Crescent (27 page)

And his feet were dirty.

He shook his head at the sight and took a deep, cleansing breath.

Gerald went to the bars and gave them a tug—because that’s what you
do
when you’re in jail: you tug at the bars and shout something like “Hey!
Lemme
outta
here!”
But Gerald didn’t really feel like shouting, so he sat back down on the cot and placed his head in his hands. He was as good as dead now.
Marisa, don’t you try and break me out of jail,
Gerald thought, and couldn’t help but laugh. The situation defied logic.

“Gerald.”

He lifted his eyes. Ina stood outside the cell. Her pretty fingers were wrapped around the bars.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Gerald shrugged and stood back up.
Damn cold floor,
he thought. He walked over to the bars, stepping with the sides of his feet as he went, trying to limit contact with the cold floor panels. He put his hands over hers—once
again,
this seemed like the prison thing to do.

“I’m fine,” Gerald said. “I have a headache and I’m a little stiff from sleeping on that cot.” The response felt too matter-of-fact. He changed gears. “How’d you know I was here?”

“Heathen’s…
 
Maerl
.
I went looking for you.
Maerl
told me you were taken here. He overheard
Albin
Catlier
talking to someone about you.”

“Who was
Albin
talking to? Do you know—did
Maerl
say?” Gerald asked.

“No.
Maerl
just said Crescent security.”

Gerald sighed. It could have been anyone from security.

“To be honest, Ina, you’re the last person I thought I’d see here,” Gerald admitted.

She smiled uneasily and glanced up the dark cellblock hallway as she did so.

“Gerald. My father is sick,” Ina said.

“Sick?
How?”

“I don’t know. Whatever he has, he might have caught it on the lifeboat,” Ina said.

“How do you figure?” Gerald asked.

“I don’t know. He was fine and healthy before the lifeboat…
 
” Her voice faltered. “There was something on that lifeboat, Gerald—you know as much. And Dad’s body isn’t strong enough for it. Whatever it is, it’s changing him.
Killing him.
Eating him from the inside out.
I know, it sounds crazy.”

“I’m sorry,” Gerald said.
What the fuck else am I going to say?
He thought.
Do I say, what’s changing you, Ina? What is changing me?
Not that he felt all that different—he felt as fucked up as he did before he got involved with Ina, Donovan, or Crescent.

“At the risk of sounding insensitive,” Gerald began, “why are you telling me this?”

“That’s a fair question. I’m not looking for support or anything. We were all on that boat. You were on it
twice,
Gerald
,
” Ina said. Gerald winced. “We may have been exposed to whatever it is he’s got. I thought you should know.”

“Thanks,” Gerald said. In truth, he wasn’t sure how much he appreciated the information. It was one of those things he’d really rather not have known. “It might be safest if you left now, Ina. I think I’m into some serious shit here.”

“Did you get in trouble for helping us?
For taking me down to that planet?”
Her brow creased.

“I did a lot of things that got me in
trouble
. Taking you on your little field trips was probably the least of them. Let’s just say, I tried to do the right thing and here I am.” He spread his arms and smiled an exaggerated grin.

“There’s something else…Something else you should know.” she said. Gerald waited for her to go on. She inhaled sharply. “Gerald, I’m pregnant.”

He let go of the bars and shook his head.
Why not,
he thought.
Why the fuck not?

He opened his mouth. Closed it, and then opened it again, and spoke.

“Is it mine?” He tried to sound sensitive, but his tone sounded accusatory even to his own ears.

“I don’t know.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
I don’t know for sure. You’re…the most likely candidate…but…”

“I’m doing well in the race. Yeah. I get it,” Even still, Gerald wondered just how many candidates there were.

(•••)

“I want to see him, Captain,” Marisa said. Captain Benedict sat behind his nondescript desk in his nondescript office; he clutched his black mug between both hands. Two rosy spots stood out on his cheeks.

“That’s fine, Mari. Someone’s with him right now, actually,” his words were slightly slurred. Marisa wondered what was in the cup today. The notion that the captain was drinking on the job made her feel a deep pang of sadness. She pushed it away.

“Who?”

Benedict shrugged.

“Marisa,” he began tapping on a data pad, “I’ve got some files for you to go over. The big concert is coming up,” he tapped several more times, “And as of now, you are in charge of the detail.”

“Who, Captain? Who is in there?” Marisa didn’t care about assignments or concerts.

“Some blonde girl.”

All Marisa could think of was what
Naheela
had told her about Gerald sticking it in some other chick. She spared Benedict a fleeting glance and then left the office for the cells, intent on strangling the bitch, whoever she was.

The holding block was a single, narrow hallway consisting of sixteen barred cells. Most of the cells were empty that night. Or was it morning now? Marisa had no idea. Toward the end of the hallway she saw a tall, thin woman with
cornsilk
hair that fell damp to delicate shoulders. Marisa’s gait slowed as she neared and the woman came into closer view. It was the woman she had run into outside of HQ.

But there was more to this woman. Marisa knew it right away. Hot jealously was doused in a flood of jarring memories.

A security alarm is going off.
A trigger at Z-block.
Z-block is off limits. It must be a rat? Marisa thinks. She glances around HQ; there is no one around. I better go check it out before I bother El Capitan, she thinks. This is against standard operating procedures in regard to Z-block alarms. SOP states the Captain must be informed of anything to do with Z-block. But there’s never been an alarm triggered down there.

“You,” Marisa said. Her voice was a nearly inaudible whisper as she stepped up to the cell.

The woman rolled her blue eyes over to Marisa and they locked stares.

