The cantina was starting to get busy, the shifts having just rotated. About a quarter of the station was clocking out at the same time, which meant a lot of people with some time to kill and some extra money burning a hole in their pockets. I knew that some of the crew sent portions of their paycheck back home to their families, and others saved up for when their contract was over and they decided that the spacer life wasn't for them. The career crew, though? They were the ones who partied the hardest. There were only a few places to spend money on the station, and if you didn't intend to drop cash in the commissary or the cantina that usually meant that you were looking forward to some kind of extended leave. I once saw someone blow through three months of pay after spending a week in the Jovians. Those casinos were downright predatory, but I was never one to lecture people on how they spent their cash.
I had considered a transfer to Titan once upon a time. The hydrocarbon mines are always hiring, and it would be nice to feel solid ground under my feet again. I had opted to stay on Hamilton because I didn't want to put any more distance between myself and Earth. Things were rocky back then, but we thought we could make it work.
"What'cha drinkin', Vee?"
Agustin had sat down across from me and I hadn't even noticed. Wow, maybe Cynthia was right about me being inattentive?
"Oh, uh..." I raised my glass so that he could see for himself. "Orange juice."
"Orange juice?"
"Yeah, they keep it on hand for like, screwdrivers and mimosas and-"
"No no no, I get why they have it." Gus pointed an accusatory finger at me. "Why are you drinkin' it?"
Normally I'd get nervous if a security officer was confronting me, but since it was Gus and it was over my choice of beverage, I felt no need to be especially polite.
"What, am I not allowed to drink juice like a grown man? Who are you, the Juice Police?"
"If I was, I'd put you away for a long time. I'd probably get a promotion." He reached for his own drink. "They'd make me Juice Detective."
"I fear for the safety of the public, Gus. It's bad enough that they let you carry a gun and a badge here."
He laughed and sipped from his glass. Gus was probably the least uptight security officer on the station, something that I'm sure has kept him from getting a promotion. Not that he seemed to care. From what I've learned about him during our time together it's that if Gus had another option, he would have taken it by now.
"Hey, at least Security has somethin' to do now, thanks to that weird space rock that Salvage brought in." Gus was drinking every time he took a pause. I guess he had big plans for tonight. "They're keepin' it locked up tight. The goin' bet right now is that it's Martian."
"It's not Martian," I said, maybe a little too quickly. Gus raised a brow.
"You get a good look at it?"
"Yeah... Yeah, I saw it. They had to clear it with HabEn before they could bring it into the station." I wasn't sure how much of this I should be sharing. Probably none of it. This sort of talk would just fuel wild speculation, and word travels fast on stations. "But, uh, it didn't look Martian, that's for sure. No angles, just... smooth. Not Venusian either. It's a xenoarchaeologist's dream, not that I would know much about that."
"Well whatever it is, they've got two officers watchin' the door to the labs, plus a couple of checkpoints set up at the pod entrances. Full containment procedures in place, and the captain has been overseeing every step of it. Probably the most work I've done in months. They're takin' it serious. This thing isn't gonna give us some space disease, is it?"
"We ran it through decon and it's not putting off anything that would make R&D concerned. It didn't set off any alarms, and even if the station's sensors sniffed something out it would let us know immediately. It's safe, Gus." I finished my orange juice. "I cleared it myself."
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