Mercury Going Down

by Brambach, C. S.

  “Problems with the holo program. Trying to work it out for the Rec section. It doesn’t do to have a polar bear wandering through your Fiji fantasy beach love fest. Blows the whole mood.” He went back to tweaking the program. Suddenly there were topless native girls in grass skirts wandering around. They had very square heads which made them very unattractive.

  “What’s with the uncute wallpaper?” Jake looked up and around. Shrugged.

  “I had the holo projectors installed a few day’s ago to help with the sim’s. Yeah, I’m working on getting the squareness out now.” His fingers tapped some more. Faces rounded. He looked over at me.

  “So, any clue on who tried to kill your sorry ass off?” He glanced at me and Jazz over my shoulder. Focused back on his screen, tapped the board almost idly.

  “Nope. I don’t have an enemy in the system, let alone this planet. I’m the ultimate slacker. Do just enough to make it without drawing any attention. Go along, get along. Don’t tread on anybody’s toes. Don’t hog any glory, make yourself a target. If you do, keep moving, makes ya that much harder to hit. That’s my motto. My philosophy in a nutshell.” I shrugged. That was it. I had been wondering though, who would want to kill me?

  I tried not to get too obsessive about it, but it was hard not too. The trick was to not let it cloud your mind while still using it to maintain your focus.

  “Well, somebody in Supply doesn’t like your ass that’s for sure.” He smirked and tapped the board again. The grass skirts changed to sarongs. Breasts became slightly larger and hips a little wider. Hair started to gleam more.

  “Nice work there kid. So you know this cause.... They’ve cracked the skimmer!”

  “Yup. Hey, Fox, get us some tea, want some tea man?” He gestured at his pleasure unit. She was dressed in a latex French maid’s uniform and fishnet stockings.

  “Yeah, sure, thanks.” Different strokes... “So, what have you turned up so far?”

  “It seems who ever tried to off you is definitely an artist, a master at camouflage. The signal command was bounced around between the Med Unit, the port traffic control tower, the religious center, admin and a gambling unit in the back of one of the bars here in the city, the Black Hole, I think before it was channeled through Dave’s computer work station and sent to the skimmer. It definitely originated in Supply though, but it has that weird half origination code flash like it was created by someone out in Art/Ent/Rec.” He scratched his head as Fox, this months name for his pleasure unit, (the month before she had been ‘Slut’), brought in a tray with a tea pot and two cups. Jake took his tea seriously. His pot and cups were made of real clay and glazed a deep blue.

  That they weren’t made of steel said something about Jake. I admired good pottery, just like good poetry. After six thousand years all that survived the devastation of time was pottery shards and poetry. I wondered if the Epic of Gilgamesh would survive another six thousand years. I had a feeling the pottery would anyway.

  As Fox came towards me I saw Jake stick out a foot and attempt to trip her. He wasn’t completely successful, because she only stumbled slightly, but in regaining her balance and composure, she spilled a drop of tea on my right foot. She handed me my tea. Jake had a strange glazed look on his face. He stood up like a rocket and pointed at her.

  “Clumsy cunt! Apologize to Drew! Immediately! Protocol number one!” She immediately kneeled before me, between my legs. Jake tapped the board once and the scene around us changed to that of a dark, dank dungeon. Classic nightmare stuff.

  “Oh, Jake that’s not necessary...Uh, wha?” She had pulled apart the lower velcro closure of my coveralls and pulled forth my cock and placed it in her mouth. Her mouth produced a warming lube which started to work immediately. Jake waved a hand at her.

  “Drop the uniform and prepare for punishment. Protocol number two, you naughty bitch!” Without removing her mouth from my stiffening dick, she shrugged out of her maid outfit to reveal a curvaceous body unencumbered by underwear, with a small silver chain linking the nipples of both large breasts, and garters to hold up the fishnets. She wiggled her cute synthetic butt in the air as Jake produce a large red paddle and smacked her with a resounding whack. With every strike she deep throated my engorged shlong. After about two dozen whacks Jake dropped his jeans around his ankles and dropping to his knees he started to do her doggie style in short sharp thrusts. Our eyes met and we both burst out laughing.

