“Figured out what you’re going to make?”
Cal began to disassemble the still, inspecting the parts to make sure they were clean, and preparing it for its inaugural use.
“I was thinking brandy at first, but it would cost an arm and a leg for the wine to make it. I guess it’s up to Lexi and what she brings back. I’d like this to be as cheap as possible. Both for myself and my investor,” he jerked his head toward the new equipment, alluding to his debt to its maker.
“Still, it’ll be another first for the colony. You’ve had a couple of those now.”
Cal looked up, puzzled by the tally of another claim to fame. “I’m not the first one to make booze. That went to Mitchell. Then Sandy, and then Dante.”
“Beer, wine, and cider. You’re the first to make liquor,” Hunter grinned.
I still don’t count that as a first, he thought.
“Well, I’ll be known for biodiesel before anything else.”
Alexis rounded the corner of the building, throwing up her arms in a dramatic shrug. She was covered nearly from head to toe in mud and dust. An impish grin crossed her lips. “So are you boys going to play with Cal’s toy all day, or is someone going to help me unload the wagon?”
Cal planted a quick kiss on her lips as he passed. “Thanks, babe.”
When he laid eyes on the bounty that his wife had provided, Cal’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. The wooden wagon’s load platform threatened to scrape on its iron shod wheels under the weight of dozens of burlap sacks, each stretched and straining to contain their load. Oval lumps dotted several of the sacks, and at once Cal knew that Alexis got her hands on a significant cache of potatoes. Other sacks were smooth, likely full of grain. He eagerly hoisted the first sack over his shoulder, nearly toppling over backward from the weight. Hunter, Alexis, and the wagon’s driver all pitched in, making short work of the load. By the time the sacks were stacked under the shed’s roof and the driver dismissed, Cal’s shoulders burned and his muscles ached, and his shirt was soaked through with sweat. He dropped to the ground, leaning against the treasure as he regained his breath. The whole time, a smile graced his lips.
“You did great, Lexi,” he remarked, kissing her again and caressing her shoulder. “I saw the potatoes. What else did you get?”
“The only grain I could get anyone to sell me was barley,” she panted.
“Can you use that?” Hunter asked.
Cal nodded. “Think so. I’ll have to do a little more digging, but I think that can be made into whiskey.”
“Whiskey needs barrels to age.”
“I know. Let me worry about that.”
Hunter wiped his brow and looked at the sun, which was just about to rise into the obscuring overhang. “I know what the potatoes are for. Don’t forget me when it’s ready to drink.”
“You get the first bottle, Hunter. I promise.”
With a smile and a bow, Hunter departed.
“So here it is,” Alexis said. “Your big expansion that you were talking about. Potatoes, barley, and an ungodly expensive piece of metal. So what are you going to do about barrels? Or storing it all?”
“I’ve got a couple feelers out on the barrels,” he replied. “Storage was easy. Dayton is letting me use two of the empty cargo pods on Michael. It’s a bit of a drive, but the price was right.”
“Do I even want to know how much?”
He chuckled, knowing that she would appreciate the bargain just as much as he did. “Free.”
She turned and looked at him as if an extra head had sprouted from his shoulder. “Free?”
“Yep.”
“Why would he do that?”
“What else would he do with the space? Ship’s almost completely empty now. And it saves him trying to figure out how to build a warehouse on top of everything else he’s got going.”
“And Darius is alright with this?” There was a hint of apprehension in her voice.
Cal shrugged. “He’s already promised to honor any plans that Dayton makes in his absence, so it’s not an issue. There’s only one real issue left for me.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
Cal stood up, pulling her up with him as he drew her close. “Are you ready to quit your job and help me out full time?”
Alexis hesitated barely a second before she whispered her reply. “Yes.”
