“You did order a carpet? Yes?” Harry asked.
The storekeep glared at him. “No! I didn’t order a carpet. Get out of here, before I call the Constable.”
Harry was ready to argue, but as the storekeep came around the counter, he decided to vacate the premises as quickly as his bulk would allow.
Harry Remquist had been making the Earth to Luna to Mars run for years, selling cookware, carpets and fine California wines, at a substantial profit I might add. His cargo carrier was named Gloria. She could haul eighty thousand metric tons of goods, with enough space left over to give the crew larger quarters, two recreation rooms and one decent theater.
Gloria was, in essence, his home. Harry’s quarters looked like any home you may see on any colony. In fact, his quarters were larger than some homes on Mars or Luna.
Harry made sure his crew was comfortable and well paid. Each crew mate, there were seventeen of them, was allowed to carry up to one ton of goods for trade and sale. Having a stake in the profits gave his crew more incentive to insure all went well with the ship and with the port authorities. He had toyed with the idea of letting them bring their spouses, but decided against it when one mate had to be let go because she tried to smuggle her children aboard.
Harry felt the dangers aboard a trader were too many to have children aboard. Twice, in his twenty some odd years of running this route, they had been attacked by pirates.
His old ship had been called The Winston, (after that famous nineteenth century statesman). The first attack resulted in two killed and the second time he lost four good people and was wounded himself.
After that attack, he bought the Gloria and outfitted her with state of the art sensors, laser cannons and torpedoes. He then hired the best two weapons experts he could find.
Gloria was attacked six months later by the same pirates that had gotten to him when he still had The Winston. The crew of the Gloria gave them a sound beating and left their ship, dead in space. Harry, crew and Gloria had not been bothered since.
Keeping his crew happy and safe had a two-fold advantage for him. First, he seldom had to deal with the process of hiring new mates and second, Harry liked his life kept simple and free from conflict.
He was normally good natured and easy to get along with, but he could be a consummate liar when it came to getting his goods sold. He was, in short, a typical trader and salesman.
While most of his commodities were of high quality, he was sometimes snookered in to buying sub-standard items. Those items then had to be pawned off on unsuspecting customers. Since Harry may not be in that neighborhood again for several years, most people usually woulc not remember exactly how they had been snookered.
They had been in the mining regions of Diemos and Phobos for three weeks and so far had sold very little. Harry could see the writing on the walls. He really did not want to head for the colonies beyond the Kuiper Belt. That was such a long trip, some of his crew mates would not want to be gone from their families that long, and that would mean having to hire people to replace them.
But the economy of the mining colonies and indeed the rest of the solar system were becoming increasingly unstable. Luna had sent an envoy to Earth with the proposal of secession. The Mars colonies were ready to rebel against paying taxes to Earth, since they received no benefit from those taxes. The two incidents had the whole solar system in an uproar.
If Luna could manage to secede from Earth without going to war, Mars would probably follow suit. If Earth decided against letting Luna secede peacefully, Mars had discussed joining forces with Luna. War with Earth would then be inevitable.
Many miners had already gone home to their families. If war were to break out, they wanted to be there to defend their homes. Most of the last three generations born on Mars or Luna had never been to Earth. They knew it only in the abstract, even though they were taught about it in school.
If war were to break out, the whole solar system would be in turmoil for the next several generations as people, in their natural state, would argue and fight over who was going to be emperor.
There would be substantial profits if one wanted to deal in arms or other illegal goods, but Harry was not about to fight that hard for profits. Life was good and he intended it stay that way.
Harry decided to have an ale and not worry about something he could not do anything about anyway. He ducked in to an almost empty tavern. The barkeep was a skinny, irritating little twerp and Harry found himself becoming irritated as well. Leaving his unfinished ale on the table, he left before he became aggravated to the point of wanting to pinch off the twerp’s head.
Muttering to himself, he walked along the mostly deserted corridor until he found another tavern. It was dark and cool inside. There was a scene etched into a mirror at the back of the counter depicting a large cat of some sort, jaws agape and claws extended, charging a beautiful maiden. A godlike figure of a man with a large sword was coming to her rescue.
