Crescent (7 page)

The anchorman segued into a local story. Apparently, a young mother of two had also gone missing, leaving her toddlers home alone for days. Hungry and confused, the toddlers were otherwise no worse for wear, but there was still no sign of the mother.
What kind of person just walks out on their kids like that?
Gerald thought. He wondered why the hell
Maerl
insisted on playing the news in the bar.

“That’s the third missing person story they’ve aired on the news this week,”
Maerl
commented as he stepped back around the bar. “Better keep an eye on that girl of yours.”

“She can take care of herself, provided she’s not too drunk.” Gerald finished his beer and slid the empty bottle away.
Maerl
placed another before him. Gerald reached for his wallet, but the bartender held up a hand to stop him. He pointed over Gerald’s shoulder.

“Courtesy of Dr. Donovan Cortez and his daughter, Dr. Ina Cortez.
They want you to join them for a drink.”

Gerald turned on his stool. He recognized Donovan Cortez from Kendall’s office. Cortez sat in a booth on the far side of Heathen’s beneath a glowing caricature of a shapely female figure. Beneath the shape were the words
Drink
Femalien
!
Cortez wore a suit, minus the jacket. His shirt collar looked too tight for his chubby neck. Curly gray hair, matted at the top, sprung out around the doctor’s ears. Ina Cortez sat beside the doctor, half in and half out of the booth. Her
cornsilk
hair was combed straight and parted in the middle. It fell past
thin,
pale shoulders that were exposed save for the narrow straps of her small dress. Her eyes were pointed downward and hidden behind long lashes. She looked uncomfortable. And both she and her father looked woefully out of place. Gerald stood and made his way over to them.

“Dr. Cortez?” Gerald said amicably enough as he stepped to the booth. The older man looked up at him and smiled. Cortez tried to stand too quickly; the olive green table shuddered and threatened to spill the two drinks that sat atop it. Cortez’s plump lips spread in a wide smile.

“Mr. Evans!”

“You just bought me a beer, Doc. You don’t need to act surprised to see me.” He paused, waiting. When Cortez said nothing, Gerald spoke again. “Generally, this is when you’d ask me to sit.”

“Oh yes, yes. I’m sorry. I’m not used to…
 
doing this sort of thing. Please, sit.”

“Hello,” Gerald looked to the daughter. “
Ina,
is it?” he inquired. She raised her eyes to him and offered a quick smile before averting her gaze again. She was the crazy girl who had spoiled Gerald’s morning coffee. Her blue eyes didn’t hint at recognition, so he decided to keep his mouth shut. No sense in heightening the awkwardness. Gerald sat. “So, what sort of
thing
is this, anyway?”

“It is my understanding that you are Crescent Station’s salvage man.”

“Yeah, that’s right. For how much longer, I don’t know. Things haven’t been going all that smoothly.”

Donovan frowned and looked perplexed.

“Chalk it up to Kendall and I not exactly seeing eye to eye on the definition of
salvage.
”
Gerald took a sip of the beer Donovan had bought him. He set the bottle down and noticed Ina’s bare ankle. It was delicate and pale. There was a tattoo there, nestled just below her ankle bone. The artwork looked like a small rose, but Gerald couldn’t be sure without staring, and he didn’t want to make her or her father any more uncomfortable than they already were.

“I have a job for you.
If you are interested.
I don’t know what kind of contract you have with Crescent. I don’t really care
,
to be honest with you. I don’t want Kendall to know about this. I am prepared to compensate you very well—
better,
I’m sure, than Kendall is paying you for your entire contract.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, Doc. Kendall is paying me pretty damn well,” Gerald played coy, but his interest was piqued. If he could manage to take in enough cash on the side, maybe he could buy his way out of the contract with Kendall.

Cortez waved his hand.

“Money is no object, Mr. Evans. There is a ship—a shuttle. I want you to haul it back to Crescent for me.”

“A shuttle?”

“A shuttle,” the elder Cortez echoed. “It is very old and likely very fragile. I’ve been over your files. You have a commendable record, Mr. Evans. So many salvage runs with such a high success rate, and quite the variety of hauls. I think you can handle picking up my little shuttle.”

