Mercury's Orbit

by Lia Black

  The clown doctors, big smiles painted on their surgical masks, strapping the teddy bear to the table as an image of its tiny, furry body was projected, showing the rapid beating of its heart, the blood surging and lighting up fires in its brain, the angle of each incision through its soft little head…

  A wave of nausea washed over him and for a moment, one eye saw the world through a dark veil. Mercury went to his knees, rocking as he tried to soothe the image away and get his limbs to move. He really must have hurt himself when he’d lost control and banged his head…when he’d almost hurt his Sean. This machine could help him know for certain if there was anything there at all, or if it was just his mind coming to conclusions that seemed rooted in logic.

  The device was easy to use; just a scanning device that created a hologram over an imaging pad connected nearby. Mercury merely had to focus the beam on the parts he wanted to see, and prompt the machine to record them. Running the device usually required a second set of hands, but he was easily able to activate the switches he needed by manipulating the power flowing to them. Mercury focused away from the familiar sensation of the cool light, tingling over his skin. He watched the imaging pad as a three-dimensional scan of his brain began to form. It was a rainbow of colors, glowing and three-dimensional like a separate, living thing. Blue for blood flowing in, red for blood flowing out; each section of his brain that was active showed up as orange and yellow flashes. It was fascinating to watch, magical almost, but he had a limited amount of time before the new doctor reported for duty.

  Among the beautiful glowing colors, Mercury found a dark spot. A place in his brain, bound by threads of dendrites, like an insect caught as a spider’s prey. This shape was very inorganic—square—about the size of his thumbnail, but looked nothing like the castle he’d seen placed into the bear’s head. It seemed odd that his father would keep something like this inside of a project; perhaps it was a data chip containing something as arrogant as memoirs that he wanted to keep for posterity, or maybe it held an apology, a message to his only living son. Mercury was special to the man who’d created him from cells, he had to be. Every father had some love for the thing they’d made and more so if they had made it all by themselves. Even if he was just a product to Dr. Frederickson Sol, he was the first living child, the only viable heir. They shared DNA, and that made Mercury his son. Mercury struggled with the view of that black chip in his head as he stared at the scan. A troubling thought occurred to him, lighting up sections of his brain as he pondered it. Could it be that Sol Labs wasn’t after his body, but after this thing in his head? His father had stored something there, but it didn’t make sense that he would have forgotten what it was and needed it back. Especially if it was something related to Mercury, like the recipe of genes that went into making him.

  Mercury was jarred from his thoughts by the distant sound of voices, coming into the clinic. He quickly recorded the models to an imaging chip and ejected it, putting everything back where he’d found it before scurrying back into the ventilation shaft. He held his breath, trying to keep his heart from beating too loudly as light filtered up through the grating.

  “Thought I heard something,” he heard someone say. “Maybe a rat got in from downstairs. Keep an eye on that.”

  He exhaled and closed his eyes as the light went out and the door in the room below clicked shut. No time to speculate, and soon it wouldn’t matter. If Mercury’s father wanted what was in his head, Mercury would deliver it to him personally, soon enough.

  Glenn had directed Mercury to a chemist’s shop a few containers down; it was someone he knew and said he trusted, and he gave Mercury a coin of passage. It was common in communities such as these—basically a poker-chip that had been marked with a symbol the other merchants recognized as a seal of trust. As simple as it seemed, they were difficult to copy and each merchant only had one to give, one that bore their custom mark. The chip would later be returned to them by the merchant who’d received it. This small piece of plastic was a gift of gold, and a kindness Mercury hadn’t expected. As soon as he’d returned from above, Mercury went to pay the chemist a visit.

  The chemist’s wasn’t an open faced-stall like Glenn’s was. Mercury had to knock on a makeshift metal door with a slot in it. It slid open, revealing a set of dark eyes, surrounded by wrinkles and magnified by thick lenses. Mercury held up the special coin, handing it through the slot to spidery, knotted fingers. After a moment’s examination, the slot slammed shut. The sounds of many chains and locks clicking open preceded the heavy metal sheeting sliding aside.

