CHAPTER 34
“Oh, we must be almost there,” Elisa said. “I can smell it.”
Brandywine’s was about a half a block down the main drag in Atlanta, which was now called Peachtree Street, naturally, from the newly renamed Piedmont Park. The marquee read BRANDYWINE’S EVENT CENTER and a smaller sign read under it read: PRIVATE PARTIES BY RESERVATION. The rest of the frontage, about a hundred feet, was covered by pictures and videos of wildlife on Bellerophon. Jason recognized some of the shots and about two thirds of the locations. There were shots from the Graham Islands of crayfish being unloaded by bots.
Jason thought about the first time he’d walked through the area, going to meet Tim. About half the businesses in the area were open, which was a pretty good percentage, and people were moving. It still felt a little deserted, but it was better than nothing but a couple of cops every few blocks and kids trying to find trouble to get into.
“Nice,” Mary said, nodding agreeingly.
“My favorite client and my favorite partner in one place!”
James Allen was coming around the corner with a spectacular brunette on his arm.
“James,” Jason said, shaking his hand and surreptitiously checking for a ring. Wedding ring. What was his wife’s name . . . ?
“Madeleine Allen,” Madeleine said. “Maddy. Nice to finally meet you all in person.”
“This is not a joking question,” James said. “Mary . . . Elisa . . . ” he asked, pointing back and forth. “Which is . . . ?”
The two Randall women were standing next to each other so they looked at each other and without a word switched sides.
“Guess,” Elisa said.
“Daughter,” Madeleine said, pointing at Elisa.
“How’d you guess?” Mary said, smiling. “We really don’t look that unalike these days.”
“James told me you’d been visiting with Jason at one of the test sites,” she said, wagging a finger at Elisa. “Heavy tan. Speaking of which,” she added, looking at James. “When do I get to go to the tropics?”
“Have you seen the shipping rates?” James said.
“We’ve got deadhead heading to all over the planet, James,” Jason said. “For passengers, anyway. It would probably be a few credits. Few as in ten or twenty to the pilot. And we can get a coffin of gear down easily enough. It’s a rounding error. I made the same offer to John and Mary.”
“He’s just trying to find people to put to work,” Mary said, winking.
“There’s really not much to it,” Jason said.
“Except loading lobster pots,” Elisa said. “And baiting hooks for the lines. Hauling in these massive tuna by hand! I worked my fingers to the bone. To the bone. He’s a slave driver!”
“What?” Madeleine asked, confused.
“My daughter was . . . strangely hard to get ahold of when she was in the Islands with Jason,” Mary said, clearing her throat. “She alleges that it had to do with loading lobster pots.”
“With these hands!” Elisa said, holding them up. She’d gotten her nails manicured at some point. “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”
“We probably should go in,” Jason said. “I would rather face a thousand deaths . . . ”
“You really don’t like social events, do you?” Elisa said. “It’s okay. Think of me as a great big social autocannon on your arm. We can take down the whole crowd.”
“Okay,” Jason said. “And thanks. Seriously.”
“And besides,” Elisa said. “I must confront . . . her.”
“I’m going to stand back on that one,” James said. “I’ve known Richard and Monica for years. That’s going to be some serious sparks.”
“I think I have to be there for it,” Jason said, dilating the door. “Here we go . . . Oh, I figured out how to make a flying motorcycle . . . I patented a design if we can ever get the factories up and going . . . Whoa!”
It was more people than he’d anticipated. For the “soft open” he’d been told to invite up to six “family and friends,” a plus one and himself. Tim had been insistent that he had to attend. That was eight.
He wasn’t sure how many people in the company had been told to invite eight, but there were more than two hundred people in the room. For a “soft opening” it was a heck of a crowd.
The reception area was paneled in light fumed oak with large flexscreen “pictures,” complete with frames, that changed from one scene in Pegasus to another. Most were from Bellerophon but there were space scenes as well. Shots of the shell, inside the shell of the station with ships coming and going. Shots of the support stations.
