Others, however, unexpectedly popped up like forgotten old friends, summoned by some subtle prompt.
The smell of earthy produce from the open air market in the colony was one such cue. Even before she knew exactly where the market was, her enhanced sense of smell caught the aroma of turned earth, lush vegetation, dried stalks, and plump vegetables.
And that reminded her. Kodachi had had an interest in growing things. In her last life, the times she spent in her green house were the few times the ‘Black Rose’ could truly claim to have been at peace with herself. Plants didn’t judge, didn’t run away, and if treated right and maintained with care, didn’t wither and die on one.
And so it was that she followed her nose to the farmers’ market. As much as Kessler Corporation might want to regulate food production and processing, they quit trying to prevent the free agronomists from holding an open-air market for their produce. Actually, the market made for good public relations; the rustic establishment bespoke of a certain colonial spirit and rude prosperity that appealed to many would-be colonists. The open stalls filled with fresh produce, next to the refrigerated meat lockers(looked over and pruned by the health inspectors), boasted of plenty, and had appeared on more than a few colonial prospectuses meant to lure immigration to an otherwise unprepossessing world.
Kodachi walked in and breathed deep, losing herself in it all.
Then with a vengeance, she began to SHOP.
The selection of produce might be rather limited compared to what 20th-century Tokyo supermarkets might have offered, with access to Asia’s(and the Americas’) agricultural bounty, but it was still substantial. Knowing her Ranma-san would be stocking up on grains and meat, she went after more specialty meats and produce. Stable, nutrient-rich, produce like avocado, squash, vitamin-C rich citrus, tubers, onions, greens, dried mushrooms, cheese, dried, canned, and preserved fruit, pickled vegetables, smoked and preserved meats. While she saw few of the ethnic- and region-specific foods she’d grown up with, Kodachi recognized enough of the staples to be satisfied with the selection.
Her genetic makeup might be composed of mostly predatory species(certainly, nobody had observed the xenomorphs eating their veggies), but Kodachi understood the need for a balanced diet; fiber and minerals that animal flesh couldn’t provide (though Nanami had once commented that their hybrid physiologies could probably make do chewing on the house wiring). Besides, her humanity was craving something ELSE, and those fruits and vegetables just looked SO good.
Another part of Kodachi’s mind briefly contemplated what ELSE could be done with some fruit, especially lemon, and lush vegetables before it was shushed down. However, Kodachi filed the thought away for later, with a grin.
Even with those thoughts in mind, she barely gave a second glance to the many hearty, muscular, farmers working around her. She quickly assessed them and found them no equal or better to her own chosen mate.
The few single(and a very few already married) men who made a pass at the attractive Asian woman perusing the market with almost predatory glee only got far enough to find themselves subjected to a scathing analytical stare that quickly assessed them, then silently gave them warning. They wisely backed off, seeing something in the stare that didn’t like them and deflated their self-image with haughty criticality.
The regular stall keepers who minded their own business, on the other hand, found themselves subjected to a barrage of questions, seeing their produce thumped, poked, and prodded, and, if they were lucky, found themselves rather richer with a big order placed. Baskets and bags began to fill, a cart pulled up, delivery to the spaceport arranged, and farmers took notice of the exchange of money. More produce began to come out.
Though she had rarely ever done so, going to market like a commoner, or a housewife, to shop for her dinner, Kodachi knew good vegetation and quality food. And she would not settle for anything less than quality for her money. In its own way, her aristocratic upbringing had prepared her as much for trading as Ranma’s original-life upbringing on the road had prepared him to be a trader in bulk. Having enhanced senses that could detect the slightest hint of rot also helped. She was actually enjoying this.
She gestured to the stockgirl she’d dragooned into her service; they’d need another cart.
Some distance away, two figures watched the shopper intently. Ironically, while Rolleye and his little crew might have stumbled into Nanami when she was trying NOT to broadcast that she had money, these two, even knowing that the target of their attentions HAD money, and was spending it quite freely, were under orders not to try to get it.
Besides, even if they had muscled SOME of the farmers in the market, their organization didn’t have ALL of them cowed. And farmers tended to get INTENSE about those who got between them and a paying customer.
Out beyond Ceti Alpha Seven’s atmosphere, even farther out near the gas giant Ceti Alpha Nine, something(s) else moved, contemplating their OWN shopping.
Mudpie was rich in minerals, mostly industrial feedstocks of oxides and salts that wouldn’t cause a real gold rush, yet were still in demand by terraformers and industry, but more recent and confidential corporate surveys had determined there were sizable and easily accessible deposits of rare earths among its sands.
Gadolinium, cerium, samarium, dysprosium, to name a few. All elements with high technology applications. Even vital to high-tech manufacturing.
Kessler Corporation had already begun quietly scrapping up the stuff and stockpiling it for shipment. Among the heaps and piles of bulldozed-up alkalines and silicates were quantities of more precious minerals, awaiting refinement and transport when the Kessler execs thought they could get the right price for it.
Pity those confidential corporate reports had been intercepted and decrypted, the revelations in them laid bare. As too, were the security capabilities of Kessler Corporation.
There were those who relied on high technology for their livelihood, and had no interest in paying fair market price for the materials necessary to maintain it. Those piles of unrefined gadolinium, cerium, samarium, dysprosium, and promethium were, in their way, as mouthwatering to those with a high-tech appetite as any pile of produce in the Mudpie open market.
”Sleeper sat just registered a hit in the Alpha Ceti system.”
”Oh?”
”It’s our missing bird.”
”Alpha Ceti? That’s a few days away, but it’s a solid lead. Seems like SOMEBODY was trying to be clever. Set course and tell the crew to prepare for hiber.”
*CLANK*CLANK*CLANK*CLANK*
”Man, I’m booorrrrrrreeeeeddddd.....erk!”
”Do . NOT. Ever. Fucking. Say. That.”
”What?! All I said was that I was bor-ahhk! What was THAT for?!”
“Yeah, Chief Cho? Why you on Schmidt’s case?”
”What did I just say?! I’ll excuse it once because you’re new to the job. I’ll also say this once; you do NOT want this job to get interesting. Ever. I’ve had interesting jobs. I’m fucking scared of interesting jobs. Interesting jobs in our line of work typically mean screaming and dying and running and pleading to gods that don’t listen. I’ll take boring any day over interesting. Just stick to polishing your burner rifle, checking on the EDs, and make sure you’ve done everything to insure that your job REMAINS boring. The Company doesn’t want any surprises. _I _ don’t want any surprises! And you will NOT tempt fate with stupid remarks like that, however heartfelt you feel they may be, got it!?”
”All right, Chief Cho!”
Behind the Alpha Ceti Seven Hub Patrol security foot team, a small crowd was gathering around the communications center.
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(Posted Wed, 03 Feb 2010 16:57)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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