“Right.
So, you want me to tug a shuttle into Crescent without anyone getting wind of it? How do you propose I do that? Take it apart and stow it my bunk?”

“No, no. Leave that to me. Vegan and his crew can be bought. The deck hands can be bought. None of that should be your concern. All you have to do is go to the coordinates that I will send you, grab the shuttle, and bring it back to Hangar 19.”

“And what else can you tell me about this shuttle, Doctor?” Gerald asked.

“In truth, little.
I have reason to believe that this lifeboat is from an old, abandoned mining colony on
Anrar
III.”

“Lifeboat or shuttle, Doc?
That makes a big difference.”

“Well.
More likely the former than the latter.
It should be in the small asteroid belt orbiting moon III of
Anrar
VI.”

Gerald tapped at his chin. He looked from the elder Cortez’s eager but cautious face to the daughter’s, which was hidden behind a fall of golden hair.

“Do you have anything to offer here, Miss…
 
rather, Dr. Cortez?”

“No.” She didn’t bother looking up.

“Doc, how did you come by this information?” Gerald asked.

“I can’t say,” the elder Cortez said.

Can’t say, or won’t,
Gerald thought.

“Right.
Let’s say I go out there and it’s not there,” Gerald said over the mouth of the beer bottle. He emptied the contents and set the bottle down on the table.

“It’ll be there,” Donovan insisted.

“Let’s say I go out there and it’s not there. I’d expect to get paid in full.”

“Yes, of course, Gerald. I will compensate you for your time, either way,” Donovan kneaded his pudgy hands.

“And I’d expect a hefty down payment even before I set foot on my ship,” Gerald added.

“Yes, yes,” Donovan said. He sounded impatient. “All that can be arranged easily.”

“You know I’m without a ship, right?
For at least a day.”
Gerald figured the
Cortezes
had the right to know.

“What? No. I didn’t know that,” Donovan sighed and looked away.

“Little accident this morning.
Bean is dry-docked until the day after next.”

“I was not aware of that.” Donovan sounded disappointed, but a moment later he was smiling again. He had the tiniest of spaces between his front teeth. “Two days is a sufferable delay. I have waited this long, after all.”

Gerald slid the empty bottle across the table.

“Thanks for the beer.” He stood and began to walk away, but Donovan grabbed him by the hem of his shirt.

“Wait!”

Gerald slapped his hand away.

“Come on now, Doc. That’s no way to behave.”

Donovan took a deep breath and regained his composure.

“I’m sorry. This is just very important. That derelict could answer a lot of questions.”

“If it’s out there.”

“It’s out there.”

“Let me sleep on it, Doc. I’ll let you know tomorrow, either way.”

Gerald left Heathen’s without another word.

(•••)

Gerald didn’t wake up so much as he half jumped out of his bed. The creaking ceiling fan cooled
a sheen
of sweat on his bare chest. The dream faded fast from his memories—tatters of red and engine-oil black. Violet stars and dust.
Planets.
Death.
Gerald shuddered. His mind wouldn’t form anything substantial from the dream other than a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach and the urge to shit. He looked at the time display that floated on the screen of the wall terminal. It was 3:45 in the morning.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned so suddenly that a hot lance of pain shot down his neck. A pudgy kid, clutching a small flashlight in one hand, dashed into Gerald’s washroom. The narrow door slammed shut behind him.

“Hey, kid! What the hell?” Gerald shouted.

A heartbeat later, Gerald was standing; any hope of getting back to sleep fell to the floor like the cast-off bed sheets. If this kid was trying to rob him, he’d have more success going out the front door, not into the bathroom.
Stupid.
Gerald pulled the door open and snapped on the light.

The bathroom was empty. Every single hair on his body stood on end. Gerald’s reflection stared back at him from the mirror. He had seen the kid go in there, plain as day. Gerald swallowed hard. He pulled back the plastic shower curtain. Empty.