  Soon Jazz put the chair into it’s reclining position and Fox climbed up and straddled me inserting my cock into her tight robotic pussy, and then Jake came up and slid into her ass. Slapping her ass as he pounded away.

  “Beat me more, I’ve been so bad. Fuck me, fuck me hard. Fuck my ass! I like it in the ass. Fuck my ass harder, yeah, that’s it! I like that big cock in my ass. Hurt me! Fuck me! Spank my ass!” So Jake did. Again and again and again. I gestured to Jazz to help, so she slapped Fox’s face a couple times, and reaching down, tugged on the chain which seemed to do it for Fox who screamed,

  “Yesssss!!!” She tumbled off me as Jake stumbled off and back and she hoovered his cock into her mouth.

  “Yeah, clean it off bitch.” His eye’s rolled back into his head as he came. Jazz had bent over the side of the chair to take my cock into her mouth and absorb my come as it flung out of me at warp speed. She gently massaged my balls as she did.

  After she tucked me back into my coveralls, she moved the chair back into it’s upright position. Jake literally fell back into his chair, with Fox staying glued to his cock. I was impressed by her acrobatic abilities. He reached over and touched his desk top. The scene around us changed back to the beach at Fiji. I picked up my tea and took a sip. It was still warm.

  “That was fun, but let’s not do it again, K?” Jake stood long enough for Fox to pull his pants back up. He wiped a hand over his eyes.

  “Yeah, sounds good to me.” He sat back down.

  “If you could set up a monitoring situation in Supply, cache any unusual calls going in or going out, that would be a good start. I’ll start digging into anyone who might want to do me in.” I handed Fox my empty tea cup. The chain between her tit’s swung like a trapeze as she bent down to take it. I gestured to Jazz to take me out and then made a motion for her to stop.

  “Also if you could put a trace on the cash flow in Supply. Old rule in forensics. Follow the money.” I waved my hand to Jazz and as we left Jake said,

  “Cool. I’m on it.” I told Jazz to head for Fonagy’s office. Soon we were on the automated moving walk way across the city. Jazz put her hand on my shoulder.

  “Do you think anyone would want to kill you?” I pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingers.

  “I don’t think, I know.” Curiosity in a Robot, that was a new one.

  “But who?” I shrugged. Forensics had taught me that logically the first suspects were family members, anyone who stood to gain from a murder. My wife was only guilty of trying to fuck me to death. In my mind anyway.

  “Beat’s the hell outta me.”

  In Chief Fonagy’s office the monitors of one wall were all showing Supply Section areas. We were both watching the wall. I was shaking my head.

  “I don’t know of anybody in Supply that would want to kill Dave, or me.”

  “Well, we’ve got pretty much everybody in the section under round the clock surveillance. Including your Misses. Even though we’ve ruled her out as a suspect. It seems the skimmer was definitely jacked up by someone from Supply. About a week before it went down.” He looked at me with a piercing gaze. “And you were right, the Reverend and his wife were killed, yes, they were definitely murdered, we know that now for sure, as a ruse, a blind if you will. There’s no connecting tissue to any other thing that’s rotten in Doheny City. So someone killed them as a diversion. Someone with a sick mind. I’m having Dr. Barber put together a profile right now. Any ideas?”

  “Hum, the Doc mentioned that Dave had a proclivity to being influenced by cult’s, might check i
nto any links there, see if the right Reverend Gonzalez had any connection to underground cultists.” The Chief waved his hand in front of his face.

  “Ugh, I hate cults. If a religion isn’t at least a thousand years old, it’s a cult, not a religion in my book. I’ll have a couple of my guys look into that too. Anything else?”

  He looked at me with raised eyebrows. I nodded my head.

  “Yeah, you might want to start checking people’s bank accounts, check their cred scores. There’s an old saying in forensics, ‘Follow the money.’ That might give us a clue, some indication of who’s trying to use me as a target at a shooting match, you might want to check into Art/Ent/Rec on that side, cause Dave did do rehab time for a gambling problem right before he came out here.” I shrugged. It was farfetched, like grasping at straws, but if you cast the net wide enough you never know what you might pull in.

