MoonRush (24 page)

This was
not
the way she ha
d wanted to arrive on the moon.

* * *

The fingers of Jarod’s left hand wouldn’t stop shaking.

They were on the moon. They had made it. But Jarod’s heart was still beating a mile a minute. He could barely breathe.

That had been close.

Jarod unstrapped himself and headed to the hold
.
T
he medical team stopped him as they wheeled Simon out on a gurney. The little man’s face was
gray
and drawn
,
and there was no movement that Jarod could see. The only positive was that no sheet
was
pulled up over the small pilot’s head. Yet.

Once they passed, Jarod headed to the hold. He found the rest of the crew, standing off to the side without moving.

“Everyone okay?” Jarod queried. All he got back were blank stares.

Jarod gathered the shaky team together and stepped out of the ship to assess the damage. The entire hull of the
Eureka
was warped. Smoke and steam rose from the wreckage like ghosts of what the ship once was. Jarod couldn’t identify one square inch of the craft that had escaped damage.

He cleared his throat and looked around at his shell-shocked crew. “Let’s try
to
see this as a half-full situation, people.”

Just then, the door to the shuttle next to them whooshed open as its crew filed out in sharp uniforms decorated with a starburst pattern that looked somehow familiar to Jarod. The
vessel’s
captain sauntered down the runway, his not-quite-covered scalp gleaming in the
fluorescent
lighting. Gil.

“Oh, I’m killing that bastard right now!” Jarod surged toward the oily captain, ready to wipe the smug grin off his face, but found himself face
-
to
-
face with more police officers than he could count. Jarod’s crew stepped around him, shouting to explain the situation, but the lead cop whipped Jarod around and slapped cuffs on him. Hard.

“You’re under arrest for violating docking procedures. You have the right
—
”

“I’m not the friggin’ criminal!” Jarod
pulled
against the restraints, trying to get a word in edgewise. He pointed his non-restrained chin at Gil. “
He
is!”

His crewmates chimed in, seeking to make themselves heard
.
B
ut the captain jerked Jarod up and almost off his feet.

The cop growled, “Tell it to the magistrate.”

Jarod was deciding whether to head
-
butt the cop in the face or try to sweep the policeman’s nearest leg when he saw something that took the wind completely out of his sails.

A shiny jade tiger pendant descend
ed
the stairs of the
Vanquisher
.
It h
ung from the neck of the most beautiful woman
who
ever shot Jarod down.

“You!?!” He heard himself cry out.

Gil draped a flabby arm over the Asian woman’s shoulder as they walked past. The captain of the
Vanquisher
drawled over his shoulder, “Another perfect example of the fitter specimen
.
W
ouldn’t you agree?”

Jarod’s shoulders slumped as the co
ps dragged him toward his fate.

* * *

Once around the corner, the
Asian
chick shoved Gil’s hand off her shoulder. Well, there’s gratitude for you. She whirled to face him, holding a payment chit at arm’s length.

“Here’s payment for my ‘rescue
,
’
” she stated. “Although I believe the word requires
that
the rescuer does the rescuing without
any
thought to profit. Otherwise, he’s just an opportunist.”

Gil laughed and waved the chit away. He favored her with a broad wink. “I wasn’t suggesting a monetary exchange to fulfill your obligation…”

The chick stopped dead in her tracks. “Do you have any idea how many ways you disgust me? First. Your Napoleonic urge to compensate for your diminutive
—
”

Yeah, yeah. Gil had heard it all before. As luck would have it, he wouldn’t have to listen to her tirade, as just then, a rowdy and odorous group of
’
49ers passed through the hallway. One broke
away
from the group, grabbing the woman by both arms and shaking her a bit. His smile was wide and contagious. “We did it! We found one!”

A beeping started in the woman’s pocket. She broke free of the happy miner, scrambling to turn off her device. Gil noticed the furtiveness more than the actual beeping, but she had his attention now, like it or not.

“Just my moon phone,” she tried to explain. “New ringtone.”

Gil raised an eyebrow, then moved to step in front of the celebrating
’
49er. “Let me see it,” Gil demanded.

The miner, clearly more than a little inebriated, swayed as he held out the tiniest of shards in his hand.

