Rimworld- Into the Green

by JL Curtis

  “Did it work? I mean did… I didn’t see any pulses.”

  Distracted, Captain Jace said, “Standby.” Staring intently at screen two, as it blossomed into a flash he suddenly roared, “Yes! Got that bastard!” Fargo looked up in time to see the tracker going from red to white.

  Jace said conversationally, “Needle beam lasers. They spread over distance, but even with that, they were less than nine inches in diameter. Both of them hitting the warhead at mega joule power was enough to heat it and set it off before they could react. Stupid captains drop their shields early, because they have to be down to fire. We knew the shields were down, so we took advantage of it.”

  He saw the lasers retracting on the adjacent display, and what he guessed were armored hatches closing over them. Suddenly, all the screens blinked back to normal for an unarmed merchant ship.

  Evie commented, “Thirty-eight minutes behind, Captain. Permission to push it up to make the next jump point on time.”

  Captain Jace leaned back comfortably, “Do it.”

  Fargo looked between them in amazement, “What about the, maybe… Survivors of that ship? Shouldn’t you report this to GalPat?”

  Captain Jace spun his chair, “There weren’t any survivors. Epsilon is now dust in the wind, so to speak. And it will be reported, just not right now. We’ll take care of that at Star Center.”

  Captain Jace hit a button on his command chair and broadcast over the IC, “Sorry about that noise, folks. We had a bit of an issue with one of the power plants. It’s currently off line, and being repaired. We will make up the time lost and hit our jump point on time. Thank you.”

  Star Center

  Hyderabad slid into the docking cradle with a slight bump, and the IC blared, “We are secured. Passengers are released. Boarding tube will be across in fifteen. Please collect all baggage/shipment items at the station side of the dock in one hour.”

  Fargo stretched, released his straps and got up slowly. His pack was ready to go, and his datacomp buzzed with an arrival message from Greer’s Bonded Storage.

  GBS REP GILES, MALCOM WILL ARRIVE AT DOCK C-36 AT 1615 STATION TIME. PLEASE ENSURE CARGO IS READY FOR RELEASE AND PICKUP. ACK?

  Fargo reached into his shipsuit pocket, pulled out his paperwork, confirmed the contract, signed it, and texted back, ACK. PAPERWORK/MED CLNC/READY SHIP CARGOMASTER KLANG WILL HAVE PAPERWORK.

  GBS REP ACK.

  Satisfied that he was ready to go, he dilated the hatch and bumped squarely into Nicole, “Sorry, I wasn’t…” Nicole was radiating frustration, and the momentary touch had fed her thoughts and fears of this whole shipment getting lost or stolen to him, along with how scared she was about losing everything if this shipment didn’t sell.

  Nicole looked up, “Did you get anything from the storage people? I haven’t. I can’t afford to have the wine sit on the…” Her datacomp buzzed and she glanced quickly at it, “Ah, finally.” Turning away, she went quickly back to her cabin, mumbling to herself.

  Fargo just shook his head and walked over to the crew’s mess, dialed a cup of coffee from the autochef, and propped himself on the edge of the table as he waited. He felt a subtle shift in ship’s gravity as they went on station power right as Captain Jace walked in. “Afternoon, Captain.”

  Jace smiled and glanced at his datacomp, “Yep, it is, isn’t it. I always get screwed up coming from ship time to station time. Have you been here before?”

  “Nope, first time. My brother-in-law gave me some recommendations, and I’ve taken them. Hopefully they work out.” The autochef dinged and spit out his bulb as he continued, “We’re staying at the Hiltariott.”

  Jace punched his order in, turned and said, “They’re good. Good security, too. They’re C-central, and some good restaurants are near there.”

  Fargo asked curiously, “This station’s layout is kinda strange isn’t it?”

  Jace shrugged, “Not really, A is zero G, B is half G, C and D are one G and that’s called the central core, E and F are two G, H is three G, and J-L are OTO environments.”

  “OTO? Other than oxygen?”

  “Yep, L is at the far end, with no docking ports close, because it’s a chlorine-based environment that tends to eat through the skin on a regular basis. They run special hardened shuttles from the off board docking area to there, and there are always a few beings staying out there.”

  Fargo shivered, “Oh, hell no. And suggestions for dinner?”

