Moon City

by Benjamin Kane Ethridge

  “No, I hadn’t heard that.”

  “Did you also know that we have surveillance up in every corner of this establishment?”

  Dean glanced around, and in the stone ceiling, he saw small, black half-globes.

  “I can pay—”

  “Save it. I don’t access to those feeds,” said the man.

  “Who does?”

  “Surefire.”

  “Where are they?”

  The bartender folded his arms. “You really aren’t from around here, are you?”

  “I know, it’s obvious. Now, Surefire…”

  “If you were a local, you’d know that Surefire LLC is one of the Firecracker Lady’s many business endeavors—some would say a front for what she does better.”

  “Trafficking.”

  “From your lips, not mine.”

  “Do you think I can bargain with her to get access to the feeds?”

  “What am I?” The bartender grimaced. “Your business advisor? How the hell should I know? If you want to take it up with her, go to her hotel on Carbon Lake Boulevard. You should be able to find it easy since it’s the only high-rise building we got here on the moon. She don’t just see anybody though, so you’ll have to figure that out. Her people can be a bit… difficult in turning over information too. My advice would be to find some new damn clothes that aren’t so Limbus-y and wipe that bewildered look off your mug. Elsewise they’ll be seeing you as an outsider from a mile away.”

  Dean was shocked he’d gotten so much from the man in such a short time. Shocked, but thankful. “I appreciate it,” he said and put down twice what the meal and drink cost. He took out his phone and locked in Carbon Lake Boulevard in his GPS.

  “Nice having you in. Come by again if you get the chance.” A long smile cut through the man’s pasty, sweat-dappled face. “After all, friend, that drink’s Constalife dose will keep you up for two days. There’s plenty of time to drop in before you crash! Better get your affairs in order for your big nap, Limbus thug!” He laughed and the e-pad patrons chuckled along with him.

  Dean couldn’t respond. He could only think of a number his mind instantly calculated.

  168.

  That’s how many hours two days on this moon would be. Ignoring the laughter and taunting, he pressed on up the stairs to the exit, wondering if he survived all that time, just how long he’d actually crash for and who would die during that time.

  Chapter 12

  I couldn’t stop the shaking in my hands and in my forearms. After I killed the ten or eleventh Deitii, reality started flowing around me in a hurricane of glass and blood. I’d never appreciated the smell of their life fluid until I’d opened so many throats. It was a tart smell, like ripe cherries or one of those other solar system fruits I used to buy from the import-grocer in the Bleeding Caverns. I loved it, and currently, I was covered from my hands to my shoulders in it.

  In the bedroom, I counted up to fifty-seven bodies. Being the resourceful fellow I was, I arranged with Carl to deliver a hundred yards of tubing, thirty more large specimen jars, a Githarian NoDeath generator battery to supply extra power to my spinal-tapping pump, and extra blades for my industrial food processor. I would be very busy today, tapping each body, withdrawing fluid, and harvesting, processing, and juicing all the brains. I might need to drink from some of my remaining source just to have the endurance to do all this in one sitting.

  And in one sitting I had to. As much as I wanted to look for the other Limbus visitor, that would all need to wait. If the spinal fluid and raw brain matter wasn’t preserved in a timely fashion, it would degrade to nearly useless material, and this was too damn great of a find to let it go to waste.

  I paid Carl what I owed him, and was happy to do so. Never thought running into him would be such a find, but it had paid off. I also told him to keep an eye out for any other person who showed up at the mercenary’s apartment. Chances were that whoever else showed up there today would probably be the man or woman I was looking for. I’d have the kid keep an eye on the Limbus lackey while I finished business here.

  I wasn’t a bit ashamed to admit my happiness. I even began to hum as I cored out one Deitii’s skull and then went about pulling out pieces of its mind. Scratches covered the length of my bloodied arms from all their struggles. I’d gotten the aliens all into my house and padlocked the only door. Their screams weren’t heard; it was beneficial to live on the outskirts of the lumber district. Nobody wanted to deal with all the sawdust and the scent of lacquer in the air all the time. The screaming, if it could even be heard over the booming factory down the street, would not have fallen on any residential ears, because other than me and an abandoned convenience store, there was nothing on the south end of Moon City.