More memories gushed into her head.

The service channel is as long as it is tight and Marisa thinks it is going to go on forever. She finally comes out the other side, but it is dark and dreary—there is little solace in the shadows. Only a few of the light panels are working. Marisa is surprised that any of them are working at all. Cobwebs drape every surface and Marisa chokes on air thick with must and the vague sent of decay. There are footprints in the dust. What fool is down here? Marisa thinks, but suddenly questions what she is doing down there. She wants to go back into the light and forget she ever noticed the alarm going off. But she can’t do that. She’s got a job to do. She follows the footprints in the dust and they take her to a large, windowless bulkhead with an X crudely painted over its surface.
The Vault.

This can’t be, Marisa thinks.
This is all wrong.

Marisa sees her then—the woman with the waif-thin frame and the pretty hair. Her face is pressed against the bulkhead that seals the Vault and her eyes are closed. No Access. Authorized Personnel Only—the stenciled, yellow lettering seems to pulse. The woman has one hand up her shirt, rubbing her…
 
breast? The fingers of her other hand are splayed out on the bulkhead’s dark surface, just beside her cheek.

“Hey!” Marisa says, “You shouldn’t be down here.”

The woman does not answer. Marisa frowns and grabs the woman by the arm. That’s when everything slows down. Black fills her field of view and she can no longer see the woman, but she feels the woman’s fingers wrap around her wrist to pull her in close—into an embrace. They are both pressed against the bulkhead now. Marisa hears voices.
Singing?
Something touches her deeply—in a secret place. Marisa is struck and thinks, so long as this liquid shadow has a hold on me, I will never know loneliness again. Marisa will never be alone—ever—not now that she has come to this wonderful place. I have to share this. I have to set this free. For everyone’s sake, she thinks. The other woman’s lips are on hers now and they are kissing. And why shouldn’t they be? They are liberated. They are free as many others shall soon be free. Freedom is the will of the Black.

“It’s you,” the woman replied in a similar hush.

“I…
 
” Marisa inhaled through her nose. She was speechless.

“When I ran into you the other day I knew that I knew you from somewhere,” the woman
said,
more strength behind her voice. She reached out a hand and touched Marisa’s cheek. The woman’s fingertips were soft and cold.

“Fuck me. It wasn’t a dream,” Marisa said, and she thought of the imagery she’d seen so many times on her apartment’s
comm
terminal. Two women, hand in hand, walking into the shadows.

“Whoa, hey.
Wait a goddamn minute.” Gerald pressed his face between two of the cell’s bars.

“You two
know
each other?”

“In a manner of speaking, though we’ve not been officially introduced.”
The woman extended her hand and Marisa took it. “I’m Ina Cortez. Dr. Ina Cortez.”

“I know who you are. Gerald told me what you and your father have been getting into.” Marisa shook her hand once. “I’m Lieutenant Marisa Griffin.” Ina seemed nonplused.

“Good to meet you, Lieutenant. Marisa.”

“Can I ask—what are you doing here? Obviously, I know Gerald ran some salvage for you and
your
…
 
” Marisa began, but was cut off.

“Father, yes. And now my father is sick and I thought that Gerald should know.” Ina’s voice rang with defensiveness. The sound set Marisa on edge. She glanced over to Gerald, who was busy counting dust particles on the floor. He looked miserable. She felt bad for him, even though she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he had fucked Ina Cortez.

“I should leave you two alone,” Marisa said, turning to leave the cell block. The way Ina was looking at Gerald made her uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to check on Gerald.”

“No,” Ina said. “I should be the one leaving the two of you.” Ina began to move down the hall and paused beside Marisa. She placed a hand on her shoulder and Marisa felt the familiar sense of otherness swimming in the back of her mind. “I think you and I should talk soon.”

“Yes,” Marisa agreed.
“Tonight.”

“Tonight,” Ina echoed.

Ina Cortez disappeared down the corridor leaving Marisa and Gerald alone. Marisa leaned against the bars with a heavy sigh and let exhaustion run over her.

“Did you screw her, Gerald?” she asked, not really caring for an answer.

“Yes,” he said.

“More than once?”

“I did. I tried…to use control. I’m sorry, Mari. I’m really…” Gerald said and continued to stare at the floor panels.

“Why are you sorry? You’re not obligated to me anymore than I’m obligated to you. We’re nothing to each other.” Gerald frowned from behind the bars and she could see that her words had stung him. If Marisa was honest with herself, she had little reason to feel jealous.
Maybe I’m entitled to feel a little bit jealous.
Even still, she had thrown him the cold shoulder as she spiraled further into her neuroses, so what did she expect would happen? Gerald Evans was human and male, and loneliness was only exacerbated by deep space. Besides, she hadn’t gone to him in the holding block to begrudge him anything. Minutes ago she was worried for his life.

“Okay. I guess that wasn’t really called for, was it?” Marisa said. “Look. It’s not like we were ever officially together.” She paused and weighed her thoughts. “For more than a little while, it’s been like quite the opposite, you know? And I don’t blame you. A man has his needs, right? She’s pretty.”

Gerald didn’t answer, and she shrugged.

“I’m not here to talk about our relationship. I’m here to talk about getting you out of here.”

“Do you have a plan?” Gerald looked up, his eyes bright.

“No. I don’t,” she admitted. His forlorn expression returned.

“I’m pretty much fucked then, don’t you think?” Gerald said.

“There’s something in the works, Gerry.
If you can hold out a few days…
 
” Marisa tried to sound as reassuring as she could.