  Jace smiled, “Depends on how many credits you have. I like Tangier, it’s over at C-3-42. Good tandoori, or there is Monsoon, it’s C-3-23, I think. Good Thai. The Hiltariott has a good vat steak place, and their buffets are pretty good, too. If you want a drink, most of the safe bars are in C-2-10 to about 40. Once you get above that, they get pretty sleazy…”

  Fargo laughed, “Sleazy? As in military sleazy, or just regular sleazy?”

  Jace rolled his eyes, “If you want military sleazy, that’s over on C-1-60, and out to the rim. Where are you doing your business?”

  “Mrs. Levesque and I rented an office at the Hiltariott. I’ve got a couple of meetings there, and I think she does, too. I have a couple of furriers and clothiers addresses, and I want to pay them a visit and see what they do with the furs and skins.”

  “Good idea. What about Mrs. Levesque? Does she have a buyer?”

  Fargo shook his head, “I don’t think so. I think she brought the wine on spec, hoping to find a buyer. I’ve had some, and it’s damn good wine, but I’m no expert. I know she was trying to set up a meeting with a distributor or a wine merchant here, but I don’t know if she succeeded.” Leaning over he continued softly, “I’m out of school here, but just between us, she needs the sale badly. She’s low on supplies at her winery on Hunter.”

  “Damn, that’s hard.”

  “It is, but she is one stubborn lady. And she has ties and the chops back on Earth to the wine Lévesque’s in France. They are her parents, and apparently she was genied as a hostess to go into the family business.”

  Jace whistled, “Wow! Those are some serious chops. If she runs into problems, message me, and I’ll put the word out to a few of the contacts I have here.”

  Fargo nodded as Nicole came into the mess, “There you are. Are you ready to go Fargo?’

  “Yep, let me grab my bag. Captain, we’ll see you in four days, right?”

  Jace replied, “Yep, four days. We’ll be undocking at eighteen station time. Mrs. Levesque, I hope you’ve had a pleasant trip?”

  Nicole flashed a smile, “Yes, I did. I appreciated your allowing myself and Fargo to use the crew facilities and I appreciated the AI’s updates.”

  ***

  The Hiltariott filled the left side of the promenade between C-2 and C-3, causing Nicole to whistle, “Damn, I don’t know if I can afford this. Shit, this is gonna be a bunch of credits!”

  Fargo replied, “Nicole, remember we’re here to do business. We need to be here. And we’re getting the GalPat retiree rate.”

  Nicole sighed as the portal dilated, “In for a credit, in for a million credits.” Fargo sensed her attitude stiffening, and fell back to let her take the lead.

  At the desk, she handed her datachip to the clerk, who smiled and said, “Welcome Mrs. Levesque. Four station nights, correct?” She nodded and the clerk continued, “We have you in an upgraded room, is that alright?”

  “As long as it’s at the same rate, that’s fine.”

  Fargo checked in, confirmed they had a small office/conference room reserved, and got his key. He showed it to Nicole, asking, “I’m in fourteen oh one, where are you?”

  Nicole looked at hers, “Apparently either adjacent or across the hall. I’m in fourteen zero three.” Grinning ruefully, she continued, “Shall we go find out how bad this is going to be?”

  Fargo bowed to her, “Lead on, milady.”

  Nicole stuck her tongue out at him, and marched off in the direction of the elevator. Fargo followed then said, “Hey, wait a second.�
�� Looking at his paperwork, he turned to the right toward a bank of doors. “I think our office is over here.” Looking again, he walked to one of the doors and waved his key at it. Hearing a click, he pushed the door open, “Wow! Fancy!”

  Nicole pushed by him, and he sensed her hopes rising then falling, “Oh, I don’t have anything to wear that matches the office. It’s too opulent!” She turned to him, “Do you think maybe we could get something more…”

  “Plain? Utilitarian?”

  She nodded, “Yes, and maybe a little cheaper too?”

  Fargo shrugged, “I’ll try. I need to hit the fresher. You want to meet back down here at eighteen and we’ll go find some dinner?”

  ***

  At eighteen, Fargo was sitting in the lobby fiddling with his datacomp when Nicole sauntered up, “Been waiting long?”

  Fargo rose, “Nope, got a little bit more utilitarian office space, and your key should also open it. You want to check it now?”

  Nicole shook her head, “Food first.”