There were plenty of people sitting around and Harry liked the atmosphere of the place. The barkeep was nondescript and quiet. Harry sat at the counter so he could study the etching better.
The intricate details of the scene fascinated him. He had seen plenty of paintings and etchings in his travels, but for some unknown reason he was drawn to this mirrored scene.
The barkeep put a glass of ale on the counter. In a long drawl he said, “It kinda draws you in doesn’t it?”
Harry focused on him. “Yes, yes it does. I don’t understand how or why, but it surely does.”
Harry held out his hand. “Name is Harry Remquist, owner and operator of Harry’s Fine Trade Goods. Would you be interested in some fine wines from California?”
The barkeep smiled. “Nope, economy being what it is; only the ale drinkers are left.” He continued polishing a glass. “The mirror is for sale though, might be able to come to some kind of terms. Some trade, some credit.”
Harry’s internal warning buzzer went off. “What are you asking?”
“It’s negotiable. But I’m asking twenty-five hundred credits for it.”
Harry shook his head. “Sorry. I like the thing but that’s too rich for me.”
“Okay.” And the barkeep went about his business.
Harry knew a classic ploy when he seen one. Pretend you don’t care one way or another and get the guy suckered in. He used it all the time.
He ordered a plate of fried fish and a salad. Of course no one served real fish anywhere outside the Luna colonies, but what he had was a pretty good imitation.
A young woman approached him as he was finishing his meal, told him she had heard he was a trader and asked if he had any carpets for sale.
Harry stood up to face a tall lady with long dark hair and a sallow complexion. “Of course, Miss…?”
She smiled. “Lilith Forthsyte.”
“Please, sit down, Miss Forthsyte.” Harry said, as he pulled out a chair for her. “I am known as The Carpet King in most parts and have a complete brochure of the different kinds of carpets I have available. I deal only with Garden Variety on Mars. They are the best, you know. I carry a complete line and I have many different colors for you to choose from.”
“I want something small and easy to maneuver with an auto-drive and I would prefer a colorful one if you have it.”
“No problem.” He said as he took out his palm reader and inserted the proper disk.
The palm reader showed each carpet as a hologram. Harry brought up the small ones with their varying colors, for Lilith to see.
She seemed delighted. “I never knew there were so many to choose from. Can I see this multi-colored one up close?”
Harry obliged and brought it up full size, rotating it slowly so she could see it better. He personally hated these multi-colored carpets. They were so gaudy. Lilith did not seem the type to use something so outlandish.
She then asked to see several more, finally deciding on the multi-colored one.
“It’s for my daughter and you know how kids are these days. They want to make a ‘statement’. Could you deliver by, oh…say, about 1600?” She asked.
“That shouldn’t be a problem. I have several of these in stock.” He told her. She did not even try to negotiate the price. Harry was delighted. His profit margin had just increased by thirty percent.
She gave him a down payment and the address.
Harry called Gloria and asked her to send a shuttle down for him. Before she responded, his first mate came on and told him there was a problem with the launch doors at the moment. They were not opening all the way. But the electrician expected to get it fixed shortly.
“Oh, great!” Harry sighed. “Jack, if he can’t get it fixed in an hour or so, get Sonny to prepare carpet number 67359 and send it down to me. I’ll give you the coordinates if, or when, you need them.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Remquist, I’ll be in touch.”
Harry disliked the thought of putting hours on a new carpet. Every hour that was racked up on a carpet, was a credit off of his profit. But one must make sacrifices and he had made his credits. Besides, Lilith seemed like such a nice young woman.
He whiled away the next hour or so playing a very poor game of chess, with the barkeep. His game was obviously off today. He had not played so bad in ages.
Jack’s interruption was welcomed, but his announcement was not. “Sorry, Mr. Remquist, but the electrician says we need a capacitor that we don’t have in stock. He asks if you could get one and send it back on the carpet.”
More time! More hours on the carpet! If all went well he would just barely make the delivery deadline. He could see his profit from this sale shrinking.
