by William Cray
“I wanted to share it with her, to let her feel the gift. But I was too inexperienced then… she saw things she shouldn’t have.”
Duran sensed the regret in her voice. He pushed a little further, knowing there was a limit how much he could get from her. If he pressed too hard he could undo the fragile strands being cultivated between them.
“What did she see?”
Celeste hesitated, “His vision … many great things … many wonderful things … but many misunderstood things too. He was a genius among his people. The people you destroyed. They didn’t understand him either.”
“That’s pretty vague. Anything more?”
“It’s not easy. I only see what he shares with me. Its not always clear. When we find him, you’ll understand.”
“Will you help me stop him?” Duran asked. “What he’s doing is wrong.”
“I’ll lead you to him … that is all.” Celeste said.
“And this gift. Can anyone have it? Could you give it to me?”
Celeste’s confident composure returned, her bright blue eyes afire again. “It’s not mine to give you … but I can tell you’ve been exposed to it. Maybe all you have to do is open your mind.”
Duran jumped subconsciously. An echo from his dreams. The connection between his dreams, the girl, the murders, and the Intruder was there somewhere. Was there an element to his mental condition that he didn’t comprehend? Blaming the dreams and their images on the return of his IRH was becoming absurd unless it were creeping into his consciousness, a symptom that the final debilitating stages were progressing.
Was it possible he could just open his mind like the folds of an urchin and become the same as Celeste or even the Intruder? His training had been overwhelming focused on closing his mind in order to retain his thoughts and actions against the mental advances of the Intruder power. Would surrendering to them open his mind to this gift, as Celeste called it?
The proximity of these two women began to raise questions about everything. Did his masters fear the Intruder’s power as forbidden fruit or were they more concerned with censoring what he and his team knew about themselves? They had already lied to him about the Intruder moon. Even if he knew the truth, would it change his mission or cause him not to complete it? He had accepted every mission without question and no matter the consequences. He did as the Emperor demanded. That would be his epitaph. His emotional connection had been severed with the scalpel that took part of his humanity. The two women in the car with him would be casualties to that loyalty no matter what they said.
The autodrive gave an audible warning that they were approaching its programmed destination. The van slowed then disengaged off the travelway as they neared the Lead Line and the Radiation Exclusion Zone.
He took the controls and guided the car to a street level travelway in a long north-running causeway dug into the rock. Celeste guided them towards a small repair shop along the tunnel entrance, getting out as they stopped.
She led them into the repair shop that didn’t seem to be doing any recent work through an open garage entrance. A small group of variables, cloaked in redcoats against the cold, waited in the garage. They started to rise as Celeste approached, stopping when they saw the big man following behind. Two of the variable men, stalked into the garage clutter, behind a gaggle of broken and stripped personal cars, most of which would never run again. Duran noted their positions as they moved to the flanks, probably with some underworld firepower based on their stances.
A smaller man approached them as the others stood back in overwatch. He peered from under the redcoat hood, pulling the breather from his nose and mouth, revealing a cleft lip and drooping eye. When he saw Celeste his aggressive posture transformed. A pliant smile came across his cracked lips, motioning a greeting with open palms. He was broken by her mere presence.
“Errr … Celeste. You're bringin'em in ta nigh I saw.” He looked over Duran. “Nat you're usual tick.”
Celeste dismissed him with a wave, “Not tonight Faruk. He's with me. Just open the gate and we need a ride.”
“Ya..Ya… no trouble from ma ta nigh.” Faruk waved his hand and the far doors behind the garage opened into a dark passage into the rock. “Ba careful, words out dat the blimps are camin son.”
“We will Faruk … thank you.”
“Tell Zan I doin goodt verk … will ya Celeste?”
“Yeah Faruk, I'll tell him you were looking out for me.” Celeste responded. “Also, that zipper out front, it’s a cop car. Get rid of it for me will you.”
The variables face screwed up under the hood. “Whaa? Cop zippa? You bing it hea?”
