Far from the Spaceports

Part 1 - Arrival (third section)

Hugh Town's head porter was wearing a very tatty black fleeceshirt with "Everybody loves a Scilly man" in large white letters.

"Mitnash Thakur? Out of Findhorn? They're calling it Findhorn Interstellar these days, I see."

He pronounced the Scottish name wrong, but I didn't correct him. Hardly anybody got it right. He laughed, and said again, "Findhorn Interstellar. It'll be Findhorn Galactic next."

He checked my permits and orbital clearance, not very interested yet. Then he looked up.

"You're a coder, Mitnash?"

I nodded, knowing what was coming.

"I'd be willing to return your mooring tab if you could do some extras on the system here? Those Pebbles you synced with the bubble were neat. A lot more style than just the Sphinx base deploys. You work with Clay much?"

"Sure. But I can go right down to the Dust level if you need. What's up?"

He looked suitably impressed, and scratched his head.

"I've tried doing Clay. Tricky though, and I never get the chance to play around much. Mostly they get me writing Pebbles for Stardust here."

I thought back to my briefing. The name Stardust meant nothing. Had there been a change of leadership? Such things happened regularly out here. He saw my lack of comprehension.

"The Ziggurat. Ziggy."

He gave up, looking at me in the pitying way that hardcore geeks do when someone doesn't get their drift.

"Well, never mind. We need some scheduling set up. History, archive, that sort of thing. And the schemas to underpin them. And it has to all sync in near real time with the off-islands."

I shrugged. "I can give you a day and a half, system standard."

He was dubious, and scanned the fees manifest in a rather obvious way.

"You'll need two and a half."

"Two. I work fast, and I've rigged the Stele over there to cover off the exception handling."

He ran his fingers in a sinuous pattern over the display.

"Logged it. Get your Stele to send over an authentication package and some references, and we're done."

"No problem. Pick any two references you like when the list arrives. I'll need Glass credentials and timed access for the two days."

He looked pleased.

"If you're good, you'll be able to pick up some quick contracts pretty much anywhere to trade for bed and board. Or anything else you fancy. Either here or on any of the off-islands."

It was my turn to go geeky.

"Can do. But I'm not really here to do that kind of work, no more than I need to. I'm here to prospect."

He was quite obviously unmoved.

"And I suppose you've got a fancy new scheme for tracing the goods?"

"Matter of fact I have. I can't tell you everything. I won't, so don't ask me. But I use a mass spectrograph mashed with radio interferometer readings from the inner system orbitals and some older visual data that nobody looks at any more. And the Dawn probe that came this way all that time ago picked up some anomalies that nobody has ever explained. Then some Bezier splines to filter out the noise. Then there's the analytics I wrote myself – in Dust, so there's precious few can follow them – and I'm on the road to riches."

I had gabbled most of that, except for the last phrase which was excessively slow. He had, ostentatiously, gone back to looking at his screen. He'd heard it all before.

"Of course you are. Sure thing."

He looked up, saw that I was hovering uncertainly.

"Accommodation through that door, left at the end of the quay. Depends how much you can afford. You'll find the cheap stuff first, or you can walk further and live better. Carry on past all of the supply yards first. Air, freezedry, reaction mass, suits and lids, spares, everything. Straight across from the door for somewhere to eat. Local residential is further on, but you won't get in without some authent. For entertainment turn right, everything from straight drinks to VR and gambling. Choose whatever you fancy, but check the price tag first or you'll be spending more time coding than you wanted. Jool's is mid-range, most new folk start there."

I got nearly to the door when he called after me.

"There's a guy called Yul, lives out on Agnes. Yul Yulsson. They call him the Wise Man. Ha ha. He was heavily into mass spectrometry last time I saw him. He'd like nothing better than to waste a day or so of your time. And try the Frag Rockers Bar on Bryher if you want to talk crazy ideas. You'll be able to charter a boat to go out in the reefs and all that. But it'll be different there for someone used to inner system life, you'll need to find someone to show you the ropes."

There was a little pause while he dismissed another status message on his screen.

"Oh, and watch out for the parakeets."

I assumed it was a euphemism for shoreside pickpockets, and waved a hand without looking. I pushed open the heavy door, looked left and right, and decided to go straight on first and find myself something to eat. I didn't expect too much from Hugh Town, but it would be a change from the reconstituted freezedry I'd been living off.