Sighing he said, “Very well, Jack. Send the carpet and the type of capacitor you need to these coordinates.”
The carpet arrived in short order. Harry had to stop at three different electrical shops before he found the right capacitor. Actually he was amazed there were three electrical shops still in operation.
The shopkeep soaked him for three and a half credits, too.
He then called Lilith, giving her a quick explanation of his problem and promised to knock off several credits for the delay, plus for the hour accumulation. She said that sounded reasonable, but to please bring the carpet around before too late.
When the carpet arrived at the tavern, Harry’s normally good mood was beginning to get a bit thin. He programmed the corridors of the town in to it, gave it the address and hopped aboard.
Normally he would not have ridden this particular carpet. It was somewhat small for his bulk. However, time was pressing and he did not think there would be a problem because the distance was short.
As the hatch was closing, he found that he had to hold his arms very close to his sides in order for it to seal. Thankfully Lilith had wanted an auto-drive and it would navigate and steer itself. Some of the cheaper models had to be flown manually.
He told it to “Go.” And it went.
The carpet left the corridors and Harry flew over the surface of Diemos. It was pock marked and old looking. Harry hated tunnels. No matter how nice they appeared, he knew he was underground. At least the Mars and Luna colonists lived on the surface.
“Why would anyone want to live here?” He muttered to himself.
As the carpet was slowing for its entrance back into the corridors, it sensed an obstruction and tried to maneuver around it. Harry’s bulk however, was too much for it to handle safely. After several quick and unsuccessful attempts to right its self and get back on course, it simply gave up and crashed through the window of Arlin’s Fine Art and Tattoo Parlor.
Harry was knocked unconscious. When he opened his eyes he was looking into the anxious, angry face of the owner of the wrecked parlor.
“You all right, Mack? I hope you are and have good insurance, because you’re gonna pay me for this!” He practically shouted.
Then he stepped back. “What the devil is someone your size doin’ in this itty-bitty thing anyway?”
Harry was too stunned to answer. He could feel a lump growing on his forehead and knew he was going to have an awful headache and may even have a concussion. Yet the worst was; that not only was the carpet wrecked, he now had to compensate the owner of the tattoo parlor and had probably lost the sale to Lilith.
As he was extricating himself from the carpet he was trying to apologize and explain his problem at the same time.
“I’m so sorry, sir. Was anyone hurt? Oh, I hope not. This is just, just awful. I was trying to deliver this carpet to a nice young woman but the launch bay doors would not open properly and I was running late, trying to get there on time and…” His voice trailed off when he noticed the look on the shopkeep’s face. He really did not care about Harry’s problem.
“Not really interested in how or why you crashed through my window. Only that you did. You’re lucky no one was hurt. But you’re gonna pay a pretty price for the cleanup and restock.”
Harry felt a little dizzy and had to sit down. “You okay?” The shopkeep asked.
Before he could reply, Jack called to let him know the launch bay doors were repaired. “Do you need me to send a shuttle down for you, Mr. Remquist?”
“No.” Harry looked at his watch. There just might be time. “No I don’t need a shuttle but get Sonny to send another carpet down, just like the one he sent earlier. This is a priority and I need it ASAP.”
The shopkeep, Roy Hagar, Sr., turned out to be a pretty good sort of a fellow. He brought Harry a glass of water and a sterile cloth and bandage for a cut on his forehead.
When the carpet arrived, Harry called Lilith. She was not pleased. “I’m sorry, Mr. Remquist, but the delivery of another carpet will be too late. My daughter will be home any moment. I’ll have to decline and request that you return my deposit.”
“Seeing how disappointed you are, I’ll make you a deal. How about I take twenty-five credits off the price? ” He said.
“Sorry, Mr. Remquist, but my daughter just came in and I really wanted it here for her. I’ll have to decline.” She did not sound that sorry to him.
“Very well, your account will show a refund shortly.” He signed off.
While he had been talking to her his eyes were drawn to the same picture he had seen in the tavern. This one was painted on a canvas, the details were sharp, the colors vivid and the figures looked as though they were alive.
He walked over to get a better look. The brush strokes were fine and barely noticeable.
