Easy Money, Part 2
Loud and dark, the Green Comet catered to men and women who made their living floating silently through the icy void of space -- or at least wanted to spend a few hours pretending they did. With its very own set of gravitational dampeners counteracting most of the station's 0.8 G field, staff and patrons alike bounded around the four-story bar in a slender one-tenth of Earth Normal Gravity.
Opposite the entrance was a wall of stars, an enormous transparent MetaSteel™ slab that protected the Comet's patrons from any stray radiation while giving them a window into creation. After a drink or two, it was easy to feel like you were outside of the station yet somehow still able to breathe. The wall behind the bar was now showing the Core Worlds Floatball League playoffs, watched intently by men and women who cheered, groaned, and wagered over every aspect of the game in progress. Various advertisements scattered throughout the room glowed with colors and patterns designed to grab hold of your wandering eye and give it a good hard yank.
The stars, the flickering athletes, and the luminescent logos all revealed a floorplan that would have left M. C. Escher incapacitated with glee. Booths and benches were attached to the walls ten, twenty, thirty feet off the ground. Supported by well-hidden pillars of transparent plastic, platforms with a handful of tables appeared to float in mid-air at random places in the room, seemingly with no way to get to them ... until you noticed the waitstaff reaching them with effortless, well-practiced leaps, like a swarm of Supermen with serving trays.
Between the stars, the minimal gravity, the physics-mocking layout, and the strong drinks, the effect the place had on inexperienced visitors could be profound and, when viewed from a high-enough vantage point, deeply amusing. Which was why the highest tables at the Comet were also the most coveted.
Such as the table where Odrida found her Engineer's Mate, Isambard Kingdom Of Heaven. A hulking six-and-a-half foot manchild with a round face and trusting eyes beneath perfectly-combed dark hair, the Comet was one of the few places Izzy was difficult to spot. But she found him sitting with a pair of strangers.
"Hello, Captain," Izzy said, getting out of his chair as Odrida landed next to their table. That was the kind of thing Izzy did -- he always stood up whenever she entered the room or sat down at a table. She still wasn't used to it.
"Heya, Izzy."
"Captain Chan, I'd like to introduce my new friends, Mr. and Mrs. Merkin." Izzy gestured at the man and woman sitting next to him, who both cracked-up at the mention of "Mrs. Merkin." Izzy glanced at them, but the look on his face told Odrida he'd written it off as some sort of inside joke.
"Layne Merkin," the man said, offering his hand and staring intently at Odrida. He was no older than Izzy, only about twenty or so, but wearing shorts and a shirt that kept shifting between various colors, all of them painful. His distracted, glazed look and plastered-on smile suggested he'd been hitting some kind of euphoriant.
"Odrida Chan," Odrida said, accepting a weak, clammy handshake. "Captain of the Mayberry Mitch."
"No fucking way!" Layne laughed. "What are you, like, twelve or something?"
Odrida smiled and pretended not to hear, turning to the woman. "And you are ...?"
"Merideth Merkin," the girl said, giggling and swatting away Layne's hand as it groped for one of her nearly-bare breasts. She looked a bit more with-it than the man Odrida was certain was not and never would be her husband, but that wasn't saying a lot. A voluptuous young pink-haired woman, she had a gorgeous body, displayed courtesy of a halter-top and miniskirt that were probably a shade under the minimum amount of clothing required by law. "So are you the one taking me and Layney to Earth?" she asked, offering her hand but getting distracted by something shiny before Odrida could take it.
"Could be," Odrida said, taking a seat and glancing around for Morg. She spotted him perched at a small table-and-foothold embedded into the wall ten feet away -- a good vantage point, she guessed, to view the entire scene at once and react if necessary.
She suppressed a laugh. Lord knew she felt safer with Morg around, but the man could be just a wee bit paranoid; these two weren't a danger to anybody but themselves. And, if she was right about the cost of that garish color-shifting shirt, to his daddy's credit limit.
Just the same, she surreptitiously phoned Morg to make it easier for him to eavesdrop.
"All right," Layne said, thumping the table dramatically and swaying a bit. "Down to business!"
Merideth giggled. "That's it, baby, you take charge!"
"Sure I can't get you a drink, friend?" he asked, "business" forgotten as he turned to Izzy.
"No, thank you," Izzy said, smiling but looking perplexed. Odrida realized this was probably the first time he'd ever seen somebody well and truly wasted. "I do not imbibe--"
"Yeahyeahyeah," Layne said as Merideth laughed. "More for the rest of us. More! Where's that waitress?"
Hedonistic sheep, she thought, while a nature-show host in her head began a monologue. Here we have two Harmless Stoner Nitwits in their native habitat. Notice how the male is foraging for sustenance with nothing more than the power of his drunken babbling. Ooh, and look at the female, it must be mating season!
"You're looking to book passage to Earth?" Odrida asked, figuring they needed a little help getting to the point.
"Right!" Layne said. "On a ship!" He paused. "You have a ship?"
"Yes."
"A real one? It's not, you know, My Pretty Pony's Magic Spaceship or some shit?"
"Yup," Odrida said, ignoring the snickerfits that struck Merideth. "It's got four bitchin' fusion engines and everything."
"What kinda ship you got?"
"Old Watchman-class Coast Guard patrol bird. She's a little cozy, but I can guarantee you privacy."
"Ooh, we like privacy!" Merideth said between giggles.
Odrida bit back a smart-assed comment. Potential paying clients, potential paying clients ...
"Now my good buddy Is-Some-Band here says you don't dick around with that artificial gravity crap?"
Aha! A critical puzzle piece suddenly clicked into place. "Isambard is right," Odrida said. "We'll be under gravity during acceleration but we'll be in free-fall for extended stretches of the trip."
