Crescent (25 page)

(•••)

Where do I know her from?
Ina asked herself as she broke away from the dark haired woman. Her eyes had been like drops of jade. You don’t forget eyes like that. Not for a second. You might forget a face, a name, but eyes like that—no way. Maybe they’d bumped into each other before. Ina shook her head as she hurried down the corridor. The medical parcel she clutched to her chest contained meds for her father and that was far more important than déjà vu. He had been sick for a few days now. The vomiting had stopped, thank god, but he still ran a fever. He was dehydrated. Donovan Cortez hadn’t wanted to go to a doctor, so Ina went for him. He wouldn’t be happy that she went to the clinic against his wishes, but hopefully he would take the meds that had been prescribed for him.

Ina stepped into the dim apartment. The halo-globes burned low, casting diffuse shadows between the pools of low yellow light. The air handlers hissed softly overhead. The music she had left playing—something by Erick
Haddyrein
, the
vatter
—had been turned off in her absence. That meant Dad was out of bed.
An encouraging sign.
But, if Ina knew her father at all, he was already over-extending himself. She’d put an end to that right away.

Donovan’s bed was empty. The bluish-green light cast by the bedside
holoclock
created dark valleys and bright peaks on the wrinkled and vacant sheets. She set the medicine on the nightstand and pulled the sheets neatly into place. Ina was about to leave the room when she heard a growl from above her. Ina lifted her eyes. What she saw made her take a step backwards. One hand went to her mouth; the other flailed out blindly for the light and, in the process, knocked the alarm clock off the night stand. The blue-green light danced across the ceiling’s darkened light panels. There was her father, on the ceiling. His head lolled from side to side; his lips were peeled back. He growled again and Ina took another step back. This time she knocked a chair over. Her father’s eyes shot open and locked with her own. The dilated pupils swam with a milky, violet glow. Something fluttered in Ina’s skull. Red flashed across her vision and her heart murmured in her chest. Warmth rose in her mind and a sense of otherness began to peel away her consciousness like filmy sheets. Reality shifted and wavered as if she were viewing the room through a wall of water.
Red water.
Ina closed her eyes and willed the sensation to be gone.

“A weak vessel.
Old,” her father said in a voice that was not his own.
“But the right knowledge.
It won’t be long now.
Unity.”

“No,” she heard herself say, “
it
won’t be long now.”

“Not so long as we have waited,” her father said.

Ina bit down hard on her tongue and the salty taste of blood filled her mouth. The pain cleared her head and she shrieked. Her father fell from the ceiling, bounced off the bed, and landed beside it on the floor. He moaned and retched. Ina hurried to him and fell to her knees at his side, her fear banished for the time being. She held his shoulders and could feel the heat of his skin through the thin nightshirt.

“So purple here, isn’t it, Ina?
So pretty.
Your mother.
Her favorite color was purple.” He turned his face up to hers and smiled. His breath smelled like vomit.

Ina closed her eyes and behind her eyelids she saw a glass prism. Ribbons of violet, red, and black lanced through its center. The imagery halted and replayed itself in reverse. The colors went back through the prism to congeal into single, depthless shadow that glittered with distant lights.

(•••)

The familiar asteroid field was backlit by the blue glow of
Tireca
. The light of the swollen, azure star filtered through ice particles and refracted into a glittering rainbow of brilliance. Bean sailed through the rocky debris.

“Captain, I am reading ship signatures up ahead. Ore
haulers,
based on their transponder signatures. There is something else out there, well up ahead. Something big, but scans are fuzzy due to interference caused by the density of this field.”

“No idea what’s out there, Bean?”

“No, Captain.
None whatsoever.”

“Slow us down until we can confirm what it is. At the first sign of hostiles, you get us back to the jump gate. Got it?”

“It’s my hull at risk here, Captain, so you won’t need to tell me twice.”

“Your hull and my hide, Bean,” Gerald said.

“Captain.
Raiders have entered the asteroid field.” Gerald’s eyes snapped to the radar. Six blips pulsed red and closed in on Bean’s location.

“Spoke too damn soon. Bean, can we warp out of here?” Gerald stomach tied itself into a knot.

“Negative, Captain. The field is too dense. We need to find a clearing.”