  Behind it stood an old man, his head barely covered by wisps of graying brown hair and his spectacles a jumble of movable lenses and magnifying loupes. The scent of incense wafted from somewhere inside, barely covering the sharp odor of chemicals.

  While the chemist’s eyes fixed on Mercury’s goggles and kerchief, he didn’t ask him to remove it.

  “Come in and tell me what you need.”

  Mercury entered the small living area. It was styled towards the esoteric, with decorative wind chimes, hanging crystals, and wispy fabric, draped over the metal walls. From this room, it appeared to be a metaphysical health shop, carrying essential oils and herbal remedies. The chemist led him through a thick curtain, behind which was another door. Mercury stepped into the dark room that was the actual chem lab, where the real drugs were produced. There was a monitor up high on the wall showing a grainy, colorless view of his front door and a partial view of the path outside. This was not the first time Mercury had been in a chem lab. Normally they were small fortresses hidden behind everything from laundromats to barber shops. He’d owned several, all fitted with cameras to watch every entry-point and armed guards to keep the shop, and to a lesser extent the chemist, safe.

  The fact that this man was so much older than most chemists and out here alone told Mercury he was trustworthy. Chemists who cheated their customers or stole from their investors didn’t last long, and there was no territory where they could hide from an angry boss. Mercury had only ever dealt with one incident where a chemist had stolen from him. Instead of killing him, he took the man’s eyes as repayment. It sent a message: you don’t cheat Mercury Fie. While such a display would have normally cost him applicants for the job, he also had a reputation of taking good care of his people. He wondered how the CSD would feel about the custom cruiser he’d given to Princess?

  The old man indicated a stool for Mercury to sit on as he took out a yellowed writing tablet and a pencil, watching Mercury out of the corner of his eye.

  Mercury’s mind was still stumbling over the thing he’d seen in his brain, so it took him a moment to compose something as specific as his narcotic shopping list. “I need your top shelf injectibles, suspended in tetrahaze and cut with cyanide and riattadine.”

  The chemist paused in the middle of taking down Mercury’s order. “This for personal use?”

  “It is.”

  He set down the pencil, looking at Mercury over the top of the thick lenses in front of his eyes. “You don’t seem like a junkie. Is this for something specific?”

  “Headaches,” Mercury answered. He was getting annoyed by the weight of the goggles and the feeling of his own breath being reflected back at him through the kerchief, not to mention the questions.

  The man’s lips twisted like two ropes and he made a sucking sound with his teeth. He was looking at him too closely and Mercury began to fidget. After a moment, the chemist folded his arms and said, “Mercury Fie, right?”

  Mercury grimaced under the kerchief, wary of the man’s observation. “What makes you say that?”

  The chemist smiled, his face stretching wide like it was made of rubber. “Chemists share recipes; yours is unique. Don’t worry, Mr. Fie, you’re safe here.” His teeth were surprisingly healthy when he smiled, considering the environment. “My name is Klegg—Elias Klegg.”

  “How did you come to be here, Elias?” Mercury asked. He believed the man’s assurances, bec
ause anyone who knew Mercury knew what he did to people who double-crossed him.

  “I’m ashamed to say it, but I was a pharmacist—a legitimate one. I’m also an addict. Happened slowly enough, but I got caught. License revoked, you know the drill.” Elias shrugged.

  “Unfortunate,” Mercury said, and he meant it.

  “It’s fine. Made me humble,” Elias said and offered a wistful smile.

  Mercury pulled down the kerchief and removed his goggles. The man had no reason to reveal this information when it would have been safer to lie. He wasn’t a liar. Mercury could respect that.

  “Heard you might be on Terra Huygen,” the chemist continued. “It was on the news feeds a couple of days after you didn’t arrive at the Tribunal. Then Red Salamander came through the port, asking questions about you… shaking folks up.”

  “I’ve met them,” Mercury said. “They won’t be back.” His head was beginning to ache. He needed something soon. That entire episode in the lab had left him feeling more unbalanced than usual.

