by Kelly Brewer
After graduation, Mark had lost some steam. Teaching high school band was just a paycheck, not a long-term plan. He was already in a little trouble with the student body. With his head in the clouds and his hand into drugs, rock and roll was his next quick-out option. Moore was smart enough to know he needed someone at least as strong as he was, for balance and support, to take it to the next level.
Uncharacteristically ditching his usual analytical wait-and-see approach, Kyle flew to Florida the next day from Seattle Military Police Center, under emergency leave. He wound up jamming twenty-four hours straight with Moore’s band. The rest of the songs from the first record were hammered out in that session. Six months later, his service five up, Kyle flew back to Jacksonville and the label officially signed them. The next year they had the number-two album nationally. Kyle thought Mark was a genius. It was a turn of events he never could have predicted.
CHAPTER 14
Detective Mooney
“How can we keep this from happening again?” Kyle asked the astrocops.
Two had arrived before the band jumped to Mars and were questioning him and other eyewitnesses. In all, fourteen people on Moonbase were either dead or about to be from the deadly effects of Happy-stil.
“Metal detectors and searching bags are not enough at the gates. Additional security needs to be set up to frisk and x-ray all incoming guests at the remaining shows. Sniffer droids at points of entry. We’ll think of more later,” Lead Detective Mooney answered.
He handed Kyle a card. “Call me. Still checking everything out, lieutenant.”
Mooney knew who Kyle was and approved.
Walking away lightly in Moonbase’s two-thirds gravity across the deserted arena floor, Kyle knew the same scenario could be present at the next venue, Marsbase. Questions flowed like lava in his mind as he went searching for Mercy.
What had been the substance’s pathway of entry to the tightly controlled facility? The drug must have already been on-site, ingested by fans after entering. Had someone with special access brought it in? He wondered how long it would take Hadjii’s team to determine the drug’s base elements.
An analysis was necessary to get parameter settings for chemical detection droid-dogs. Quantify the parameters of the drug, learn its base elements, then program the sniffers, who can detect particles in parts per billion, to the formula. Once identified, the little airborne detection drones could lumi-tag potential targets then alert robo-security, who could then intervene. He would ask Mars security to deploy seven, one for each gate of the Terror Dome facility, if the doctor finished in time.
Drugs, he had been telling himself, would be his last problem. That line of thinking was changing fast. Time to adjust the game plan, in spite of his promise to maintain their preflight strategy.
The band had several vulnerabilities that could be exploited by a jealous competitor or drunk groupie. One violation would get them sent home a mockery. Most people already assumed all rock stars were drug addicts, so many doubters were already predicting it.
Moore was a walking drug time bomb. He was always on something and drew too much of that kind of attention. No one really knew what Ox kept in that closely guarded, locked, black satchel of his. Dock’s old ship was loaded with narcotics and now several VIPs knew it.
Damn, that ship needed to be cleansed and sent home immediately. Eliminate that glaring liability at least. Instinct had told him it was a bad idea when Dock first insisted on the stash the day before launch.
Kyle hoped “Happy” had not been on board Dock’s classic space rocket.
He jogged back to the ship to begin clearing it out. One rogue sniffer-droid could upend all their careers. Suddenly he felt very exposed.
Mercy and the guys were eating dinner, entertaining guests per their contract, so the gyro was empty when he arrived. He activated jack-ie, shut off the record function, and together they went through every hidden cubby, cleaning them out. He couldn’t locate Ox’s black bag but would confront him about it soon. Thankfully, he did not see any evidence aboard the ship of the red substance he had found earlier, which was still in his front pocket.
Filling a soft, two-gallon trash pack with water and the collected stash, he crushed the contents inside, then placed the sealed pack inside jack-ie. Quietly it moved to a waste disposal port and jettisoned the pack into the cloud of refuse orbiting the moon. In the unlikely event it was ever found, it would be an unrecognizable blob of goo.
Then he went to his room and 3-D dark-mailed the partially eaten chunk of Happy-stil to the doctor’s lab with his request for analysis and antidote and included a brief description of the symptoms he had observed.
He checked his business account while he waited for confirmation of receipt from Hadjii’s lab. A large payment for completion of the first show would be hitting that account momentarily, and he was monitoring it with much interest. Not seeing it, he set the account to auto-alert him when the sum hit.
They needed to be on offense now, he realized. His group would be seen as an active part of the solution. Multiple drug deaths during their shows would play adversely to health-conscious space pilgrims. Fan’s lives would be at risk if the drug was disseminated and consumed at future shows. The group’s reputation would be at risk if the drug infiltrated their ranks. Time to catch another gear and get a grip.
The new paradigm shift assuaged his appetite. He went to see if he could be of assistance to the detectives who were still interviewing witnesses and identifying victims.
“I already need more help,” he murmured to jack-ie, who tailed him like a puppy dog.
Kyle had known something would get weird along the way, though he had not expected it to arrive with the first show.
“I need a scout out in front to navigate the unseen. Who can I trust?”
He needed Angel’s help right now.
CHAPTER 15
Truth and Lies
Kyle called Mercy and apologized for not being at dinner. He was watching the detectives and asked her to send a plate of food to his room.
“Sure, baby! Everything will be all right,” she assured, trying not to sound disappointed.
“I know, love, I just need a few minutes for some additional chores that came up. I warned you there would be some unforeseen things happen. Just be a little bit longer, love, bye.”
Kyle did not want his fans or his family touched by this new/old chemical demon, nor did he want to weaken the bond his fans were forming with them and their music. A major effort had brought them to this critical point.
“Don’t lose it all for such a stupid reason.”