* * *
Hunter Ceretti
19 August, 3 yal, 11:49
Hunter eyed the green swing-top bottle carefully. The handwritten label stated its contents in simple, bold handwriting. Liquid settled to a line just above the bottom of the neck. No bubbles or impurities could be perceived, though the unusual color and slight imperfections in the bottle’s uniformity could have hidden something. He picked up the bottle and slowly turned it in his hand.
“Are you going to try it, or are you just going to stare at it all day?” Cal asked mockingly as he tidied up the display shelves in the front of his store.
“Sorry,” he replied, setting it back down on the sales counter, next to an enameled steel cup. “I’m not used to seeing vodka in anything but a clear bottle.”
“I promised you the first bottle. I didn’t have a lot of choice in color or shape, you know.”
“I know.” Hunter pressed against the swing mechanism, and the cork popped off and away from the mouth in a precise motion. “Have you tried it?” he asked, pouring what he reasoned to be a shot’s worth into the cup.
Cal nodded, though his nose wrinkled slightly. “I wasn’t a fan. Neither was Lexi. Too strong. Not really sure what I did wrong, though. I thought I did everything that the book suggested.”
Hunter brought the rim of the cup up to his nose and swirled the liquid slightly. He could smell the alcohol vapors, though not much more distinctly than products from Earth. “You said this is unfiltered?”
“Yeah. Didn’t have any way to filter it. But I made sure to compensate for that with the still.”
Here goes.
He tipped the cup back and swallowed the vodka in one smooth motion. Almost instantly his mouth and throat began to warm. It was by far not the smoothest liquor Hunter had consumed in his life, but it was surprisingly drinkable. He had been on a few microdistillery tours back on Earth, and the product that Cal had created was strikingly similar to a well-respected outfit.
“Give it to me straight,” Cal said with a deflated sigh.
“Wow, that’s really something.”
“Too harsh?”
“Uh, not exactly,” Hunter said. The warmth spread through his stomach, and the tips of his fingers began to tingle pleasantly.
Holy crap that’s powerful.
“Not in the way you think,” he continued. “I’m sure that stuff will kick my ass if I have more than another shot. It’s disturbingly…”
“C’mon,” Cal huffed impatiently. “Just get it over with.”
“Accurate.”
Cal joined him at the counter, a puzzled look scrawled across his face. He picked up the bottle and looked at it intently. “Accurate?”
“Yeah. I’ve had a few unfiltered vodkas before. I have to say, you’re a quick study. This tastes almost as good as the pros back home.”
“The pros,” Cal echoed. “I’m trying to be a pro. That sounds like I missed.”
“For a first try, I’d say you nailed it. You’ll get better as you get more batches under your belt.” A soft knock at the door distracted them both for a moment. “Don’t stop now. You’re definitely on to something,” he added as Cal went to answer the door.
Hunter took another shot as Cal held a brief discussion with the caller. His head began to swim from the alcohol almost immediately. He capped the bottle, this time focusing his attention on the neatly handwritten label. Then his attention was abruptly called away from the spirits, interrupted by a low rumbling noise. Cal beamed with pride as he rolled a brand new 15-gallon barrel into the middle of the shop floor, putting his foot on it to pose.
&
nbsp; “Guess who just sealed the deal?” he beamed.
Hunter set the bottle down and immediately knelt next to the barrel. He ran his hand along the length of one of the staves, admiring the smoothness that was only broken by the iron hoops, and noting the light blue distortion that rippled along the wood’s length.
“Demeter blue elm?”
Cal nodded. “Properly charred. The closest thing we’ve found to white oak so far.”
“And how much did these cost you?”
His friend grinned. “Much less than they should have.”
Hunter whistled as he exhaled. “You must be half Devereaux.”
“Maybe. But the real Devereaux is waiting for his first shipment of vodka. Can you give me a hand?”
“Only if I get to try the whiskey when it’s ready.”
Cal chuckled under his breath. “I hope you’re a patient man. You won’t see that for another few years at least.”
“Of course.” He clapped Cal on the shoulder as he went to the storeroom to retrieve a crate. “But for now, it’s time to make you a prosperous man.”