  “It’s a real honor to meet you, Mr. Fie. My sister lived in Rat Town. You’re still a hero there.”

  Mercury vaguely remembered Rat Town. It had been early in his career, when he was still trying to build up his empire. A low-life scum had declared himself the Mayor of Rattington, or “Rat Town”. He grew fat and lazy by taking everything the citizens owned, calling it “income tax”. A few had tried to band together to take the man down, but they were outgunned, then strung up between buildings as a warning. Rat Town was a valuable location, central to the area Mercury had begun to occupy. He’d considered storming in with his own men to oust the “mayor” and claim it, but why waste resources when there were all ready people who lived there willing to fight? So in exchange for the citizens’ service and loyalty, Mercury spearheaded the liberation movement. Starting small and with the families of those who’d been murdered, he spread the word and provided them guns and a viable attack plan, then he sat back and watched the carnage unfold. Mercury had always found that people were much more willing to help him if he did something that seemed helpful to them. For some reason, most crime bosses didn’t understand the obvious logic. Fear was a negative motivator, and when people were afraid, they tended to hate the thing that frightened them. Fear didn’t get him the cards made by the neighborhood children, or the lovely Cashmere sweater knitted by the old woman on Humbolt Street. Mercury sighed, touching the collar of his shirt as he remembered the softness of the garment. When he came back from his memory, Elias was smiling at him.

  “I suppose you’re responsible for the row starting between the Blue Disciples and Flint Company?”

  Mercury shrugged. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because anybody who has lived here past a handful of hours knows all of the groups are too chicken-shit to start a war without a reason, and somebody just gave them a reason.”

  “Mm, you don’t say?” It was necessity rather than humility that had Mercury changing the subject. “Now about my order…”

  “Right. Your headaches…ever thought of substituting colaxicaine for cyanide?”

  “I’m not the chemist.”

  “I think that’ll help,” Elias said. “It’ll also last longer in your system—and your body can’t metabolize it like cyanide. Yeah. I’ll go with that.” Much of what Elias said seemed to be to himself, so Mercury stopped listening and watched him gather his vials and powders together, trying to keep the dark thoughts at bay.

  Elias paused for a moment, then asked, “What happened to that other cop?”

  “Other cop?” Mercury raised an eyebrow.

  “News said there was one dead on the scene, but another one was missing and presumed dead, a hostage, or a possible accessory. Since they haven’t found a body and you haven’t made any demands they are assuming he’s the one who helped you escape.”

  Mercury frowned. Sean was a good man. Sean was doing his job and not breaking the law. It irked him that Sean’s own people were ready to put the blame on him, but it didn’t surprise him. “None of that is true,” Mercury gave as an answer then decided he’d talked enough for now. If it was assumed that Sean was helping him, that affected the plans Mercury had made to get him home. He’d need to do something to clear Sean’s name.

  Elias was quiet while he worked except for the occasional mutterings to himself about measurements and the recipe. Finally, he finished, presenting Mercury with several pre-filled old-style syringes and a few vials of the drug to refill them.

  “Does Glenn know who you are?” Elias asked as Mercury paid him.

  “No. I don’t want him to. He has a daughter he needs to protect.” Which was precisely the reason Mercury had chosen to reach out to him. When he’d seen the girl running through the aisles, he noted that she was healthy, which meant she had a family—or at least a parent—who loved her. That he was a tinker was an unexpected and welcome bonus. It saved Mercury the time and expense of having to find one.

  Elias nodded, his mouth set in a grim line as though he understood, and likely he did. “It goes without saying, but I’ll keep your secret safe. Well, good luck, whatever your plans.”

  Mercury tipped his head to him, gathered up his goods, and left the shop.

  Outside, he could sense the tension building in the environment. As long as the residents of Underbridge didn’t try to pick sides, or scavenge before the fighting between mercenary groups had been dealt with, then they wouldn’t get hurt. Part of him wished he’d come here before and taken control, it might have been nice to have a ready-made territory blossoming underneath the feet of the Federation, if only to thumb his nose at them. But his empire was gone—dissolved—and it was time to focus on the future, his task. Underbridge would likely exist for a time under the watchful eye of the military, then the federation would lose interest and another group would move in and take over. Maybe they’d be better than the others, but very likely not.

