Crescent

by Phil Rossi

  Marisa nodded. She was happy to get back to dock rotation. She didn’t want to be left to her own devices; not when she was dealing with blackouts and lost time. That’s what happens when you stare at a wall, she thought. You fall asleep and you end up in strange places. Activity would help her as she eased off the carthine, too.

  “All right, Lieutenant. That’s all for now. Report to Walter Vegan at fifteen-hundred hours. Don’t be late.”

  She nodded. “I won’t be late.”

  “I know you won’t be,” he said and smiled. He waved her out and she took her leave.

  Marisa passed Albin Catlier and Jacob Raney when she left HQ. Catlier watched her with his unnervingly blue eyes. He dipped his chin in salutation as she passed. She didn’t acknowledge the greeting. Raney hawked a ball of blackish spit as she went by them. She continued on for a meter or so and then stopped and turned, preparing to deliver a scathing comment, but the pair stepped through the security office bulkhead before she had the chance. Raney’s beat-up duster trailed behind him in a dark wake and almost got caught in the closing door.

  Strange.

  Marisa began to walk again, but her eyes were still on the door to HQ. She turned fully forward and ran right into a thin, pale woman. Wisps of blonde hair framed a delicate and surprised face. Time slammed to a standstill. Déjà vu, more consuming than she had ever experienced, gripped Marisa by the throat. She knew this girl. She’d seen her somewhere. Where? The same look of recognition was in the stranger’s blue eyes. Marisa smiled uneasily.

  “I’m… ” she said.

  “Sorry,” the blonde girl replied.

  “Should have watched… ” Marisa began

  “… where I was going. Right,” the blonde finished. She smiled the same hesitant grin Marisa wore on her face and then went on her way. Marisa watched her go.

  (•••)

  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’r
e 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.