“Don’t worry, this man cut its sack. Strip it, sell it, drive it into the ditch if you want, but make it disappear. You can keep the proc’s if you get anything for it.” She said, walking towards the open pathway, into the dark. “Just take care of it for me.”
Faruk waved to them with his stub hand and backed away. Duran entered the passage, following Celeste with Kari behind.
As they passed into the fading light of the tunnel through the opening and towards the Zone, Duran asked Celeste. “Who is Zan?”
“He took care of me when I ran away from home.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Sometimes.”
Half an hour later, Celeste directed Duran through several side streets, passing through small industrial buildings and manufacturing shops until they reached a park in the main dome of Hab-11, with a broken sign, reading “Skytower Park.” The generations of decay had famished the soil, killing the grass and trees, leaving behind powdery dirt and rotted birch.
They ducked into a medium sized apartment building facing the park, and worked their way up the stairs. “Is this where you live?” Duran asked.
Celeste nodded. “ I have three places. The rad levels determine where I stay, but this is my favorite.”
“Does everyone in the zone have multiple place to live?”
“If they have a job in the gangs they can get a semi safe location, if you don’t work for the syndicate you live on the streets or the shelters.”
“Do the gangs conduct interviews for jobs?” Duran smirked.
“You pay to get a job.” Celeste said. The elevator started up as the doors closed.
“How do they pay, Commonwealth Hagues or Imperials?” Duran questioned.
“Ha.” She snapped. “Imperial credits aren’t worth anything inside the Zone unless you are one of the bosses. Cars, merchandise, max and sex are the only currency here.” Celeste said.
“How did you get your job?” Duran asked. Celeste looked at him, as if insulted by his ignorance. She didn’t answer.
They stopped four levels above the street. The inside of the top floor was ruinous. The cream colored walls were dingy and a fine layer of dust and trash covered the floor. Doors on either side of the hall were either broken in or sealed with heavy locks. Celeste led them across the refuse until they reached a door with a reinforced frame and an observation camera mounted above. Celeste opened the door with a touch on a modern ID pad. The door swung open with a blast of warm air as the apartment’s rigged over pressure system blew any dangerous dust particles away from the threshold. The three entered the darkened apartment after stepping on the polarization pad.
The lights came on as they entered, revealing the size and luxury of the apartment. Duran checked out the surroundings. The walls were printed with simple reflective designs that evolved in smooth pastel colors that never seemed to conflict with the patterns of the furnishings. Living plants were arranged around the apartment, giving the room a feeling of life in a place where life was a struggle every day. He could see the place where the walls of adjacent apartments were knocked out, tripling the original size of the apartment. The furniture was arranged in a circular pattern, orienting on a central sitting table. Injectors and drug paraphernalia lay scattered on the table.
Celeste and Kari passed by him to another room as he inspected the table from a
distance. Celeste looked over her shoulder, “Make your self at home. We have a couple of hours. There may be some clothes that fit you in the second room closet on your left. I’ve got to warn you though; some of them may scar your boorish self image. No… better yet, get rid of those tattered little soldier clothes, and I’ll pick something out when I’m done.”
Duran walked around the central room, picking up a small figurine of a jeweled tiger.
“It’s fake, and ugly. But I kinda like it,” Celeste said as she and Kari disappeared in opposite directions.
Duran was about to stop them from splitting up, but he didn’t think they would try to escape. At least not Celeste, she seemed to be in control and enjoying the awkwardness of his situation. But they could still duck out into the vast slums of the Zone and he might never find them.
Duran made his way to the appointed room with the closet, second to the left. Entering, he sat down on the forma, unwrapping his sore hand. The hand was starting to swell despite the battalion of tiny medical machines swarming through his body, mending and splicing the damage. He squeezed it and winced from the sharp pain.
