Hutton Orbital, Part 1
04 May 2017User4296
Erlich City, Sol SystemFederation Space
January, 3302
"You spend much time around Sol, stranger?" the bartender asked as he wiped down the counter. I was the only patron there, so he was likely just as bored as I was.
"Enough, recently. Seemed an appropriate place to be during the holidays," I said, taking a long drink of scotch. I coughed. Bad batch, but that was to be expected of the bars in the lower section of the city. The upper sections were nice, but as with most parts of the Federation, the haves and have nots fell into two very distinct groups and ran in two very distinct circles. And thanks to the new President, whatever barrier separated the two was becoming more and more acute - and the have nots were growing larger.
"Ever been out to Hutton Orbital?" he asked next, pulling me back to the moment.
I shook my head.
"You should make the trip, if you're looking for work and own your own ship," he continued.
"Why?" I asked.
"It's decent money," he said, tossing one rag into the sink and retrieving a second, with which he set about re-re-cleaning the glassware. "And you'd be doing a good thing. Hutton Truckers perform a valuable service."
"Hutton Trucker?"
"It's what they call the folks who make that trip regularly. They usually just focus on the things folks really need, like food and spare parts, but I reckon someone could make a fair bit of money taking a load of something needed, but not really important." He played it off a little too cool.
I set my glass down. "You sound like you have a good idea what that something is," I said, giving him my best quit-bullshitting-me look.
"Well," he said, taking great care not to look at me. "I hear the boys on the station like a drink every now and then. Not much to do out there, except drink..."
"And you know someone selling enough booze to ship out to Hutton?" I asked.
He finally looked me in the eyes. "Just so happens I do! You see, I have a liquor wholesale business on the side..."
"Of course you do," I said, draining my scotch.
***
I found myself standing in one of the warehouse buildings. This particular building was divided into four smaller warehouses, with a large loading bay dividing the building in half, with two warehouses on either side. Each warehouse had a large cargo door that fed into the main bay, but next to each door was a smaller one for personnel to use. I stood next to one of the latter, facing a small screen set off to one side of the door.
"Mindy?" I asked the screen. It sprung to life, and the image of a woman's face appeared. She was pretty, but with a facial expression that said I've seen enough of your bullshit for one day. She blinked.
"Yer the guy Roscoe said was comin'?" she said, leaning forward to get a better look. She wore a pair of beige coveralls that were left unzipped to between her breasts, so the effect was mutual.
I tried not to stare. "The poor bastard running a hundred and fifty tons of cheap booze to Hutton Orbital? That's me," I said. You can add this to the list of bad ideas I've had in my life, I didn't add.
The screen switched off at about the same time the nearby door buzzed and slid open. I entered, and immediately noticed the cargo robots that were already queuing up near the larger door, each loaded with a number of crates - presumably my shipment. A quick survey of the room showed that a lot of the other crates had a thin layer of dust - they didn't make many sales. If it was the same stuff he had served me in the bar, this made sense, as it didn't go down well but would get you trashed pretty quick.
Like I said, cheap. I doubt society’s elite were serving it at their cocktail parties.
Mindy rounded one of the stacks in front of me, and waved. She was even prettier in person, with a mop of brown hair she shoved up underneath a cap, and a striking pair of green eyes. I saw as she came closer that she was about a foot shorter than I was. It took me a moment to notice she was holding something out toward me.
"Yer doin' my husband a real favor, darlin'," she was saying, and waved the object - a datapad, I realized - for me to take. "Just mark your dock location on the line there. Need yer signature, too."
Husband? Damn. I indicated the room. "Tough times?" I asked, making the required entries into the device.
She shrugged. "It comes n' goes. What with the holidays here in Sol n' all, people decided they wanted fancy. We'll pick back up in a month or so." She took the datapad back. "Sugar, down," she said next, and it took me a moment to realize it was directed toward my feet. I looked down.
A border collie had wandered up to me during the conversation, and stood, its front paws resting against my leg for balance. At her words, the dog huffed, dropped back down to all fours, and padded off.
Mindy shrugged again, "Pay her no mind. She's been in rough sorts past few weeks."
"So, uh, do you have any advice for trips to Hutton Orbital?" I asked.
She tapped her chin, directing her gaze up at the ceiling. "I hear they’re long. Find some way to keep yerself occupied, I guess. Oh! Make sure you have enough fuel. Lots of people get stranded 'cause they take a job to make a delivery, and don't have the right ship for it! Didya hear they sell mugs there? Supposed to complete the trip by buyin’ one.”
“Is that so? Have you ever been to Hutton Orbital?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Not me. That’s not a trip one just makes, darlin’.” She shrugged. “I kinda want to see what the mug looks like, though, seein’ as it’s special and all.” There was a pause, then she leaned in. I fought to keep my eyes focused upward.
“Word is, they use the metal from the abandoned ships and wrecks that didn’t make it to make the mugs,” she whispered, nodding sagely.
I blinked, then it was my turn to shrug. "I’ll be careful," I said. We both turned to watch the cargo bay doors open, and the bots departed shortly thereafter to deliver the crates to the correct dock. "Better get back and supervise. Take care, Mindy."
"Be careful!" she said, waving as she turned to disappear back into the warehouse. "And try not to drink too much of the stock," she said with a wink.
No danger of that, I thought.