Jupiter, Kiza, Razo, and the Really Good Donuts
There is more than one way to fight a battle.
[Author's note: This story follows the stories Jupiter and the Start of Something; Jupiter and the Double-Double Cross; and Jupiter, Kiza, and the Little Umbrella Syndrome.]
Jupiter Jones stared at the brick-thick pile of currency in her hand. Big bills. A lot of big bills. A very large amount of dollars.
"Whoa," she murmured. "I'm ... rich."
"You were rich before, you just didn't have much in the way of local tender," said Kiza Stinger.
"I still do not understand why Terrans use pieces of paper," said Razo Tatto. "But I accept that there are many strange things about this planet."
The three of them were sitting in a coffee shop. They had recently been to the backest of back-alley money-changers, where Jupiter and Kiza had exchanged off-world gold coins – their share of the proceeds of the burgeoning enterprise of selling various Earth products to the rest of the galaxy – for US dollars. Razo had mainly been there to provide the muscle – money-changers are less likely to cheat you when there is someone on the other side of the table holding a multi-phase Tzlaki pistol – but she had also exchanged a few coins of her own. Jupiter had the feeling that Razo was beginning to like Earth. Chicago, at least. With her dreadlocks, über-punk clothing, and take-no-BS 'tude, she fitted right in.
A waiter put a plate of donuts onto the table. Razo stared at them suspiciously. "Why is there a hole in the middle?" she said.
"It's a no-fat centre," said Jupiter. "Try one."
Razo picked one up, sniffed it, and took a tentative bite. "Oh my," she whispered. Then she stuffed the whole thing into her mouth.
"Looks like there's another Earth product we can sell to the donut-less peoples of the galaxy," said Kiza.
Jupiter nodded, watching in fascination as Razo continued to devour the donuts. "I'll mention it to Karrick when we see her next week. She's got her whole clan working now, selling Earth products. I'm happy to add donuts to the list, but the problem is that they don't travel well. They really have to be fresh.
"In fact, this reminds me of something else I wanted to ask. The last time I saw Kalique, she was wearing a sort of necklace, a metal thing with jewels set into it. Do you know what it was?"
"The Abraxas Lavalliere," said Razo, between mouthfuls. "Very famous. It is worth more than a large battle cruiser."
"And what is the metal? It's not gold, I know that much."
"Damaskatine. Worth a million times more than gold. Very rare. That necklace constitutes about five percent of the known damaskatine in the galaxy."
"Why is it so valuable?"
"Because people want it."
"Why do people want it?"
"Because it is very valuable."
Jupiter considered. The value of damaskatine seemed no more absurd than anything else. She took out her phone and connected to the Internet, and searched until she found some images. She showed Razo, who was now ploughing through a second plate of donuts. "This it?" she said.
"Yes," said Razo. "Damaskatine."
Jupiter stared at the picture.
"Well," said Kiza, "don't keep us in suspense."
"On Earth, damaskatine has another name," said Jupiter. "Several, in fact. Iron pyrites is one. Another is ... 'fool's gold'."
"Very rare," said Razo.
"Not on this planet," said Jupiter. "Damn stuff is everywhere. It has a few minor industrial uses but mainly it is just dug up when miners are looking for other minerals. You can buy it pretty cheaply."
"Aha," Kiza murmured. "And you are the True Royal Owner of Planet Earth. And all it contains."
"Yes, yes, I am."
"In that case," said Razo, "we should order more donuts."
It was several months later, and in another part of the galaxy, and Kalique Abrasax was not in a good mood. Her financial advisers had been delivering a stream of bad news for weeks, ranging from the tax litigation over that damned planet J-15(23) to the steadily diminishing holdings of Nectar. Without access to the planets formerly held by Balem, no new supplies were coming in. All her offers to Jupiter Jones regarding harvesting, ranging from partnership deals to generous cash offers, had been politely but firmly rejected. The only glimmer of good news, relatively speaking, is that according to her spies all of Titus' entreaties had been knocked back as well.
It was starting to look as if she – and Titus – would have to accept Jupiter's offer of giving her the populated planets and accepting the resource-based planets, as a means of settling Balem's estate. But in the long-term this was, Kalique knew, a losing proposition. Nectar was the basis of the Abrasax fortune. Without that, it was just a question of time. As all things were.
And the populated planets under her control were becoming more and more difficult to administer. People were demanding control over the resources of their planets. Where, she asked herself, was their sense of gratitude? All she was getting for her sound, firm leadership was diminishing returns on her assets. And the third-tier heirs were started to get restless. Starting to talk about their 'rights'. Damn, what 'rights'?!
She blamed those books, circulating in ever-increasing numbers. She blamed Titus, for being an idiot. She blamed Balem, who had been foolish enough to get himself killed. But, most of all, she blamed Jupiter Jones.
Aware of her increasingly parlous cash-flow position, Kalique had even quietly floated the idea of selling ... selling! ... one of her most prized possessions, the Abraxas Lavalliere. Not a good time, said her adviser, Chicanery Night. Damaskatine is not worth as much as it used to be. There's more of it on the market, a steady trickle from ... somewhere. So the Abraxas Lavalliere is now worth less than you paid for it. Quite a lot less.
She ground her perfect teeth in anger. Her instincts told her that Jupiter Jones was connected with this latest problem, somehow.
She turned to Chicanery Night. "Get me a list of assassins," she said.
END