“Who painted that?” he asked.
Mr. Hagar puffed up with pride. “That’s my son’s painting. Good ain’t he?”
“I saw that same scene etched in a mirror at a tavern. Did your son do that also?”
“Oh, yeah, the boy’s got a talent. He’ll make a good tattoo artist one day, if he decides to go that way. Lately he’s been thinking of going to art school at U of L. I don’t think he needs art school but he says he does.”
“Oh, but art school can teach him so much and show him how to structure his talent. The museums and galleries of the Mars and Luna colonies are always looking for educated, talented artists. They pay very well, too. And these days, unless you have a college education no one wants to hire you.” Harry said.
Then he asked, “Is this painting for sale?”
“Don’t know. You’d have to ask Roy.” He said.
“Would you have him come around, please? I’d very much like to meet the young man, although I don’t know if I can afford his painting.”
Like many people that had grown up in light gravity, Roy was tall and thin.
Harry shook his hand. “Glad to meet the person that painted that scene. That’s an exceptional talent you have. Your attention to detail and the blending of colors is marvelous. I saw the mirror etching, but it doesn’t compare to the painting.”
“Thank you, sir. I am proud of that painting. It took me several months to complete. The mirror etching you saw was the first etching I’ve done, and there are several mistakes on it, but they’re hard to see.”
“Your father says I need to ask you about selling the painting. Have you thought about it?” Harry asked.
Roy told him, “Yes, I have thought about it. I don’t really want to sell, but if I did I want enough credits to get me through the first year of art school at U of L. After that I can get work to support myself and pay for schooling. The cost for that first year is eight thousand credits Mr. Remquist. I don’t think the painting is worth that much, but that’s the price I want.”
Harry’s eyes practically bugged out at the price. “That’s a nice painting Roy, but hardly worth eight thousand.”
“Just a minute son; Mr. Remquist,” Roy Sr. said. “we might be able to come to some kind of terms. The repairs to my shop and the replacement of broken ink bottles, etcetera, will probably come to around twenty eight to thirty thousand credits. You have a wrecked carpet that’s worth maybe, two hundred for parts. You have a new one that’s worth, what? Maybe six fifty? How about we trade the two carpets and say…twenty three thousand credits?
That will get you the painting, plus help me fix my shop and give Roy something to start school with. Then there would be no reason to bring in the Constable or the insurance company.”
Harry knew when he was being hornswoggled, but he did not have much choice. If the Constable or insurance company were brought in, he would be paying a whole lot more in increased insurance rates.
True to his nature, he bemoaned the loss of the sale of the carpet and said how he was barely making ends meet. And the economy was so bad he could hardly afford fuel for the Gloria. His crew mates had been waiting for their pay and if sales did not pick up he would have to sell the Gloria and then all his men would be without a job to support their families and on and on until Mr. Hagar stopped him.
In the end, Harry’s “pity me” ploy worked, but not as well as he had hoped. Roy Hagar settled for the two carpets and seventeen thousand credits. Harry got the painting.
He bid the two farewell and left for the nearest landing bay.
Roy Jr. looked at his dad as if he was seeing him for the first time. “I didn’t know you were capable of ‘taking’ someone so soundly. You’ve always told me to be honest and up front with people. And now you do this? The shop and all of the stuff in it isn’t worth two thousand credits! You were going to abandon it, anyway.”
Roy Sr. smiled. “You want to go to the university and you shall. The carpet is yours; we’ll have it repainted. There’s enough here for you to get through your first year and I have enough to set up shop, maybe not at Mars Station, but enough for a good spot on Luna. If you can live at home, that’ll save some credits.”
Roy Jr. just looked puzzled.
“Son, when we first came here eight years ago I needed supplies. I bought them from a man who guaranteed them. Why they were the best made anywhere in the galaxy, he told me. I looked everything over and tested the inks. It all looked fine. A week later when the inks started fading I tried contacting this man, but he was never available. I tried everything I knew to get him to honor his guarantee but it didn’t do me any good. He ‘took’ me for a lot of credits and I figured the least I can do is take him for his.