For preview purposes only; final product may differ
Author: Jie Mo Jun
Translator: GRain
There were thousands of bars outside of Earth’s ionosphere, although they all were positioned on other planets, satellites, or space stations, not in actual outer space. Those closer to well-off planets and satellites were chains, while the ones further away were small businesses—depending on the local economy. Tucked away in the corner of an isolated alley of the Moon’s largest spaceport was a particular bar that belonged to the latter group. A neon sign out front emitted silvery blue light.
This was the first time Julian had been to this kind of establishment. He was slightly anxious, not even trying to understand the space version of the names of all the drinks. The middleman, Yousef, said it was best not to drink any alcohol for a situation like this, so he picked the first non-alcoholic option which happened to be a cup of coffee. Why was a bar selling coffee? Moreover, they were on the Moon. The smell of roasted coffee further agitated Julian.
In comparison, Yousef was very relaxed. He got an oddly coloured cocktail from the counter and plopped down right next to him. There was a set of empty seats opposite them. Clearly, they were waiting for someone. If the customers near them were alert enough to look in this direction, they might have noticed that Julian somewhat resembled someone who frequently appeared on the news these days. Julian could not help but imagine being identified.
You have to believe in your friend. He is a professional. Julian tried to convince himself with little success. He did his best to not glance at the entrance of the bar so much, since that would only make him more suspicious.
Contrary to Julian’s expectations, Z appeared from the other side of the bar.
Yousef had not shown Z’s portrait to Julian, but he quickly knew that it was Z, a space cowboy who took on private jobs. Strangely enough, he would not share his real name, instead representing himself with a single letter in the alphabet. He looked like how people would expect him to be: tall, slender with an unkempt appearance. He was wearing a dirty jacket made of synthetic fibre while some mechanical parts and a gun hung from his waist.
Space cowboys were the only non-government officials who could legally carry firearms on the spaceports on Earth and the Moon. The reason behind this was that most of the planets and moons far away from Earth were lawless. Money could send people to their early graves, but firearms could send people, who were strong enough to think they could survive, to their doom.
“As usual, you’re right on time,” said Yousef.
Z slammed himself onto the chair as if he tripped and landed on it. He drawled, “Of course, I know I shouldn’t be late if I have a favour to ask.”
“What do you need?”
“Helium-3,” said Z, “I need as much of it as possible. You said you had some.”
“Of course, Yousef has everything. Helium? I can easily get that.” Yousef patted his chest. Emotionless, Z looked at his glass, waiting for him to stop showing off and get to the point.
“I’m not the owner of the helium this time—it’s him.” Yousef clapped Julian on the shoulder in a friendly manner.
Julian almost jumped in his seat because of this sudden contact but quickly controlled his expression. He pulled himself together and smiled. “Nice to meet you, I’m Julian. Julian Schwarz.”
Yousef nodded approvingly, then continued to persuade Z. “It’s always just been you on your ship, must be quite overwhelming to fly alone. Will you consider hiring a crew member? Julian has a flying licence. He passed the exam with flying colours, so he won’t drag you down. He’s not asking for much. Just bring him to Saturn, and that’s it.”
Z eyed Julian suspiciously. And again. He also scrunched up his nose and sniffed. This didn’t exactly conform to social etiquette, Julian thought, but perhaps space cowboys who travelled alone were all like this: distrustful, reclusive, and eccentric. If this space cowboy could help Julian escape Earth, he would be very willing to get used to these traits.
Julian knew that this was the time for him to speak up and sell himself. He had once been very good at it, having been trained professionally—but now? He had taken his medication, and he didn’t feel too bad. However, before he had fully gathered his thoughts, Z said, “No.”
“No. Not him,” said Z stiffly, this time directed at Yousef.
“Why?” Yousef asked. “You haven’t even heard his pitch yet.”
“I said, no,” replied Z irritably.
“When I contacted you before, you did say that you didn’t mind bringing another person along—”
“I didn’t know he was gay. Can’t you tell? His gestures, his posture, his gaze... and his pheromones. I can smell it. He’s gay.” Z spread out his hands in an exaggerated motion. “This isn’t discrimination, but I don’t need any women or gays on board my spaceship. I don’t need anyone who’d think of me as a potential sexual partner.”
