Crescent (3 page)

He was thankful when they dodged out of the crowd and into a service tunnel. Homeless people slept in the shadows, their limp bodies propped up against the walls. Thick cables ran above their heads like black serpents. Conduits hissed overhead. Officer Griffin had slowed her pace. Was this some kind of short cut? Gerald was pretty confident they were headed away from the station’s administrative suites. Officer Griffin halted beside a wide door labeled Storage 15. Her fingers danced over the keypad set in the wall beside the door. There was a chime and the door shuddered open. She gestured with a cock of her head. Gerald arched a brow.

“The Mayor is in…
 
there?”

“Just go, asshole.” She gave him a small shove and followed in behind him. The door slid shut in their wake.

It was dark as pitch in the small room. The air was thick and musty.

“Are we…
 
” Gerald began.

“Alone?” The word almost sounded like a laugh as it passed over Griffin’s hidden lips. “Quite.” He felt her hands wrap around his collar and before he could react he was pulled forward. He lost his balance and both he and Officer Griffin tumbled to the hard, metal floor.

“Son of a…
 
”
he
muttered and she was on top of him in an instant, peppering his face and neck with kisses. “The Mayor doesn’t really want to see me, does he?”

“He does.” She kissed him on the mouth. It was a long and greedy kiss that made Gerald all the more aware that he had neither brushed his teeth nor showered in more than three days. Griffin didn’t seem to mind. “Kendall wants to see you.
But not ‘till morning.
You think you’re important enough that
Kendall’d
disturb his precious dinner for you? Not bloody likely.”

“Jesus, Marisa. You had me worried. Bringing me in here…
 
” His fading concern wasn’t stopping him from unbuttoning the front of her uniform with fast and clumsy fingers.

“When are you going to learn to trust me, Gerry?”

“That, my dear, is a loaded question. Let’s get reacquainted first and I’ll consider it.”

A large paint can fell off a high shelf and Gerald thought he saw something move in the shadows. He attempted to sit up. She forced him back down with the palm of her hand.

“Just fuck me, fly boy,” she said.

They spent the next three hours getting reacquainted.

(•••)

His name was Taylor and he was more mountain than man. The behemoth had little to say as he led Gerald down the low-lit metal and glass corridor that bisected the station’s administrative suite of offices. Gerald eyed the hulk as he followed him and wondered if he favored salvage pilots for breakfast.
And I’m on the menu,
Gerald thought.

Taylor left Gerald in the antechamber of the Mayor’s private office. Gerald proceeded to examine the walls, not out of boredom, but out of suppressed awe. Real wood panels obscured the chamber’s more mundane surfaces. Gerald leaned in close. The panels had an aged look to them, like the trees had come from Earth herself—very expensive stuff. They were stained a deep red and lined with shallow shelves that contained actual paper books. The only things paper was used for nowadays were administrative nonsense, archiving, and cheap advertising. That meant the books were older than god himself.

Gerald sat down on a leather couch. The piece of furniture made a squelching sound and conformed to the shape of his body. The sensation was supposed to be pleasant, but Gerald felt groped from all sides by the furniture. He got up as quickly as he had seated himself. The cushions were reluctant to let go and did so with a hiss. He walked along the Mayor’s personal library instead, and trailed his index finger over the ancient spine of one of the tomes; the title was in a language he’d never seen before. There wasn’t a single fleck of dust on the book—quite a feat of caretaking in a place like Crescent, considering that three quarters of the universe’s dust originated on that very station, or so Gerald believed. As he moved along the neatly organized rows of books, Gerald couldn’t help but notice the door to Mayor Kendall’s office was open a sliver. He approached the door and heard what sounded like a good old fashioned scolding.