  “I don’t see much hope there, what with the safe guards built into the system, you can’t lose all your credit’s with out triggering an alarm, and if you lose too often, too many times in a row, you get flagged as potential rehab bait.” I dismissed it as a dead end.

  “I like that better than going over Supply with a fine toothed comb, so I’ll initiate a look see into that as well. Good idea. Thanks.” He said.

  “Don’t mention it.” I looked at my shoes, noticed the dried spot of tea, then looked up at the wall to see if I could spot Karen at work. “How’d you eliminate Karen as a suspect?”

  “She was never at a Supply Section computer console when one of the traced signals was sent. We have footage of her at Art/Ent/Rec when that happened, at least for the one that put the whammy on the drone. It was after all no coincidence. Which is another reason why I don’t believe in coincidence.”

  On the way to the Supply Section I put in a call to Jake and told him about Art/Ent/Rec and the possible gambling connection with Dave and told him to follow up.

  “I’m already on it. There’s something funky going on between Ent/Rec and Supply, a whole bunch of credits flowing back and forth, though mostly forth from Ent/Rec. I’ll try to dig deeper. Later.” I didn’t mention the religious connection cause I just didn’t get that one. I figured to let Fonagy and the Doc delve deeper there. Then I received a call from Bob Marsh, the number two man in my department, Maintenance and Repair or the Under Wrench as we called him. He was a good friend and a poker buddy. He invited me to drinks at the Black Hole Bar and Grill later after his shift was over.

  He said some of the guys from our section wanted to buy me drinks, so I accepted of course, one of my standing rules being to never turn down a free meal or a free drink.

  As Jazz wheeled me through Admin and Support a murmur started and by the time we neared the bend of the corridor that lead to Supply heads had popped up over the cubicle wall tops and before we reached the bend everybody in the section was on their feet applauding. I had Jazz turn me around so that I could wave reassuringly. Thank you. Thank you very much. A warm welcome for the Prince of Survivors. Yeah, right...

  On the border of Supply I was approached by my good buddy Ashley Thomas. I stood up and caught a great hug. She looked great with her hair swooping down to chin length and a gleam in her dark brown eyes. She was nominal head of Supply and number three in the chain of command in Admin and Support, her significant other, Jim Simpson, being number two in Admin, under Joe Suh.

  “Hey! I was gonna call you! How are you doing?” Warm enough to melt ice cubes.

  “Great, great. Hangin’ in, ya know?” Looking at the floor as if in embarrassment.

  “That’s good, I was so worried when I heard what happened. How’s Karen?” Her and Karen had a cordial if luke warm relationship. Women are like cats in that respect, they either get along or they hate each other and usually you know in a matter of seconds how it’s going to end up, on which side of the divide it’s going to be.

  “Fine, fine. How’s Jim?” Almost solicitous.

  “Doing well, in fact he sent me to bring you to his office, he had a call from Joe Suh, said you were being offered your choice of job reassignment and that you had an interest in Supply?” Curious and garrulous at once. OK, here’s where it gets tricky, how much should I let her know? Play it safe and keep mum about the investigation. Play along. Hero boy just wants a new gig. Yeah, yeah, sure, sure... Remember to thank Fonagy for calling Suh and getting me in. This might not be as hard as I thought it was going to be...

  “Yeah, well, in my youth I spent quite a bit of time in the warehouses, doing shipping, receiving, inventory, stocking, that sort of thing for a few years so I’m not totally unfamiliar with the territory, you know?” Looking for acceptance from a good friend.

  “Oh, it would be so good to have my favorite football drinking buddy working with me.” She hugged me again. Man this hero nonsense had its benefit’s that’s for sure.

  “Uh, you mean under you, right?” I chuckled in a manner that could only be construed as flirtatious. She waggled a finger at me.

  “Hey, we’re good friends, hey.” I nodded my head, disappointment plain on my face.

  “Well, if you should ever change your mind... You have my number baby.” She didn’t ask about Karen, we had had enough beer and bitch sessions to know the scoop on each other’s relationship woes. She laughed a clean well lit laugh. A laugh of the heart. A laugh of kindness. A laugh of truth. A laugh of understanding. She nodded her head.