  Mercury crouched in an alley between containers, shaking like an addict as his mind swirled crimson. He’d gone too long without anything…without drugs, without sex…without Sean. He needed to see him, remind himself just how precious he was. He plunged a needle into the vein on his neck, breathing through a sigh as the light came back, chasing the darkness back. Just like when the Flutterby Fairies waved their flower wands and Blackheart’s thorny vines shriveled back to the dark castle.

  31

  The hotel in the Virgero Spaceport was likely the least run-down of all of the structures on the main level. Most of the rooms were occupied by staff or ranking military while on maneuvers, as had been the case the other times he’d been here. Sean never saw the little girl purporting to be his daughter, but the staff assured him that his bill had all ready been paid.

  The room was simple and clean. A reasonably-sized bed occupied most of it, sitting underneath a large, dusty window with an obstructed view of the desert. Sean closed the blinds, having seen more of the desert than he’d ever wanted to. He stripped off the mercenary fatigues he’d arrived wearing, soaking them in the bathroom sink, then sat in his underwear on the end of the bed, pondering what to do next. Maybe he should shave his beard, he thought as he rubbed his hand over the coarse hair along his jaw. His face was forgettable and anonymous enough that no one would recognize him, should anybody care.

  There was a television monitor in the room that Sean realized he’d been starting at as though it were a mirror. It hadn’t occurred to him to check the news, but given the opportunity, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to. He might hear that Mercury had all ready left and begun his destructive rampage. That could only end in one way, and Mercury had said as much. For a number of reasons, that bothered Sean now. He found himself missing Mercury, wanting to at least tell him goodbye.

  With a heavy sigh, Sean lay back on the bed. Flashes of memories—distorted by narcotics—drifted in and out of his thoughts. He thought Mercury had promised him “a date”, whatever that meant, and Sean thought he’d accep
ted the offer. Even if that conversation had happened, he shouldn’t be feeling a sense of disappointment that Mercury hadn’t followed through. Mercury was the bad guy. Good cops were able to separate a bad person from good deeds. Not every criminal started out doing bad things all the time. They’d all started as children—innocent, maybe even kind. A good cop could accept that, review the history from a distance, and do his or her job without guilt. Sean had believed he was a good cop, but when he’d held Mercury, heard about his life, he’d felt something. He’d felt sympathy, compassion, and later, something else…attraction. His sense of morality had put a stop to Mercury’s attempts to kiss him that last night before he left, then Sean almost ended up dead. And Mercury had come back for him…saved his life, eased his pain.

  Sean fostered no illusions about Mercury’s ability to actually care about another person. Sometimes—maybe as a result of some alien neurological defect—Mercury showed something that resembled compassion, and other times, a need to be reassured. But little, if any of it, could be considered normal enough to sustain a real relationship.

  He got up, heading to the shower. Maybe he could wash away some of this confusion, clear his head a little. He turned on the TV just for background noise, realizing how quiet things were without Mercury around.

  The news was ever-changing and entwined with most forms of commercial communication. Everything from children’s shows on home television to commercial vid-boards had three news feeds running simultaneously across the screen at all times. Bands of text in multiple federation languages filled up the top and bottom quarters of the video feeds, compressing the program or advertisement into a small rectangular box. As it turned out, the first channel active was actually the news, and Sean saw his name go by on the ticker and stood, transfixed, a few seconds before the reporter mispronounced it.

  “Sergeant Seen Arginoo, a decorated member of the Southern Region CSD, went missing when the shuttle carrying notorious crime boss, Mercury Fie, dropped out of communication on the way to the Galactic Tribunal. Several days ago, military personnel found the wreckage of the shuttle on Terra Huygen, and the body of CSD transport pilot, Corporal Rodney Reeves. Fie and Arginoo were not found, and at this time, Federation law enforcement officials believe that Sgt. Arginoo and Mr. Fie are at large together.”