by William Cray
Still in the safe zone, Celeste ignored the rising levels and opened the balcony doors. The apartments over pressurization system kicked in and the whoosh of air blew Celeste’s hair across her face. She stepped onto the balcony and into the dome’s night air. She leaned against the balcony ledge, turning to face Duran.
“Aren't you worried about the radiation?” He asked.
Celeste smiled, “The over pressure keeps out most of the particles out, plus the Max offers some residual protection. I've lived in the Zone nine years now. Do you see my hair falling out?”
“It will some day.”
“Did you ever think that this might be your last night alive Rory? You should enjoy it in the time you have left. Be it tonight or whatever is left of the rest of your life.” Celeste said.
Duran looked back. “I’m sorry. I have something I have to do. We are wasting time.”
“Is being with me so bad?”
Duran didn’t answer.
“Don’t worry, I'll take you to him soon enough.”
“How long have you had this gift now?” Duran responded.
“I don’t really know.” She said. “Time sometimes abandons me now. I took to it so easily. Maybe I’ve always had it. Maybe we all do. About six weeks I guess, but I’m not sure.”
Duran crossed his arms. “When the deaths in the zone began.” Celeste didn’t reply and he turned back to her. “He is responsible for those murders Celeste.”
She looked away, back into the purple city. “Are you responsible for the thousands that died on his home?” Celeste snapped. “Whatever he has done here, you are complicit.”
Duran walked out onto the balcony next to her, leaning out over the edge, glancing down onto the darkened streets. “Celeste,” he said. “Are you responsible for any of those deaths?”
She looked at him, a brief flash of arrogance in her eyes. “You don’t understand any of this. It’s an addiction. It’s only getting stronger. I’m getting stronger. I don’t want to stop. I can't stop myself. For the first time in my life I have control over what happens to me.”
“What about Kari? What about her?”
“She's getting stronger too, but she has limitations.”
“And the scars on your back? The bruising? That doesn’t look like control.”
Celeste looked away, but her eyes didn’t show weakness or embarrassment. Instead she looked up at Duran, and he realized she wanted him to see the scars and needles. “Sometimes he…wants me to hurt myself.”
“Does he make you?”
“I do it because he wishes. He says it makes me stronger. That I can learn from it.”
“Do you like it?…When he hurts you?”
She didn’t answer at first, then said, “It’s not the first time I’ve been hurt. Maybe it’s something you and I share. You revel in your pain and suffering.”
Duran took one of the cigarettes out of his coat and offered one to Celeste, firing both when she took one. He watched the last fading moments of Sol as it dipped below the cityscape. Duran motioned towards its decline in the distance. “Have you ever been off Mars?”
“No. I’ve been here all my life.”
Duran nodded. “I have spent more time out there than I care to think about. Most of the times I wish I could forget.”
“Yeah, life sucks. But it doesn’t have to.”
“There is a lot of suffering going on here now. I’ve seen it everywhere. But what this creature of yours is doing is beyond cruelty. It’s the most inhumane thing I’ve ever seen. This has got to stop, the killing, the manipulation. Stop protecting him.”
Duran sensed he struck a nerve, and Celeste became cold again. The black panther in the weapons locker returned, “I’m not protecting him. If anything I’m protecting you.”
“How?”
“By warning you. You should leave. Just go. Once he’s finished it will be too late.”
“Finished doing what?”
“You will see.” She said. “You can’t stop him. He will just turn you against everyone you know to get what he wants.”
“What does he want Celeste?”
“Ask him.”
“Take me to him and I'll stop him…tonight.” Duran said.
She came close to him, leaning in. She whispered into his ear. “As you wish.”
12 Hours prior to NOVA Event
16
Habitation Dome 11
Meridian City, Mars
Duran pushed his way through the crowd, brushing past the sweating and pulsating bodies of Phelman's children as they thrashed on the makeshift dance floor, surging in waves of motion. The noise of the club was deafening and the flashing multi-colored lights reflecting off of floating glow glitter caused the tiny gleaming strips to blur in his eye filaments like chaff jamming radar. Duran passed by the crowded tables of dope vendors, pedaling all the vices of the Empire with outstretched hands, crooked smiles and greedy promises. Bright colors thrashed back and forth along the row of tables, as people reached and clawed for vials of the drug, Max. The people, the sound and the drugs, is what brought them all together in this dangerous place.
