Moon City

by Benjamin Kane Ethridge

  “We will look into that.”

  Dean’s fatigue got the better of his mood. “That’s really big of you. I’m sure it isn’t the first time.”

  “Is that what you think?” The mayor looked up at him and his eyes thinned under his tremendous brow. “That we’d do something like that so randomly?”

  Dean shrugged. “I’ve seen a lot of shit, Mr. Mayor. Very little surprises me these days. I reckon I’m beyond jaded at this point, even so much that I really don’t have the time or the room in my soul to debate you and your people’s morals. I just need you to tell me why I’m in your office ahead of schedule and why you carted me off like a criminal when my company has sent me here to assist our man in the field with your problem.”

  “There is a reason for everything. Even our Lead Officer isn’t privy to everything… I’ll get to the technician in a moment,” said the mayor, glancing back down at Dean’s file on his screen. “Let’s talk about you a moment.”

  “Oh yes, please.”

  “You were involved in the poisoning of the Princess of Ganymede. You’ve directed operations for Limbus, Incorporated, Solar System division, for four years now. You’re a very hands-on director. You seem to take tasks that could otherwise be delegated to subordinates—like the Zetú refuge migration.”

  Dean swallowed and tasted something raw in the back of his throat. It might have been an aftereffect of the membrane transport or it might be the itchy intuition that this conversation was headed to an ugly, hateful place. If that were the case, though, Dean at least could be resolved with detesting this man thoroughly.

  “Yep, I’ve been involved in a lot.”

  “But the Zetú exodus wasn’t a Limbus related issue.”

  “Not sure I see your point in bringing the Zetú up, Mr. Mayor. I’ve done a lot in four years. They were only a small part in that time period.”

  “It’s my prerogative to bring them up. I can bring up whatever I feel like in my position, in this office, anything. I can and I will, especially when questioning a man who comes into my city and works for a company that may be sympathetic to Freedomist Elite.”

  Yep, thought Dean, this was all about some racist politics between these people and the Zetú. He should have seen this coming. This man made him sick. The Zetú were the most decent alien species Dean had come across in his travels, a far sight kinder and gentler than human damned beings. Regardless, Dean put on his poker face. “Mr. Mayor, Limbus, Inc. backs no political parties through media or through financial contributions. For the record, I opted personally to save that convoy of Zetú. They were my friends and I owed them a large favor. It wasn’t a directive from Limbus. We are an employment agency. I was actually written up for the action and also lost my… position over it.”

  “Sure you did.”

  Dean couldn’t really scoff at the contradiction; he knew for a fact that Limbus played many sides to many political factions, and did indeed make campaign contributions. Yet, they made them to opposing sides for a myriad of reasons, most of which was to keep control of whatever the hell they really controlled behind their big iron doors at their original headquarters—a place he’d still not been and few others he knew had.

  “Are you saying my contracted associate should leave this city? My superiors would be upset, but I also cannot remain here if our services are unwanted. The killer is still roaming the caverns as I’ve come to understand. If you don’t like my friends, Mr. Mayor, and that somehow presents a problem with how I manage our contract here, I can certainly leave.”

  “Friends?” The word was bitter on the mayor’s lips.

  Dean nodded. “I know for the Stone Turtles that might be an uncomfortable concept.”

  The mayor snarled but it looked strange on his flat face. “That you’d even call the United People Under Stars that insulting nickname shows your allegiance!”

  “Oh, calm down,” said Dean. “Really, before you burst something. I have allegiance to me, myself, and my girlfriend. That’s where it ends. The job is just a job. So I made friends who you’d never have dinner with. Doesn’t mean I’m inviting them to the ball and forcing you to slow dance.”

  The mayor got up and looked out the window with unease. “We do need your presence here. I share blood with the Deitii, and if I’m not seen being proactive about stopping this slaughter, it won’t just mean my removal from office. I’ll be strung out and burned alive. Regardless of how much I need you Limbus people here, I cannot be visible in aiding someone connected with the Zetú—that would streamline the whole being burned-alive process.” A disgusted chuckle escaped the mayor’s lips.