“Prosperous is a long way off. Debt free is my goal right now.”
Hunter nodded in silence as he helped load the wagon.
I guess that explains how he was able to expand so quickly. Foolish, in my opinion, he thought. But too late to do anything now but support him.
Dedicatio
Gov Darius Owens
13 May, 4 yal, 08:57
North Concordia
Thousands had gathered for the official dedication of the memorial and park. The new Civic Hall was open to the public, and Roger was busy giving tours to those who wanted a glimpse inside the new government offices on the second floor. The market square beyond was buzzing with activity, with many from South Concordia taking advantage of the occasion to shop for goods not readily available at their much smaller market. Kimura Clothiers and Devereaux’s were certain to be crowded today, though Darius imagined that every store would see a boost in traffic. Certainly, none of the owners were going to be present for the dedication ceremonies. This was a mild disappointment, though he could not fault Saika, Frank, or any of the others for tending to their businesses.
On the bright side, the weather was cooperating. What had been a cool, overcast morning melted away as Bravo rose from its slumber. Patchwork tufts of fluffy clouds drifted lazily in the sky. Gentle breezes kicked up every few minutes, carrying with them the scents of home: floral shrubs, baking bread, and the occasional whiff of fertilizer from the farms. On top of that, the pungent smell of barbecue and wood smoke lingered.
I couldn’t have asked for a better Unification Day.
It was Concordia’s fourth official birthday. The anniversary milestone was one celebrated throughout the colony, and as each year passed, its importance grew more profound. It was a day of hope for the future, and remembrance of those who sacrificed their lives for the stability of Concordia. Yet for Darius, the bigger achievement was a year without a crisis. In retrospect he couldn’t see anything different with how he ran things, but the time had flown by quickly, and a realization finally began to sink in.
Looks like we’ve finally turned the corner, Darius thought as he looked out at the gathered crowd. New parents cradled their babies in their arms and hoisted toddlers onto their shoulders. He could easily pick out a dozen children who had not even been conceived when the ships touched down. They were first generation of native Concordians.
Darius nodded to Deputy Governor Dayton, who let loose an ear-splitting whistle. The chaotic din of the crowd quickly subsided as attention fell on Darius. He could still hear the distant commotion of commerce from the market square, though his audience was silent and rapt. He stepped onto a park bench just off the road.
“Welcome, my friends,” he began, projecting his voice so all could hear. “I know that a lot of you got up early to take the long walk here from South Concordia, and we are very pleased to host you on this Unification Day. There are precious few occasions each year when the people of our community can come together to rest, reflect, and celebrate such a momentous point in our brief history.”
The unilateral attention that he received harkened back to another time, just after the formation of the colony. The only other time so many people had hung on his every word: the day that he was elected as governor. It made him suddenly self-conscious, and he looked away shyly, as if he wasn’t worthy. As if he was some remnant from the dead planet more than four light-years away. His fingers trembled for a moment, and he reached for the pocket that held his speech notes. But he stopped.
“We’ve had many trials in the first four years of our existence,” he continued. “Before we left Earth, I had often heard comparisons of our mission to that of westward expansion and settlement in the nineteenth century. We’ve all seen firsthand the kind the kind of heartbreak and suffering that those early pioneers did. Our second winter on Demeter was darkened by the loss of loved friends, family, and neighbors. We felt the pangs of starvation as a people. Our young town has felt the burning rage of discontent and the soul shredding anguish of death. But unlike the pioneers of the West, we cannot go home when things get tough.”
Darius took a moment to gather himself. He smiled as his eyes reconnected with the crowd, the anxiety melting away. His identity as Concordian was no longer in doubt. He was the leader of his people. He had starved with them and bled with them. Wept with them and laughed with them. And together they had achieved something truly incredible in such a short time.