This was... a bit narcissistic, Julian thought. He was angrier than he should be feeling. The meds were still affecting him.
“Oh,” said Yousef. “I see.”
Z turned up his nose.
“But you don’t have a choice,” said Yousef, leaving no room for debate. “What you want is helium. Don’t you know how difficult it is to get helium nowadays? He has it, he can get it to you—only if you bring him along.”
Z snapped his head around to stare at Julian.
“Bring me to Titan, Saturn’s moon.” Julian revealed the ace up his sleeve, as advised by Yousef. “The helium is there, extracted and refined helium-3. I can give you the transaction code now, so you don’t have to worry about me pulling anything.”
Z still appeared extremely unwilling. He bargained, “Who did you piss off? I can help you hire a ship. I know a very good one that’ll take off next week. The trip to Saturn only takes—”
“The Emperor,” said Julian.
Z arched an eyebrow in surprise.
The three major political powers on Earth were not monarchies, so the word “emperor” was metaphorical, referring to the crownless emperor in the business sector: the head of the Asia America Indo Canada Corporation (AAIC). Valued at over 1 billion, the unicorn company was based in the Americas. Its influence absolutely lived up to the name of “Emperor”. It was present in the desperate need for fleeting pleasures during gaps between wars, in the political funds of every political campaign and legislation, in every pop-up advertisement on apps, and in each implanted memory in virtual reality. Even a space cowboy who did not care about worldly affairs must have heard that there was going to be a change of the head of this gigantic beast. Right now, the person next in line was at the ripe age for romance.
“The Emperor,” Yousef glanced at Julian, “has a complicated relationship with Julian here.”
He didn’t use the explanation that they agreed on. Julian pursed his lips, uneasy.
“Did you snatch the Emperor’s woman?” said Z. “Wait, you’re gay. Correction, you snatched the Emperor’s man?”
Z swivelled his eyes around to stare at Julian. The way he shifted his gaze was very unusual. His head was completely still, and his eyes drew an upward half-arc in his eye-sockets until they stared into Julian’s own eyes like a scene in a horror movie.
He did that on purpose, thought Julian. He was trying to deepen the stereotypical impression of himself, protecting himself with it. Perhaps he was also trying to scare him off with these small tricks. It was very effective. If Julian weren’t in such a tight spot, he might have given up.
“The Emperor’s man.” Z started to laugh. “How interesting.”
Julian pushed down the urge to rebut his words. He hated this explanation, but he could endure it. The price to pay for escaping the control of those people and moving onto a brand new life was only enduring a not-so-pleasant journey. He could endure that without any problems.
“You can’t try to be in a relationship with me or mate with me. You should also obey everything I say. If you can do that, get on the ship.” Z licked his lips. “We’ll go to the farthest depths of the universe.”
What an aggressive, overbearing way of speaking.
“Looking forward to working with you. By the way, gay people also have preferences and standards when it comes to choosing partners,” Julian retorted.
“Right, of course.”
This was a verbal victory for Julian, but Z had long stopped paying attention. The space cowboy was staring at the clock on the wall, the knuckle of his middle finger tapping steadily on the desk. Ignoring this, Yousef started to instruct Julian on the precautions of space travel. Despite possessing a flying licence of the highest grade, Julian had less experience travelling in space compared with most of the people in the bar. He had never left the terrilunar system, a so-called earthbound through and through.
Tap, tap. The sound of his knuckle against the table was making him anxious.
Julian tried his best to concentrate until he could not ignore the irksome knocks. He couldn’t help himself but ask, “Can you stop?”
Z let out a snort, shifting his gaze onto Julian. “Albert never stops.” He jolted to his feet and turned to Yousef. “I suppose that’s a done deal. You’ve finished your tasks as well?”
Yousef nodded. “Be prepared,” he said, directed towards Julian.
Prepared for what?
Before Julian could enunciate a single syllable, he felt Z grab his hand and pull him to his feet, and he stumbled towards the exit of the bar.
“What are you doing?!”
“Hitting the road!”
Julian was speechless when he saw Z’s ship.
The tiny, shabby vessel had its hull patched up with heat-resistant foam sealant. Its specs were rudimentary: dual-use nuclear engines utilising fusion and standard fission reactions, retrofitted solar sails for backup, a gravity system, a flight deck, an engine room, four cabins less than ten square metres in size—one of which was filled with junk—a cargo bay several times larger than the main body of the ship, and two escape pods. These were the most basic components of a spaceship, but that was not the reason for Julian’s surprise.
