by Kelly Brewer
They were relieved to see Kyle and Mercy and embraced them.
Sylvia gushed, “My God, are you two ok? Kyle, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Franco has spoken with the detectives and everything is going to be fine. Come on, let’s go meet everyone and have a bite.”
Mercy begged her, “Now is not a good time for everybody. Can we cancel the reception? Everyone is upset. Can you and I just go talk somewhere?”
Sylvia put her arms around her, motioned to her assistants, and the reception vanished. Mercy kissed Kyle and smiled at her dad, then she and mother hurried away, arm in arm, to consult in the mysterious ways of womanhood. Kyle knew her mom would be best at helping her sort it all out. Franco observed the sudden cancellation of his wife’s meticulously planned afternoon with bemused bewilderment.
CHAPTER 34
KYLE AND FRANCO
Kyle, too, needed to talk to someone he could trust. And he wanted to raise the alert about the deadly drug threat following them. Franco escorted him to his quarters and agreed to call in an hour to discuss their current situation.
Kyle would ask Mr. Franco about the best way to handle the bizarre circumstances he faced. He needed the older man’s counsel and wanted his respect. His own father was already an increasing haze of memories, his mother’s absence a low, dull throb in an aching heart.
How would it look if Franco thought he could not protect Mercy? He had to get on top of it.
Kyle was still processing in his room when Franco buzzed coms exactly an hour later.
“Hey, Kyle? Let’s talk.”
“Of course. Where are you? I’ll meet you,” Kyle replied.
“I’m just outside your room.”
Kyle commanded the room controller programmed to his voice. “Open.”
A soft bell, a wisp of sliding steel, and the billionaire was standing in his room. Kyle stood and they shook hands.
“Have a seat. I was fixing to come see you. Got a lot going on… ” Kyle gestured apologetically.
“Sure. Me too,” Franco curtly replied, not sitting.
The older man turned from him without waiting for a reply. Not rude, but in deep thought, pacing methodically, counting the tiles on the floor.
Franco was a tall, slender man with an unkempt, frenetic buzz about him. To look at him, one would never know he was one of the richest men in the known universe. He probably did not care, but Mrs. Sylvia sure did, Kyle surmised.
To Franc, money was a tool to fix interesting problems. He and his family had invented many of the tools men used to stretch into space. He was a problem solver, a gentle genius. But now Mercy was on his mind. He turned to face Kyle.
“You are an extraordinary young man. I am glad you are part of our lives. Mamma and I are proud of you.” He stopped, remembering to smile. “Mr. Tamer has briefed me on your situation. That Mars stuff was some pretty scary business. The consensus so far is you are not guilty of any wrongdoing. You handled yourself like a man, in my opinion. But for now, mother and I agree: Mercy stays with us until it’s all sorted out.” He turned, not waiting for a reply from the younger man.
“The entire Jupiter armada is on highest alert. A single incident could cripple operations from Earth to Neptune. Additional firefighting capabilities are being deployed. A fire would be disastrous. My counterparts at Station Neptune have reenergized and are tightening that critical site down. The wedding will proceed. Saturn and Uranus sites are buttoning up as well.
“Be assured! All precautionary security measures are being taken to ensure that another event or attack, or whatever it is, won’t catch us flat-footed again. The best people are working it, and I will personally be in Neptune orbit days before your group arrives to oversee our operations there. Oh, and to give away the bride, hmmm?” He seemed slightly reluctant.
Pacing, ticking off tiles, Franco reviewed the points of the plan in his mind, rolling fingers across an unseen mental filing system. Satisfied, he moved on to a more delicate matter.
Straightening, words measured, he asked the air in front of him, “The wedding is still on, I presume? And everything is still in… pristine condition? Tamer has already given his report.”
Kyle now had the opportunity to hang himself. Given enough rope, a young man will often jump.
But life is music. It has rhythm. Most people play along without knowing it. A natural musician hears it in everything, and a loving father was a strong song. Kyle had been fortunate to sample it early to his own set of father files.
He was confident and ready.
Franco stopped pacing, arms behind his back, waiting, listening for a soul.
Without hesitation, and before the man could see too deeply, Kyle said calmly, “Absolutely! I’m all in. And… have been… all out… sir…”
What??
“We have not violated our Deepening promise,” he recovered quickly.
The father spun and beheld him.
Kyle looked back at the man confidently. “I have something for you.” Kyle’s face grew grim when he opened the small, portable 3-D dark matter printer he’d brought over from Angel’s, just as it clicked off.
Pulling out what looked like a sugar cube, he indicated, “This sir, is just in from Centre Labs. I sent Doc Hadjii a sample of a dangerous substance I think killed people at our last two shows.” He bagged it and handed it to Franco. “This is the antidote. I think you’re going to start seeing symptoms in your people soon. It’s coming here. It seems to be following us from Earth.”
Kyle stood silent. He felt he had evened the playing field a little between him and this powerful man. And he really wanted to help protect the fans.
Franco took the baggie with one hand, the other still resting across his back. He looked at the cube, then at Kyle.