“Shit. Give me control of the ship,” Gerald commanded. A panel in the floor whined open and Bean’s seldom-used flight yoke ascended with a howling whine. Gerald took the wheel and they were off, sailing past freighter-sized ice hunks with speed that approached deadly. The raiders were in pursuit and coming in fast. There was no way Bean could outrun them
.

“Captain, I have identified the ships as Class III spiders. They have armed their weapons. They are still out of range, but won’t be for long. Six seconds. Hopefully, they will have a hard time getting a lock with all the interference.” A cluster of fist-sized space rocks glanced off the viewport with a resounding series of bangs. “And Captain, please watch where you’re going.”

“I know, Bean!” Gerald snapped.

The
comm
system chimed.

“Incoming call, Captain.
From Crescent.”

“Put it through, Bean,” Gerald said.

The
comm
squawked with a burst of static. “Gerald, this is Nigel
Swaren
. Where are you going?”

“Nigel, I’m in
Tireca
…
 
but this really isn’t a good time.”
 
Gerald said.

“Did Kendall send you out there?”

“Yes, Nigel
…
 
.but
I really can’t talk right now,” Gerald answered through clenched teeth.

An explosion throttled Bean. Gerald nearly lost control of the ship.

“Captain, we aren’t being fired upon directly. They are targeting the asteroids around us.” Bean said.

“So this will all look like a nasty accident. That is, if there is anything left. Bean, I hope you’re rolling the cameras.”

“Yes, Captain,” Bean replied.

Bean shuddered violently and pulled hard to starboard. The ship began to spin and Gerald thought for a moment that it was all over, but he managed to pull them back on course. Asteroids detonated around them. The horrible sound of thousands of impacts—ranging in size from pebbles to small boulders—filled the bridge.

“Send me your exact coordinates ASAP!” Nigel shouted over the din.

“Bean, do it!”

“Done, Captain.”

“Receiving,” Nigel’s voice replied.

Bean screamed out of the asteroid field’s main body and into an open slice of space. Rock fragments, dust, sparks, and smoke trailed in their wake. Ahead of them a hulking structure laced with a lattice-work of construction scaffolding floated against the stars. Several smaller structures floated in orbit.

“Ore refineries and fabrication plants,” Bean said. “The ships up ahead—those are ore haulers. The large structure is some kind of station, but nothing registered in the Core Sec database.”

“Jesus Christ,” Nigel said on the comm. “Gerald, get the fuck out of there.”

“Sentry guns.
Class VI Smart-auto cannons,” Bean chimed in as the salvage hauler raced further into the clearing. “Big
ones,
and they are going online. Lock acquisition in progress. They are targeting the raiders. Sentry guns firing. Two of the raider ships destroyed.”

Gerald cheered.
“Ha
ha
.
Eat that, you
motherfuckers
!”

“Captain.
The sentry guns are now attempting to lock onto to us. Fifteen seconds to target acquisition. We are in a clear enough spot to warp out of here.”

“Holy…” Gerald’s breath caught in his throat and he coughed. “Bean, get us out of here.” He could see one of the sentry guns clearly. It was mounted on a large, oblong asteroid. The turret end was glowing dull white, but that light was increasing as what Gerald assumed was an ion cannon prepared to launch super-excited death. Bean banked hard and began to pull away. Beads of sweat broke out on Gerald’s forehead. Bean’s near-light engines hummed as they wound themselves up to catapult the ship out of the area.

“Captain.
The remaining spider has locked onto us.”

Bean raced toward the spider. Gerald could see the round ship growing in size in the viewport. Wisps of blue light arced between the glowing ends of the spider’s lethal
plasmacasters
.

“Get out of there now!” Nigel shouted.

“Sentry guns are firing,” Bean said.

The raider exploded.

Gerald closed his eyes.

(•••)

“Everything okay here, Captain
Swaren
?” Nigel pivoted on the stool. Captain Benedict stood in the open doorway to the communications station. His frame was a dark silhouette in the light falling from the main room of the security office.

“Everything is fine, Captain,” Nigel said.

“Really?
I heard you shouting.”

“Bad connection.
I had to raise my voice to be heard, that’s all,” Nigel lied.

“I see. That happens out here sometimes, yes. I know I’ve said this before, but should you need anything, don’t hesitate to find me,” Benedict said.