The ceiling was birch around the perimeter then an inset curved lift that was gently lighted. There was a way to thinly slice wood and chemically treat it so that it was translucent. Mount some lights behind it and you had beautiful soft lighting. The center of the ceiling was mostly flexscreen. It showed a view of the sky over Bellerophon, as if the restaurant was on the planet and it was a skylight. Currently, it was set to night.
Small spotlights illuminated the numerous standing tables. Those had been the hardest to acquire.
“Oh, this is much nicer than I expected,” Elisa said.
“I told you there were amazing things you can do with wood,” Jason said. “Some call him . . . Tim . . . ?”
“Fashionably late,” Tim said. He was acting as greeter and Debra was on his arm. She’d made her decision and was sticking with it.
“Debra,” Jason said, and did the kissy at the cheek thing.
Introductions were had and Jason pointed. “Bar?” he asked.
“You’re going to love the selections,” Tim promised.
“Blue, green, red . . . ” John said, smiling.
“No, actually,” Tim said, smiling back. “Brandywine’s Finest Counterfeit.”
“Brandywine’s what?” John asked.
“You’ll like it,” Jason said.
They made their way to the bar but less than halfway Jason had to pause.
“Elisa, this is Sheila my niece,” Jason said. “And her husband . . . Reg . . . ”
“You remembered,” Sheila said.
More introductions. Reg was looking uncomfortable in a sport coat that had been somewhat inexpertly retailored. Jason wondered how old he was. Sheila’s dress was an older look, nineties at a guess, and he suspected it was something she’d kept around from high school or college the same way he’d kept his uniforms around.
They had a kid who was thirties. Steve, Sheila’s father, was ten years older than Jason.
Guess was around fiftyish.
“We’re making our way to the bar,” Jason said. “Catch up in a bit?”
“Sure,” Sheila said, grinning. “And thanks for getting the family jobs. Though you’d better not get my husband and sons killed.”
“I will do my very best,” Jason said, then nodded as they walked away.
“What’s he do?” Mary asked.
“I’m . . . not sure . . . ?” Jason admitted. “Accounting? This whole thing is growing so fast I have a hard time keeping up . . . I asked Jewel to ask Tim’s AI to see if there was anything for them at the company when there was something . . . ”
“Reg is in shipping and receiving,” Jewel interjected. “Sheila works in the accounting department.”
“If it wasn’t for Jewel . . . ” Elisa said. She looked around and smiled thinly. “Your banker is here.”
“Bar first?” Jason asked. “I’m going to need alcohol for this.”
They met a few other people crossing the room then finally reached the bar.
The bartender was a stocky fellow with broad shoulders and a ready grin.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Brandywine’s, I am Nathan,” Nathan said, smiling. “May I prepare for you a cocktail of Brandywine’s Finest Counterfeit? What’s your poison?”
“My poison is old scotch,” John said, smiling. “But I’m not going to be greedy.”
“Brandywine’s Finest Counterfeit Old Highlands Scotch it is,” Nathan said, reaching up and pulling down an unlabeled bottle. He poured a couple of fingers into a highball and handed it over. “Try this, sir. I would treasure your thoughts.”
John took a sip and then held up the glass to consider it.
“That tastes like . . . very old scotch,” John said. “Though not quite . . . Not one I recognize . . . ?”
“Brandywine’s Finest Counterfeit is called that for a reason, good sir,” Nathan said, nodding. “A blend of water, ethanol, artificial colors and flavor, strained through Bellerophon’s best peat. As a connoisseur of fine alcohol, it really does taste like old scotch. The slight difference appears to be the peats of Bellerophon. So old Bellerophon scotch. I’m glad you enjoy it, sir. We aim to please. And for the ladies?”
“Cosmo?” Mary asked.
“Same,” Elisa said then shrugged at the looks. “There’s no drinking age. Yet.”
“Twiiins . . . ?” Nathan asked as he began making legerdemain with alcohol.