The Max and its euphoric effect on the self-image and physical endurance on its users obliterated any moral inhibitions. People danced and laughed and walked around like sex-fueled zombies, all under the power of the drug. It was an enticing environment of excess and abandon with no limitations for its users. The underground party of the universe. They lived in the moment, indulging in escape from the misery and degeneration around them. They wouldn’t stop even if they knew what lurked among them. These people looked ready to give anything up, to feel good one more time, one last moment in bliss.
Duran followed as the crowd gave Celeste respectful space as she passed, parting as she worked her way through the Babylonian mayhem. Each step into the club seemed to enclose him further into her world as he followed her. Kari stayed close behind him, in her element. Many people in various states of sobriety came up to greet Celeste, who either nodded, smiled or just ignored them. She made no physical contact with her suitors, and those that attempted it were met by an icy stare that could freeze the lake in the trench below. Most kept his or her distance, demurring to her as she passed with no one displaying overt familiarity or close association.
Duran had to re-evaluate Celeste and her status in this place. Somehow her charm and confidence transcended her environment. She was a celebrity here. No, royalty, Duran, thought. In here, her power seemed to expand and encompass those around her. She was intoxicating, and attention from her could possess those around her. She was beautiful yes, but no woman he had ever met seemed to transcend every expectation. Somewhere within him he had been snared and couldn’t explain it, only devote each moment to resist it.
Eric Hansen had walked this same path into the spiders’ den with Celeste, leading him to the depths of her web. Axe had always been more susceptible to women because he believed they should be in awe of him. Celeste’s sexuality must have been an irresistible challenge to him, something no Imperial surgeon could cut away. The thought of Eric lying in a morgue, mangled by his own hand, sobered Duran. Eric had died as a warning to him. He couldn’t afford to look at Celeste as anything but an adversary. For what she did to Eric, she would pay. He would use her, then burn her to the ground in a flash, like kindling under a blowtorch.
Celeste led the two to a small couch with a glass topped drink table perched in front of it. As they approached a porter removed the reserved label from the tabletop and replaced it with five vials of Max in a silk bag with a gold inlaid drawstring. The porters skin was so translucent Duran could see the pulsating blue veins that bulged with each heartbeat, the light and glitter giving him an otherworldly look. Other than his appearance, he gave off no warning signals. The blue man greeted Celeste as they sat down, “Greet Celeste, ex-lent you are here. May I serve you?”
Celeste glanced at Duran, “Bring me a Skylar Brandy and my guest a ...”
“Water.” Duran interjected.
“Make it a scotch, a good one, and … a water.” Celeste said, still looking at Duran. “Your drink of choice I believe?”
Duran acquiesced.
The blue veined porter nodded. “Meester Zan left word dhat he would like to speak to you.”
“Tell him I'll be along. I'm escorting a guest right now. Someone new to our little gathering.” Celeste said.
The porter nodded again, and left before Duran could pull out a chit for payment. Celeste, stopped him, “You won't need that with me tonight.”
“How did you know I drink scotch?”
Celeste looked into the crowd, evaluating its currents and motion. “Your friend,” she said.
Duran sat silenced, surveying the throbbing crowd. His eyes were drawn to some of the unnatural acts going on throughout the club, whose participants were unconcerned with the level of ludeness or the presence of voyeurs. Variable men and women performed overt sexual acts to the enamored looks of surrounding crowds. They closed in as the moment of maximum pleasure was reached. Some reached in, touching the couples who showed no apparent discernment for partners, or sexual preference.
Axe had described this place in his files. It was a modern day Sodom and Gomorra. But this time, an unleashed particle had created it instead of destroying it in a fiery explosion. There is energy here, Duran thought. Perhaps there was truth to the saying that the light that burned twice as bright burns half as long.