Merideth bounced and clapped.
"How extended?" Layne asked.
"We're three hops from Earth," Odrida said. She hadn't made this run before, but could do some quick and dirty calculations in her head; besides, if she got them wrong, it wasn't like these two were liable to remember it. "Figure, about two or three days of null-G for each leg of the trip. And that'd be four legs, actually, if you wanted a lift all the way to Earth itself and don't just want to be dropped-off in-system."
They seemed to miss that last bit, however, opting instead to kiss and grope each other a bit.
Izzy blushed and looked away from them towards Odrida. "Captain," he whispered, "Is this kind of behavior appropriate? I mean, I know they're newly wed--"
"Izzy," Odrida said, her voice low, "how exactly do you 'know' that?"
"Isn't it obvious? They're quite smitten with one another, they've been unable to keep their hands to themselves the entire time they've been sitting with me ..."
Odrida nodded. "Remind me to share some alternate theories with you when we're back on Mitch."
Izzy looked confused -- apparently, no alternate theories could possibly fit into his world view -- but said nothing.
Odrida cleared her throat. This failed to draw her potential clients' attention. But pelting them with a few wadded-up napkins did the trick.
"Yeah?" Layne said, pulling his face away from Merideth's cleavage. The look on his face suggested that he'd forgotten there was anybody else in the bar.
"Trip to Earth. Are you interested, Mr. Merkin?"
"Well, that depends," he said slowly. "How much is it gonna cost?"
Odrida had been puzzling that out herself. Simply getting Mitch to Earth from here with two additional passengers would probably run about a thousand bucks or so in fuel, food, and wages. Of course, capitalism demanded she jack that price a bit; twelve hundred would probably be reasonable, fifteen if she wanted to push it.
But she had a theory she wanted to test.
"Two thousand," she said. And when that failed to elicit a reaction from Layne, she quickly added "Each."
That figure seemed to penetrate Merideth's narcotic haze, at least; she stared wide-eyed at Odrida. But Layne just nodded sagely, as though he were deep in thought about this perfectly reasonable offer.
Odrida leaned in closer and, before Merideth could say anything, added "I'll even forget to file a passenger manifest!" in a conspirator's whisper.
"Sold!" Layne said before Izzy could inform him that ships were only required to file a manifest if they carried ten or more passengers.
"Outstanding," Odrida said, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. "When do you want to head out?"
"How 'bout now?" Layne said. "Let's get this party started!"
"Now works," Odrida said, rising. Needless to say, that brought Izzy to his feet as well. "Meet us at the shuttle dock with all your gear in one hour, okay?"
"Aye-aye, cap'n!" Layne said, throwing her a sloppy salute.
"And as an added bonus, Izzy will help you pack."
"I will?"
"Yes," Odrida said as Merideth cooed "Ooh, I have something he could help pack!"
Odrida motioned Izzy closer to her. "Just stay with them and keep them on-track, okay?" she said. "We turn these two loose and in an hour, I think they'll forget they ever met us."
Izzy frowned. "Are they ill? They do seem to be behaving in a most peculiar fashion."
Odrida bit her lip for a second. "'Ill' may be the best way to think about it. Just escort them to wherever they're staying, try and keep them focused. If it looks like they're going to ... erm ... consummate, try reminding them they have a ship to catch."
Izzy looked concerned. "Captain ... do you think they mean to consummate their union on board our ship?"
"Something like that." Odrida glanced at the couple; now that they were no longer in the conversation, there appeared to be a chance they would "consummate" on the table.
Izzy straightened a bit and thought then nodded somberly, like a soldier accepting a suicide mission. "All right, Captain. I'll see to it they get to the ship on time."
"Outstanding. Mr. Merkin," she said, leaning across the table and poking her new client in the shoulder. "We leave in one hour."
It seemed to take him a moment to remember what she was talking about. "Right!" he finally said. "One hour!"
"And Izzy here will help you pack."
"Right!" he said as Merideth giggled at some private joke.
"So you should probably escort Izzy to your quarters and get started."
"Right!" he said, and tried to get up from his chair. He failed the first few attempts, but the third time was the charm.
"If things get out of hand," Odrida said to Izzy as Layne and Merideth reacquainted themselves with the marvels of standing, "just remove yourself from the room and call us, okay?"
Izzy nodded. "Of course, Captain."
Izzy escorted his two charges out of the Comet; the combination of low-G physics and giddy inebriation made it a challenge, but Izzy proved up to it. Odrida followed them to the short exit hallway, gravity increasing with each step she took, climbing back to 0.8 G's by the time she was back on the concourse.
"At what point," Morg said, catching up from behind, "do you intend to inform Mr. Kingdom Of Heaven that we're being paid to help a rich twit and his prostitute enter the Zero-G Club?"
Odrida smirked, but kept walking. "Rich twit? Nah. Son of Rich Twit, more like. And she's not a ho; my money's on good old-fashioned gold-digging bimbo."
"Either way," he said, "I am less optimistic about their long-term prospects than Izzy."
She snorted. "Either way," she said, "it'll be nice to make some easy money for a change."
Morg raised an eyebrow. "You think this is going to be easy?"
"You don't?"
"We're looking," he said as they arrived at an elevator, "at somewhere around three weeks in close quarters with a pair of ultra-horny stoner retards expecting better accommodations than we're going to be capable of providing. And they won't be shy about ... hell, anything."
Odrida bit her lip as the doors opened. "So you're saying we're gonna earn that money, huh?"
Morg grinned maliciously as they stepped into the elevator with a family of four who regarded the entire station with ill-concealed terror. "Captain, I'm saying I would have held out for at least five thousand."
