Free Spaceport West by Giles Chanot

sir.”
    “Right let’s see. Very good - nice selection. I think two Astral Martinis for the ladies, plus three of your finest blonde ales.”
    “Very good sir.” The android rummaged around under the bar. “Ah, unfortunately, sir, the Martini hasn’t arrived from Earth yet.”
    “Right, better make it two white wine spritzers then.”
    “We’ve only got the locally brewed variety.”
    “Yes that’ll have to do.”
    “And three blonde ales was it sir?”
    “Yeah. Sometime this Martian decade might be nice.”
    “Oh right, I was going to make them straight away sir.”
    “Sorry, figure of speech, please carry on.”
    “About the ales, sir.”
    “Yep. What?”
    “Not truly ales in the literal sense.”
    “Look, just give me whatever you’ve got - bring them over to our table would you? I think I’ve lost all feeling in my legs.”
    “Oh dear sir, would you like me to perform a medical examination?”
    “No, that’s fine, just the drinks, thanks. Oh, and five packets of crisps, peanuts, or anything edible.”
    Sky meandered over to the booth where the others had parked themselves.
    “Drinks are on their way, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.”
    In the next booth were Mars Colony One assistant director Bob Shuman and camera operator Matti Jenks.
    “Look Matti, I’ve been reviewing the footage we’ve captured since the new recruits arrived.”
    “And?”
    “Well it’s just a bit dull - not your fault Matti! Just, you know, we’ve only been able to film inside the camp. Once we get our hands on the video the new guys have been filming for themselves I reckon things’ll look up.”
    “Did you get any response from HQ about the episodes we’ve sent them so far?”
    “Yeah, they weren’t happy. They keep wanting to change the angle. No, not the camera angle. Oh typical, they’re trying to vis call me right now.”
    Shuman took out of his messenger bag a portable vis screen and propped it up on the table.
    “Greetings Shuman, we just wanted to have a quick word with you about the show, if now’s convenient?”
    “Hello sir, yes that’s fine.”
    There was a pause. Matti leant over and whispered to Bob, “What’s going on, has the line dropped?”
    “No,” Bob whispered back, “currently there’s a two minute delay due to the Earth-Mars separation.”
    “Sheesh, this is going to be a fun conversation!” said Matti and settled back with his watery Lager-than-Life tm .
    Just then, Stevie the android bartender who had finally delivered the drinks to Sky’s table, picked up a guitar and tapped a couple of times on a microphone. He then proceeded to perform Walking on the Moon at about half the normal speed and in a most unusual key.
    “Gosh it just gets better in here!” noted Aster.
    “Hey Sian, feel like a boogie?”
    “Are you serious Freddie? You can’t dance to this nonsense!”
    “Perhaps we could persuade him to hang up his guitar and turn the other music back on?” suggested Detroit.
    “I’ll have a little chat with him,” said Freddie, “any requests?”
    “Anything that doesn’t involve a robot playing any instrument whatsoever.”
    Aster watched Freddie traipse over to Stevie and awkwardly try to interrupt his song mid-flow. The android sullenly unplugged his guitar and put it away. Freddie’s wasting his time trying to please Sian, she thought to herself.
    Later that night Aster was lying awake in the female dorm, listening to the others gently snoring, which she could just about hear above the ringing in her ears. Mars was going well, she reflected. Early days, obviously, but hey, being part of the colony was a major ambition she’d now achieved. And it was fantastic that she seemed to have been cured of the nightmares, finally, after so many years. Had they gone for good? Only time would tell. Peacefully, expectantly, she drifted off.
    🚀
    Aster, Sian and Truth were tending to the temporary crop experiment which was housed in one small wing of the living