  “That does seem like a pickle.”

  “The contract will need to be paid through a third party—you don’t have to worry about your… services.”

  “Well don’t get all choked up on me there, Mayor. I’m the project manager of a peace-keeping mission. We are here to save lives, not just take the one.”

  The mayor lifted one of his miniscule black eyebrows.

  “Hey,” said Dean with a smile. “How do you like that? This guy knows a bit of rhetoric too.”

  The mayor sat back down. “I told you I’d explain the technician.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “How do you explain frying our network systems? Slipping past a membrane like that exposes code you could sell. The tech working there had to be working with you or someone else to make that happen.”

  “He seemed pretty surprised and out-of-sorts. I don’t think he was involved. Pretty snap judgment of you guys too, killing him like that. Is that how things are done around here?”

  “Sending a message to our enemies is priceless, Fulsome. Even if the tech wasn’t involved, whoever set that up—”

  “Don’t look at me.”

  “It’s hard not to look at you. The Zetú would love to get their hands on our intelligence.”

  “The Zetú are at war. And not with you. They don’t have time for your power games. You have nothing of importance to them and you damn well know it, so quit scapegoating.”

  “Lower your voice to me.”

  Bitterly, Dean did. “Look, they didn’t do it. I don’t think the tech had any involvement either. Me? I got the Quantum Flu from that collapsing membrane. I could have bought the farm. That’s an awful big price to pay for something our programmers back on Earth could easily do remotely.”

  “Perhaps.”

  His phone vibrated twice. That meant Sandy had texted him. He didn’t want to even guess what it said. He felt like passing out. They hadn’t given him any of that medicine stuff and he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to stand; the atmosphere was dense like being underwater, and his bones felt like they were composed of gelatin that had begun to lose its form.

  He took a deep breath despite his discomfort and continued. “I’m here to aide in the apprehension of the Moon City killer and to facilitate your election. Those are my operatives.”

  “And yet you don’t back political parties.”

  “We are interested in the partnership for the neocrystals from the Midnight Sea. We could give a good goddamn about your beliefs and your place in office.”

  The mayor’s suspicion had begun to wane, but he still visibly, stubbornly clung to it. “Why not make a direct deal with the Miner’s Association?”

  Dean sighed. “No need to rock the boat. You’re popular, and now that I know you’re related by blood to the Deitii, that makes quite a difference too. They have one hundred times the voting power of any other citizen on this moon as I understand it. They have to live so they can vote.”

  “Indeed.” The mayor folded his fingers together. “I do not share that privilege, being only of one Deitii parent, but they do like me. They trust me.”

  “Of course they do,” said Dean. “And the miners like doing business with stable figureheads anyway. Otherwise they’re skittish in agreeing to terms. Limbus, too, likes stability in their chosen partnerships.”

  “
Seems as though you’ve thought this through.”

  “No, I have other, smarter people do that for me.”

  The mayor shut off his screen. “We will keep you and your contractor under surveillance. As soon as we have a body, you can expect a confirmation statement from a Moon City business to make a payment on our behalf. I don’t ever want to see you coming back here though. Is that understood?”

  “I’ll try to resist the temptation. Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Mayor.”

  With a glare, the mayor pushed a button. “Officer Harth, come take Fulsome down to the city clerk’s office.”

  The door opened a moment later and the henchman stood there, stone-faced.

  Dean shot up from his chair. “Donaldo! Boy, did I ever miss you.”

  The mayor pointed for the door. “Get him out of here. He gets his papers and within an hour make sure he rolls out of here in an unmarked vehicle in parking structure B, in the back, out of sight. Don’t wander off to the casino. Make sure.”

  “Of course I won’t sir,” said Donaldo. “Right away.”