“I’ll give you two million. Right here, right now.” Gil reached back for his chit.

“I’m drunk, but not that drunk,
B
ub.” The miner turned back to his group, waving his arms to lead them all in a rousing chorus of what appeared to be three completely different songs. They headed off down the hall, their voices diminishing with the distance.

Gil turned to Talon
, who was like an extension of Gil’s own right hand,
and growled, “Get that diamond
!
”

Gil then pivoted, watching the retreating form of the lithe…and secretive…woman. “And track her movements.”

“Done.” The big man moved off to execute Gil’s orders. When Talon said it was done, it was done.

CHAPTER
9

Moon
b
ase prison complex

March 29,
2049

17
46 hours
, Lunar Standard Time (LST)

Buton knew in an intellectual way that he was on the moon. He had made the trip to this part of the complex in a space suit, the light streaming in through the tiny windows was unfiltered by a heavy atmosphere, and the feel of the gravity was much lighter than what his body was used to. And yet, the jail he was now winding his way through looked, and smelled, like any other jail planetside. The fact that he now knew what a jailhouse looked like both on Earth and on the moon was not lost on him. Not even a little bit. In his
MIT
days
,
he would never have dreamed of being in a place like this. And yet, here he was. Again.

Even the vacant eyes of the guards were identical. He moved through the mountain of forms and signatures required to post bail. The only thought that kept Buton moving forward was that, at least this time, Jarod was not to blame. The crew must have done terrible things in
their
past
lives
to deserve this kind of karma.

Buton moved beyond the nearly catatonic guard, passing by rows of cells filled with the dregs of humanity. Drunks, thieves,
and
prostitutes…all were lumped together here in their holding cages. What Buton could not determine was whether this represented law and order or some kind of macabre zoo.

Buton studied his own sour observations and determined that the crew’s last encounter with Gil had shifted something deep inside. Buton had always considered himself a realistic optimist. And while he was still very much a realist, the optimism part of the equation had taken a turn for the worse.

When they arrived
at
where Jarod was being held, Buton glanced at the team leader’s cellmates. On one side was what appeared to be a transvestite woman…man?...of the evening, in a garish dress and even more garish makeup. Above
,
on the top bunk
,
was the hairiest man Buton had ever seen. It was impossible to determine where the man’s beard ended and his chest hair began. The ever-present smell of urine had increased as well. Buton shuddered.

The guard in front of Buton growled, “Haster…out!”

Jarod sprang to his feet. The first words out of his mouth were, “How’s Simon?”

And there was the reason Buton would travel to the depths of a place like this. Much as Jarod might try to hide it, he cared about his team. And once you were on his team, you were never off.

“He’s stable,” Buton responded. “They’re transferring him to Earth tomorrow.” Buton finished signing the documents that would release Jarod into his care. Jarod pushed his face against the bars and whispered.

“What the hell is going on?”

Buton shook his head. “Not here.” Buton could see that Jarod wanted to say more, but the expression on the scientist’s face must have stopped him cold.

Truth be told, it wouldn’t be muc
h better where they were going.

* * *

Jarod’s evening had been…interesting. To put the horror of his experience into perspective, sharing a bunk with a cross-dressing hooker had been the highlight of his day. He was so relieved to be out of prison and back to a place that was fit for human habitation. Jarod stepped into the hotel room and took a deep breath.

That was a mistake.

How could it smell worse in their hotel room than it did in the drunk tank? It didn’t seem like it was possible, but it was true. Smaller, shabbier, and smellier than any of their previous hotel rooms back on Earth…and this one didn’t even give an attempt at décor. The walls were bare drywall and plaster, the bedspreads were a drab beige and the carpets somehow managed to match both.

Jarod was sick and tired and didn’t feel like taking it anymore. He paced back and forth like a caged animal and tripped over a snag in the rug. Okay. This hotel was built as part of the Moon
Rush. Meaning it was less than a year old. How could the carpet possibly be this worn?

“Jarod, you better sit down.” Cleo sounded even more tired than she looked.

Visions of a certain balding man’s face turning purple under Jarod’s hands danced behind his eyes. “I’m going to find Gil and
—
”