Jupiter's Halo: Unbroken

by A P Heath

  When his hands were released they were bruised and bloody. The bonds had bitten into the flesh of his wrists, drawing his blood.

  The pressure of his body trapping his hands against the hotel room door had numbed them and the lack of pain meant he didn’t notice as the bonds bit deeper.

  Maritha had another girl tend his wounds. She cleaned him

  gently, applied a cream that burned at first, but quickly turned to soothing.

  She had bandaged him with thin brown material. He didn’t know where she’d gotten it from, but it didn’t look like any medi-wrap he’d ever seen.

  After he was freed and treated Maritha had asked if he wanted a girl to soothe his soul. He’d declined. He wanted Maritha, but his nerves were shot, his energy spent. All he wanted to do was sit in the quiet and feel safe for a time.

  She moved him back to the bar, begging the use of the room for another customer. Martius knew well enough the charity she offered was as real as the smiles the girls gave every man who walked through the low door. He paid her the same in hard-creds as he would have handed over for an afternoon in her private rooms upstairs.

  Then he’d asked for a strong drink and they’d brought him this glass. He hadn’t even tasted it yet. It smelled faintly of fruit, but the kind made in a machine from chemicals rather than the type grown in soil. He doubted there was much in the way of farming in Sabaea.

  A hand landed on his shoulder. Martius jumped at the contact, spilling his drink onto the table top he had been leaning on as he spun around, part aggression, part terror.

  “Whoa!” Said the owner of the hand, raising both in a placatory gesture as he stepped back.

  “Didn’t mean to scare you there buddy.”

  Martius gave him a dark look and turned back to the remains of his drink.

  “My name is not Buddy.”

  The man pulled a seat up beside him and sat down. His hair was striped white and blue, standing tall from his head.

  Martius turned to his left to blank the man again and found another standing over him.

  The second man was big, bigger than anyone Martius had seen before. His face was dirty, as were his bare arms and the light coloured vest that covered his torso.

  Behind him Martius could see a young man, barely more than

  a boy. He was staring at the inside of Lily’s bar area in idiot fascination. His mouth forming a perfect ‘O’, his eyes wide.

  Martius wrapped a hand around his drink and made to get up from his chair. He had more than enough hard-creds left on him to pay for a girl and a private room. He wasn’t interested in the services, he just wanted peace and to be away from whoever these men were.

  “Sure it isn’t,” The blue and white haired man said, “You aristocrat types don’t go in for names like Buddy do you?” Martius froze.

  “I…I haven’t any idea what you mean.” He said, keeping his eyes on the table top.

  “Really?” Came the reply, “Is that so?”

  The man with blue and white hair leaned down, his head on one side to look at Martius side on.

  “I mean, you look the part,” He slapped a hand on Martius’ shoulder again. “No one’s denyin’ that. And the smell?”

  He took a deep breath in, screwed his face up appreciatively.

  “Yep,” He spoke through the out breath, his head nodding. “Yeah I’d say you got that down!” He leaned in further, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

  “But here’s the thing. You just don’t talk right.”

  The hand on Martius shoulder slid across his back as if the man was making to hug him.

  “You don’t talk like no one round here my friend,” He continued. Martius could smell his breath. It was laced with the bitter tinge of bacco.

  “I don’t know the last time I heard someone say ‘I haven’t any’”, He put on a mocking impression of Martius’ accent, “Instead of ‘I ain’t’, y’see?”

  Martius had no reply.

  “So my friends and I,” He gestured to the hulking giant on Martius’ far side and the dull boy behind him.

  “We came up here to see what all this fuss had been about and you know what?” He didn’t wait for Martius to reply.

  “Everyone we asked said there was some rich kid knockin’

  about and it din’t half look like he was in the middle of things

  when they all kicked off.”

  Martius’ throat felt dry. He took a sip of his drink, swallowing hard. It was sickly sweet and thick.

  “So we gets to askin’ if anyone’s seen this little rich boy, so far from home.”

  The man kept talking. His tone sounded friendly, but Martius could feel his fingers clenching a tight grip on his shoulder. They were digging in and he tried to shrug the hand away.

  “No need for that.” The man said, replacing his hand and squeezing Martius’ shoulder.

  “We’re just having a nice little chat here about a lost little rich boy. But I guess you wouldn’t know about that, would you Buddy?”

  Martius turned slowly to look into his eyes. They were dark, almost black in the low light of the bar area. He was smiling, but it was the smile of someone who knew the joke was not on them, but on the focus of their attention.

  “I just want…” Martius tried, his voice sounding brittle. He could feel the tears forming in his eyes, the lump in his throat. He tried to fight them back.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” The man said sympathetically, squeezing Martius’ shoulder again and lifting his closest hand to rub Martius’ other arm.

  “No need for tears Buddy,” He leaned back and smiled wide. Martius saw the glint of metal in his teeth.

  “We’re all friends here. Isn’t that right Philp?” He looked up at the giant man.

  “’S right.” Was the rumbled reply.

  “See? All friends. Now, what was it you wanted to say?”

  He gave Martius a little shake. “Come on.”

  Martius cleared his throat.

