Proving True

We are six hours from breaking orbit for Transit space. Captain Jones is paying me one last visit. She has a going away present for me as well as a credit chip. “The purchase was approved, no real surprise there. But for reasons that I didn’t really care to remember, they weren’t able to affect a direct deposit. So here is a chip with right at ninety nine million credits on it. As agreed, it’s the fair market value of the ship and outpost plus ten percent. You can do what you want to, but if I were you I’d put it in a very safe place.” Someone in Wilma’s chain of command actually balked at half again. The negotiations settled at ten percent over fair market value. Governor Pipper didn’t object.

“Thank you, Captain. I will do just that. So do you think your people will colonize here?”

“Oh, they’ve already started. The first hundred people went down about eight hours ago. We got them out of TMOD, balanced their electrolytes, briefed them on the planet—which was made much easier because of research done by your people, thank you very much—then put them on the shuttle with a boat load of seeds and farm implements. Better them than me. The commodore says we—Luminario—will be punching out of here for the next potential colony within the week.”

“Is there a reason I haven’t met your commodore?”

“There are a few, actually. One, as you can imagine he keeps pretty busy. Two, when he does get some spare time, he guards it very jealously. Three, he’s not a homo sapiens and he doesn’t breathe an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere. And it’s a royal pain in the ass to move his tank around.”

“Makes sense,” I give her a hug. “Thanks, perhaps we’ll see each other again.”

“Perhaps,” she hugs me back. “The universe really isn’t that big when you have a starship. And this,” she hands me a brightly wrapped parcel which is clearly a bottle, “is a gift from me. It’s a personal favorite from my family’s vineyard. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Perhaps you’ll think of me when you drink it.”