  “Any preference? The captain told me about two places a corridor over, one is Thai and…”

  “Oh! Thai! I haven’t had spicy for a long time! I had a senior sergeant in my platoon that was from Old Bangkok, and he could cook! Oh, could he cook,” she said with a smile.

  As they walked down the promenade, a barker shoved a holocard in Fargo’s hand, “Great show down at the Galaxy! Pole dancing in zero G, guaranteed to amaze you and the lady!” Fargo glanced at Nicole, and she shook her head, so he shoved the card in his pocket. They passed the Indian place, and he almost steered them in there, but continued until he found Monsoon. It was a tiny little alcove, maybe twenty by twenty, with three booths, six tables and a bar.

  They got the one open booth, and as a compromise, sat side by side, rather than one of them having their back to the door. Fargo did insist on being on the outside, and Nicole semi-gracefully let him have it.

  He let her order, and the food was delicious, if a little hot for him. After drinking a few beers, Nicole said, “What was that card?”

  Fargo pulled it out of his pocket and swiped a finger across it. A holo popped up of the ‘dancers’ in zero G, and he realized after a couple of seconds, that they were nude, and the ‘pole’ being danced on was the male’s organ. Nicole burst out laughing, and Fargo blushed, quickly swiping the card off, and shoving it into the trash chute at the end of the table, “I’m so…”

  Nicole, still laughing said, “Oh, too funny! There is no way in hell he’s real. That has to be an enhancement, and she’s enhanced all to hell too! Those were at least double D’s. If she ever got in real gravity, she’d have a serious backache in about thirty seconds flat.”

  Flustered, he said, “Uh, are you ready to leave?”

  Nicole sighed, “I guess, but I want a cup of coffee. We can get that at the hotel, right?”

  “I saw where they have a bar off the lobby that serves quick meals, so I’m sure they do.” Fargo slipped his credit chip into the slot on the table, added a tip, and put it back in his shipsuit.

  Nicole bristled a bit, “Did you just buy dinner? I can pay my own way!”

  He replied, “I did. It’s not polite to make the lady pay, at least that’s the way I was raised.”

  She looked at him, “So, are we on a date? Is that what you’re saying?”

  Fargo sensed teasing in her attitude, but said, “That’s up to you. I’m just trying to treat you as a lady, and I’d like it if this was a date.”

  Nicole laughed again, “You don’t know me very well, do you?” Pushing him, she said, “Coffee.”

  ***

  Fargo leaned back in the office space they’d rented, contemplating the e-tainment screen on the wall as he waited for his last appointment of the day, a buyer for one of the earth based furriers.

  The last two days had been an education, to put it mildly. He saw how badly he’d been ripped off by the spacers that were buying his furs, and how little any of them knew of the real value of the furs and skins back on Earth or on other worlds.

  A well-dressed older gent tapped on the door frame, “Mr. Fargo? I’m Tom Ragsdale.” He slid a card across the desk, “I’m representing a consortium of furriers, including Tiffany’s, Klapp, and others.”

  Fargo got up, “Pleased to meet you, Tom. Ethan Fargo.” He closed the door, walked to the conference table and pulled the covering off the skins laying there. “Silverback, Slashgator, and Slashlizard. Thirty each of the ‘back and ‘gator belly, forty Slashlizard. All legally taken, med cleared, cleaned, and in storage on the station.”

  Ragsdale took out what Fargo thought might be a jeweler’s loupe, and some type of scanner, going over each hide in minute detail, without saying a word. Fargo slumped back in his chair and watched, a bit nonplussed. None of the others had done that, most of them low balling him on values and not willing to meet his minimum price.

  Thirty minutes later, Ragsdale put his equipment away, and sat down, “Are all of the skins the same quality as these? And can I see the rest of them?”

  Fargo cut to the chase, “What is your best offer for all of them? No point in giving you access if you’re not going to meet my minimum price.”

  Ragsdale smiled, “Ah, been meeting with my competition, I see. Bottom line, all of them this quality, two point five to three million credits, on delivery.”

  “Can you accept them for delivery?”

  “Certainly. I can cut you a credit chip…”

  “Nope, we’ll do a direct deposit to my TFCU account on Earth. When it clears, then you get the containers.” Opening a desk drawer, he slid a simple contract across the table toward Ragsdale.