  “I just want to go…” A thought struck him. “How did you know it was me?” He asked.

  The blue and white haired man leaned away, sitting straighter and raising his eyebrows.

  “That’s a good jacket you got there.” He said. Martius looked down at his stolen miners’ jacket.

  He’d become so used to wearing it he’d almost forgotten he had it on.

  “Er…thank you.” He said, unsure what the man meant.

  “A jacket like that says a lot about a man,” He continued.

  He pressed a finger to one of the mine-sign emblems on Martius’ right sleeve.

  “This one means you gone deep,” He said, “Very admirable, very frightening down there in the dark it is.”

  He looked over Martius’ jacket and selected another symbol; a bird in a cage.

  “This one means you qualified to go on reccies and find new veins.”

  Martius was lost. The jacket had just belonged to an old man. He’d tried to buy it but the man had refused to be reasonable so he’d taken it by force. He didn’t want to, but he’d been given no choice.

  The man beside him slapped him hard on the back.

  “But this one is really interesting.” He said.

  Martius hadn’t looked at the back of the jacket in any detail. He recalled there was something there, something like a pair of black wings.

  “This one means you got the rot in y’lungs.”

  The hand on his back was moving in circular motions, rubbing over the large symbol covering the back of the jacket.

  “This one means you been in the mines long enough for the shit down there to rot your lungs.”

  “It’s a mark o’ sacrifice and pride.” Rumbled the big man named Philp.

  “It is indeed,” Nodded the man with blue and white hair, “And it takes bloody years to set in.”

  He gave Martius’ back another slap.

  “So, we asked around, got directed here and what do y’know. We walks in to see this young man
drinking on his own with the mark o’ the rot on him and I thinks to meself, I thinks; Max that young man is not old enough to have no mark o’ the rot on him.”

  “Not old enough.” Philp echoed.

  “I said to meself, Max that boy there would have to of been born down the mines to have the mark on him b’now.”

  “Born down there.” Rumbled on his other side.

  “So I thinks, I’ll just ask that chap where he got that jacket from. Could be a heirloom I thinks.”

  “Heirloom.” Philp added.

  The man referring to himself as Max raised his head to look at his companion.

  “I think I got it from here Philp.”

  The big man looked annoyed, but seemed to accept the chastisement. He glanced away, letting his eyes search out the other occupants of Lily’s in case any merited closer scrutiny.

  “Anyway, so I comes over, all nice like, puts me hand on your shoulder and you leap like a rat dropped in boiling water.” Max opened his arms wide in mock surprise.

  “Not only that, you opens your mouth to tell me to bugger off, like I’d expect round here and this bloody songbird voice comes out. That don’t fit round here, I’m thinking. This lad, he’s some posh nob, I reckon. He’s probably just slummin’ it round here to get a taste of some pussy what isn’t owned by his whole family.”

  He gave Martius a nudge and winked heavily, “Or isn’t his own sister maybe.” His eyebrow moved excitedly.

  “I don’t have a sister.” Was all Martius could say.

  They knew who he was. Not who he was exactly, but certainly what he was.

  What do they want from me?

  No mention had been made of money and despite the threatening looks of the Philp giant, they seemed friendly enough.

  Creepy certainly, but not unfriendly.

  He wanted them to go, to leave him to his drink and his rest.

  “But then I asked meself; why would this lad, just sowing his oats, so to say, why would he be in the middle of all this trouble?” He moved his head to catch Martius’ unwilling eye, “Hmmm?”

  “They came to take me back.” His voice was so quiet he could

  see Max straining to hear his words.

  “And you didn’t want that?” Max asked.

  Martius shook his head. He raised his glass and downed the liquid within. He could feel it coating his throat as it slid down.

  “No, no I didn’t want that!” He almost shouted the words this time.

  He saw the raised eyes of the men who stood in the shadows. Max had looked around as well. He had his hands up, gesturing to the room that everything was alright here.

  “Why wouldn’t you want to go back?” He asked.

  Martius felt like the question wasn’t completely addressed to him.

  “You don’t understand what it’s like.” He said. “Nothing there is real. Everything is just,” He waved his hands in the air, “just so, so spurious!”

  Max gave looked at him sidelong. “That right?”

  Martius snorted, shrugging his shoulders in resignation.

  “Yes,” He said, “That’s exactly right.”

  Max was quiet, studying him.

  Perhaps ‘spurious’ was beyond him Martius thought.

  Max pursed his lips, “So what do you want in Sabaea?” He asked.

  “I don’t want to be in Sabaea,” Martius blurted. “I never wanted to be in Sabaea, I was just passing through.”

  He knew again that he wanted to leave Mars. He’d allowed himself to get caught up, distracted here by Maritha and her charms. He’d let himself lose sight of his goal. His mother sending her lackeys to retrieve him only made the urgency to get away from her burn more brightly within him.

  “I wanted to get to the tunnels,” He said, feeling the need to voice his desires. “I wanted to get away from Mars, to see the solar system.” He could feel the weight lifting from him.

  “Why would you come here to leave Mars?” Max asked, his face a mask of confusion.