“Well done, sir. And from Hadjii, no less! You are truly an asset. My lab will analyze the formula and reproduce it. I’m sure it’s viable, coming from Centre, but of course I have to verify efficacy before offering treatment to anyone chemically compromised.”
Franco brightened. “If this is effective, it’s a godsend. We’re already seeing something in newly arriving crews. How did you know? Be sure and get me all documentation related to this.” He resumed his pacing.
Kyle produced a flash drive and laid it on the table between them. “Everything the doctor knows about this is here.”
Franc picked up the stick and pocketed it, then truly smiled for the first time, yet continued curtly, “So it’s all settled. Mercy stays here, you continue your work. We meet you on Station Neptune. We have the ceremony, and everything stays on schedule. Mother will be happy… at last.” He seemed to doubt only that last piece in his calculations.
He added, “Tonight, after your show, we’re hosting another of Mrs. Sylvia’s wonderful soirees in our home. Please extend the invitation to any and all of your friends. We would be honored.”
He shook Kyle’s hand warmly and turned to resume work on the less complicated matters of quantum entanglement.
“Yes, sir. Thank you very much. But there is one thing.” Kyle braced.
“Mercy is coming with me.”
CHAPTER 35
Medi Reports
(Dock? it’s Medi.out)
(uhhh..ahem… wait, wait… WAIT!.. G.baby!… ok.go. Tell me, dear, what’s the good doctor been up to?)
(I’m following up from my last report, about Co-exist. The alleged terrorist’s autopsy at Centre Labs revealed presence of a new, sophisticated, genetically destabilizing drug of partially unknown chemical composition. side-effects vary by patient and dosage, but in higher doses it causes simultaneous emotional extremes of ecstasy and agony. rips the mind apart. Chica had some in his system when he… lost his head.out)
(ha hah aha ahaha… ooohhh girrrrlllll… WAAAIT!!!… snort, snort… Ok, yeah… Medi, uummm yeah… got it. Sooo, the mad
cow junkie turned his noodle into cream cheese by jumping stoned before he lost all his marbles. basically another suicide bomber… thanks, Mom! yawn. anything else?)
(ass! you remember the neurologic hack coaxed out a Co-exist quote, ‘May the riches of the universe guide us’? but there was another brain belch by the hippocampus I’ve been puzzling over. It said, ‘When in Rome do as Romans do.’ Does that mean anything to you, you freak? out)
Dock was silent. That reveal sent a shock through him. Chic could have heard it anywhere, but Hadjii might remember Dock’s use of it years ago. If Hadjii grew suspicious of him, it would strain their cooperation in this Deepening psychology experiment they had both signed on to.
Unknown to the band, the two aged men had agreed, for different reasons, to sponsor the Grand Trine experiment. Hadjii’s support was for the betterment of mankind, wanting desperate people’s focus on something outward and positive. He was alarmed by the increasing aggressiveness of the Spikes and viewed accelerating the Deepening as the quickest, best solution.
Dock was using the event as cover to bring his formidable assets closer to the wall, that unseen barrier beyond Neptune. Something was blocking further expansion, and Dock was not going to let anyone, including Hadjii, interfere with his discovering the next gold mine. There was thrilling evidence of a ninth planet!
Medi’s impertinent rasp cut into his daydream.
(yo, dog, i mean Dock. you there? testing 1,2)
Dock muted his mic to clear his throat.
(um, yes please continue…)
(yes? so, my point is, we’re out tracking the source of the drug now. Hadjii thinks this substance is different from the other boutique mixtures of the past. he said it had beautiful molecules. wants to meet the maker. medi.out)
(You have served your family well. keep me in the loop, son… we don’t want anyone you love turning into bacon!)
Dock referred to Medi’s Muslim family members he held hostage and threatened with unspeakable DNA manipulations.
(‘unintelligible’*.out!)
“Come here, sweet.” The android approached him, seducing.
“Gina.got.hot.baby.bot, I thinks… I thinks I…I love you.”
CHAPTER 36
Moore sex, drugs, and Rock n Roll
T-minus 10 hours
After he left the drama aboard Angel’s ship and before he called the escort service from his hotel room, Moore shot up. It was his reward to himself for being such a stand-up guy for civil liberties and gun rights.
Mark’s dark-sick, drug ravaged mind knew one thing.
-One. Sex with the fake bitch Gemini.bot was not cutting it.
-Two. Two full life, sexy beauties were headed to his hotel room as we speak!
He’d been coy with the service’s sexy, automated receptionist, “Surprise me.” Lol.
They’d messaged him a picture of the house special and time of arrival. The money shot of the Bodi girls convinced him he was about to experience the ultimate fantasy. Mark jumped in the shower, trembling giddily.
The Bodi twins would satisfy the deep, molecular-level lust he pulsed with day and night, uh-huh.
Finally! A knock on the door.
“I’m raw ready robbly,” he slurred out, wet, slipping towards the door. He spied through the fish-eye two almost identical, scantily clad, nubile twinsies! “HAHAHA, you know that’s right, bitches!!!” His teeth clenched, and he writhed manically from the waist up in a wave of surging, adrenalized lust and anticipation. He quickly hardened.