  “I’ll be calling that number in the next night or two to meet you for drink’s.”

  “Sounds like a winner to me.” We rolled up to Jim’s office. As she went in to announce me, Jake buzzed me. He sounded excited.

  “Hey, I traced one of the commands to three different terminals, it’s tough cause they all share a common password down there for the system they use. I’ll try to get a pass key for you so if you can get to a terminal, maybe you can take a look in and see, but so far it looks like it was either Pete Simms, Jim Simpson, or one of the temp user consoles on the main floor. Number eight. It will probably be too tough to get into Jim Simpson’s computer, but Pete Simms, he’s always running errands for Jim, the suck butt that he is. His password into his personal files is probably his own birthdate, his mother’s birthdate, or his favorite color, monkey shit brown, ass licker that he is, huh, huh.” I looked around. Saw no one was watching or paying attention and said,

  “Cool, call me.” And disconnected. Number eight, my lucky number. Then again eight was a lucky number for most of the population of China... Shit, I sure hoped Ashley was clueless about the whole attempt on my life thing. You hate to suspect your friends, especially the really cute one’s. Ashley appeared and gestured us in. Jim came around his desk console beaming, he practically had to lean up to shake my hand, he was a short one.

  “Glad you made it Drew. Sorry about Dave.” He looked down at his shoes. Feigned sadness. He didn’t know Dave but shared in the communal sense of grief. Sure, you bet.

  “We all mourn his loss.”

  “Yes. So, what can I do you for?” Cheerful. Almost overwhelmingly so.

  “I’ve been promised a promotion and told I could have my pick of the department I wanted to transfer to, if that’s what I wanted. So I figured I’d come down and check you guy’s out for an hour or two, see if you needed any help, get the lay of the land, so to speak.” A look of mild intensity on my face tinged with hopefulness and confidence.

  “Yes, Ashley said you had some warehousing experience?” Concern evident. Stepping on toes perhaps? The boot is coming down, so move ‘em or lose ‘em.

  “You bet, inventory, ordering, supply, stocking, the whole nine yards.” Confident in my abilities and experience. Looking him right in the eye as I said it.

  “Hmm, well, we could use the help. In fact I’ve been thinking of getting some help for Pete Simms, he has more plates in the air than a waiter at a Greek restaurant right now.” He chuckled at his quaint analogy. I smiled. The luck of the Irish was with me. If only I was Irish. “I cou
ld have Ashley set you up at temp console number eight so you could review what we do here and let you get a look at some of the procedures we use and the programs as well. And the whole staff is at your disposal, if you have any questions.”

  “Thanks, that would be great. I appreciate it.” He shook his head.

  “Nothing is too good for the hero of Doheny.” Just as I’d hoped, working the hero gambit to the max. Ashley showed me to the console in it’s own little cubicle. I could see where there had been a plant, and there was still a photo of Karen and I, smiling into the camera, thumbtacked to the cubicle wall. Also a calendar with most of the days of the year crossed off and a bright red circle around a day a little less than six months from now. The day we would be shipping off planet. So this was Karen’s home away from home in Art/Ent/Rec.

  Shortly Ashley had me keyed into the system and had left me with Jazz to our own devices. I immediately stood up from my chair. I motioned Jazz to take the chair.

  “Jazz, sit here and stroll through the tutelage program, I’ll be right back.” I whispered to her. I called Jake. Peeked around the opening of the cubicle. The coast was clear. For now.

  “Yeah bud?” He sounded like he had just taken a dose of cannabinol. Great. Well, he could kill cyber zombies like hell when he was stoned, hopefully that ability carried over to research hacking. Research, correlating with search and destroy.

  “I know, Dave’s not there. Look, I’m in Supply now, and I have Jazz going over the education programs at station eight, so that is up and running, if that helps, and I’m sneaking over to Pete Simms cubicle right now, is he in?” Looking both ways quickly, I had seen Pete’s cubicle on the way from Jim’s office.

  “That’s a negatory pal.” I slipped into his cubicle in stealth mode and slid right into his seat and turned on his set. Almost immediately the pop up appeared requesting his password.