  Taking the contract, Ragsdale read over it quickly, “Terran Federal Credit Union? Terran Marines by chance?”

  Fargo nodded, “Fifth of the Third.”

  Ragsdale replied, “Fifty-Seventh MEUSOC. Medically retired in fourteen.” Signing the contract, Ragsdale pulled a holo stamp from his briefcase, stamped both copies, and handed one to Fargo. “Gimme the account you want the credits in. They will be there tomorrow.”

  Fargo slid a data chip across the table, “It’s on here. Credits get there, I’ll give you the release code for Greer’s Bonded.”

  Ragsdale pointed to the three skins on the table, “What about these?”

  Fargo shrugged, “Take ‘em. You bought them. I’ll even throw in the bag too.”

  They bagged up the three skins and shook hands. As Ragsdale got to the door, he turned, “If you get more later, we can do business. We’ll pick up at your site for a small fee. Semper Fi, Brother.”

  “Semper Fi,” Fargo said as the door swung closed. Sagging back in the chair, he looked at the ceiling, reviewing what he’d sensed during that momentary handshake, Ragsdale really was a Terran Marine. Staff Sergeant in a weaps battalion. Got torn up in a counterbattery fires situation, got his people out and died for an hour or so. They brought him back, but he wasn’t quite all there, so they gave him a full medical retirement. Five years of chasing furs all over the Galaxy, and paying fair prices. Figures he’ll get repeat business from the hunters that way.

  Nicole came into the office just as Ragsdale was leaving, asking, “Any luck?”

  Fargo smiled, “Yep, got ‘em all sold. Any luck on your side?”

  Nicole sighed, “Not a bit. Couple of low ball offers, barely covering my shipping costs, and seems like nobody likes real bottled wine unless it comes from Earth.”

  “Sorry…”

  “Nothing you can do, unless you find me a buyer with big bucks!”

  Fargo didn’t say anything, but helped Nicole pull her display out and set up for her meetings. After he left the room, he called Captain Jace and asked him to see if he could find somebody that might be interested. The Captain said he’d put the word out.

  ***

  Fargo checked his wrist comp, and decided to go see if Nicole needed anything, figuring she’d been down there for two hours. She gratefully took the o
pportunity to hit the fresher and get a cup of coffee. She had just come back when two men walked in.

  “Can I help you,” Nicole asked.

  The flamboyantly dressed man said dismissively, “I’ll let you know after I see if your wine is anything more than marginal.” The Keldar accompanying him didn’t say a word, just sat in the chair in front of the desk.

  Fargo snarled, “Who the hell are you?”

  “I’m Mister Bartholomew. I am the wine expert on Star Center. What are you? Local muscle?” He sniffed, “You should have heard of me, but considering your low class…”

  Nicole smiled, “Feel free to taste Mr. Bartholomew, I have both a cabernet and a dry white for your pleasure.”

  Bartholomew stepped over to the tasting table, glanced at the charcuterie platter, sniffed and poured an ounce of the cabernet into the glass. Swirling it, he sniffed, sniffed again, and then took a sip. His eyes widened, and he sat the glass down.

  “Where did you get this wine?” he snapped at Nicole.

  “I produced it at my vineyard on Hunter.”

  “That is not possible,” Bartholomew sniffed, “This wine is too well done for some upstart on a Rimworld to possibly…”

  Nicole said softly, “Mon père est Phillipe Levesque, maître vigneron pour Rothschild.”

  Bartholomew gaped at her, his mouth dropping open, “How…”

  Nicole smiled, waving at the case of bottles sitting on the back of the table, “Pick any bottle, open it, taste it, and call me a liar again. If you do, I will slit your throat right here and now.”

  Bartholomew started sweating, but picked two random bottles, one white, one red. Opening them with shaking hands, he poured a couple of ounces of each into separate glasses. Savoring the flavor and taking a cracker from the charcuterie, he carefully finished the red, he took another cracker, and tasted the white.

  Leaning over the Keldar, he whispered something in his ear and Fargo, now an interested spectator, saw the Keldar’s eyes widen and his mouth start to open, but Bartholomew whispered even more stridently and Fargo caught an interesting sense of both fear and amazement from Bartholomew, and amazement warring with worry in the Keldar. He also heard words that didn’t make any sense to him, something about Château Mouton Rothschild.