  Dean followed the lumbering henchman outside into the narrow hallway. He could tell the car was going to be about the only support he’d have from here on in. He glanced at his phone and brought up Sandy’s text.

  Not happy. We really need to talk about this arrangement.

  Dean’s heart sunk.

  Yes, not a very good start to this assignment at all.

  * * *

  Dean had no idea where he was going. He’d been given directions and also been asked to repeat them to the mayor’s people, but he’d forgotten everything. Each bone and all the fibers of his being were in conflict with each other. He’d received a call from Rick to meet him a few blocks down from City Hall, but those few blocks felt like tunneling through a mountain with a toothpick. The streetlights bent and wisps and tracers of light crossed; the street lifted and joined with the carved buildings in the cavern walls; someone honked and shouted angrily at him; Dean laughed—couldn’t help it, for he was more tired than he’d ever been in his life and also had the feeling that if he fell asleep, and managed not to have a fatal car accident, he would still never recover from the slumber—he’d dream forever and never revive to the world of the living again. As he twisted the oblong-shaped wheel to the vehicle, which was centermost in the car rather than being right or left like back on earth, he had a vision, a ghostly one, of Rick waving to him, smiling, and then fear in his eyes that widened them, made them cartoonlike and unnatural.

  “STOP! SHIT!” he yelled.

  Dean blinked and drove his foot down onto the brake pedal.

  It must have been a hallucination brought on by his severe exhaustion because it looked almost cartoonish. Rick vaulted into the air like a mythical being and sprung off the bumper, landing on the hood, half a foot from the windshield. Back home that might have collapsed or at very least left a healthy dent in the hood, but these vehicles on Moon City were all Fanglion models, and the metallic surfaces oscillated in waves with the impact. Despite this buffering of the material, the speed Dean had been going could have still killed someone, and this fact wasn’t lost in the wide eyes of his friend, who peered down through the windshield.

  “You rat-licking crap-sponge! You could have killed me, you know? Ho-ly shit! Did they not give you Constalife?”

  That was an interesting last thing to hear before Dean’s forehead smashed into the steering wheel and darkness poured down.

  * * *

  Dean woke upright.

  In a tavern.

  “What in the hell?”

  “Take one more,” said Rick. He pressed a yellow, diamond-shaped pill into Dean’s hand. Something intense pulsed at the pill’s core, a radiation that wouldn’t reach its half-life before the end of all universes. “Stop ogling and suck it down,” Rick said with a soft irritableness. “Use your beer, good sir.”

  Dean looked at his drink. It was half full, but he didn’t remember drinking any before this moment. He lifted his weary eyes to his colleague, who took a long pull off his own beer, which had a rich cinnamon color.

  “Got you some cheap lager,” said Rick, wristing the foam off his upper lip. “I’m saving for my kids’ college tuition and I didn’t think you’d notice anyhow.”

  “That’s good. Where am I?”

  “Boy, you are jacked up,” said Rick. “I don’t even have kids.”

  “What am I doing here, Rick?” Dean straightened his back and tried to get a grip on the spinning room.

  “You remember my name now. That’s a good start. Take your third pill and I’ll tell you.”

  “Third… pill?”

  “Yes,” Rick said with a sigh. “As in this is the next pill after the second.”

  “I,” Dean began, “don’t even remember taking one pill. I don’t even remember walking in here with you!”

  “Sure. And you probably don’t remember that I made you eat a whole Crato hotdog either?” Rick pointed to the empty plate full of sauce and bits of bread. Dean stared at it in horror. “I’m always doing that to my friends, forcing them to try new things.”

  Dean could taste a sweet meaty flavor in his mouth. It wasn’t unpleasant but was foreign at the same time. “How… long did it take to drive here?”

  “The drive wasn’t anything. And the hike? Well, it wasn’t far from where you tried to run me down with your government car.”

  “What?”

  “No worries. That was a joke.” Rick took another sip. “At any rate, your temporary accommodations are upstairs. Take the stairwell to the left of the john, behind the bar.”