“I think I look rather good for a mother of a certain age,” Mary said, dimpling. “I had to borrow a dress from my daughter.”
“I, too, found myself adrift without wardrobe,” Nathan said, handing over a stemmed glass. “I would favor your thoughts, madame. And for the miss . . . ”
“That . . . tastes like a cosmo,” Mary said, surprised. “With good vodka and triple sec.”
“We aim to please,” Nathan repeated, handing over Elisa’s cosmo. “Sir?”
“Bourbon,” Jason said. “Splash of branch water?”
“A fine bourbon of no particular vintage,” Nathan said, pouring two fingers of brown liquid in a glass and putting in a splash of water from a flexmet bottle. “Spring water. Not, alas, limestone springs. But needs must.”
“That’s good,” Jason said after a sip. “Do we sell this yet?”
“Brandywine does,” Nathan said. “To bars in barrels. There’s apparently supply chain issues with both bottles and labeling.” He gestured at the unlabeled bottles. “But they intend to offer it for sale to the general public. We hope you enjoy it, sir.”
“You didn’t know about this?” Elisa asked.
“I knew we had some and were working on distribution and sales,” Jason said sheepishly. “I’ve been . . . really busy . . . ?”
“Lobster pots?” Mary said, raising an eyebrow.
“He’s the senior partner of Brandywine,” Elisa said, dimpling.
“Oh,” Nathan said, straightening. “I wasn’t aware. I hope everything is to your satisfaction, sir!”
“Absolutely,” Jason said. “This is great. I just haven’t really been keeping up. I’m one of the field partners and I’ve been out of the station more than I’ve been on it.”
“Seems to be going well,” Nathan said, gesturing around the room. “The buzz sounds positive. It’s . . . good to see this sort of thing again. Enjoy your evening.”
“It is,” Jason said, nodding. “Oh, there’s Storm. A friendly face . . . ”
* * *
“Storm,” Jason said, doing the kissy face thing. Storm was on the arm of a short, stocky guy with brown hair and eyes. He had a “military” look and a wedding ring. She was wearing a purple cocktail dress that was cut practically to her navel. “This is Elisa Randall . . . ”
“This is Emil,” Storm said. “Friend from the Army.”
“I was her NCOIC,” Emil said, shaking their hands. “She said she needed a plus one. She’s also friends with my wife.”
“Okay,” Jason said. “So, how is the marketing thing working out?”
“Great,” Storm said. “I was on Tucker. Very cool guy in person as well as on camera.”
“I heard that,” Jason said. He hadn’t heard that.
“You didn’t see it?” Storm asked. “They asked about you . . . Crocodile Dude.”
“Aggh,” Jason said.
“The One and Original Crocodile Dude,” Elisa said, laughing. “Don’t be embarrassed by it. Especially if it works for marketing.”
“I’m big in Japan.”
“It’s part of our promo,” Storm said quizzically. “‘At Brandywine we go to extremes to bring you the best, fresh, natural foods.’ He asked about it. I told Tucker you were the senior partner who set up the entire Brandywine program. ‘Yeah. That’s my boss.’”
“If it works for marketing,” Jason said with a shrug.
“So, how’d you two meet?”
“Our AIs hooked us up,” Elisa said.
“Mine keeps trying,” Storm said, chuckling. “I think they’re programmed to do it.”
“Still can’t find that one perfect guy?” Elisa asked. “Jason talked about you.”
“Probably half the guys my AI has tried to hook me up with would be great,” Storm said. “Like at least a third of the guys I’ve met in my life. Maybe I’m just not ready to settle down. Maybe I just want to live my own life.”
“Don’t feel pressured,” Mary said. “You’ve got time. Whatever time you had before, it’s been added to.”
“Thanks,” Storm said. “There’s so much great hunting on this planet! I’m not sure it’s wise to drag along a passel of kids. Might be fun, but not till things settle down a little.”
“And great fishing,” Elisa said. “And diving! And spearfishing! And . . . ” She stopped and looked at John. “And loading lobster pots! With my bare hands!”
