Diamonds in the Sky by Ed. Mike Brotherton Read Free Book Online Page A

arranged slices and wedges of cheese. She set down a bottle of deep golden wine, pulled the cork, and offered him a small sample to taste.

    Astrid could see Zeke had no idea what he was tasting, but allowed him to accept the wine with a great pretense of sophistication.

    Once the waitress was gone and Zeke had stopped watching the sway of her departing hips, Astrid held up a wedge of cheese with a hard, dark brown rind.

    “Take this cheese, for example.
Idiazabal
is made from unpasteurized milk that can only come from the
latxa
breed of sheep. On Earth, it could only come from the Basque region of Spain, but when the Pollution destroyed conditions there, the Basque herders sold their land to speculators and took their flocks here, to Parma.”

    She held the cheese wedge up to his nose. He sniffed it suspiciously. “Why here?”

    “This was the most earthlike planet available. Their cheese has such high market value they can export it and earn enough to maintain their traditional way of life. It’s the same for the specialty products of all the agricultural people who came here.”

    She nibbled on the
Idiazabal
, then gave it to him and picked up a chunk of whitish cheese laced with irregular blue veins. “The producers of Stilton, for example, came from England.”

    He wrinkled his nose. “It stinks. I can smell it from here. Who would want it?”

    “Oh, just millions. They’re willing to pay top prices, because they can’t get real Stilton anywhere else.” She swept her hand over the tray. “It’s the same with all these cheeses. And olives. And onions. And meats. Just about any delicacy that can no longer be produced on Earth.”

    He pushed the tray to her side of the table. “But Earth can produce all these things.”

    “No, only cheap, inferior, imitations. Here, taste some of this.” She handed him a strip of pink dried meat. He looked at it dubiously, sniffed it, then worried off a small bite.

    “Mmm, not bad. What kind of cheese is this?”

    “It’s not cheese. It’s
prosciutto
, or Parma ham. Dry-cured, from a pig like Greta.”

    He gagged and spit out the half-chewed ham. “From an
animal
?” He rinsed his mouth with a swig of wine, then spit the mouthful on the packed earth floor.

    “Of course an animal. Where else would it come from?”

    “From a vat, of course.” His face was turning pale green, contrasting with the crimson of his suit.

    “This is real
prosciutto
. Originally from central and northern Italy. It brings forty or fifty times the price of that vat imitation—Vam, isn’t it called? That premium allows these farmers to thrive.”

    He stood. “Let’s get out of here. I can’t—.” He put his hand over his mouth and bolted for the entrance.

    She could see he was about to vomit, but knew he could never admit it. She gave him time to answer nature’s call, paid the bill, and followed him out onto the moon-lit concourse.
He’s got potential, but I’ve got to break through his defenses.

    He appeared five minutes later, looking a bit better and acting as if nothing had happened. “I was studying the moon,” he alibied. “I didn’t tell you, but my field is astrophysics—a lot more scientific than—what was it?—exodus archaeology.”

    “Anthropology,” she corrected, smiling to herself because she knew he’d made the mistake intentionally. He was about to do some serious ego-building, at her expense, if possible.
Well, maybe I can break it down, and reach him that way.

    “Yeah, whatever.” He pointed to the sky. “Let me teach you something that you probably don’t know. See that moon? Do you know why you only see a crescent?”

    She stared up at the glowing half-disk. “It’s because different parts of the moon light up at different times.”

    He clasped his forehead in mock dismay. “My god, that’s dumb.”

    “What’s dumb about it? That’s the way it works.”

    “Wanna bet?”

    Here it comes.
“What would we bet? You have