Mapped Space 1: The Antaran Codex Read Online Free PDF Page B

hundreds of millions of years, colonizing the garden worlds,
leaving the late comers like us with a selection of barely habitable rocks no
one else wanted.
    It was the unavoidable fate of
being the youngest interstellar civilization in a very old galaxy.

 
    * * * *

 
    The Bazaar was a rectangular cavern several
kilometers long, south of the main business complex. The ceiling was smooth
rock, not simulated sky, and the air was more like I remembered, breathable but
metallic. Tailors, miners, workshops, hot food vendors and merchants galore
were packed tightly together, all eager to sell me everything I didn’t want. I
hadn’t been there in two years, but it had changed little. Aggressive peddlers
still swarmed after me like insects, trying to shake my hand so they could get
my attention and my credits, while a few shadowy types watched me pass,
wondering if they could take me. Fortunately for them, none tried.
    Emporium Zadim was right where I
remembered it. Hideous outside and in, it was a gaudy place drenched in gold
paint and heavy red drapes with a glowing sign out front flashing its name at
every passerby. Two swarthy, muscle modded Berbers with uninviting demeanors
and dressed in bright silks stood either side of the entrance. Judging by the indiscreet
weapon bulges in their clothes, they were obviously guards, not doormen. When I
passed them, their eyes followed me suspiciously, but they made no move to stop
me.
    The emporium’s walls were hung
with elaborate tapestries depicting the history of the vast expanse of land encompassing
parts of Asia and all of Africa. The theological empire known as the Second
Caliphate was the weakest of Earth’s four great collective-governments, known
for trade and conservative values rather than the technology and pluralism that
characterized the immensely rich and diverse Democratic Union. Not surprisingly,
there were no tapestries recalling the terrorist attack on the Mataron
homeworld in 3154, almost fifteen hundred years ago. Even after all these
centuries, the Calies still tried to forget the disaster a few of their number
had inflicted upon mankind. Ironically, that history now made them the least
likely to violate the Access Treaty, so great were their own social taboos
against causing such a calamity again. In front of the tableaus were polished sim-wood
tables laden with glittering gilded garbage. The real merchandise would be
hidden, out of sight of UniPol investigators and robbers alike.
    “Sirius Kade! My dear friend, I
thought you were dead!” A basso, accented voice boomed across the room. He said
it with such conviction, yet I knew his spies would have reported the arrival
of the Silver Lining before we’d even
berthed.
    Ameen Zadim was a Caliphate
merchant; corpulent, bearded, black bushy eye-brows and a hideous purple sash
that held in his stomach and concealed the small, but highly effective stinger
he always carried. Cali merchants like Zadim were found in most Union affiliated
settlements, mostly because the Caliphate had established few colonies of its
own, preferring instead to take advantage of the Union’s openness and
tremendous expansionist energy.
    He advanced towards me, arms wide
and embraced me warmly. Naturally, I kept one hand on my credit stick, so he
couldn’t steal it. “Ameen,” I said returning the embrace with less enthusiasm,
“You son of a camel thief, you’ve lost weight!”
    Zadim stepped back, laughing,
patting his expanding girth. “Yes, it’s true, my wives feed me too well.” He
nodded reassuringly to the Berber muscle-jobs at the door. They hadn’t taken
their eyes off me for a second, but once Zadim vouched for me, they returned
their malevolent gaze to the street outside.
    “Come! I have coffee – not that
terrible synth -bean poison the Chinese are selling!
This is the real thing, all the way from Lam Dong Habitat, premium grade Viet
beans. You should buy some. I know where you could double your money, only a
week