of tiny valley. It climbed away in the far distance, following the contours of the torus. Much nearer, there was a series of dormitories, and a little shopping area.
Most of the passers-by going to and fro were Oriental, dressed in utilitarian work clothes or the occasional uniform. Miners, botanists, pilots, and engineers all mingled freely on the tiny commercial strip. Ravi threaded his way through the crowd, finally reaching the garishly-lit two-story structure he was looking for.
The bar was equally well-lit on the interior, done up in some day-glow retro style. While the effect was headache-inducing, Ravi had to admit that it felt more like home than any other place he’d been since leaving Earth. He knew that the Chinese and Japanese just loved this stuff, too. There were plenty of them in the bar to give credence to that theory.
A beer cost him five times as much as it would back home. It came in a little zero-g baggie, too, instead of a bottle. He didn’t mind. He was in his element. Going upstairs, he saw a little terrace or balcony outside at the back of the bar. The booths fronting on the dance floor were more interesting to him, so he installed himself in one.
As he nursed his beer, the place began to fill up. There were plenty of young ladies out tonight. While their clothing was more modest than he was used to seeing in a club, he wasn’t going to hold that against them. He didn’t mind their looks either, admitting to himself that many were quite pretty.
By his third beer, he had managed to attract two young ladies.
“I’m Mei,” one of them said.
“And I’m Lin,” said the other.
“I’m Ravi,” he replied, rising and kissing each of their hands in turn. His smile was at its most charming. “Won’t you join me?”
They slid into the booth, one on each side.
“Thanks,” Mei said.
“So, we haven’t seen you before,” Lin stated. “You a tourist?”
“You could say that,” Ravi replied.
“Wow!” Mei exclaimed, “we only get wealthy tourists up here, and most of them are well-seasoned, if you know what I mean.”
“But not you,” Lin cooed.
“Thanks,” Ravi replied, leaning back into the cushioned back of the booth. He was enjoying himself.
“So, what kind of work do you do back on Earth?” Mei asked, her eyes wide beneath glossy black bangs.
“I’m in investments, money management, that sort of thing,” he responded breezily.
“Well, that explains it,” Lin responded.
Both girls giggled. Ravi took a long pull from his beer. “How about yourselves? What brings you out here?” he asked.
“We’re hydroponics technicians,” Mei answered.
“Oh, really?” Ravi knew he would have to dig deep to keep up the charm. “And, what does that mean, exactly?”
“We take care of the plants in the hydroponics bays.”
“It’s very important,” Lin added. “We provide the food, the oxygen, you know.”
Ravi’s eyes glazed over slightly. “Well, yes, that’s very interesting.” He took another sip of beer, and decided to change the subject.
Ravi’s attention was suddenly attracted by a man standing in front of their booth. He was of medium height, shorter than Ravi, and dressed in a rumpled suit that looked as if it had been slept in. His face was regular if rugged, and his black hair was cut short and stuck straight up from his head, giving him a slightly humourous, startled look.
The man peered at Ravi’s face, a scowl forming on his own lips. For his part, Ravi regarded the man with an amusement bordering on contempt. “Are you Ravi Tankar?” the man finally asked. His voice was rough and tired.
“Who are you?” Ravi reposted easily.
“So you are Ravi Tankar,” the man declared.
Ravi didn’t answer immediately. That satisfied the man opposite him, however.
“So, what’s up with you?” Ravi finally asked flippantly.
The frown still on his face, the man answered. “My name is Jon Sharapov. I’m an investigator with the United Nations Aero Space Law Enforcement Division, and I need to talk to you...”
Copyright © 2011 by Mark Kertzman