“Why were you loading lobster pots?” Storm asked. “Can’t flexmet do that?”
“We’ll definitely have to work on that process,” Jason said sagely. “Sorry, Storm, gotta go. People to see.”
“Have your people call my people,” Storm said. “We’ll do lunch.”
“Oh, look, isn’t that your banker, Richard?” Elisa said, pulling his arm in that direction. “We should say hi. Always good to keep your banker happy.”
“We should,” Jason said, dreading it.
“Hello,” Elisa said to Richard, shaking his hand. “Elisa Randall. I think you know my father and mother, Mr. John and Mrs. Mary Randall. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Derren.”
She had her best Coastal Carolina accent screwed down and the charm-school thing dialed up to supernova.
“Pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Derren,” Mary said, Coastal Carolina also screwed down.
Jason suddenly had the image of a pair of older and younger lionesses flanking a particularly tasty looking gazelle.
“Nice to finally meet in person, Richard,” John said, shaking Richard’s hand.
“John,” Richard said. “Things seem to be proceeding with the firm.”
“Bit different than the Battery,” John said, smiling. “But I’m enjoying the challenge.”
“Jason,” Richard said, shaking hands. “When this venture started, I was . . . unsure. Forgive me for doubting you.”
“First, Richard, it’s a banker’s job to doubt people,” Jason said. “You’re also my banker and I’ll remind you that you’re holding my money. I want you to give a gimlet eye to loans.”
“Gimlet eye?” Monica said raising an eyebrow. She had been introduced as well.
“It’s a word that means narrowed or with a suspicious cast,” Jason said, smiling awkwardly.
“I know what gimlet means, Jason,” Monica said. “You don’t always have to explain.”
Right back into it.
“Where did you get that brooch,” Elisa asked. “It’s lovely.”
“It was a gift,” Monica said cautiously, then looked at Jason.
“Someone had good taste, then,” Mary said, looking at Richard and smiling.
“It was not my gift,” Richard said uncomfortably.
“How did you two meet?” Elisa asked. “Jason did mention that you’d been . . . an item. But he didn’t mention how you met . . . ?”
“We met through work,” Richard said evenly.
“And how did you two meet?” Monica said tightly.
“Our AIs played matchmaker,” Elisa said brightly. “I think they have a thing for each other as well. Jason was doing site testing on a remote tropical island, there was a spare seat and one thing led to another.”
“I’m sure it did,” Monica said, smiling thinly.
“Have you been to the Graham Islands?” Elisa said. “They’re lovely. A perfect tropical paradise.”
“Graham Islands?” Monica said edgily. “Really, Jason?”
“Hey,” Jason said, shrugging. “It’s the first thing of . . . dozens I’ve named after myself. I figured it was due. Great place. It’s a blown-out caldera, so it’s a series of more or less circular barrier islands with an inner island set that’s protected from the waves. The Pallas waves have to be seen to be believed. Do you surf, Richard?”
“I do not, no,” Richard said. “Did the island have a name?”
“Manu-aua-tapa-pua-atua-de’isle Island,” Jason said quickly. He’d practiced.
“Did you name it that?” Richard asked.
“Yes,” Jason said. “I’m hoping that someday it will be on a fifth-grade spelling bee or geography bee as the first landing spot in the Graham Islands.”
“Ask him what it means,” Elisa said, dimpling.
“Okay, I’ll bite,” John said. “What does it mean?”
“It’s the name of a similar island from the French Carolinas on Earth,” Jason said. “The area had been raided, invaded and fought over since the Polynesians colonized it. The first colonists, related to the Māori, saw an island and named it their name for a volcanic rock island, Manu. The next invaders named it the local name plus their generic name for island. Aua. The next invaders named it Manu-aua, the local name, plus their name for a volcanic island. Manu-aua-tapa . . . ”
“So, the name of the island is in reality Island-Island-Island-Island . . . ” Richard said shaking his head. “Droll.”
“In seven different languages including French and English,” Jason said. “Let some kid research that one.”