“Thank you, Captain. I appreciate that.” Nigel managed a smile. Benedict lingered in the doorway for a few seconds longer and then departed. The door slid shut. How long had Captain Benedict been there? Nigel hadn’t even heard him approach. There was something about Crescent that dulled the senses. He turned back to the
comm
terminal and spoke into the microphone, an archaic looking device enclosed in a wire mesh.

“Gerald. Are you there?”

Nothing but static came in response.
Nigel sat back in his seat and cursed under his breath. He tapped the console with growing concern and impatience. Nigel contemplated standing up and pacing when a quavering voice came over the speaker.

“Fuck a duck. What was all that about?” It was Gerald.

“That was all about Galatea, Gerald,” Nigel said and heaved a sigh of relief. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. My pants are not, if you catch my drift. Are you going to tell me what that was?”

“Yes. I have every intention of doing so. But not over the comm. Call me on my PDA when you arrive safely back at Crescent. And please do keep a low profile. It was no mistake that you ended up where you did. You were not supposed survive that.”

“No shit. Kendall and his boys sent me out there to make sure those guns were working.” Gerald’s voice lost no sarcasm over the distance of the transmission. “They were fucking working,” Gerald added.

“You knew it was a trap, but you went out there anyway?”

“Yeah.
I went out there anyway. You needed evidence. And I needed my out. Catch my drift? And now that I’ve got some data to give you, I need to fuel up and get off the station as soon as I can.”

“We’ll talk when you get back,” Nigel said, and ended the transmission. Kendall had the big secrets. Did the mayor know about Galatea and Nigel’s mission on Crescent? Nigel was screwed if he did. After all, Crescent was Kendall’s station.

And this was Kendall’s piece of space.

(Part XVII)

Jacob Raney was not particularly smart. Nor was he particularly good looking. He didn’t have all that much going for him, only that he was good at following orders and that he had fallen under the wing of
Albin
Catlier
—his best friend and mentor. With
Albin
, Jacob had bounced from one system to another performing all sorts of jobs and meeting all sorts of folks. Jacob Raney wasn’t spry or smart, but he was good with a gun, good with a knife, and really good with all shapes and sizes of metal pipes.

Jacob followed
Albin
down one of many identical residential corridors.
Albin
had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his long, leather coat. He seemed to be thinking.
Albin
was always thinking. Jacob figured that was why he was in charge of their little duo—and sometimes in charge of bigger groups, too.
Albin
stopped at door marked 16 B and held up a hand for Raney to stop, which he did immediately.
Raney felt the first tingle of excitement blossom across his scrotum and shoot up his spine.
The sensation caused the tiny hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.

“This is it,”
Albin
said as he lit a cigarette.

“Think he’s expecting us,
Albin
?” Jacob asked.

“No. I don’t. He’s a dog.
Stupid.
Loyal.
He won’t see this coming.”

“Yeah,” Raney agreed.
Albin
was smart. He always said intelligent things.
Albin
thumbed he buzzer. The door slid open part way. Taylor’s large,
puggish
face gazed out sheepishly, sporting a patch over one eye and a nasty bruise on his cheek. Like a sad dog.

“
Albin
.
Jacob. What are you doing here?” he asked.

“We’re here to talk to you, Taylor. I think it’d be wise to open that door all the way and let us in,”
Albin
said, his voice undeniably sure.

“Okay.” There was no menace in Taylor’s face; it was odd to see him that way.
All the girth and none of the mean.
The door slid open and Taylor took a step back to allow them to enter. When the door closed, Raney clobbered Taylor over head with the titanium pipe that had been concealed in the folds of his duster. Taylor grunted and went down on his knees; he wrapped his hands around his head protectively.

“No. Please don’t do this!” he begged.

“This is so unlike you, Taylor. Has it really come to this? Everyone used to be afraid of you. Once word gets out about what happened with Griffin…
 
”
Albin
just shook his head. “The way I look at it—Kendall is my
investment.
You’re not keeping him safe.”

“I’ll do better!” Taylor bellowed.

“I still feel my investment is at risk.”

Fresh tears streamed out of Taylor’s one semi-functioning eye. Raney gripped the pipe tighter.

“Please?” Taylor’s eye blinked and Raney clubbed him over the head. Jacob’s heart was pumping fast in his chest now. He hit Taylor in the side. There was a loud, satisfying crack as the former bodyguard’s ribs broke.

“We’re putting you out of your misery, Taylor. You’ve got no purpose now. Why suffer?”
Albin
said around the filter of his cigarette.

