Crescent (26 page)

The door buzzer cut through the post-sex haze like a hot and rusty razor. Gerald sat up and she grabbed his arm.

“We’re not here,” Marisa said.

The buzzer rang again.

“We’re not here,” he said. He lay back down and tried not to breathe. The buzzer didn’t ring for several minutes and he heaved a long sigh. He looked to Marisa. “Maybe this isn’t the best place for me to…
 
”

The door whined open, and in came
Albin
Catlier
and Jacob Raney. Gerald sat up with a jerk. Marisa scooted back and pulled the sheets up over her naked body.

“Looks like we picked a good time to stop in,”
Catlier
said. Raney roared with jabbering, spittle-spraying laughter. He plucked the wad of tobacco out of his cheek and dropped it on the gray carpet, where it landed with a wet smack.

“We had no idea your tits were so nice, Griffin,” Raney said with a wet, crooked-toothed grin. Gerald wanted to knock those teeth right out of his head.

“What the hell do you want?” Gerald asked.

“We’re placing you under arrest, Mr. Evans,”
Catlier
said in a calm voice. He struck a match on his boot heel and lit a cigarette.

“By what authority?”
Marisa said. “You’re not Core Sec. You’re not shit.”

Raney pulled a heavy pipe out from underneath his jacket and twirled it once. At the end of the pipe was a massive, octagonal joint, caked with blood. Some of it still looked wet. And was that hair sticking out of it? Gerald wasn’t the first stop on their list. Had they already gone after
Swaren
? Gerald’s stomach dropped.

“Mr. Evans, it’d be wise for you to get dressed and come with us. I’d be lying if I said we didn’t want to hurt anyone. My associate here really enjoys hurting people. I can’t say I blame him—when you’re as good at it as he is,”
Catlier
said. “So, what’s it going to be? Come with us willing, or we bash in your pretty little girlfriend’s head and
take
you with us.”

“I get the point.” Gerald climbed out of the bed. Marisa grabbed his wrist, almost savagely. “It’s cool, baby. I’ll be fine,” he said. He wouldn’t be fine for long—he knew that much. Gerald hoped she’d go to
Swaren
, if
Swaren
still lived, and rescue his salvage-hauling ass. He started mentally counting up his friends on the station, and wished suddenly that he’d made a lot more. How much force would it take to liberate him?
Swaren
, Marisa?
Maerl
?
Cortez and Ina?
Gerald pulled on his pants and shirt. He slipped into a pair of boots and stepped away from the bed. Raney leaned his pipe against the bed in a calm, deliberate movement. In the next second, he was slamming Gerald against the wall and slapping handcuffs around his wrists.
Please don’t try anything, Mari,
Gerald thought. Marisa didn’t throw herself at his captors as he was led out of the room; he was glad.

(•••)

Jacob Raney grabbed Gerald by the elbow and yanked him through the doorway. The salvage pilot tripped on the threshold and slammed against the opposite wall. The metal did not give, but Gerald’s lip did—split right down the middle with a nice rush of blood. Raney found this all too amusing. He turned back to gauge the bitch’s reaction, and froze. Griffin’s head was surrounded by a corona of black—he had seen an octopus in a
Gemar’s
Body Cream commercial, and he was suddenly reminded of the way it had thrown a cloud of ink. He blinked and the cloud was gone. She looked perfectly normal and perfectly pissed.

No.

She didn’t look normal. Her eyes still looked like the ink.

“Come on, Jacob, quit gawking. Maybe Kendall will let you have her later. For now, his orders were specific,”
Albin
said.

“What?” Jacob shook his head. “Yeah, okay.
Right.”
He pushed Gerald down the corridor. “Start walking, Salvage Man.”

It wasn’t quite dawn as they led Gerald through the slumbering bazaar. All the storefronts were closed and pale violet light trickled down from the sun globes. The sulfur glow of the street lamps cast long fun-house shadows in their path. Jacob turned to look behind him and he saw movement in the shadows.

“
Albin
,” he said, “I think we’re being trailed.”

“No, we’re not,”
Albin
said. His voice was sure and Jacob believed him right away. It was late, he was tired. That was all. It was like at the bar, when he saw that weird shit the night those gun-runner
mercs
were killed. Only, that night it had been worse, because not only was he tired, he had been drunk and on more than a few recreational drugs.

The feeling came back a few seconds later, though. Jacob was sure it was in his head, but that made it feel no less real. With every few steps he looked over his shoulder. Gerald took advantage of one such moment and bolted down an alley.

“Crap!” Jacob shouted as Gerald disappeared into the shadows.
Albin
, who was a good six meters ahead by now, turned and frowned.