The hand was broken. If he could set it, his body could start the healing process, but until then, the hand would become more and more useless. With one good hand he pulled off his boots. The boots came off, releasing them after the seals were pried loose one layer at a time. Duran examined the bluish yellow fruit where is ankle should have been. Bracing for yet another wave of bad news, he articulated his ankle to the left, the point of maximum soreness. Hot fire blazed up his leg and he grimaced through clenched teeth, but it moved. It wasn’t broken. The crash down to the tunnel ledge during his leaping escape had been foolish, but it had kept him from having to kill Cole and Floss. Now he was paying the price.
Relieved to not be as damaged as he feared, Duran removed his quick release holster, then pealed off his shirt. Rachenko’s blood merged in a faded collage of watercolors on the gray undershirt. Scabs ripped open as he pulled it off.
Duran reached into his redcoat pocket, removing a gel pack. Ripping open the tube he applied the molecular gel patch on the most damaged areas of his flesh. Duran leaned back in the chair, accessing his medical interface. He prioritized the nanites to mend the damage first, then suppress the pain. He could live with it but he would have to try to set the hand soon.
Standing slowly, he went to the closet, shirtless and shoeless. Opening the closet he found mishmash of apparel, men’s and women’s, of various styles and vibrancy. He was in too much pain to make a decision right now, instead grabbing a non descript teal long sleeved shirt, made of a heavy synthetic material. He pulled the shirt over his shoulders then across the broken hand and draped it across his torso loosely. The material felt alien against his skin. He removed the Mag-gun from its holster, and slipped it into the waistband of his pants, the composite barrel, cold against the small of his back. Duran walked back towards the main room, looking for water or something liquid to wash the bile out of his pallet.
Walking around the room Duran stopped to examine the various accessories and decorations placed around the room. When he got to the back wall he found a control for the balcony blinds. Below it was a digital Geiger counter. It was reading a safe level, but on the small display was record of the past twenty-six hours as well as a prediction of the next twenty-six. The safety margin outside the dome would decline rapidly tonight, the device predicted as the north winds blew in again from the desert.
“It's going to be a wild night,” Duran said to no one as he thumbed the control panel. The blinds slid open and the lights in the room dimmed as Sol beamed orange and yellow light through the pinkish haze, flooding the apartment. He watched the sun slip below the conformal skyscrapers lining the western dome edge. Duran started onto the exterior balcony when Celeste called to him from the other room.
Duran made his way through the labyrinth of adjacent rooms looking for Celeste. Seeing the flicker of small flames ahead he entered a candle lit bedroom, the flames casting the colors of the setting yellow sun across the room. A small silver tray was adjacent to the bed, filled with long metal needles. Duran picked one up. Their tips were jagged barbs and were stained with what looked like dried blood. They were similar to ones found hooked into victims on the crime scene photos Floss had given him.
Celeste called to him again.
Duran crossed in front of the large canopy bed with its drapes tied at the columns. He entered the gold and silver lined water room that flickered in candlelight. In the center was a raised circular old-fashioned water bath that Celeste reclined in, her naked body covered seductively by large clear bubbles that glistened in the light, barely obscuring her elegant form. He could feel the gentle tingling of Celeste reaching into his mind and raised his defenses reflexively, tensing up as he did.
“No games Celeste,” he admonished her.
Celeste’s eyes were closed, lost in the ecstasy of luxury, the tingling ceased, and she smiled. “Just curious,” she said.
“What did you need?” Duran asked, as he looked around the mirrored room. Each direction he looked, her form reflected in the array of mirrors. He could not look away, as that would be weakness, so he found a fixture and stared down on it.
“Directly to the point. That’s your style isn’t it Rory?” Duran gathered himself, turning to face her, locking into her eyes, and finding it more dangerous than the mirrors reflecting her lines through the bubbles. The familiarity in her voice was another trap, but he ignored her attempts to get inside his head.
“I wasn’t aware I had any style.”
She giggled, “It’s a style all your own. You should loosen up, the world is full of pleasures that can be indulged in.”