“There’s a gamma symbol at the bow,” said Julian. “Is this the spaceship that could go near the speed of light? The actual Albert?”
Z raised an eyebrow. He did not expect Julian to recognise it. “Used to be. The experimental spacecraft Albert-1 could, in theory, reach as fast as 0.3% of the speed of light and was thought of as the technology that would help us escape the solar system, but its test flight used up all of NASA’s helium reserves. After NASA’s dissolution, it was sold at a discount.”
“I know.” Julian looked at the ship in disbelief. “Humanity’s last hope. The ship that would break humans out of their confinement. What’s it doing here? In civilian use? And why’s it so beat up...”
“The last hope was actually Albert-2,” Z corrected. “It’s never been on a test flight and probably has no buyers even if it went on sale.”
Julian turned a deaf ear to his words.
“My god,” Julian murmured, touching the enormous spaceship. “I’m going to Titan on this? This is the best new life I could ever have imagined.”
“You’re bad at imagining, then,” muttered Z.
He left Julian, who was reminiscing about the golden era of space exploration, and climbed onto the scaffolding, painstakingly examining the results of the repairs from bottom to top. He gave it a pass. This was the cradle of human civilisation, after all. Terrilunar spaceship maintenance was superior to what was available on Mars. The restoration of the hull and the maintenance of the engines were both perfectly done. He had no complaints apart from the price, which was not the repair shop’s problem—it was his.
Z stared at the invoice on the hull for thirty seconds, carefully weighing his dignity against money. The winner was obvious.
“Hey,” Z peeked his head through the railing to shout at Julian. “Come here.”
“What?” Julian looked towards the source of his voice, then scanned the surroundings. “How… how am I supposed to get up there?”
Z rolled his eyes. “Climb up, duh.”
On the Moon, the average Earthling can easily scale walls like a spider monkey, but clearly, the scaffolding was not built with climbing in mind. Using his common sense, Julian picked the fire escape on the outside of the repair shop after taking a look around the place. At the top of the staircase, he saw an odd sign that read “Office”.
The automatic doors slowly opened, and a gentle, synthetic female voice greeted, “Hello, come inside. It’s raining on the Moon.”
Julian scanned the space. The ceiling was shaped like a dome, and the temperature and brightness were constant. He was not impressed, of course. This was just a virtual reality that the owner of the shop had set. Julian had thrown away every gadget with virtual or augmented reality on the day he left Earth.
Beyond the door was a long, narrow repair platform. Kiosk machines about as tall as a person lined one side of the platform, while a fence on the other side divided the platform from an apron where vessels were parked. Z was standing next to the kiosk near Albert, waiting for Julian with his arms crossed.
Julian walked towards him. “What’s the matter?”
“Pay up.” Z nodded towards the kiosk.
Julian shot him a bewildered look.
“I know you’ve paid your fare with helium.” For the first time today, Z was slightly uncomfortable. “But Albert has never undergone maintenance on the Moon. The fee’s slightly out of my budget... We can’t leave if we don’t pay. Look, I’ll pay you back, alright?”
Julian pursed his lips to suppress the rising corners of his lips. The spaceship had only somewhat improved Julian’s impression of Z, but the comedic effect of seeing a person like him in a pickle was worth the insignificant repair fee. He gave a mild response. “Sure.”
As Julian initiated the payment process, Z looked at him in surprise. “I thought you’d at least have some common sense to use cash when you’re trying to hide your identity. I don’t care about you getting sniffed out. I just want the transaction to go through.”
“It has.” Julian gestured at his personal device displaying an encrypted wallet. “Crypto. Y’know, cash isn’t the only anonymous method of payment.” He glanced at Z. “Oops, have I forgotten to introduce myself? Oh, yes, I was interrupted. The name’s Julian Schwarz. I’ve experience working as a professional trader.”
That was a very humble way of putting it. Julian had an ego. Even if he were going for a mocking tone, he did not want to blow his own trumpet. Yet he heard Z grumble, “Fine, a rich, pampered fiancée escaping marriage.”
Negative 100 points. Not even Albert could salvage his impression of Z now.