  It took a few hours, but all the bodies were tapped and the spinal fluid was pumping into the specimen jars, filling them at an astonishing pace. I refused to get too mesmerized by it all though, because I’d only so far unhoused and preserved fifteen brains. I had forty-two remaining, and after that I had to put their pieces in the food processor, mix up the preservation materials, adjust pH, and then bottle. I’d told Carl I needed him to empty my refrigerator of all food—his to eat or sell—and I’d also need help hauling the bodies back into the truck. They were all getting the same one-way ticket down the Black Kiss that Rick Agate had received. I’d call Carl later. The kid talked too much. Asked too many questions. He was useful though and I tended to like him as much as I possibly could like another human being.

  I put my knife up to the pallid, cold temple of the next Deitii. Not even a new cut made and I heard a brisk knock at my front door. I paused and waited. I would ignore it.

  Another knock came.

  Followed by a voice.

  “I know you’re in there,” said a familiar-sounding female voice. “Your truck is here. I’m not stupid. Hey open up, I need to talk.”

  I recognized her then. It was Mazina Frye. She’d worked with friends of my family, and we’d met at a sad attempt at a reunion. Neither of us cared enough about our friends and relatives to hang out for the duration. So, a one-night stand happened. I just never thought it would turn into a seasonal thing. That was a strange time. I dated her a few months, all in the wake of losing my wife. It was also just before I first discovered the taste of Deitii. There was no question I was a completely different person back then, both spiritually and physically.

  I couldn’t get into a conversation with her. Who really gave a shit if she thought I was ignoring her? I didn’t owe her anything.

  “I have to tell you about your mother,” Mazina said and knocked again. “It’s really important. Come on, let me in.”

  Goddamn it. I didn’t care what had happened to my mother, except that I wanted to know if she had finally died. I never consciously searched for her when I turned my eyes to the galaxy because I was afraid she’d be able to see me watching and feel validated by it. I would be so happy if I just knew she’d drank herself to death or one of her boyfriends pushed her down the stairs in some backstreet ghetto in the Outer Caverns. It would bring me peace and I wouldn’t have to mentally block her out. I could resolve that that character in my life story had finally been written out, and good riddance.

  “Come on, jackass,” hollered Mazina with another volley of sharp knocks.

  More than anything, I just wanted to know if Mom had gotten what was coming to her. I stripped off my gory shirt and shut my bedroom door.

  “One minute,” I called out, examining my gruesome arms. “I just got out of the shower. Let me put something on.”

  “Not on my account.” Mazina sounded mischievous.

  I went to the sink, turned on the faucet, and began scrubbing off all the stains. It took a while and Mazina made some nearly inaudible comment about me “taking a full orbit around the sun to answer the freaking door.”

  When I answered without my shirt, Mazina smirked. “Nice to see you.”

  “What about my mother?”

>   “Can I come in?”

  “No. What about my mother?”

  Mazina brushed past me. She was in a lavender strapless shirt, short black skirt, and black heels. Her makeup and clothing suggested streetwalker. I didn’t remember her being so trashy. Insecure maybe, but not so slutastic. Her makeup was overdone and her long, brunette hair needed washing, badly. She sat on my couch and crossed her legs. I could see the razor burns around her bikini zone from where I stood.

  “If you’re trying to give me a hard-on, it won’t work.”

  “Oh?” she asked with a smile. “Doesn’t work for you any longer? I hear that happens to men getting on in age.”

  “Tell me about my mother so we can end this.”

  “She needs to meet you today. She’ll be eating at the Passing Sun.”

  “She doesn’t need to meet me for anything.”

  “You don’t have to eat with her, just hear her out.”

  “Why’d she send you?” I asked, folding my arms.