He dropped his eyes to the floor. A metal object sat on the oval bath mat. Gerald knelt down and picked it up. It was an aluminum soda can. The thing looked old; the material had begun to oxidize. Gerald felt another chill coming on and tossed the can into the garbage.

He stepped out of the washroom and looked at the bed. There was no way he was going back to sleep. He clicked on the rack light and rummaged around in his discarded clothing until he retrieved Donovan Cortez’s card. Gerald went to the terminal and inserted it into the reader. It went directly to voicemail.

“Donovan. Gerald. Send me the coordinates and send me the cash. I’ll leave as soon as Bean is ready.”

Getting off the station as often as possible would be a good thing.

(Part V)

Gerald frowned and ran his hand over welding points that were both bloated and ugly. Bean might not have been the prettiest ship in the galaxy, but one thing was for damn sure: he’d been a hell of a lot prettier before the colony-ship-turned-slagheap
rearended
him.

“Good morning, Gerald.”

“
It’s
afternoon,” Gerald countered and turned. Donovan Cortez stood on the flight deck along with Ina at his side; his bespectacled eyes examined the hauler.

“Actually, it
is
morning,” said Donovan.

“Whatever. I got your coordinates. You didn’t have to come and send me off. I do appreciate the gesture.”

“We’re coming with you,” Cortez said and took a step toward the ship, a bright smile on his face.

“That is entirely out of the question.” Gerald held out a warding hand.

“Gerald, I’m paying you quite well. Well enough that you should have no problem taking two passengers with you.”

“Bean is a hauler, not a transport vessel; she can’t hold more than two passengers. Sorry, pops.”

Donovan looked back up at the ship. His brow creased for a moment before he spoke again.

“Well, in that case, I’ve never enjoyed space flight. You’ll just have to take Ina with you. I’ll wait here.”

“No.” Gerald didn’t want anyone green on his ship. Different people reacted to space in different ways. He didn’t want to take the chance that Ina Cortez would go
nutso
on him.

“Gerald, I need to send
someone
along to make sure my interests are kept in mind,” Donovan insisted.

“Are you saying you don’t trust me?” Gerald raised his brows.

“Would I place my daughter’s safety in your hands if I didn’t?” Donovan said. “I will pay you an additional fee for taking Ina as a passenger.”

Gerald sighed—more money was more money. A dock hand holding a welding torch stood at the far end of the flight deck. His face-shield was raised and he watched the exchange with vague interest. Walter Vegan was nowhere in sight. Gerald returned his attention to the dynamic duo.

“Great. Fine,” Gerald said, and eyed the bag at Ina’s feet. He pointed at it. “Get that stowed. We’re leaving in five minutes. And you might want to hand Sparky down there a fifty on your way out,” Gerald gestured to the dockhand with a tilt of his head.

(•••)

Security HQ was quiet and largely deserted. Marisa was grateful. The few officers that were present went about their business, paying more heed to their work than to Marisa. She stepped into a monitoring station and set her bag on the table. A row of
LCDs
showed multiple sections of the station—blocks of Main Street, views of the hangar, views of the living levels and the farms. Crescent had a lot of
cameras, that
was for sure. No one was stationed at the feeds. Likely, the missing attendant was in the head or getting food from the compiler. That was fine by Marisa; she didn’t feel like talking to anyone. She didn’t want to talk about Heathen’s, sure to be the conversation du jour. She sat down on the monitoring station’s backless stool and shifted her weight this way and that, but it was impossible to find a comfortable sitting position. Back pain, after all, meant eternal vigilance—at least according to El Capitan. Visit any monitoring station on Crescent and there’d be an officer sitting on a stool, massaging a cramp out of one sore muscle or another. Marisa yawned wide; her jaw popped. She still felt tired and her brain was muddy, even though it had been a couple of days since her hospital visit.

“Welcome back, Lieutenant,” said a voice from behind her. She suppressed a frown and swiveled on the stool.

“Hi, Captain.”

