Moon City

by Benjamin Kane Ethridge

  “You aren’t going to fire a gun around her or—”

  Donaldo took her by the wrist and guided her to her feet. The woman was in great physical shape but had a few scars on her torso. Dean wondered if those belonged to Donaldo.

  “I ain’t firing nothing. Just go get our drinks, yes?”

  April huffed. “Sure,” she said and stole one last glance at her sleeping baby before heading to a door that read CASINO on its glass panels.

  When she was gone, Donaldo pushed Dean down onto the lounger and shut off the sun lamp. The baby, looking to be around ten months or so, twisted around in the crib, on the verge of waking.

  “So, let’s see now. Let me ask again.” Donaldo cleared his throat and his assistant goon, Jake, folded his slender arms over his leather vest. “What do you want with video recordings?”

  Dean swallowed a bad taste. Not only did it screw his chances of making a deal to tell these idiots, but he was under contract not to divulge mission objectives to others not in Limbus’s employ or under contract. Tasha might pull the deal with the Golden Transport if he leaked such sensitive information.

  “I told you what I needed it for,” he answered.

  The baby cooed then and Donaldo’s eyes flitted over. “Look what you did? The baby can’t sleep through bullshit.”

  He bent over the crib and picked up the infant. “Cute, eh?”

  “Very. She yours?”

  “Who knows?” Donaldo chuckled. “April’s loose enough to trap an elephant.”

  Jake tittered.

  Dean waited.

  The big man set the child down on the damp concrete. He angled his face up to Dean. “She crawls just like her mom. Want to see?”

  Dean shook his head. “Stop screwing around.”

  “Oh, I think this is important. I think you’re going to tell me why you’re really here on this moon, why Limbus is here.”

  “Why are you messing around with the kid?” Dean demanded. “It’s us talking here.”

  “Hold him,” Donaldo instructed his companion.

  Jake took Dean around the midsection. His slender arms were far stronger than they appeared. Dean tried to break free, but it wasn’t happening.

  Dean grunted and shook his head. “You aren’t going to let her go,” he said, calling his bluff. “We can just sit out here all damn day, which is pretty long, but I’m not going to tell you a lie. I told you why I’m here.”

  Donaldo laughed. “You ain’t heard the deal, Fulsome. See, this kid… she’s going to crawl. That’s what she does.”

  He gently took his hands away from the baby, who started off at once toward the edge of the pool.

  “You tell me and Jake will let you go. Doesn’t matter to me. April might get a bit cranky over this, but she’s a slut, not a mother.”

  The baby increased her crawling pace. It was only a yard away from the pool.

  “You aren’t going to let the kid drown,” said Dean. His heart thundered.

  “Oh, why?” Donaldo said with a goofy grin. “Because I’m better than that? Because under this is a heart of gold? You’ll have to ask all the people I’ve killed why they didn’t happen to get that side of me.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “This is awesome,” Jake whispered behind Dean.

  Donaldo nodded. “Hell yeah,” he said and turned around to watch the baby venturing closer.

  “Are you through?” Dean asked. “This is stupid. I told you why I’m here.”

  The baby was within a few feet of the pool’s edge.

  “Wow, Fulsome, you’re one stubborn bastard.”

  “Look—can you just pick the baby up? Let’s talk.”

  “We are talking—whoa, I think it’s about time to go over!”

  The baby placed her hand on the tiled edge.

  “Get her, you bastard!” Dean screamed.

  “No, you get her,” said Donaldo, “after you tell me.”

  “Christ!” Dean squirmed and Jake guffawed.

  The baby let out a sound as it pitched over the side, followed by a silent splash.

  “The Moon City Killer!” Dean yelled.

  Jake let go of him and Dean plowed over to the pool. Not ever learning how to dive, he belly-flopped into the water and furiously swam down to the child. He took hold of her wiggling form and made quickly for the surface. Thankfully, he heard her coughing as they emerged. Donaldo reached forward and took her. “You’re fine,” he muttered and gave her a few slaps on the back. He eyed the baby closely like a damaged wrist watch. “Yeah, fine.”

  Dean dragged his body out of the pool.

  “You did good, Fulsome.” Donaldo cackled.

  Dean glared at him as he shook his drenched sleeves and pants off.

  “Jake, go see what’s taking the chick so long.” Donaldo gently put the coughing baby back in the crib. His companion hurried off with a childish spring in his step. After he disappeared through the casino doors, Donaldo closed in on Dean. “Your secret’s safe, Fulsome.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I work for Limbus too.”

  “You what?”

  “Keep it down dumbass,” Donaldo cautioned. “I’m a plant here. You weren’t supposed to come, but now that you’re here, you have to know. The Lady’s gotten suspicious of me. I had to give her something on the video feed that looked like her brand of thuggishness. She don’t let outsiders in that easy, and if I brought you in cold, she’d not give you shit and she’d probably give me a harder look. Then we’re both screwed. Understand?”

  Dean tried to push down his loathing for the man with this new information, but it was difficult. “What about Jake?”

  “Jake’s a Sythe Android. I built him myself. He only speaks the words I give him to speak.”

  That explained the thin man’s strength. “You couldn’t have thought of something else? That was pretty shitty.”

  “Well, April and the baby are my androids too.”

  “You’re a fucker.”

  “I can live with that.” Donaldo slapped a big hand on his shoulder and pushed him to the door. “We got to keep up the look, you know.”

  “Was killing that tech at the transport station keeping up the look?” Dean asked.

  “That wasn’t me. That was one the mayor’s crew. Didn’t even know that was going down. He’s not a decent guy, Dean.”

  “And the Firecracker Lady, what’s she?”

  “A piece of work,” said Donaldo, “that’s what she is. Just you wait and see. I’m going to get you in to her.”