  “They roomed us at a bar?”

  “You’ll get word from the Limbus crew where your hat will hang soon enough. If they treat you like me, you’ll be moved from this armpit of the moon to a much more appropriate butt pit. Now take your last pill or I’m gonna cram it past your teeth.”

  Dean popped the pill in his mouth. It ignited his tongue, his throat, his stomach, and spread through him. Made him feel…

  Awake.

  Like never before.

  He felt like he’d be coherent and full of energy for an indeterminate amount of time.

  “Careful,” said Rick with a long drink of his beer. “It may feel like you’ll never need to sleep again but that’s a bad thing. You need to find a normal balance on this moon. With the first dosage you’ll get insomnia. You’ll be lucky to get ten hours of sleep.”

  “Ten?”

  “You need about twice that much here.”

  “I see.”

  “You’ll get used to it… until you need to leave back to Earth and then you’ll be all jacked up again.” Rick laughed.

  “Thanks.”

  “You are welcome, my friend. You are welcome!” His grin faded.

  “I thought you’d meet me at City Hall. Where were you?”

  Rick’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry, man. They wouldn’t let me through. I knew you could hold your own. And I knew they’d need your boots on this moon and eventually cut you loose in one of their ridiculous Fanglion sedans.”

  “The political environment is more hostile here than I thought.”

  “Didn’t you read the briefing?”

  Dean picked up his beer. It felt good that he could hold it and bring it to his lips with a coordination not afforded to him only moments ago. “Yes I read it. I’m thorough.”

  Rick chuckled. “Of course, you’re the Slaughter Man! So why is this all so much of a surprise?”

  “It’s… not. I just—” Dean groped his leg and felt the shape of his cell phone in his pocket. “Shit. I just need to handle some things.”

  “Hey, man,” Rick said with a quick drink. “I gotcha, I know. Where’s your girl live?”

  “Southern California.”

  “That’s great. I called my nephew yesterday… or was it… the day before? Shit, it’s too much time here to figure out. But anyways, I called him to say happy birthday. He lives in Bakersfi
eld.”

  Dean gripped the phone in his pants pocket, his nails biting into the fabric.

  Rick picked up on his uneasiness and smirked. “Finish your drink. Then ask Rex at the counter to give you the key to your room.”

  “I knew that,” Dean snapped, recalling that instruction from his file.

  The mercenary leaned back in his chair and licked his top front teeth. They were bright white and well cared for. His eyes suggested he’d met an end to his patience with his friend. “Dean, I know you’ve been through some stuff today, but let me remind you that earlier, in this same day, I had to apply cellupatches to five places where my organs were pouring out. Do you know how that feels?”

  Dean opened his mouth but was silenced.

  “No… you damn well don’t. Because you’re a program manager and aren’t in the field being sliced, diced, carved, and filled with holes day in and day out, and I know that’s not what you signed on for and that’s fine. Congratu-shitting-lations, but a little gratitude for me scooping my intestines off the ground and running to your aide would be highly appreciated at this moment. Especially when I bought you a dog and a beer on top of everything else!”

  A loud clap startled them both. A man leered down at them like insolent children and regarded each with a critical look. “The Firecracker Lady cannot abide by such clamor in one of her houses.”

  Dean leaned forward to tell this man what he thought of him and anyone who called themselves the Firecracker Lady, but Rick slammed his hand over his forearm and shushed him. “Yes,” he told the man, “Sorry, we didn’t know this house belonged to her.”

  The tall man gave them a serious looking over before relenting. When he was gone, Dean ripped his arm out from under Rick’s hold. “The hell is this shit?”

  “We don’t want to play around with her right now. Okay? It wouldn’t be good for either of us.”

  “And here I thought you were a badass.”

  Rick moved his pilsner away with the back of his fingers and leaned in. “The days are long here, buddy. Be careful not to get into too much shit before your head hits the pillow.”