“We need to circulate,” Elisa said. “Jason’s one of the guests of honor. Richard, Monica, it was a great pleasure to meet you. May God walk with you in all the dark places you may go.”
“Thank you,” Richard said.
* * *
“That went . . . better than expected,” Jason said.
“What a . . . witch,” Elisa said.
“Oh my, yes,” Mary said. “And you handled it perfectly, my dear.”
“Were you being . . . nice?” Jason asked.
“Except for the one dig about the tropics,” Mary said. “As I said, perfectly.”
“I don’t get it,” Jason said. “I was expecting lots more fireworks. Glad there weren’t but . . . ”
“Leave it to us, dear,” Elisa said, patting him on the arm. “Just smile and tell stories and jokes. You did perfectly as well. Now, let’s talk to others. I need to show my man off . . . ”
* * *
“ . . . so then I was asked to seek opportunities elsewhere,” Jason said, shrugging and taking another sip of bourbon. Just a sip. “How was I to know that she was the granddaughter of the CEO? Somebody should warn a guy . . . ”
“But somebody did warn you,” Elisa said.
“I sort of heard it in passing?” Jason said, shaking his head and shrugging. “I was concentrating on something else at the time. And she really was bad at the job. Not a big deal. The company went out of business about a year later, anyway. Point of that being I’ve worked for wages most of my life. And often low wages.”
Jason had rediscovered that if he mixed not really talking very much with telling stories, the whole “social” thing worked out better.
Turned out that it was both a “soft opening” for friends and family as well as a company party for most of the station-side employees as well as ground contractors who were on station. Which explained the number of people. Given Tim’s notorious stinginess it was surprising he’d sprung for it.
But it seemed to be going well. The room was buzzing. People were meeting people.
People congregating for food was probably the oldest form of socialization. Paleolithic tribes would tend to gather food during the day and meet to eat what had been gathered in the evening. Sitting around the fire they would exchange experiences, the true gift of humanity. The ability to learn from other humans’ stories, along with technologies as simple as the club, was how humans had once conquered an equally dangerous planet.
The tiny compartments people occupied barely allowed congregations of four, thus stripping humans of a basic need.
Opening an “event space” was probably one of the best things Brandywine had done for the overall society of Pegasus. Along with bringing real food to the station, of course.
Also, he was meeting people he didn’t even know worked for the company. Worked for him for all practical purposes which was a bit boggling. The company had been growing fast while he’d been gallivanting around the planet. And more than a few were hanging around the mysterious “other founding partner.”
He needed to visit the offices more. Some of the employees were sure he didn’t exist.
“So how do you think it’s going?” Jason asked, pointing at one of the hangers-on. Stan something. Maybe. Another issue of socialization was that he was terrible with names. “What’s it like to work for Brandywine? Honest answer.”
“I think it’s a good place to work,” Stan Maybe said. “It’s nice to just have a job but it’s . . . It’s better than the last place I worked on Earth. The people are nicer.”
“Less toxic?” Jason asked.
“Yes,” Stan said, looking relieved.
“Good,” Jason said. “I knew quite a few people who ran businesses but when I had the idea I went to Tim because the previous company he ran, people said nice things about it. And he was never a toxic boss to me. I hate toxic companies and didn’t want to be partners in one.”
“So . . . ” The speaker was an apparently young woman with Stan Maybe but you could never tell how old anyone was. “I’m not with the company so . . . Tim runs the company. What do you do?”
“Cheryl,” Stan said, laying a hand on her arm.
“I dunno,” Jason admitted. “I don’t know how a partnership is supposed to run. Tim’s the steady hand on the tiller, the guy who says no when the stakes are too high. I’m the crazy guy who figures out the stuff that looks crazy until you get it functioning. But it takes Tim to actually figure out how to monetize it and keep it all going. Not my strength. Logistics. Okay. I can do that with the best of ’em. But there’s a lot to running a business and Tim handles that. Makes sense to me and so far, it’s working. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”