  “Because she knew we had a thing. And she paid me fifty bucks.”

  “Didn’t know she had that much to spend.”

  Mazina arched an eyebrow. “There’s a lot you don’t know. She’s turned her life around.”

  “Good for her.”

  “She doesn’t want you to be angry with her anymore. She wants to start anew. Forge a relationship with you.”

  “This is the stupidest thing I’ve heard in a long time. Get out of my house.”

  “Really?” Mazina said and sat back, looking more relaxed now. “I recall lying in bed with you once and you telling me you always wanted someone you trusted by your side, that you wanted to teach and be taught. Couldn’t you have been talking about your mother?”

  “I was talking about someone I’ll never know.”

  “Your son. Yes, you did talk about him a lot. I think because you needed a parent yourself.”

  “Did she pay you extra to philosophize with me?”

  “No, that’s free of charge.”

  I went over and grasped her wrist, pulling her up to her feet. “I want you out of here. Tell my mother she can take her new life and choke on it.”

  “Before you get all caveman on me—”

  “You wish.”

  She laughed and put her clammy palm on my cheek. “I do need to tell you one last thing. It might change your mind about going to see her.”

  I grabbed her wrist and removed her hand from my cheek. “There is nothing you can say that will change my mind.”

  “Oh no? What about 3D ultrasound photos of your son you’ve never seen?”

  I stopped and glared at her. “Why would she have those?”

  “Your mother took her for the ultrasound and maternity photos—her boyfriend Ryan paid for the entire session. They were going to surprise you. Your mother was trying. Even back then, she was trying to reach you. I guess your wife understood. Why couldn’t you?”

  “Does this conclude the lecture?”

  “After everything happened with your job at the Commerce Polity, you can tell why she held onto them.”

  I snorted. “Have her mail them to me.”

  “She won’t,” Mazina said. “She insists you meet her at the diner, around beyondnoon.”

  “They’re just photos. They won’t bring them back to damn life.”

  “No,” Mazina admitted. “But do you really think they should be with your mother?”

  “That part of my existence is gone. Just like you.”

  “We cared about each other. Don’t think for a second there wasn’t a connection—”

  I smiled. “You were a flavor that passed across my tongue, Mazina. Talking about it like it’s more makes me embarrassed for you. Now take your sad whore outfit, your bad perfume, and the rest of your lousy little self, point it over to that door right there, and march the hell out of my house. Never come back. Never think about it.”

  Her eyes blossomed at this, though she hardly believed my sincerity. “You’re an ass—”

  “Hole,” I finished and shook my head. “I’m so much more than that. You don’t really know.”

  Mazina staggered away as I released her wrist. She didn’t look back as she left. I pulled the door shut behind her so hard my old childhood painting of the Midnight Sea hanging nearby shifted off its nail, fell to the floor, and shattered. It had been the first and last drawing I’d ever made for my mother. She’d accepted it with a kiss on my forehead. The next day I found it covered in peanut shells pinned beneath a bottle of Blakar whiskey. The wet ring from the bottle was still visible in the lower left side. I took the painting back and kept it with me ever since.

  It wasn’t important to me anymore. I left it there amongst the shards of broken glass and snapped wooden frame. I tried to put my mother out of my mind and return to what really mattered. My ascension.

  Chapter 13

  On his way to see the Firecracker Lady, Dean heard another account about the hostage situation with the Zetú. He couldn’t believe the Grettish were putting them through the same bullshit over again. He’d give anything to be able to help them out. Finny-Min was his friend. Even with severe nerve damage to his spine, the Zetú accountant had prepared Dean and Sandra a five-course meal from some of the finest galactic cuisines edible to human beings. To think those Grettish bastards bore the responsibility for the torture that had caused that nerve damage made him hate them even more.