Captain Walter Benedict stood in the doorway, black mug of coffee forever attached to one hand, cigarette between the fingers of the other. His long, pepper black hair was matted to the sides of his head and it was a curled mess where it hit his shoulders. Expressionless, he watched her with his one good, blue eye. Benedict’s other eye was made from glass and was as unnatural and protruding as ever. Marisa always wondered why he hadn’t opted for an implant when he had lost the eye in a knife fight so many years ago.

“How did your meeting with Kendall go?” he asked.

“There was no meeting,” she replied.

“That a fact?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I thought he might’ve had something to say to you about those armed mercenaries shooting up that fine tavern. He requested a personnel list of hangar security on duty the afternoon those assholes arrived,” Benedict took a drink of coffee. “I told him I would deal with my crew and that I didn’t need him involved. He gave me the impression he’d pursue it anyway—you know how Kendall is. I went to bat pretty damn heavy for you, Mari. If he does talk to you, I’d expect nothing more than a slap on the wrist.” Benedict nodded once.

Marisa felt relieved, though at the same time she wanted to shout,
People died because of me!
She bit her tongue—exhaustion was making her feel dramatic. She was happy that the captain had stuck up for her. When it came to locking horns with Mayor Kendall, most people backed down. She saw no reason for her captain to behave any differently. Benedict held her gaze and Marisa felt herself lips tug themselves into a grin. It felt good to smile. She had made a mistake at the docks. That was all.

That’s not all,
she thought.
There’s no way I could’ve missed those guns.

“Well. He hasn’t bothered me yet and I’m not going to go to him.
So.
We’ll see.” Marisa did find it a little odd, though. Kendall was always quick to come down on anyone who fucked up. He came down hard and in a timely fashion. But, there had been no one waiting for her when she was discharged from the hospital. There had been no one sitting in her apartment smoking a cigarette—no messages on the comm.

Benedict said, “To that end, I’ve decided to take you off of hangar detail for a while.
To give you some opportunity to mull over where you screwed the pooch.”

Marisa chewed on her bottom lip for an instant, keeping back a rebuttal.

“Welcome to your new job. You’ll work the monitor station here in this office for the time being,” Benedict said, and sounded satisfied.

“Great.” Marisa turned her attention to the monitors.

“I knew you’d be pleased.” He tossed her a wink. “Now, get to work.”

(•••)

“We have arrived, Captain,” Bean’s voice drifted from the comm.

“I see that, Bean.”

The asteroid field drifted over the frozen surface of
Anrar’s
most distant planetary body. This field was nowhere near as dense as the site of Gerald’s first haul for Kendall, and for that Gerald was thankful. All the same, he felt out of his comfort zone. Gerald was used to flying alone. There was something about having a passenger aboard, as mouse-
ish
in her silence as Ina was, that made him nervous.

“Shall I take us to the coordinates, or would you rather show off for the lady?” said the ship’s computer.

“Take us in, Bean.”

The hauler banked and the thrusters fired. Bean brought them into the heart of the asteroid field on a slow approach. Dark, rolling boulders drifted past the viewport, breathtakingly close. Gerald glanced at Ina, who for once was not looking at her feet, but instead gazed out the viewport in wide-eyed wonder. A stray lock of hair had fallen across one high cheekbone. He felt the irrational urge to brush it away. Her eyes were like bits of blue-gray glass; they moved from the viewport to meet his.

They both looked away.

“I haven’t spent all that much time in space,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

“I can tell.” Gerald smiled. “I see crap…
 
rather, things like this every day. I’ve gotten used to it.”

“I don’t know how you could ever get used to it.”

He looked at her again and she was watching him with keen interest. He shrugged and glanced over to the radar array.

“Now, who the hell is that?” Gerald said.

“What’s wrong?” Ina asked.

There was a red blip eight thousand meters out.

“It’s a ship,” Bean replied, “but not
the
ship.”

“Has it spotted us?” Gerald leaned forward.

“It would not appear so; however, it is difficult to say. There is a lot of magnetic disturbance out here,” Bean said.

“Kill all non-critical systems. Let us drift.”