“Go get him, Jacob. I’ll wait here.”
Albin
sounded pissed. Jacob felt himself getting upset. He hated disappointing
Albin
.

Jacob darted off after Gerald. The salvage man would pay for his bad behavior. If Jacob knew anything, he knew that much. The sneaky bastard couldn’t have picked a darker,
more narrow
alley to flee down. Jacob’s shoulders practically touched the walls as he ran in pursuit. Salvage Man couldn’t have gotten far, though. As if in response to the thought, the sound of a garbage bin getting knocked over rang out from just ahead.

“Gotcha, fucker,” Jacob said and quickened his pace. He came to a loading area behind a restaurant. The air was thick with spices and the smell of something that had recently gone bad in the trash. Jacob crept into the open space, metal pipe poised above his head. “Come on out and play, Salvage Man,” Jacob called in a teasing voice. A cat screamed and Jacob turned. Blackness spread out in front of his face—it was like a sable blanket had been thrown at him, but it wasn’t a blanket. It was shadow, pure and thick. For an instant, the darkness had a glittering maw filled with long, needle-like teeth. The darkness cried out, and its voice was hungry. Jacob staggered back as the Black wrapped around him, and then a burst of pleasure seized him. He fell over with a gasp. Jacob blinked, but the world remained without light.

(•••)

Gerald heard the trash can hit the deck. His pursuers were right on top of him. The next sound to roll down the alley was unexpected: a groan of pleasure bounced off the constrictive station walls, followed by maniacal giggling. Gerald skidded to a halt. His shoulders burned with his wrists bound so tight behind his back.
More giggling and now a moan.
Was that Jacob Raney? Gerald crept back the way he had come. He peered around the corner into the space behind the restaurant where he had first thought to hide. Jacob sat propped against one several refuse containers. His smallish member was clutched in one hand and he was working the thing as if he wanted to set it on fire. Raney picked up a shard of broken glass. It glittered in the dim alley light. Gerald hesitated only for a moment and then turned and ran hard. The sound of pleasure became a wail of terror that made Gerald pause. He looked back over his shoulder, but couldn’t see what was going on. He turned forward to start off again and was greeted by a fist flying into his face. He saw stars and went down, cold.

(Part XVIII)

By the time
Albin
found him, Jacob had already done as much damage as he could do to himself. The man sat leaning against a stinking garbage bin with his cock in his hand—the sex organ was no longer attached to Jacob’s body. He was screaming like a little girl—the pain was apparent on his red and scrunched face—yet he was making frantic masturbatory gestures all at same time. Blood pumped from the dark hole of his open fly. There was a piece of broken glass, the jagged edge bloodied, at Jacob’s side.
Albin’s
stomach did a somersault and his asshole clenched. He couldn’t fathom what he was seeing. Jacob’s spasmodic movements were as unreal as the sheer amount of blood pooling around him.

Albin
snapped to.

“Jacob!” he shouted. Jacob’s shrieking ceased. He looked at
Albin
with a befuddled and slack-jawed expression; his features were ashen in the alley’s early morning light. Jacob’s gaze turned toward his severed cock. He stared at the penis for a fleeting moment; then he looked at the glass. The deepening creases in Jacob’s forehead made it apparent that his small brain was trying to make sense of it all and coming up empty. Finally, he looked up at
Albin
. Jacob opened his mouth to speak and promptly fell over.

“Mother fucking son of a goddamned bitch,”
Albin
hissed through clenched teeth. He looked back at Gerald, who lay face down on the damp alley floor. He was beginning to stir. It seemed unlikely that the salvage pilot had chopped off Jacob’s pecker, especially with his hands bound behind his back—meaning Jacob had to have done the gruesome deed himself. That explanation was more ridiculous by far.
Albin
activated his cochlear implant and called the emergency room.

“I need a med cart down here now,”
Albin
said as he retrieved his cigarettes from his leather
coat’s
inside pocket.

The dispatcher informed him the medical cart would arrive in a few minutes.
Albin
closed the connection, lit a cigarette, and went to Jacob. He knelt beside the unconscious man.
Albin
watched as the wound continued to spew forth dark blood in rhythmic gushes. A few minutes would be pushing it. He averted his gaze. The sight was almost too much to handle, even for him.

“I’m sorry, Jacob,”
Albin
said at last and then collected himself.

He left Jacob’s side and went to the salvage pilot. It was time to get rolling. Jacob was well on his way to bleeding to death and there was nothing
Albin
could do about it. Either the medical cart would arrive on time or it wouldn’t. He nudged Gerald with the tip of his boot. The action yielded a moan.
Albin
kicked Gerald with as much venom as he could muster. The savage blow woke the man up, complete with a full-bore yell.
Albin
grabbed Gerald’s collar and yanked him to his feet.

