Blinking the fog from his eyes, Ivan looked at his watch. He’d been asleep for more than two hours. He turned on his bunk and pushed the hatch up to see Davies, hanging from the side ladder by one hand, and still grinning. That grin was going to get old really fast.

“C’mon, sprout, we’re going up to Callahan’s. This is a good chance for you to look around while we protect your virginal butt.”

“Should I be doing that, this early? You said yourself—”

“You have to start somewhere,” Robinson yelled from the floor below.

Ivan bobbed his head in acknowledgement and began pulling himself out. Davies moved down the ladder to get out of his way.

At the bottom, Ivan found Davies and Robinson; the other new guy, Arcadius Geiger; Cirila Heinrichs, the geologist; and Aspasia Nevin, the scooter pilot.

“This looks serious,” he said, looking around.

“Only the drinking,” Nevin answered, favoring him with a scowl that Ivan was beginning to realize was her default expression. Without waiting for consensus, she turned and headed for the exit from The Burrows. For someone so short, Aspasia covered a lot of ground in a very short time, and gave the impression that she was more inclined to go through people rather than around.

Geiger and Heinrichs followed, Cirila snickering at a muttered comment from Kady.

Robinson slapped him on the shoulder as they brought up the rear. “We’re going to be on the Astra for six months, kid. Best to satisfy your inner delinquent before departure.”

The Burrows was close to one of the elevators that ran through the Wheel from the rim to the hub. They entered, and Ivan scanned the panel. Thirty levels made up the Wheel, each button labeled with both a floor number and the gravity value at that level. Davies pressed button twenty-seven, the doors closed, and the elevator began to rise.

Ivan staggered a little as the entire car seemed to shift. Robinson put out a steadying hand and chuckled. “The car swivels to keep down toward the floor, despite Coriolis forces. You’ll get used to it.”

* * *

Callahan’s didn’t fit the stereotype. All the Vid shows suggested that a spacer bar would be dark, smoky, filled with shady characters doing shady deals in the corners. The reality was clean, well lit, with lots of tables, and several Vids showing various sports and news channels. Ordinary people sat around, drinking and talking. It could be any bar on Earth, except for the tenth-gee gravity and the preponderance of mining crew coveralls as a fashion statement. That, and the visible curvature of the floor.

Ivan looked around. “No windows?”