When he couldn’t open the door, the knob somehow turned and two horny hookers rushed in wide-eyed. Delighted, the screamers greedily bounced him back into the room, slamming the self-locking door.
Identical twins, except for…
“They is one pretty black pretty, and they is one pretty white pretty. Yas’ah! Fine silk shine to fill my cup with wine! Uumm Umhm! Yas-sah!” Moore drooled, grinning wolfishly.
He stepped away, momentarily breathless. It was like looking into a mirror in a strange way. Double jeopardy. They returned his spiraling gaze, squealing with delight. They were about to fuck a famous rock star! Awwwww!
“A black panther and a snow leopard. That makes me king of the jungle!” He hungered and crouched while the girls quickly stated terms and took a cash payment.
“My big cat name is King… Jupiter!” he shouted, counting out 1000 Jupiter credits.
“My weapon is Thunder Lust!”
He opened his bag. “This electric cattle prod, my lightning!”
They stopped him right there.
After more brief negotiations, the prod was agreed upon only after the voltage was decimated to the level of static cling. You heard the pop more than felt it.
“Oh, and the ropes…”
Details ironed, they fell upon him. Tonight, they would confess for him the very lies he told himself.
Between hits of high, he queried them with self-righteousness.
When they spoke truth, they suffered submissively.
After hits of low, he probed the depths of their sin piously.
When they lied, they suffered obediently.
Suffering, Mark’s operative erotic word.
Barely Bodi cut him lightly as he tied her sister tightly, she begging for righteous punishment. Bini Bodi pled for merciful understanding. Mark assured himself he was just complying with their wishes.
“You don’t care. You would die to just get off…” He hummed as he wiped blood from his arm.
Whoa! He blew himself away with a new song idea.
“What a line…bitchezz!” he slurred. “…Text meee iiit!”
He untied one of Bini’s hands and had her text it to him. He couldn’t quite type in the… (ding)…
“…my hand dun eye coordination… lacks in a bit of… accuracy right now… damn, that dope is strong!… should wore off by now… Ouch! Is that your kitty’s claws keeps sticking me??
“Hahaha… HEY!!… gimme that string, girl… lay down… no, stand up… put your hands up… down… gimme that leg… you been bad girl… girlz… itzzz my turn…”
Finally he had them right where he wanted them. One was strung up, pleading, the other tied down, needing.
Eerily, a haunting child’s song drifted down around his shoulders. He felt another pinprick, and tried to wipe away the sting.
“One hit,
two hit,
three hits Moore…
four tits,
five bits,
six we score.”
His head was too big for his body… too heavy, it lolled back… his vision splintering…
He looked around, then down… His body stretched away from his balloon head… for miles… too far…
Her upturned ass was miles away… he swatted it, then held on…
‘One hit
two hit…’
“Whhhaa…?
…was that a song somewheres?
it needz to be… was someone… singing ’git?
…or… did I hear it-t… somehow…?” Moore mused, muddled.
Tremulous voices lifted the sickly sweet, nursery rhyme melody…
louder
spinning a slow
merry-go-round and round
…above his head.
strrreeetching him…
spinnnnnnning him…
stinging him… again… rubbing the tingling numbness
“I tryin’ sing ’long.
But can’t… learn it…”
Three Hit Moore.
“I lost track of where was… everything…
I was TRYING to drive home a very ’portant point…
but couldn’t remember… what was… what was it?
“four tits…”
He did remember a li
ttle…
“five bits…”
of who he was singing…
stinging
“six we score…!”
Where was he?
He forced his longing mind back from the vision at the edge of madness.
Emerging from the worm hole
upside down. he was. looking up.
or down. upon his dirty work.
The silver tether of his consciousness slipped away…
He puked. On the bed.
A sloppy gush just missed Bini Bodi, who managed to turn her pretty face at the last second.
Mark splashed down in the puddle, unconscious next to her. Bini Bodi saw the end was near after the sixth injection and had already begun to free herself from the simple knots he’d tied before crashing. She freed Barely Bodi and they untangled, crinkled their pert noses at the pitiful mess, then hugged each other briefly, relieved. An erectile stimulant they’d spiked him with kept him up. Barely lit a cigarette, then they rolled him on his back, chunks sliding across his face, neck, and chest. Together, they milked his body before he went completely limp.
“Damn… this guy… it took six liquid roofies!” They paused from the work to look at each other and share the wonder.
“That will be a selling point,” they agreed.
“Six hits Moore! Hahahahah! Damn!”
“He got the constitution of a horse…” Barely whispered hoarsely, stroking vigorously.
“Oh…here it comes! Catch it, Bini!” Moore moaned from somewhere, unaware.
Bini collected most of the semen, drawing it out into a large syringe. Capping it, she placed it carefully into a small frozen ice pack she kept in her overnight bag.
They showered together, for water conservation, then dressed unhurriedly, straightening clothing, makeup, and hair. Barely wiped the place down, making sure no evidence got left behind. The empty drug ampules were collected and counted. His wallet had Moore cash that quickly disappeared, uncounted, into her bag. Bini wiped his phone’s memory before dropping a stolen passport on the floor in case someone wanted retribution.