The Greatest Commodity (First Draft)

The Metal Planet

Together, the two ships changed course, following the Patrollers lead. They maneuvered into an orbital trajectory that appeared somewhat clearer of traffic.

The Patrol Cruiser moved in to dock. It's lights continued to flash red and blue.

There were no visible docking ports -- There didn't need to be. Upon contact, a section of its hull seemed to liquefy and stretch itself around the Excelsior's main hatch.

"How the hell did they do that?" Nevil asked, perplexed.

"Likely Claytronics." Aquila answered, "The vessel's outer hull must be composed of Catoms."

The conversation stopped there as they were startled by a knocking on the hatch door. 

"Aquila," Said Nevil, "hide in the engine room." The robot slinked away to find a secure niche among the vital systems of the ship.

Nevil checked the hatch pressure gauge, and found that the exterior of the hatch was pressurized, no doubt the docking was completed -- it had happened so silently! He unlocked the hatch and opened it. It opened up to a smooth, glassy tunnel lit abstractly by glowing Catoms in the walls, it had an almost glittery look to it. Waiting at the door was a person wearing what was clearly a uniform; a dull-gray jumpsuit with white piping and a rank insignia -- the insignia looked nothing like any Nevil had seen before, he couldn't tell the individual's rank; the officer was a tall, thin, female. About two and a half meters in height; and extremely lean, her limbs nearly resembled twigs; quite obviously a Lunar native.

Her hair was cut short, died a silvery gray. Most striking were her eyes, likely augmented, they were a deep shade of cyan -- seeming almost to glow.

Still standing just outside the hatch, she reached one arm through. The disparity in gravity fields between the two zones caused her arm to be suddenly yanked downwards for a moment, she then pulled it back.

"May I ask," she said, "that you please come aboard my ship. I don't think I could last so much as a second in yours."

Making a closer assessment, Nevil noted the sidearm at her hip. Quite recognizable, it would seem that old-style kinetics hadn't been fazed out entirely.

He shrugged, "Fine by me." He got up and followed her into her ship. He was momentarily nauseous as he crossed the threshold between the two ships, stepping straight out of a one-g environment into less than a sixth of that. With nothing to smooth the transition, he barely stopped the contents of his stomach from coating the walls, a small content of vomit came up into his throat, leaving the stomach acid to burn his mouth.

The officer looked back to find Nevil turning a pale shade of green. She smiled for a moment before catching herself. "This happens all the time," she told him, "nobody ever seems to come from a planet any bigger than Mars. Is there no love for worlds like Luna?"

Nevil coughed.

"Anyway," she finished, "there's a dispenser over there," she pointed to an alcove in the far wall, "get yourself a drink of water and then we'll talk."

She turned around and disappeared into another room -- likely the bridge, leaving Nevil to decode the functions of the machine by himself. 

It took him nearly five minutes to get the damned thing to give him water. There was a single touchscreen control panel, it displayed hundreds of different options for food and drink, scrolled by swiping a finger up and down. Water was the first option, at the top of the list, he tapped the icon, only to be confronted by a plethora of confusing options: Temperature -- in Kelvins; flavor, a whole slew of options, thousands of them -- some even worse than banana, like Cotton Candy; mineral content; nutrients; carbonation; even the ability to choose colors! Nevil had to wade through this overcomplicated muck before he could finally order the item from the computer. It was only a matter of ten seconds before a cup filled with pure water emerged from the top of the dispenser alcove and was lowered electromagnetically into the middle of the alcove, where it hovered until Nevil removed it. He drank the water and washed down the acid. Much to his relief.