Skies Over Tomorrow: Constellation (9 page)

The music stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The lights dimmed, and the silhouette of the nurse dancer moved offstage. Nude, she went around to the four occupied tables with a credit pad. The men waved their ID cards over it, paying her for the early entertainment. She skipped the bar, seeing that Felix was the only person sitting at it, winking at him after he nodded at her.

Felix then looked down into the kitchen to see how the food was coming. The aroma made his hunger more intense—if that were possible. His wife began to work up a sweat. Even from the bar, as he watched the beaten eggs sizzle to a thicken fluff while she stirred the batter for the crepe, he felt the heat rising from the cooking range. Hoku looked up, smiled and winked, and he returned the smile, as she then turned about to retrieve some items. She came back with a couple of jars, one containing brown sugar and in the other, white sugar. How she learned to cook was a mystery, but that was just one more of her intriguing features.

Before Felix knew it, Hoku turned off the grille and, with culinary adroitness, moved the food from the pans onto a plate. She added the finishing touches of blueberry sauce and whipped cream and brought the morning meal up to him.

“Thank you,” he said, as she served him. “Smells delicious.”

“Not bad for organic food grown on Mars,” she said, resuming her seat.

“I can't believe you made this from raw ingredients.”

“Well, it's more expensive than the fortified edibles from the agriculture sector, but worth it.”

“Indeed.”

Felix knew the value of his breakfast because unlike the scientific diet consumed by the general populous of Mars, the antiquated practice by which the meal was prepared from scratch, a tradition that his wife had maintained after emigrating from Earth, sanctified it with love.

“So, how long have you been up?” said Hoku.

“Since about 4:30 this morning. Wilkes called. There was another incident.”

“Again?”

“That's what I said,” said Felix, chewing with a few nods and bulging cheeks. Hoku smiled, being gratified by her husband's enjoyment of the food, and waited while he swallowed, and then he said, “Yeah, but this time they were sloppy—perhaps intentionally.”

“Then you've made a break in the case?”

“Yeah, I did, but Wilkes decided to classify it before I even found any evidence.”

“Which means you can't tell me what you found?”

“Right. This is good food.”

“Well, is your theory proving to be true?”

Felix chewed with a smile, thinking he should have put a little more effort into changing the conversation. His wife's wit always impressed him, as he knew she knew he wanted to talk about it. He appreciated the fact that she was not going to let it go that easily without trying to understand his take on the matter. He swallowed and said, “Yes and no, but listen to me: Forget I mentioned it. This case is a dying star. The less you know, the better.”

“I understand,” she said, heeding the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice. “I'll let it go—for now.” She hopped off the stool. “You want something to drink with that?” she said with zest.

“Yeah. A Spruce single.”

“Coming right up.”

Hoku went around to the back of the bar to make the non-alcoholic version of the popular cocktail. Made from spruce-synthetic extract, the green draft was served cold and sweet with a slice of lime.

“Thanks,” Felix said, and he grabbed the drink, brought it to his mouth, and washed down the crepe and omelet.

“Felix.” Hoku paused. “Our marriage contract expires next month.”

“Oh, really? Then we'll get another one.” Taking another bite of food, he realized he sounded a little flippant.

“We only have two cycles for a marriage contract, and this is the second term for us.” She hated having to remind him.

Felix looked up, his chewing ground to a halt, leaving one cheek rounded, and then he said, “I know where this is going.”

“Contractually, we're married, but to stay that way, you know, until death do us…” Her voice trailed off.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Of course, that is, if you want me as your forever wife.”

Felix resumed eating. He then scraped the last of the omelet from his plate and ate it. He grabbed the mug of spruce, finished off the beverage, and then placed the empty glass back on the bar. Hoku took it and the plate down to the kitchen and washed them, along with the other dishes and cookware she used in preparing her husband's breakfast. Felix watched her put everything away before she cleaned up the mess on and around the grille, and when the kitchen was tidy, she took off her apron and hung it back on the wall. She then came up to the bar and took a seat next to him. “So, what do you want to do?” she said with a soft voice.