Taylor rolled on his back and began to shout. Jacob swung the wide end of the pipe in a devastating arc that slammed across Taylor’s open mouth. The cries of protest became choked gurgles as Taylor’s teeth and jaw shattered; tiny bits of enamel lodged themselves in his windpipe. Taylor clutched at his throat, gagged and sputtered. The man-mountain’s constitution was impressive, but it was almost over now. Jacob looked over to
Albin
, who nodded, and Raney began to hammer Taylor’s body with repeated blows, One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Until the man lay twitching, the life pummeled out of him.

(•••)

The abandoned Belmont High School auditorium was quiet. Every so often, the rustle of some unseen, refuse-dwelling creature—the kind of voiceless animal that seeks out the rotted corpses of long abandoned spaces—broke the silence. The vacant floor sloped up to a row of poorly boarded doors. The seats had been ripped out many years ago. Gerald wondered why they had stopped at the seats instead of leveling the whole place.

“This is Galatea station,” Nigel said and activated the
holo
-projector that sat atop the folding table. A shimmering star field blossomed above the round projector. Through the projection, Gerald watched Marisa at the opposite end of the table. The blue glow of the image made her look rather like a holograph, herself. The projector zoomed in on the 3D rendering of a big, circular space station. The hull, cream colored and pristine, was dotted with litany of glowing windows. Starships came and went from the slowly rotating station. “Galatea is the future waypoint between colonized Core Sec space and the frontier, including New Juno and beyond. She is to be a fully fitted outpost, complete with refineries, hydroponics and traditional agriculture, resorts, and a full marketplace. Galatea represents the next generation trading and supply conduit.”
Swaren
leaned back in his chair and
steepled
his fingers. His hazel eyes moved from Gerald to Marisa. Gerald tapped his chin three times and looked at the floor. A yellowing flyer, curled at the edges,
lay
on the dirty stage planks. The fuzzy picture on the flyer showed two kids, one skinny and one round-faced. Time and mold had eaten away their features, but their names were clear—Brian
Lavalle
and William Mullen. The boys had been missing for, according to the flyer, some fifteen years. Marisa spoke.

“Why do we need two fully-fitted space stations within one jump of each other? Seems like Core Sec would be spreading its resources thin,” Marisa said, and then paused and shook her head.

“You are correct.”
Swaren
rocked forward; he placed his hands on the conference table. “There is no need for two space stations. That is why Crescent is to be decommissioned.” Gerald nodded. In truth, he was surprised that Nigel had not yet told Marisa the news.

“Did you know about this, Gerry?” Marisa asked, and Gerald didn’t answer. He clucked his tongue and looked at the glowing hologram that floated above the table, and then back at the flyer at his feet.

“There’s more,” Nigel said. “The
Habeos
jump gate, which is getting on in years, is to be decommissioned as well. This should eliminate most, if not all, of our current raider problems.”

“If the
Habeos
jump gate is closed off,
Habeos
will be cut off from the seventeen systems.
There’s people
on
Habeos
. Families,” Marisa said.

“
Habeos
is militant and better armed with each passing month. That colony belongs more to
Darros
Stronghold than it does to Core Sec. Let him take care of them,”
Swaren
stated matter-of-factly. “We close off the gates to
Habeos
and we’re shutting the door in Stronghold’s face. The loss is negligible to Core Sec and the colonization efforts. Now, let me show you something else.”
Swaren
called up a new image—this one showed a sector map of the
Tireca
system. Asteroid fields were shaded in pulsing green. Brilliant azure, gold, and pink blobs of light floated amoeba-like in the green field. “The blue, gold, and pink areas are highly rich in the specific ore types used for fabricating Galatea’s primary components. These asteroid fields are dense and debris-thick.
High risk for any mining and hauling efforts.
We’ve lost more than a few ships out there. But in the past three months, we’ve lost more ships than we have in the past year.”
Swaren
waved his hand over the
holo
-projector’s terminal and several red circles appeared throughout the ore rich sections of the asteroid field. “These are the last known contact points of several ships that have been lost in the last month.
Lost without a trace.
Core Sec figured they were obliterated by accidental collisions.” Purple squares appeared beside the red circles. “These squares represent salvage runs that you were sent on, Gerald. What did you retrieve on these salvage runs?”