Duran turned away but in every direction he could see himself and Celeste. “Somehow life's simple pleasures and me never got along.”
Celeste continued her purring retort, “You just haven’t had the right guide. Take this bath for instance.” She leaned against the edge, resting her chin on her arms that were crossed on the lip of the tub. “There's room for two.”
Duran smiled crookedly, “Is that why you called me in here?”
Celeste saw the smile from Duran through the mirrors and smirked. “The hand dryer please.”
She pointed at the long counter top. Duran walked over, finding the dryer and took it over to her, resting it on the half step leading into the tub. Celeste watched him as he bent over to set the dryer down.
“Last chance Rory.”
Duran shook his head. The hydrobath switched off and the bubbles began evaporating, revealing more of her pale slender back. Duran caught himself looking an instant too long, noticing a series of thin, long scars running the length of her spine and places where bruising was faded. He noticed them for the first time. He turned away and walked out of the room. As he walked out he saw Celeste's naked body rising out of the water in the candle lit mirror. She followed him with her eyes, as he left the room.
He walked into the bedroom, leaving her to her games, examining the room’s contents. He yelled to her as he heard the dryer hum on. “I didn’t know people lived like this in the Zone.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s impressive.”
“A lot of it was left behind when the Zone was abandoned, some of the nicer things were gifts.”
“Gifts from who?”
“Men, some from Zan, but mostly guys I know.”
Duran decided against any more questions. Celeste's exploits left a strange feeling in his gut. She had a vulnerable quality but she also had an inner strength and confidence that made her formidable. Men must be drawn to her like ancient goddess were worshiped and coddled. The ample gifts of her apartment showed that powerful men were not immune to her touch. Imagining the power she would have with her Intruder bestowed gift, nothing could be beyond her. She was more dangerous than he could contemplate.
Duran noticed an old photo picture frame that seemed out of place on a
table next to the bed. Duran picked it up and examined the picture of a young couple, sitting close, holding hands together, cheek to cheek. Duran looked at their familiar features. Duran could see Celeste's eyes and the high cheekbones on the woman with the slender nose and jet-black hair of the man. Duran thought they must be the Von Heiden’s, her parents. But something didn’t fit right.
“Who are the people in this photo?”
“My parents.” Celeste said.
“The Von Heidens?” Duran asked?
“No. Those are my real parents. I was adopted.”
“The Von Heidens weren’t your birth parents?”
“No. My natural parents wouldn’t have done the things to me the prestigious and noble Von Heidens did.” She said.
Celeste came out of the washroom dressed only in a black body suit and Duran looked over at her.
“What did they do?”
“They raised me, taught me, tried to love me, but to them I was a lab rat.”
“How so?” Duran asked concerned.
“I was sheltered from other children, given tests, and pressed to be something I was never going to be. I was never allowed to be normal. I have always been different and I was reminded of it everyday.”
Duran nodded, “What happened to your natural parents?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about them. I never knew I was adopted until my adopted parents died. This was the only thing I kept from their estate. The rest was donated.” Celeste said quietly.
Duran set the picture down thinking he should say something but it never came out. He took one last look at the picture, the photo of the happy couple reflecting in the candlelight.
Celeste tied an ankle length see through white skirt around her waist that hung loose on her hips. She pulled her dry hair into a tie and bundled it in the back. She led Duran back into the main room, stopping by a tableside percom that flashed with twenty-seven messages. Duran was preparing himself to listen to all of them, but instead she deleted them. Celeste led him up to the balcony. The sun had disappeared and the purple of night crept in. Celeste glanced at the radiation meter and saw the levels beginning their euphoric rise. The summer months and Solar winds acted on the thin Martian atmosphere like a tidal surge, blowing in from the north, across the deserts of the Tharsis flats, and picking up radioactive particles from Power Dome-3 and carrying them into the fringes of the exposed habitation domes in the Zone.