Music started to play again, and with the spasmodical dance of the stage lights all about, another dancer presented herself in a white kimono for the next performance.

“Can you take a break?” said Felix.

“Sure. I'm a boss here after all.”

“Then let's go.”

Felix stood, removed his coat, and draped it over Hoku's shoulders. Taking her by the hand, he led her outside and helped her into the back of the transport. Once he was in and the canopy closed around them, he drove her home.

The ride to the GDI housing complex took all of eight minutes. Once there, having parked, Felix climbed out and, being a gentleman, assisted Hoku out of the UT. The vehicle secured itself as the couple walked away from it. Close together, hand in hand, they strolled from the parking area to a glass-enclosed stairway, up one flight, and down the second level esplanade of their apartment building, passing four doors to their residence.

Just as they got inside, a burst of laughter erupted, which then subsided as Hoku gasped with closed eyes, taking pleasure from Felix nuzzling her neck along her jawline. While teasing her passion, he reached back for the entry panel, feeling for it before he pushed on a button and closed the door after them.

Felix opened his eyes and raised his left arm to look at his watch. It was 13:23. He awoke with the warmth of Hoku's nude form hugging him. The feel of her was enticing, and he struggled with temptation before he removed himself from their bed—slow and careful so as not to awaken his wife—and headed for the shower. Her scent was strong on him. After the bath, he faced himself in the mirror of the lavatory.

“Well, congratulations, I think,” his reflection said to him. “So what do you think, boy or girl?” Felix smiled, and said, “Boy. Definitely, a boy.”

To be married as a Federation citizen, a person entered into a contractual marriage whereby he or she is recognized as either the husband or wife of another individual for the duration of a 22.6-month year, split into two terms. When the second term expired, that person must have separated from his or her respective, temporary spouse for at least five and a half years before signing another agreement with that same individual, at which time the option for a permanent marriage license became available. Conversely, it was mandated that the conception of a child before the actual date of expiration of a contractual marriage was an accepted alternative that granted a couple the immediate obtainment of a life-long nuptial permit.

In most cases, couples separated because of heavy, regulated stipulations imposed on both the marriage and family element that is formed from its founding. Moreover, citizens were raised to believe that the Federation is all the family they need—it is both father and mother. The idea of having and raising a family was not as productive as ensuring the affluence and wholeness of the Martian regime.

Those that opted to have a family were given a choice: stay on Mars and be limited to having one child, or leave for a distant colony which allowed for the expansion of a family to no more than five, which included the parents. This was deemed by the High Council as a way to control the population of Mars and of Federation colonies. Though the empire held a monopoly over the known universe, there were not enough places for humans to live, let alone enough room.

Chiming pulled Felix out of his imagined future, bringing him back to face himself in the mirror. The com-link of the front room chimed a second time before he went to it while wrapping a towel around himself. “Felix Ilom,” he said after hitting a button on its panel. He stepped back to sit on the edge of the settee that faced the wall-mounted monitor.

“Detective Ilom, are you busy?”

“Hello, Private McBride. I thought it was inferred that I would be the one to find you if I had any more questions.”

There was a faint smile in response. “I apologize for disturbing you,” she said. “I've called at a bad time.”

“No, not at all.” Felix noted that she kept looking past him. “Are you okay?” he said. “You look a bit exhausted.”

“Yes, I've had something of a strenuous workout.”

Felix looked over his shoulder to see what drew McBride's attention. The com-link gave her a glimpse into the bedroom to see Hoku sleeping with her back to them. “My wife,” he said.

“Well, I hope you don't mind that I looked you up in the GDI directory.”

“You must have some connections because that directory isn't readily accessible to just anyone.”

“My situation has become urgent,” she said. “You're the only person I could think of who to turn. I'm probably taking a chance by calling you like this, so you must tell me if you're with them.”

“What do you mean? What's going on?”

“They've tried to neutralize me,” she said.

“What?”

“Can you come to my quarters?”

“Yes,” said Felix. “I'll be right over.”

“I'm in 236L Infantry quarters, MAC sector. Hurry.”

“I'll see you shortly then,” he said, and stood.

McBride nodded before her image cleared itself from the screen.