“Captain, you might be interested to know the transponder code is registered to Crescent.”

“Very interested, Bean.
Can you activate the cameras? Or would that put off too much of an energy signature?” Gerald asked.

“Shuttles have a weak sensory array. Our cameras will not alert them to our presence.”

The visual camera display shimmered to life in front of the control couch. It showed not one, but two specks against the milky body of
Anrar
VI. The camera zoomed in, each frame increasing with a jerk. Two ships were tethered together.

“Son of a bitch,” Gerald said. “
There’s
two?”

A space-suited figure crawled out of an unmarked cargo carrier’s top hatch. He was followed by another individual. The pair pumped their legs, leapt from the cargo ship, and floated a short distance to a Crescent cargo vessel’s open rear hatch.

“Are we safe out here?” Ina asked. Faint rose petals blossomed on her cheeks. She looked from the viewport to Gerald, her eyes reflecting the same sense of unease that he was feeling. Something glittered in her liquid blue gaze. She asked with such anticipation in her voice it seemed to Gerald that she wanted the answer to be no.

“Well.” Gerald brought up the radar overlay with a wave of the hand and zoomed out several clicks with a twirl of his fingers. “So long as we don’t see any more colored dots in this view, yeah, we should be okay. And if
they
don’t notice us floating out here.” Gerald gestured to the camera view that now showed the two suited figures floating back to the unmarked cargo vessel; they were guiding a long, heavy-duty crate into the ship’s hold.
What is that?
Gerald wondered.

“So we wait?” Ina asked before Gerald could speculate any further.

“Yeah.
Pretty simple.
We wait.”

Ina sighed. Gerald could see her breath. He was surprised at how quickly the heat had dissipated once the life support systems were cut to a minimum. Bean shouldn’t have cooled off so fast. Clearly, there was still collision damage that needed repairing. He was about to ask Bean to check into it when Ina placed her hand on his cheek. It was cool and soft. Gerald looked at her, his brow rising in surprise and more than mild confusion.

“Is my hand cold?” she asked.

“Yes. A little bit. I’m sorry about that.” He was about to go on to an explanation of bad circuits and clogged vents when she put her other hand on his cheek.

“How about this one?”

“Yeah, that one too.”
Gerald felt his cheeks getting hot despite the cabin temperature.

“How long do you think we’ll be waiting?”

Ina inched toward him, close enough that he could smell her hair. It smelled clean—like spring time, planet-side. The scent made him feel a little light-headed.

“I don’t know. Not long? Long?”

“Oh.” Ina trailed the fingertips of one hand down the line of his jaw and down his neck to rest on his collarbone. She closed the distance between them, her arms sliding out over his shoulders. She brushed her lips over his. Gerald was not surprised that they were as soft as her hands. He brought his head back, but she was still only centimeters away. Her breath drifted toward him in warm puffs.

“Ina. I’m flattered, but I’ve…
 
”

“Got a girlfriend millions of kilometers and two hulls away?” She silenced him with her index finger. “Or is it a wife?
A boyfriend?
I don’t really care. I don’t know what’s come over me, Gerald. But, were I you, I’d consider myself lucky to be here.” She kissed him again, this time with a fierceness that caught him off guard. Ina pushed him back into the control couch and straddled him. Her hair hung down over his face and tickled his cheeks. For an instant, he thought he glimpsed a shadow behind her.
A trick of the light.

“Gerald.” She paused, rocking forward and back once.
“Captain.”
She bit her lip. “You no doubt have a bunk on this ship?
With blankets?”

He nodded in response.

“Good. Take me there.”

(•••)

At first, it was cool in the small sleep quarters. Gerald had closed the overhead vents to preserve what little warmth remained. Forty-five minutes later, he wished he had kept them open. Their lovemaking turned the four-by-four meter enclosure into a sauna. The smell of their combined sweat and the tang of sex
was
pungent, but not unpleasant. Ina lay beside him, her arm and leg draped over Gerald’s naked body. His chest rose and fell as his breathing returned to normal. Either he had set the life support systems too low or he had to start hitting the gym.