“Nor did the thought ever cross our mind. This is our home.” He swept one hand across the crowd. “This is family. My family and yours. We thrive by helping each other every day in Unity and Honor. And it is because of that we’ve grown faster than we could have thought possible. It is my hope that, with our bright future dawning, we can enjoy many more days to come. It is in that spirit that I dedicate our first public park.”
Darius turned around and opened his arms, inviting the crowd to take in the beautiful sights beyond. Lush green grass carpeted the short, rolling hills from Foundation Street all the way to Michael’s hull. A ten foot tall statue of stone and bronze sat twenty feet from him, surrounded by benches, flower shrubs, and a crisply maintained dirt path that radiated out in spokes from the monument. Deeper into the park, open fields gave way to rows of neatly spaced saplings of a dozen varieties, both native hardwoods and Earth fruit trees. The promenade created by the arbors extended out of sight behind the Civic Hall. Wisps of smoke rose from the promenade, and he could see the white mess hall tents ready to receive a couple thousand hungry celebrants. Pride swelled within him; he had been pleased with the project at every stage of its construction, and handing it over to the people was the ultimate culmination of that success.
He turned back to the people, who were still taking in the scope of their gift. He smiled. “I declare Benedict Square officially open, and invite you all to enjoy it. There will be food and drink for all throughout the day down at the Arbor Promenade, and tours of Civic Hall are available for those who are interested.”
Darius stepped down and started to walk away to claps and cheers. But then he noticed confusion and apprehension among the people. A few timidly wandered out toward the park, but most stayed in the throng, chatting amongst each other.
He threw his arms up and down excitedly. “Come on, don’t be shy! It’s Unification Day! It’s time to celebrate!”
The people’s hesitation melted, and Benedict Square instantly became the heart of festivity.
* * *
Calvin McLaughlin
About five hours later
Spring had never been so warm. Not even the hot Texas sun had stirred Cal’s blood as much as the combination of celebration, alcohol, and Alexis’s radiant warmth as she snuggled close to him. The grass underneath them moderated the temperature somewhat, but only invigorated the romantic feelings burning within him. His passion was sure to boil over later in the evening
once they finally made their way home.
Lively music from a guitar duet carried over the joyful squeals of children. Tantalizing smells of grilling food rolled in waves with every breeze, but he was so stuffed that the very thought of food threatened to make his stomach burst. Cal stretched his legs as much as he could without disturbing Alexis, though unsuccessfully, as she stirred and her eyes fluttered open.
“How long have I been out?” she yawned.
“Not long. Fifteen minutes, maybe.”
She purred contentedly, closing her eyes again and resting her hand on his chest. “I don’t want to move ever again.”
He chuckled as he brushed her hair gently with his hand. “I promise I won’t make you move until Darius kicks us out. Or I get hungry again. Whichever comes first.”
“Good. That gives us two days, I’m guessing, based on how much you annihilated.”
She’s calling you fat, Jerk taunted, though his voice was very distant.
Months earlier, the end of winter signaled the availability of Dr. Taylor’s anti-psychotic medication. Jerk was quickly silenced by the herbal concoction, though he still showed up whenever Cal drank. He could still be as big of a pain as ever, so Cal tried to keep his drinking to an absolute minimum, though this was a struggle in itself since launching his distilling business.
“What can I say?” he replied, ignoring the voice in his head. “Gail knows just what I like. And it’s not like my wife is cooking. She sometimes puts me on these weird diets, or tries new and radical things.”
Alexis playfully slapped him and giggled. “Oh, poor mistreated Cal. Wasting away without another woman to cook for him.”
“There’ll probably be something about that on my tombstone. Here lies Cal, starved to death by love. All he wanted was a Reaper burger.”
Alexis smiled and repositioned so that her head was on his chest. “Glad you enjoyed it. And I’m so glad I didn’t have to cook for all these people today.”
Yeah, what a real white knight you are, Jerk prodded. Having her peddle your liquor for you.
Project Columbus: Omnibus Page 103