Felix moved to turn off the com-link and, pulling the towel from his waist, headed for the bedroom, to its built-in wall unit of drawers. He was quick to take out and pull on a pair of white boxers and a T-shirt. From the adjacent wardrobe unit, he dressed in his uniform of black slacks and a white short-sleeved Mandarin-collared shirt. Next, he geared up, fastening the Venom Gun to his right forearm and testing its Spring Reflex Mechanism. The weapon used needle-tipped projectiles laced with a chemical compound that paralyzed the voluntary nervous system within seconds. Satisfied with its efficient operation, he then strapped on the gear belt of his forensic equipment, which rested under his arms, comfortably along the sides of his torso, and at the small of his back. Retrieving his boots from the shoe rack at the unit's bottom, he then went to the front room and sat on the settee to put them on, and when they were zipped up, he returned to the bedroom looking for his ID card. After a minute of searching, he found it under the bed.

“Okay,” he said upon exiting the bedroom. He looked to the settee on which his dark-gray coat rested and thought about the evidence collected from the storage facility. He took up the coat and frisked its pouches, and pulled out the vials of dirt; he held both up to gauge if perhaps there was any change with the contents. There was none.

Tossing the coat back to the couch, Felix went to his home-workstation, where after setting the vials of dirt on its desk, he took out his spectacles. He linked its left arm to the CPU, and then opened a desk drawer and pulled out a micro memory disk—known by its most common term, MMC or micro memory coin—and removing the data storage device from its case, inserted it into a slot of the central processing unit and touched on the monitor a few times, dragging his finger across the screen in one instance. The computer began to download the footage from the storage facility onto the circinate flash drive.

As the desktop copied the visual facts, Felix opened another desk drawer and retrieved an unused vial, and refocused on the most dirt sample. He poured from the collected evidence into the empty phial a portion of the earth for spare. When the small, cylindrical containers held equal amounts, he tightened the lids back on for each. The computer beeped; it was done.

He disconnected the spectacles and put them away, and then ejected from the computer the six-millimeter-thick drive and placed it in its case. He grasped hold of a ballpoint and jotted a title across its label, and resting the pen, checked the legibility of his writing before taking the copied data and the third vial of dirt to the bedroom.

“Hoku.” Felix gently shook her by the shoulder. “Hoku.”

She stirred onto her back with her arms above her head, exposing her ample breasts.

“Hoku.” His voice was a little louder.

“What?” she said, sleepily.

“I'm putting a couple of things under your pillow. Take them with you when you leave. I'll meet you at the Velvet later.”

“What's going on?”

“No need for you to get up.”

“Felix, is something wrong?” She was wide-awake now.

“As I told you before, it's best that you not know. Just do as I say.”

“Okay.”

“I have to go,” he said. “I'll send the UT back for you. As soon as you arrive at the Velvet, hit the auto-return.”

“All right.”

He pecked her on the lips. “Bye,” he said; he needed to hurry.

“Felix,” she said, her voice stopping him at the entrance of the bedroom. He turned and looked at her. “Be careful.”

“I will.” He reassured her with a wink and a smile.

Felix, grabbing and throwing on his coat, retrieved the initial vials of dirt from his desk, and rushing out the door, stuffed them into a coat pocket as he sprinted to his UT. Once inside the vehicle, he looked back to his quarters and saw Hoku looking out. Driving off, he waved, and she, in turn, blew a kiss after him.

Felix traveled to MAC sector with a number of questions, as he tried to best theorize why
they
wanted to neutralize McBride. “Damn,” he said, realizing he had not cleared the virtual desktop at the storage facility, having left the footage paused at the exact moment which proved his case. He knew he should have reset the system before jumping up to go to the surveillance vault, or even before leaving the security office. All because of his hunger at that time, he had not thought straight. He cursed himself again, figuring that if McBride were responsible for engineering a false surveillance feed and did such a lousy job that he caught the mistake, then the guard on duty after her rotation must have caught the mistake, too. He deduced the guard's role was to recover the surveillance disc that she may have spent the majority of her shift manufacturing, which meant that he lied about not having the key card to the vault.