“Did you cut him, you sick fuck?”
Albin
growled; his face was only centimeters from Gerald’s.

“What?” Gerald attempted to wrest free of
Albin’s
grip. It was apparent that the pilot had no idea what had just gone down.
Albin
let go of him with a shove and peered back into the alley. For an eye-blink,
Albin
saw a black shape, like a tendril of smoke, coiled around Jacob’s throat.
Albin
narrowed his eyes and the phantasmal snake disappeared into a floor grate.

A warbling siren approached. Alternating blasts of red and white light filled the alley.
Albin
grabbed Gerald by the shoulder.

“Go.” He gave Gerald a hard push.

(•••)

“They’ve taken Gerald.” Marisa spoke into Gerald’s apartment
comm
terminal. She hadn’t bothered dressing; the
bedsheet
was still wrapped around her naked form as it had been when they hauled him away.

Her stomach churned.

“Marisa, that’s the third time you’ve said that. You need to relax,” Nigel said. His image frowned on the screen. He looked weary. Marisa recognized the look. Crescent was finally getting to him.

“Nigel, we have to go get him. They’re
gonna
hurt him,” she said. They were probably
already
hurting him. If they hurried, they could save Gerald from any permanent damage.

“No,” Nigel said. “Not yet.”

“What do you mean, not yet? They’re probably beating Gerald to a bloody pulp as we speak.”
Stupid horny assholes
, Marisa thought,
so stupid
. She wanted to puke.

“I agree we have to do something, but we’re not prepared to go in there and grab him. Think about it for a second. We don’t have any backup whatsoever.”

She felt her cheeks flush.

“Waiting isn’t going to change that. We’ll be as outnumbered today as we’ll be tomorrow. They’re going…
 
” A ball of hot grief choked her. Tears began to well up in her eyes.

“They’re not going to kill him. Not while I’m around. In less than two days there will be a ship arriving.
A colony ship.
There are going to be undercover agents on that ship. That’s when we’ll make our move.”

“Two days?” Marisa said couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “In two fucking days do you think it’s going to matter?” The thought made the nausea double.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Marisa. You’re no use to Gerald dead and he’s going to need both of us to get him out of this mess. They are not going to kill him. Not yet. So don’t be a bloody fool. Am I clear?”

“Yes.
Infuriatingly fucking clear.
Goddamn it, Nigel.”

“I’m sorry, Marisa. I thought that Gerald would have gotten into hiding sooner.”

“Yeah, we made a mistake. And now he’s paying for it.” And so was she. She clicked off the terminal and threw up.

(•••)

Gerald slept, and Gerald dreamed. He dreamed he was back on
Anrar
III. Above him the sky was striped with gray clouds and deep blue. A cold and familiar wind bit at his cheeks. He was barefoot and the ground was like ice beneath his bare feet; his calves clenched painfully with each step he took.
I know damn well this is a dream,
he thought,
but still I think I might freeze my balls off.
The wind howled as he walked through the grove of obsidian spires. And still, the rocky columns radiated a cold of their very own, so strong that their chill rivaled the wind.

Gerald came out on the other side of the grove. The gaping hole in the planet’s surface was as dark and menacing as he remembered it.

Gerald felt something shift, all around him.

He couldn’t quite define the sensation—it felt like something big,
heavy,
and alive was rolling over. Gerald then experienced a gripping instant of déjà vu. The air shimmered before his eyes; it looked like the very atmosphere had been turned to ice. Tiny particles captured the light for a glittering heartbeat and then the air cleared.

A spaceport and a mine/refinery stood where the hole had just been. A rover with a spherical, translucent glass cockpit left the structure on large, rubbery wheels, and another rover approached. Atop the spaceport was a squat, bulbous shuttle with
Murhaté
01
emblazoned in yellow across its starboard side. A lifeboat hovered above the shuttle. Steaming exhaust drifted upward from glowing vents at the ship’s aft. The wind caught the wisps of white vapor, twisting them viciously before dissipating the tendrils.

Gerald approached a large window on the spaceport’s face. Fresh grit and dust from one of the planet’s frequent rain and wind storms covered the main viewport. Gerald was able to make out moving shapes through the grime. He considered entering the building, but knew his destination lay at the top of the slope—the geological outpost.

Gerald left the spaceport. He walked into the wind; every step was a little more painful than the last. Gravity licked at his knee and hip joints with invisible flames—unseen, but definitely felt. When he finally reached the top of the hill, he was breathless and on the verge of passing out. His clothes were drenched through with sweat.