“Dr. Cortez, we are happy to accommodate you on Crescent. As I’m sure you’ve seen in your short stay, your donations have gone a long way. However, I cannot allow you and your daughter to snoop around where you don’t belong, trying to find some place that doesn’t even exist. There is no buried treasure on this station. Those decks are off limits for safety reasons. If it were anyone else, they would have been kicked off the station. In fact, the guard that your daughter bribed is being sent away on the next transport. I take these matters seriously. I am tolerant, Dr. Cortez. Extremely tolerant, I’m sure you’ll agree. But I can’t have you going down there. Consider this a warning. You are a smart man. You know next time I won’t be as forgiving. Your daughter is a very pretty girl. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Yes,” Gerald heard a soft, male voice say—heavy with the sound of acquiescence, and trembling ever-so-slightly. “I apologize.”

“Do not apologize. Just assure me that it won’t happen again.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“Good. In that case, Dr. Cortez, You and I are done for today.”

Gerald hurried back to the hungry couch and sat down; the cushions purred and enveloped him. The office door opened fully and a trapezoid of light fell across the dark carpet, revealing a woven pattern of vines that coiled and twined on one another like verdant barbed wire. Roses the dark color of wine blossomed along the green tentacles. It struck Gerald as more beastly than beautiful. His reverie was broken as a shadow spread across the rug. A stocky man with a crazy mop of curly white hair dashed out of the office; he clutched a small, flat personal terminal close to his chest. Tiny eyes darted to Gerald and then to the exit. The man, presumably Dr. Cortez, was escorted by two roughnecks. One of them was tall and fiery stubble covered most of his freckled cheeks. The shorter one was all grease and slick hair with a wad of tobacco stuffed into his cheek that was so big it looked like his face might burst. Cortez’s escorts didn’t spare Gerald a single glance.

“Come in, Gerald,” the metered drawl of Mayor Kendall drifted from the office.

The Mayor’s office continued the theme of the antechamber. The walls were stained burgundy and volume-lined. A wide desk with wood side-panels and a dozen or more liquid crystal displays set into its top stood at the aft of the room. Each monitor glowed with a different scene, showing a combination of security camera feeds and news feeds. A big, octagonal viewport stood beyond the desk and showed the night face of
Anrar
III; the deep orange sun,
Anrar
, blazed as a necklace of light over the curve of the large planet. Its light flooded the office like day glow. A shimmering hologram hovered above one of the camera feeds, appearing as a diffuse negative from Gerald’s perspective.

“Gerald, I won’t keep you long. I am well aware that you just arrived from a lengthy salvage trip. Men have needs after trips like this.” Mayor Kendall’s tall, lanky frame was silhouetted by the glow of the star. He had his back to Gerald. “Far be it from me to deny you of these needs.” Kendall turned and stepped out of the glare. He extended his hand to Gerald. Blazing sunlight caught in the wisps of Kendall’s thin, gray hair making the strands glow like heated filaments. Gerald took Kendall’s slender hand for a quick, firm hand shake. Kendall’s pink lips curved into a grin, but the smile did not spread across his pale face. He let go of Gerald’s hand and strolled back behind his desk. The mayor waved a hand through the floating holographic projection that still hovered above the desk. It winked out of existence.

“Sit, Gerald. You’re making me nervous.” Kendall’s lips twitched with another smile, but there was little fondness in the mayor’s watery eyes.

Gerald smiled and gestured to the large, leather chair behind the desk.

“You first, Mayor,” he said, and Kendall laughed. The sound of it set Gerald on edge.

“Very well, then.” Kendall seated himself and Gerald sat down across from him. Gerald was thankful when the chair didn’t try to cop a feel. “In short, Gerald, I’m looking for a good salvage man. Core Sec has appointed Crescent the salvage hub of this system and the neighboring
Tireca
system. With all the recent raids on miners and the like, Crescent stands to do very well with the influx of scrap, ore, and whatever else is floating out there. I need a reliable man to get out there and haul.
A trustworthy man who won’t siphon off some of the salvage for himself.”

“And why exactly am I that man?”

