There's No Place Like Mars: Chapter 1

“Bikram is here to see you, sir,” said Horton Chisolm's assistant.

“Wait three minutes and then send him in,” replied the overweight, balding man.
His assistant nodded graciously and bowed out of the shabby office. Chisolm rubbed his large, bloodshot eyes, opened his bottom desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of gin and two glasses. He set these three items strategically on the right hand side of his desk, next to some papers.

Liquor was a highly coveted commodity on Mars, and thus, it was useful to Chisolm to be able to use it as leverage in many ways. In three minutes, he would casually offer a glass to Bikram, as a show of power and as a show of good faith. Bikram was a man he could trust. A man he could count on. A man who deserved some of his gin. And he needed to know this.

He had received a message earlier that day about a number of mysterious crates coming through the loading docks. The message had not said what was in the crates and this made Chisolm nervous. He fished out a bottle of antacids and chewed up one of the tablets.

These days incoming ships were almost daily occurrences. All of that material, those supplies, those commodities, needed to be carefully sorted and distributed, or who knows what kind of bedlam might erupt. Chisolm shuddered, remembering the riots of the early days.

Chisolm counted down the last minute and the door opened. Bikram walked in, looking nervous.

“Have a seat, Bikram.”

The gangly, snaggle-toothed man sat uneasily in the chair on the other side of the desk. Chisolm poured the gin into the two glasses and slid one across to his dock man. “Thanks, boss,” he said, accepting the gin and sipping it. His eyes darted around the room, like he was chasing a gnat with his eyes.

“Do you know what a tough job we have, Bikram?”

Bikram nodded absolute conviction. He knew, alright. He knew all too well, the felonious nature of their business. The sheer volume of goods that had begun pouring into Eden, the only city on Mars, this past few years had been staggering. And with such volume and so few people to manage and monitor it all, some things slipped through that the powers that be were not aware of.

Some bastard asshole even managed to introduce rats into the local economy a couple years back.

It was Chisolm's job to know it all. Nothing passed through the immense airlock outside his office that he or one of his men didn't know about. And it was his right to inspect and claim his percentage.

“I remember when space travel was an unrealized dream. I remember it, Bikram. I was there. Ten years old, watching the old shuttles launch and wanting to be on one. In those days, it was too much to hope for a trip into orbit, much less live here with almost a million other people. You're too young for that. You were born here, right Bikram?”

Bikram nodded.

Almost casually, Chisolm went on, “What pisspot shitbag's been smuggling contraband into my city today?”

“We don't know, sir. But--”

“What is it, liquor? Chocolate? Puppies? More fucking rats?”

Bikram forced a laugh. “Maybe, boss, you should see for yourself.”