Gerald stood outside Geological Outpost
Murhaté
and listened. There were muffled voices on the other side of the metal door; the sounds of their conversation were indiscernible. Apart from the voices and the wind, there were also whispers circled his head like flies; the disembodied voices zoomed in close and pulled away. It made Gerald feel dizzy. If he didn’t get away from the disorienting whispers, he could envision himself losing his balance, falling over, and tumbling down the hill. The door opened and he tottered over the threshold.

It was dark inside the outpost. Gerald took several steps forward. A meager light leaked out from underneath the shelves with a yellowish glow that stretched and spread like sinews joining each dark, blotchy shadow. He walked into the clearing where the all shelves had been pushed back. The circle of stones he had witnessed on his visit to the outpost with Ina was illuminated by a concentric ring of candles. The flames shifted in the drafts that floated through the large, open space. Shadow moved across the walls and the ceiling like an undulating curtain of tar.

The metal ring was suspended in the center of the circle just as it had been on Gerald’s previous visit to the surface. Instead of a barely identifiable corpse hanging at the heart of the ring, there was a woman hanging there. She was naked save for black cables that bound her to the metal piping. Her stomach was swollen with child. At least fifty people, all wearing dirty mining coveralls, stood around the circle. Some were chanting, some were whispering. All looked up at the woman. She was motionless save for the occasional lolling of her head to the left and right. She appeared to be drugged.

A female shouted from outside, accompanied by pounding on the entrance door. Although the voice was muffled, Gerald heard the word “stop” very clearly. But each time the woman yelled, the whispers that buzzed around his head increased in frequency and volume. Soon, Gerald could hear nothing else. Guttural, unintelligible sounds mingled with the whispers. Inhuman and terrifying, the sounds made him want to scream. The pregnant woman’s head rose. She opened her eyes and began to cry out. A man walked through the circle. Dressed in black mining coveralls, he was surrounded by a dim corona of violet light. The gravity did not appear to bother the man.

And why would it? If he was a miner, he would’ve been acclimated to the higher gravity prior to assignment on the planet.

There was an A-frame ladder erected beneath the pregnant woman. She now struggled against the cords that bound her arms and wrists. The dark man climbed up the ladder and stopped when he was at the same level as her belly, raising an object above his head. The object was hard to identify from Gerald’s vantage point, but it looked like to be some sort of crude tool, similar to a scraper used by humankind’s prehistoric ancestors. The dark man dragged the tool across the woman’s round stomach. The wound left in the object’s wake was ragged and bloody. Gerald averted his gaze.

There was a
woosh
—like all the air had just been sucked out of the vast room. Everything went dead still. Then there was a flash red light. For an instant, crimson was all Gerald could see. When his vision returned, all that remained of the pregnant woman was a torso hanging from the metal ring. Her entire midsection was gone. Her innards hung out as glistening tatters. The fifty people that had been gathered around the base of the scaffolding were now laying one atop the other, completely motionless. Gerald turned and ran back the way he had come.

Something blasted by him—red, violet, and black—and the exit door flew open ahead of him. There was a cry on the outside. Gerald stumbled on the door’s raised threshold and broke free of the outpost’s shadows with a tumbling fall. He rolled onto his back and saw the shuttle,
Murhaté
01
, rising from the small spaceport. Three amorphous blobs of color—red, violet, and black—raced toward it.
The colors, trying to get off the planet,
Gerald thought. He could feel it now—a
lifeforce’s
blind desire to be free of
Anrar
III.
It’s too worked up
, Gerald thought,
it can’t do it.

Gerald clambered to his feet.

The red orb of light slammed into the shuttle. It exploded instantaneously; the resulting fireball crashed down into the spaceport. The structure buckled, collapsed, and then exploded itself. Gerald felt the anguish from the crimson thing. Glimmering, red blots of light like fireflies rained down around him. The light pooled around his feet and flowed like run-off back into the geological station. Another lifeboat screamed across the sky. The Violet and Black raced past in pursuit. He saw the Violet seep into the lifeboat. The Black continued to race toward the sky, closing in on the shuttle before both disappeared.

Reality trembled.

The air filled with glittering.

And then he was awake.

Slowly, he sat up on the metal cot. The strange dream seeped back into the darker reaches of his consciousness. His limbs were stiff and his lower back ached. Gerald looked to the confining bars of the cell.
Bars.
Simple and ridiculously effective.
They were still firmly in place. He rubbed his forehead where
Albin
had clubbed him and then he hopped off the cot. Security had taken his boots when they booked him and the floor was cold.