  The last he had heard from Finny-Min, before the war ignited again, he had sent a transmission of his newborn child, whom he’d given the last name of Dean. It would have been an honor even under human circumstances to have a child named after you, but for most in the Zetú tradition, the last name of Gaga was mostly preferred. Their fandom of Lady Gaga had exploded across their cultures and around ninety-five percent held the Gaga last name, and that figure was rising. Finny-Min was just as enamored with the singer as the rest of his species, but he still gave Dean that unique pleasure to be valued even higher for his successful rescue campaign.

  Now his old friend was in trouble and Dean could do nothing to help. He’d texted Sandra about it and she’d sent him a brief reply, You can’t help everyone hon.

  A lot of her replies had been short lately. Dean wondered if she’d met someone else, if she was pulling away already, falling out of love… It twisted his guts. He had to get back to her. He had to get that Golden Transport.

  Dean’s thoughts fled as the high-rise loomed into view through his windshield. Stone and wood had been utilized equally to create a type of Neolithic empire state building. There had to be over a hundred floors and possibly others above those that could be distinguished by the rows of torches along the ledges of each. The Firecracker Lady wasn’t a small-time criminal by any stretch; she was the type who robbed entire world banks while dining with the same planet’s ambassadors.

  The case file had told him to not engage the Firecracker Lady, even though she was already aware of Limbus’s presence on the moon. Dean needed to see that surveillance footage though. If her people could get him access, it could lead him right to the Moon City Killer. If the Firecracker Lady hadn’t been girlfriend to the president’s son from the Fringer Corporation, she may have already sent her own people after the Killer. The Fringers went beyond the Freedomist Elite’s racism for the Zetú. They hated the Deitiis as well, and Dean had read in the case file that they’d been trying to get the mixed-species mayor of Moon City thrown out until the Firecracker Lady convinced them to back down. The bottom line was that a dead Deitii was a good thing to both the Fringers and to any big-time crook who wanted to out-balance their electoral power, and that worked well for the Firecracker Lady.

  Dean would have to make up a story. He couldn’t let them know he was tracking the Killer. For all he knew, they’d try to stop him. After all, Deitiis were vanishing so fast they’d soon no longer be a problem for their enemies, and they probably didn’t want someone getting in the way of all the free carnage.

 
Dean chose to leave his weapon in the glove compartment. He’d learned in the past that showing up unarmed to a place he knew he’d get patted down would increase his chances to negotiate a deal. It was a risky method, but it sent a message that couldn’t be denied. He came in peace.

  He got out and locked the door, turned around, and a large arm caught around his midsection, slamming him back against the car. Donaldo leaned over him, all smiles. The man was so up on Dean he could count the pores on his nose.

  “The hell you doing here, Fulsome? I think it’s past time I wipe the floor with your ass.”

  So much for coming in peace.

  “You work for the lady too, eh?” asked Dean, not moving from under the weight of the man’s thick forearm.

  “Everybody on this moon works for her, even if they don’t know it.”

  “Seems I’ve come to the right place then. I wanted to speak with her about a deal.”

  “You ain’t got nothing she wants.”

  Now Dean chose to push the man off him. “I’ll see about that.”

  “Like hell you will.”

  Another smelly strong-arm caught Dean’s wrist. This one was uglier than Donaldo, if not as broad in the shoulders. Both men grappled with Dean and took hold of him.

  “Not looking for a fight, people. Limbus can make this worth her time. I just need to see some surveillance feeds for outside marketing research. Demographics.”

  “That sounds like horseshit to me.”

  “I can put you in touch—”

  “No, I won’t be tricked by none of your friends on some phone call,” said Donaldo through heavy breaths. They pushed him around the side of the sky-rise, down a sidewalk that led to a poolside area. Donald swiped a keycard at the gate to open it. A tall, strawberry blond woman lay out under a sunlamp near the pool. She lifted her sunglasses to the approaching men. Dean noticed outside of the pool of artificial sunlight sat a baby’s crib.

  “April, go fetch Jake and I some Ale bombers. I’ll watch the kid.” Donaldo waited a moment and then kicked at her lounge chair. “Get up and go. I said I’d watch her.”