He strove to be more grounded than his peers.
He hoped it was enough.
When interviewed weeks before the tour by Galactic Cowboy Magazine, “Uplifted, yet grounded,” was the description he gave of himself.
“Be clean in word and deed, but don’t take no guff,” his dad, and now he, preached when personal troubles came.
As he strove in the marketplace, earning people’s trust, he began to understand the strength of the phrase. It was a simple answer Kyle dared to share during the host’s questioning.
“Although,” Kyle said, trying to soften his straightforward position with humor, “there’s something to be said for going dirty. Keith Richards is still alive! Makes him as old as those guys in the Old Testament! And makes you wonder… are drugs systemically bad? Or do rock ’n’ rollers never really die? He must have done something right to live that long!”
Both of them laughed.
There were always exceptions.
Kyle wanted to be exceptional. Caring for his new, growing space-tribe, he would do good or die trying. Do something, anything, to be a force for good in his universe. They’d been sent out to be an example.
And he would publicly reclarify his position on the matter. Get it on record one more time
that drug use was not sanctioned by this band.
Even though some in the band partied.
A tough half-truth to maintain.
One that could eventually derail them.
CHAPTER 16
mission OF MERCY
She sent the plate of hot food via jack-ie.bot to Kyle’s room. After bidding well-wishers and dinner guests good evening, Mercy needed a minute to decompress and retreated to the upper mezzanine walkway, now deserted. There were so many distractions coming at her already.
Alone, she laughed aloud recalling some of the offers she’d received. They’d come from everyone from agents to con men. They came in all forms, from underhanded to over-the-top. Kyle had already warned her to take none of it seriously. The sheer avalanche of crazy she had already witnessed astounded her. And just as quickly as it loomed, it was gone.
Players only loved you when you are playing.
There were still five more dates left to play.
Crazy would return.
As she walked around the upper rim of Moonbase stadium, the whirring of trash-bots clearing the grounds below drew her attention. The arena was littered with debris, and jani-droids raced across the floor sucking it all up. Maintenance robots stacked chairs on the now unpopulated Moonbase floor. Within a few hours, it was as if the spectacle had never happened. The moon resumed her quiet watch upon the Earth.
Below, she watched the detectives work. The last of the bodies were being removed as Tamer blocked access to nosy reporters. Kyle was down there too. He would also be monitoring the transmission of a very large sum into his account about now, following completion of the first show. It was being handled. Best let the men deal with all that business.
Unhurriedly she walked back to the confines of their ship. A draft drifted up through the barely concealing, very revealing dress. With each step towards the landing platform, a puff up from between her breasts brought the smell of the sweet perfume Kyle was hooked on. She liked it because he loved it. Anything to keep his attention fixed on her, to bind him to her forever.
She was so impatient. Stepping into her private room, she powdered her nose and waited elegantly for him to return. He did, in the form of his voice in their private headset.
“Baby…” His voice was deep and lusty in her comms. It sent a shiver through her excitement.
“Yes, baby?” she purred.
“All is well, first leg in the bag. The coin has dropped! What are you doing?”
“Studying. This is an amazing old ship. Dock and company spared no expense. The gold-plated bidet in the master suite is barely up to my standards, though. Who do I complain to about that again?” She giggled.
Kyle smiled into his A2DP mic. “Well, I suppose that would be my fault. The rider clearly stated platinum-coated bidets in all master suites. Jack-ie must not have noticed it. But you better hurry if you’re going to use it. Time to switch craft. That one is going back for… repairs. I know we were going to switch tomorrow, but the plan has changed.”
“Aww, baby! That’s gonna mess up my surprise,” she teased. He could hear her lips purse.
Sucking in air, he said, “The anticipation is growing, love, I know. I promise we will be together soon. Send me a pretty picture. Have jack-ie pack our things and y’all take the shuttle to Bay 4. See you in a few minutes. Love you.”
“Love you too,” she cooed.
He switched off.
He was bewitched.
She was elated.
And disappointed.
Her whole gameplay was planned for this space and now the stupid ship was broken. Disappointed, she pressed the button that summoned jack-ie and heard small gears clicking in the other room.
Stepping into the octagonal closet, she stood still, her now unneeded dress cascading silver rope around her perfect body. She could see herself from eight different angles.
And so would he. She would test him the whole way.
She began to video her reflection in the surround mirrors, the dress coming slowly off. Smiling, she began to quietly sing the acoustic version of his song, “Don’t Let Me Go.” (Not a hit, but one of her favorites, one she hoped would come true). Slowly twirling, tilting her head for the lens, she hummed the melody. It made her nipples hard as the straps brushed by them, the dress falling to the floor. Perfect tan and perfect all the rest, she thought. Well, here, baby, do you like this pose? She arched her graceful back and let her long, brown hair fall in front of her face.
She had him now, she thought.
A sound behind her…
“Hello. Ms. Mercy? Excuse, please.” The jack-ie pack.rat.bot person thingy swooped in and began repacking in the exact opposite order it had unpacked her things.
Startled, she laughed out loud, grabbed her favorite pullover sweater from busy android hands, and quickly pulled it over her bare body, huffing her bangs back. The android personal assistant could have recording capabilities too. Mercy would definitely get Kyle to disable it.
“Surprise!” She blew a kiss to her phone camera and switched it off.
She liked to feel his strong man hands through the thick, loose-knit material of the pullover. It also let cool air flow around dark places. Kyle’s weakness was his nose. She had seen his eyes roll back in his head when she splashed on the new perfume he had bought for her.
She hesitated, edited the robot part out, encrypted, then sent the strip video;
