Smoke, Smog and Mirrors

Jeremiah stood under countless french-white painted projection cylinders with their ghost-quiet ticking as they prepared for projection. At the clanking of Alnaero’s keyboard, the chips ticked higher. Tiny fairy fly holes almost too small for the naked eye funnelled small beams of light into the light-dance room. Altering one another with projected reflection, rays of every colour Jeremiah could and could not name into forming a section of space around him with a lump of cosmic smog called a nebula. A tiny one that looked like a wormhole-warped ancient broken plasma television that now looked like a pile of rainbow gas cloud tofu.

“Welcome to Alnair’s Archery.” Alnaero announced as if the name was recognised by all of Sortea, “This is where we make our fortune.” He gave a spiky toothy smile with his dark yellow eyes.

The constellations of tiny white lights blinked as chips ticked again, myriads of micro-sized finite lights flickered as the projection altered. The constellations of light exploded the size on this bulbous lump of cosmic star-forming thunderstorm to make it take up the centre of the room the size of a large tree. Jeremiah spotted an oddity, a little asteroid about the size of his fingertip on the very edge. “Is this being captured in real-time, that isn’t right.”

“That asteroid, Alnair’s Arrow, is what will make us rich!” The kid almost hopped.

Jeremiah blew smoke from his Chitta-Chimney, a sizeable cloud upward, forcing the lights to clock into overtime. A tiny buzz like a nearby mosquito came from across the room as the hot swirls of smoke spilt over into the projection sequence. Alnaero’s small fish teeth grinding drew a smirk across Jeremiah’s face. He watched the boundless cigarette smoke wafted up against the cylinders. Multicoloured smallpox appeared on the smoke until a few cylinders clocked out and back in as it faded away with a stab of jealousy at his side.

“Jeremiah, please can you not do that.” Alnaero loudly sniffed.

He shrugged, “So, the asteroid. Go on.”

“Yes,” he cleared his gills with that sounds of small bubbles along with his voice, “The most beautiful nebula in the galaxy, and here is our fortune.” He rattled away on the keyboard for the cylinders to tick again, booming up the image of the asteroid. “I assure you, this is real-time capture, Ando’s in the area looking for their stray and agreed to let us in and do research.”

“So long as we feed them what they want, money, information.” Jeremiah snuffed the cigarette and ran his fingers down his beard.

Alnaero nodded, “Undiscovered, fished all over for it. Nobody’s seen it.” It looked about as big as a rogue moon… no, smaller and most definitely a clump of ice about the size of a giant whale.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

Jeremiah looked at Emma, who sat patiently on the floor. Locks of molten chocolate flowing down her shoulders, the same colour as his with more riches, and a look of genuine interest. She gave him her best smile. Jeremiah turned back to Alnaero’s black-yellow gaze, “Go on.”

He beamed those shark teeth, “So Ando is cool with it.” He stressed, “And the asteroid is producing alcohol and somethin’ else that the scanners can’t pick up, the rest blocked, and we reckon we’d have to get someone on the lump of ice rock and space-randomness to take a look.”

“They ain’t sending one of their own because they’re that paranoid ’bout Yoko?” Jeremiah rubbed his chin, “How much are we talking?”

“Madam Ya’a herself would kiss me for finding this and more if we deliver.”

Jeremiah almost harrumphed, “The woman doesn’t drink, smoke or inject.”

Alnaero rolled his eyes, “Anyway, whatever is causin’ all this blanking is at the tip of the asteroid, a large area ‘bout a mile in radius. You’re goin’ there, I’ve arranged for transport that’ll take two weeks, we can be there a few days before.”

Jeremiah shook his head, “Make it one week and two days, I’ll talk to some Covett miners that owe me a favour and have a moon-dragger.”

“You in a rush?” Alnaero rattled away on his keyboard again.

“We’re moving planets,” Emma said excitedly.

“To Solitude already?” Alnaero said in surprise.

“They accepted us to Londonderry.” Jeremiah pulled up his steel box of Chimneys.

“Londonderry? Nice, one week and two days then.” Alnaero gave a light cheer.

Jeremiah ran his fingers back through his hair, taking a good long look at the fat lump of stardust clouds clumped together. A fat lazy thunderhead, “What could freeze an asteroid like this?”

“By luminosity, it’s like someone took a picture of an asteroid and plonked it on a tiny nebula.” Alnaero knocked back half a glass of water, “I hope to Hell it’s just a strange wind pulling back hard enough…”

“You don’t believe that, come on, call it what you don’t approve of,” Jeremiah said behind a cloud of smoke.

“An act of God.” Emma blurted, “Sorry.” She shrugged.

“I hope not, don’t believe in him.” Alnaero tapped zoom, blowing up the nebula in size until it surrounded them.

“How much?”

“Depends on the result, upfront twenty grand covers your equipment and fuel. Post job we’ll talk on the haul, you’ll get thirty to forty Ren, over fifty for Sols and then we’ll make another cut after Mona take their measure of the alcohol content.”

Jeremiah nodded at the ping for transfer on his phone, “You’re more serious than ever, kid, nice to see.” Jeremiah looked again realising why Alnaero chose Archery. There were lines of random colours firing like lightning. The image was in real-time, he realised the nebula itself was an overweight, overly-bulbous cosmic-thunderhead. “A Vestler and a tractor to pull, I’ll be sure to get some mooning drones and hopefully not little-boy ones, no promises.”

Alnaero killed the light-dance, “Alright, ‘ave a good night, you two, I’m goin’ home.”

“You’re the one who lives here.” Emma rose to her feet and stood by the door, taking Jeremiah’s arm as he left. “Be seein’ you, kid.” Jeremiah gave a small wave. “Laters,” Alnaero said with what sounded like the broadest smile he’d ever pulled.