“Mining ships.
Haulers.
Drillers,” Gerald replied.

Nigel smirked.

“Yes. I’m sure it will come to you as no surprise that these mining locations were secret,” Nigel said to Marisa. “We—Core Sec—didn’t want Stronghold’s raiders getting wind of the mining locations and attacking our ships. It would have slowed down progress. And we didn’t have the resources to pour into increased patrols. Not enough manpower out here. Now, about Galatea itself—it’s far harder to mask the station’s location. But there are sentry guns there that are programmed to destroy anything armed, and anything that gets too close without a pre-designated transponder signal.”

“And Kendall knew all of this. He sent me out there to get blown away so I couldn’t spill the beans to you,” Gerald said.

“It certainly looks that way, doesn’t it?” Nigel said.

“So, then, what’s next?
It’s apparent Kendall has it out for all three of us, one way or another,” Marisa said.

“The grand scheme is to remove Kendall from office before he can cause more damage. How we go about doing that is a different story. We’ve obtained enough legal proof that I can swing it. The Galatea project transcends almost all politics, so there is no problem going after Kendall directly. And on top of what Gerald has just provided, I have also uncovered substantial proof that weapons were being fabricated on Crescent as recently as last month. No number of connections will get Kendall’s head off the chopping block now,” Nigel said and laughed. “What we need to do now is determine where the loyalty of the officers on this station lies.”
Swaren
turned his eyes to Marisa. “That is where you come in. Do you think you can determine your comrades’ willingness to take part in a coup?”

“I’ll check it out, sure, but,” Marisa hesitated and brushed a stray lock of dark hair from her forehead, “I think Captain Benedict will be on our side. I know him. He is a good man. And all the officers on the station look up to him.”

“Well. Captain Benedict may be all we need. Find out where his heart lies,”
Swaren
said.

“And what about me?”
Gerald asked.

“I’d recommend you lay low for a while, Gerald. At least until we get the Kendall situation all wrapped up. You’ve done enough.”

“I’d just as soon leave Crescent,” Gerald said.

“We all would,” Marisa said with conviction.

“Gerald, I suggest you keep yourself hidden until I can get you off the station safely,” Nigel said and then stood up. “That’s it. Marisa you know what to do.”

Marisa and Gerald got to their feet and exchanged glances across the table.

(•••)

Main Street was nearly deserted, save for a few stray cult members placing flyers on the darkened windows of closed business. Sun globes oozed a low, azure light. The air was chilly. Heathen’s lay up head of them, the neon
sign
flickering through a haze. A collector robot ambled down the boulevard, collecting trash as it went.

“What do you make of them?” Gerald asked, turning his head to watch a flyer flutter to the ground.

Marisa shrugged and sighed. “These freaks have been on Crescent for years. They call themselves the
Aphotic
.
Some kind of church.
Cult shit, if you ask me. But they haven’t caused too many problems other than irritating people. They’re brought into HQ every once in a while on solicitation charges. That’s about it.” She thought on it for another moment. “I’ve seen more of them lately.” Marisa took Gerald’s hand so suddenly that it startled him. She looked down the street to Heathen’s.

“One more before you go into hiding?” she asked.

“I don’t think that’d be such a good idea,” he said reluctantly. A cold beer sounded like heaven.

“Okay,” she
said,
the disappointment evident in her voice. She stood on her toes and brushed her lips across his. Gerald inhaled. She smelled good. Clean.
Shampoo and soap.
Her lips were cool and soft; soft as ever. He wrapped his arms around her waist. They kissed again, and this time the kiss was substantially deeper. Marisa grabbed him through his jeans and bit his earlobe. He let out a small gasp and worked his lips over her neck.

“My place…
 
or yours,” she
said,
her voice a breath.

“Yours, mine…
 
” Gerald began to say, but was cut off.

“Yours is closer,” Marisa whispered.

(•••)

They made love like feral cats—sensual and animalistic. Gerald explored her body, seeking out familiar sensitive spots with eager fingertips and lips. Her soft moans—and, later, full-throated cries—let him know that he hadn’t forgotten a thing. She was wet and welcoming when he entered her. Climax came seconds later, for both of them. Afterwards, they lay in a tangle of limbs and sweat-soaked sheets, struggling for breath. Her head rested on the rise and fall of his chest; her green eyes blinked up at him.