Duran closed his eyes, feeling for anything new. Nothing, just the pulsating drive of music and excess. The Intruder could exist here in a thousand guises and never outwardly appear as an outsider. There was no such thing here. They were all outsiders.
The drinks arrived a moment later and the blue veined porter set them on the table then leaned over, whispering into Celeste's ear. Celeste gave him an unconcerned look then waved him on his way. Duran leaned closer, over the din of the booming music, “What was that about?”
“Zan wants to see me. He wants to know where I've been the last couple of days.” Duran nodded as Celeste downed her drink in a swift upturn after a cursory swirl of the glass. “You should have yours Rory. It’s your drink of choice, isn’t it, or are you going to try cover your discomfort with another lie?”
“I'm not drinking tonight.”
“Drink it anyway. You’ll draw attention if you don’t.” She picked up the silk bag, handing two of the clear vials to Kari, who slid them into a pocket inside her skirt. Celeste kept two of the vials herself then winked. “Carpe Diem.”
She set the vial into the tiny cylindrical injector she carried in her purse. Duran placed a hand over the injector. “Not tonight.”
“You’re giving yourself away Rory. If I don’t they’ll know something is wrong.” Celeste said. “We are being watched.”
Duran scanned the room, picking up three or four conspicuous people with large off world builds among the crowd. They were positioned to observe key areas of the converted warehouse. Two of them could cover the entrance. One seemed to have a bulky rectangular shape under his coat. A gun or a snapback, maybe. One covered the dance floor, standing near a support column, a drink in his hand. The other two moved around the edge of the crowd, looking for some unnamable indiscretion in a place where overt indiscretions were everywhere. Maybe they were the ‘not having any fun police’, Duran thought. If any trouble broke out tonight, he would be dealing with them as well.
Growing impatient, Duran snapped at her. “Enough bullshit, Celeste. Where is he?” He gripped her hand and she winced from the pressure, more annoyed than hurt.
“No matter what you do to me Rory, he'll either be here, or he won't. If he isn’t here then you’re already too late.” She pulled her hand away then injected herself on the exposed inner thigh with the blue vial of max.
Duran cursed under his breath as he watched her.
Celeste leaned back against the padded couch, rolling her crystalline eyes back in reflex to the rush. A gentle moan of shock and raw sexual aphrodisiac escaped her pursed lips. Her body tensed then released in a convulsive arch of her back against the couch, staring into the glitter. Within a moment she had recovered her highborn pose but a hungry fire burned behind the crystal eyes…flames that drew in Duran like a moth to fire.
Duran picked up his drink like he was preparing to sip from it as Celeste reloaded the injector with another blue vial. “Not another one,” Duran snapped.
She smiled at him. “This one’s for you.”
Duran gave her a hard look that said, “Don’t even try.”
Celeste leaned closer to him pressing her leg to his in a pawing motion, “Come on. It’s good tonight.” She giggled then injected herself a second time. The second injection evoked a minor quake of her body but she didn’t become immersed in the indulgence this time.
Kari was grooving to the music. Having a good time. Over the bombastic beat of the sound system, a dark haired Pan Asian man in an awful green outfit approached, stoned from the sway of his legs and hips. Over the noise he clumsily asked Kari to dance. Kari looked over at Celeste, who nodded. Duran started to object as Kari took the man's hand and headed to the dance floor, but Celeste put one finger up to Duran's lips to softly quiet him.
“She's not going anywhere.” Celeste said.
“How do you know?” Duran countered.
“Because she's afraid that if she runs away, you’ll kill me.”
Duran followed Kari with his eyes into the thrashing mob. “Tell her not to go far.”
The crowd surged to the dance floor in unison to a popular song, leaving Duran and Celeste alone in the corner seat. “How much does Kari know about what's going on?” Duran asked.
Celeste looked into the crowd watching the glow glitter flutter in the air as the crowd gyrated to the driving beat. “She knows enough. She’s not stupid. She just has trouble communicating her thoughts. I understand her. The gift has given her another outlet to communicate.