  Of course he doesn’t understand. How could he?

  “I can’t very well just stroll into a grav-port and book passage off-world can I?” He said. Max’s confusion didn’t seem to have

  diminished.

  “Why not?”

  “Because mother would never allow the shield to leave the ground. She really wouldn’t you know.”

  Max nodded slowly, his face still proclaiming him as lost.

  Martius realised he was going to have to paint a richer background.

  “Mother thinks my place is here, on Mars, running the family and being the next Marshall Governor or some such nonsense.”

  “Does she?” Max put in.

  “Oh yes, she absolutely does! But that isn’t for me, you see. I’m made for bigger things.”

  “Bigger things than running the planet?”

  “Of course!”

  He could see that this Max character just didn’t understand. He sighed, trying one last approach.

  “It’s simple really. She wants one thing, I want another. To get what I want I have to leave and to get what she wants she has to make me stay.”

  He waited to see if Max was following.

  “She can control the grav-ports in Prometheus, Hereidum and even here in Sabaea, so I need to go somewhere beyond her reach.”

  “She can control the grav-ports?” Max said slowly.

  “Of course!”

  Now Martius was thinking clearly again he could tell the man was severely inferior in intellect. Clearly he would have to walk him through things as he would a child.

  “She is head of the Earone family. The wealthiest and most powerful family of Mars. Her reach spans the surface of planet from Hereidum South-west to the Utopian Isle. She sent her house security guards to drag me home.”

  Martius waved to one of the girls lounging on the other side of the room, signalling for her to bring another drink.

  “That’s why I need to get into the tunnels. I need to reach Daedalia and have myself smuggled off world.”

  Max’s face had settled into an expression of bewilderment. Martius pitied him. Clearly this sort of thing was too far above his head to make sense.

  His new drink arrived with a flash of skin and a false smile. He snatched it up and drank deep.

  “So you need to get through the tunnels to Daedalia?”

  Max was just repeating what Martius had already told him now. He nodded agreement, his mouth full of overly sweet liquor.

  “But you don’t know the way through the tunnels?”

  It was like tutoring a slow child. Or at least what Martius imagined that would be like.

  “Of course I don’t,” He snapped, placing the near empty glass down.

  “That’s why I came to Sabaea, to find a guide.”

  He could see the man’s mind working. Maybe he’d finally caught up.

  “So, just so I’m clear on all this,” He started slowly, “You wanna get through the tunnels, to Daedalia,” Martius nodded along encouragingly, “So you can leave the planet Mars, never to return?”

  “Never!” Martius agreed.

  “Right, but your old lady, the head of the richest fam…

  “And most powerful,” Martius corrected him.

  “Yeah, richest and most powerful family of Mars, wants you t’stay an’ be the Marshall Gov’nor.”

  “Yes!” Martius said in exasperation.

  He finished the dregs of his drink and waved the empty glass above his head.

  Whatever was in this drink they’d given him was certainly strong. The momentum of his waving arm pulled his body around with it, so he swung gently in his seat.

  “But you just wanna leave?” Max persisted.

  “Oh for Mars’ sake yes!” He gasped. “I want to go, she wants me to stay, but I’m not going to.”

  The empty glass was taken from his hand and replaced with a full one. Martius brought it to his lips, paused, “She’ll do

  anything she can to sto
p me going.”

  He took a sip, smacked his lips appreciatively. After the initial stickiness this stuff really wasn’t too bad. He chuckled as a thought struck him.

  “Short of actually killing me,” He added. “Although I can’t say she wouldn’t stoop to lopping an arm or two off.”

  He smiled broadly at Max, “We’ve had Governors with prosthetic legs before, why not one with a couple of false arms?”

  He drank another mouthful. Every one made the drink taste better.

  “Just about anything…” Max muttered.

  Martius was no longer concentrating on him. His mind had turned to Maritha. He was feeling more himself again. He knew what he had to do and he was damn well going to do it. It would be terribly ill manners to leave without giving her a proper goodbye first though.

  “I reckon I might be just the guy you’re looking for.” Max said.

  Martius blinked a couple of times. His head was starting to feel a bit funny.

  “What did you say?” He asked muzzily.

  “I said, I reckon I’m just the guy you’re needin’ to get you where you wanna go.” He gave Martius a broad smile.

  Martius raised his now empty glass. It really was bloody good stuff.

  “Marvellous!” He said and slipped sideways off his chair.

  FIFTY

  Aitkin opened his eyes in total darkness. There was not a sliver of light to be seen. He tried to move his head, to look around for some sign of where he was, but he was held fast. There was pressure behind his ears and against his shoulder blades.

  As his consciousness returned fully he realised he was seated with similar pressure against his lower back, across his chest and around his wrist, thighs and ankles. He could barely move and even with the pitch darkness surrounding him, he knew he was naked.

  Wherever he was, he was not cold. The air felt warm and dry without so much as a breath to stir it. Aitkin blinked to clear his eyes, but still he could see nothing.

  So this is my test.

  He did not know how he would be tested, but his faith in himself and his ability to pass was strong.

  They can do what they will. I am the Captain of the Second. I will not fail.