“You’ve done four jobs for me in the past, Gerald.” Kendall paused and spread his hands out over the monitors. “Four jobs and I haven’t had to order you killed yet. That’s a pretty good track record in my book.” Kendall laughed again, though he made no joke. “You will be paid three times your non-contract commission.”

Gerald knew he would have to say yes or he’d never get a job from Crescent again. Not that that would have been a huge loss. Crescent wasn’t exactly a vacation resort. Not to mention, Gerald wasn’t thrilled about being contractually obligated to a man like Kendall. It was one thing to do a job or two for someone. It was another thing entirely when they
owned
your ass
.
But, three times Gerald’s non-contract rate—that was a lot of cash. More than Gerald could make in a year. He thought of his brother’s message. Was Kendall’s offer a coincidence or a chance to get on the right track, with a head start to boot?
Fate or fool’s luck.
Kendall placed an envelope on the desktop.

“There’s a data wafer in there. It has the details of the contract. Take it with you. Review it and let me know tomorrow. It’s a big decision and I won’t rush you. We’re done here for now.”

Gerald placed the envelope into the breast pocket of his flight jacket and left the office.

(•••)

Gerald tottered out of Heathen’s and onto Main Street. A faint blue glow trickled down from the sun globes—the shadows held sway now. A big clock disc floated over the distant Main Street exit tunnel. It was 3:45 a.m. Gerald’s head felt like it was stuffed with gauze. He had finally managed to have that drink, and countless more had followed. The occasion for the revelry: he had decided to accept Kendall’s offer and felt obliged to celebrate.

Now, swaying on the sidewalk, he began to wonder if drink number ten had been such a great idea. He reached out a hand and grabbed a nearby
lightpost
to steady
himself
. The globe atop the onyx shaft cast a sphere of dull, wavering orange. Chin-to-chest, he began the trek back to his apartment, hoping to high hell he could figure out how to get there. When he successfully exited Main Street, he figured he was at least going in the right direction—away from the bar.

“Look out, boy.”

The voice startled him. He felt a hand on his chest. “You almost ran old
Naheela
down,
ya
did.” He lifted his head and in his shadow stood Crescent’s resident crone. She was the epitome of old age.
Naheela’s
dark skin was so wrinkled it didn’t even appear to be flesh. Her face reminded him of a crumpled ball of rice paper, with chaotic and equally intricate creases and folds. She smiled a crooked grin; her few remaining teeth glistened in the low light of residential corridor 2B.

Her breath was fetid.

“Sorry,” Gerald managed. “Late. I’m…
 
drunk.
Sleep.”

“You are, you are,
young’n
.”
You are
came out of her dry, spittle flecked lips as one word—
yar
. “Best get your handsome self to bed,” she said. A vein-painted eyelid fell in what he thought might have been a wink. It made his skin crawl.
Old people are scary when you’re loaded,
he thought.

Gerald was thankful to discover he was standing outside the door to his apartment.

“Crescent is waking, my boy. Pray sleep with the light on and with one eye open,” she whispered in a conspiratorial voice. “At least until you get used to its creaks and groans.”

He turned his head away from the key access pad beside the door and she was gone. He could still smell her breath.

Fingertips that felt three times fatter than normal punched in the seven digit key code. There was a chime and the door to his apartment slid open.
First try, thank god,
he thought. He stepped over the threshold, grateful to be home—his new home. The dim night disappeared behind the hissing bulkhead. With the door closed, the room wrapped him up in its velvet darkness. It was ice cold. Environmental zones were never steady in 2B, or so he had been cautioned. He shivered. Maybe with the increase in salary, he could afford something more…
 
comfortable. He fumbled at his belt.

“Lights,” he said.

The overhead lights flickered on.

Three drops of wine-colored liquid splashed to the metal floor of the apartment.

Gerald looked up from the floor.

A body dropped from the ceiling, suspended by dark cables that wound around its outstretched limbs like serpents. It was a woman. She was naked and split open from pelvis to sternum.