Duran sat watching the crowd, seeing Kari flash through the masses, the shorter, obscenely stoned, man's hands all over her. Duran finished his drink with a rapid tip. Before he could put the drink down, another one appeared on his table.
“You have quite a setup here.” Duran commented.
“Yeah, it is now. At first it was just a struggle to survive I'm told. When the gangs took over it became more of a business. Your ability to survive was measured on how much income you could generate versus what your basic needs demanded. There were enough resources after the disaster to survive, but as the population grew we required contacts on the outside. That’s when things started to take off. When the Max came, about ten years ago, the syndicates started making contacts in the city. Payoffs at first, then maybe a little bit of blackmail to keep things going. This couldn’t happen if the politicians and unions weren’t fucking Phelman’s children too. There are about seven or eight of these parties going on in the zone every Red day, a place for each particular taste and orientation. This is one of the better ones. You have to be invited to it.”
“I feel privileged.” Duran said with a snarky grin. “How did you make the list?”
Celeste flashed a sideways glance. “By being a good fuck.”
Duran was about to apologize when he felt a tingling. It started on the edge first, just below the surface, cutting through the throb of music and motion. Duran tensed, scanning, his good hand reaching into his borrowed jacket. Celeste stopped him. “It's Kari,” she said. “Relax.”
Duran focused, using his training to zero in, gaining a bearing like a compass needle seeking north. He started to rise from the couch, but Celeste pulled on his sleeve with a firm grip, saying again, “It’s Kari, it’s OK. Sit down, she won't hurt him.”
“Tell her to stop.”
“Rory, she is what she is now. You can't ask her, or me, to simply turn it off. Kari is learning to control the gift now. She is dangerous if she can't control it. Let her be, she won't hurt anyone. I promise.�
�
Duran watched the crowd from the couch, trying to keep track of something he couldn’t see or hear. He could only feel it with numb tendrils. The pain in his hand was a constant distraction, a sharp stab of fire into his nerves. He was becoming irritable and the effects of his lack of sleep over the last few days were mounting. The clock was ticking and his effectiveness was declining every minute. He needed to contact Lieutenant Braiselle in order to keep up the pressure on the Intruder until the rest of his team could reinforce. But if Celeste hadn’t lied to him, there was a chance to finish this tonight. Celeste had promised to lead him to the Intruder. But so far there was nothing. This is a waste of time, Duran thought in disgust. He would have better luck looking for evidence rather than chaperoning a couple of notorious party girls.
The rambunctious, driving song changed to a melodic Middle Persian
intro, slowing the passionate thrusts of the dance floor as the couples closed together for the slower paced instrumental.
Celeste grabbed Duran by the hand. “I want to dance.” She tried to pull him up.
“We don’t have time for this.” Duran rebuked.
“Tonight might be our last night alive, Rory. Besides, if you don’t dance with me everyone will know you're a cop. Or a eunuch maybe.” She responded by pulling him up by the hand, Duran followed.
Celeste led Duran past empty tables to the dance floor, glow glitter spinning around them like a curtain of sparks. They pushed through to the center of the crowd. Duran noticed the new bounce Celeste had in her step. She turned to face him, still holding his hand, pulling him close to her as the crowd meshed in around them.
Celeste began moving around, swaying with the melodic tune. Duran remained motionless, uncomfortable with the situation. Celeste continued her seductive sway as she turned her long exposed back to Duran, pressing against him at the hips, pulling his clasped hands on to her firm stomach. Celeste leaned her head back against his chest, her hair gently brushing against his lips. Duran inhaled her erotic aroma as he began to follow her movements. She took his broken hand, still wrapped tight with the compression glove. Guiding its exposed fingers tips along her waist, pulling his hand down to her uncovered thigh. The touch was electric. The string intro picked up pace and bled into a hypnotic grove as Celeste moved her hips against Duran's pelvis, enticing him further to follow her movements, unwilling to break the contact.