Privateer Tales 3: Parley by Jamie McFarlane Page B

time illuminating the large building.
    The cab gracefully pulled to a stop beneath a wide canopy and its doors opened. It was 2200 local - which Marny insisted on calling ten o’clock - and the luxurious lobby of the Concord Resort was still very active. The people in the lobby appeared to be of two camps; either they were dressed for a fancy evening in suits and gowns, or they were dressed for play in shorts and t-shirts. I couldn’t see a single person in a vac-suit, which struck me as unusual.
    We must have looked like we were lost since a man dressed in a uniform approached us and offered assistance. “Are you checking in?”
    “Yup,” Nick said.
    “Nigela would be happy to help you with that at the registration desk.” He gestured toward a long series of tall counters atop ornate wooden cabinets. A woman stood behind one of the counters and looked up at us expectantly.
    “Thank you,” I said and we traipsed over to the desk. Checking in was painless and we found the glassed-in elevator that whisked us up to the thirty-second floor.
    The suite Nick booked for us was, by spacer standards, extremely spacious. There were three large bedrooms, each with a bigger bed than I’d ever slept in. A living room joined all of the bedrooms together and a bar/kitchenette took up a portion of one wall. One entire side of the suite was glass from floor to ceiling. The only thing that broke up the glass was a door.
    For me, the first order of business was to see what was on the other side of that door. I discovered, to my amusement, that it led to a balcony. The heavy rain initially made me wonder if the balcony had any sort of barrier to keep people from simply falling off the edge. As it turned out there was a perimeter wall, it was just made of some nearly transparent material. I wasn’t interested in getting closer to the edge or getting soaked again, so I soon came back inside.
    “Were you able to see anything?” Nick asked.
    “Not at all,” I said. “The rain is coming down so hard I can barely make out anything beyond the exterior wall. You guys getting hungry?”
    “Marny’s already on it. She’s gonna order food, then take a shower.”
    “Which room’s mine?”
    “Two rooms left, grab one.” Nick said.
    It was an easy choice. One room was near the door we entered and the other had an entire wall of glass with rain pelting off of it. I might not sleep well, but I sure would enjoy experiencing weather. I wondered if it might actually snow. It wasn’t out of the range of possibility at ten degrees.
    I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew Nick was waking me up.
    “Keep sleeping or eat?” he asked. I hadn’t eaten for at least ten hours so there was no decision to make.
    “Eat,” I mumbled and groggily got up. It took a couple of minutes to recover from my short nap. Once I caught a whiff of the food, I woke up very quickly. In the living room there was a large pizza that had to be at least five centimeters tall with a crust that towered to seven or eight centimeters in places.
    “You boys are in for the treat of your lives. This is made by real Italians.” Marny pronounced the last ‘eye-tal-yuns.’ “And for drinks, we have what’s been the best beer for more centuries than the North American Alliance has existed.”
    I hadn't noticed the three frosted glasses sitting next to the pizza. Next to those glasses were eight tall sealed black bottles. Marny caught my eye, opened one of the bottles and poured out the dark umber-colored liquid into a glass and a two centimeter creamy foam formed on top. I accepted it, took a seat on one of the couches and started to drink.
    “Hold on there, Cap. Let’s make a toast,” Marny said.
    I waited for her to finish pouring their drinks.
    “To Adela Chen,” she toasted. We clinked glasses.
    I took a long drink of the beer. It tasted like nothing we’d had in previous ports or back on Colony 40. It s smooth, buttery taste made it the finest