  “How can I keep my mission a secret now? I’ve blabbed it over her surveillance.”

  “There’s no audio around the pool area,” Donaldo explained. “But once we step inside though, you’re gonna be you and I’m gonna be the guy who almost let a baby drown.”

  April was on the other side of the door with two drinks in hand and Jake at her side. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “The baby needs you,” Donaldo said. He reached forward and squeezed her breast, making a honk honk noise.

  Jake laughed like a mental patient.

  The android woman named April glared at them both and Dean joined her.

  “What?” Donaldo said to Dean, feigning shock. “I make my chickbots feisty.”

  * * *

  Not in his entire life had Dean ever rode so long in an elevator. After a few minutes he was on the verge of asking Donaldo if it was broken, because he sensed no upward motion. This was a special elevator located behind the blackjack tables near the public restrooms, tucked in a secluded corner. Donaldo had used his keycard again to open it. So there were no other floors, just the top one, and in the elevator, the button only had the not-so-subtle thin drawing of a stick of dynamite on it. Maybe it was supposed to look like a firecracker, but it looked more lethal, and that made sense for everything he’d heard about this woman.

  “We’re almost there,” said Donaldo. He folded his arms behind his back. “So tell me, what’s up wit
h Earth? I haven’t been there in three years. Did that one jackass get elected? In the US?”

  “Probably,” replied Dean.

  “Can’t say that I miss it. I’m able to work with my robotics here and I’m valuable. I don’t think I’d be that valuable back there.”

  “You’d be surprised.” Dean stood there a moment longer, still dripping wet from the pool and his mouth hanging open. “How high does this friggin’ thing go?”

  “Four hundred and sixty-seven floors.”

  “I can’t believe you with that robot baby thing.”

  “Hey, you don’t know the half of it when it comes to me and robotics.”

  “I wasn’t giving you kudos for your androids—“

  “No worries. I deal with ignorant folk all the time.”

  Dean scratched his beard stubble with his middle finger.

  Donaldo continued, “So I got to tell you something about the lady. Okay, Fulsome? You listening?”

  “Nothing better to do. This elevator seems to be stuck on infinity.”

  Donaldo studied him for a moment as though unsure whether to process this as an insult or not. At last, he relented and turned to face Dean. His expression was the most serious he’d ever given Dean. “There are a couple things you should know before going to talk to her, especially since she knows you’re the Slaughter Man.”

  This was so exhausting and pointless. So many grand egos involved. Dean hated that sort of thing. He tried to wring more water out of his shirt. “What are these things?”

  “Don’t mention her hair. Ever. Not ever. It’s pretty. It’s red in a completely different way than you’d ever expect. It’s weird. It kind of-- no, shit, it does… turn on most people born with male parts--- but just leave it alone. Period. It’s not a point of discussion.”

  “I’m insanely in love right now. You’re not giving me anything I can’t handle,” Dean replied. “What else?”

  “Be careful with your questions. She likes to do the asking.”

  “But wait… I have to ask about the surveillance. I need to ask about that.”

  “Don’t phrase it like a question.”

  “That’s silly.”

  “Tell that to the twenty Grettish Friars she’s got posted around the room.” Donaldo grunted. “Take my word for it. Less questions or no questions is better. Let her ask and you answer. You’ll find that works best.”

  “Don’t mention the hair and no questions.”

  “You got it.”

  “What happens if I do? She going to sic the Friars on me?”

  “Something like that.”

  The doors to the elevator opened and Dean groaned, “Finally!”

  “Hush up, man,” Donaldo warned, immediately becoming more fragile than the man Dean had met at the pool.

  “What? She doesn’t like loud voices either?” Dean walked out onto a marble dais. “I’m beginning to think this Firecracker Lady has a touch of the bitchy.”

  “More than a touch,” said a voice from across the room. The woman, in her early thirties, stood behind a counter of different bottles of liquor. Her face and body were in shadow. Several locks of her hair poked out into the light like radiant red razor blades, but otherwise only her moving hands could be seen. She was crafting a drink in a two-foot-tall fluted glass. There were layers of purple, blue, and red, but that wasn’t the end. She was adding a thin layer of honey-colored liquor to the top. “So Morse told me about the pool downstairs. Don seemed to be having a bit of fun with you.”

  “He was,” Dean answered.

  “Daisey duckle doo.”

  Dean squinted and shook his head, “What does tha—?”

  Donaldo jabbed him in the ribs and he went silent, cutting his question off.

  The Firecracker Lady sniffed. It sounded impatient. It sounded bored by their presence. “It’s Fanglion for The dumber dumb ass loses.”

  With a sniff of his own, Dean shrugged. “If you say so.”

  She took a deep drink from the tall glass, nearly emptying half of it. With a sigh, she set it down and came around the bar. “All vitamin and protein solutions, if you must know. I’m not into poisoning myself.”

  She stepped into the light. Her hair was in a smart, short, business fashion, a shade of red Dean had never seen before. It was like copper alight with a neon chemical fire, yet it looked too natural to be dyed. Dean was stunned. It wasn’t even red… It was a brand new color his eyes were seeing for the first time. He immediately felt his body tense. He could understand why others found her irresistible, just for those spilling pieces of fire about her face, but Dean’s heart belonged at the other end of the universe.

  “How did you get—?”

  Another jab from Donaldo silenced him.

  The Firecracker Lady pulled over a chair from a small bistro table, turned it backward and straddled it. Even though she was dressed in a black business suit, it was apparent from its fit she was in extremely good shape. She didn’t allow herself to be ogled, however; there was a regality to her that would not be denied, and her deep gray eyes were especially haunting and powerfully affecting anywhere they aimed.

  Her lipstick was glossy black and it seemed to fit every word she uttered. “You’re leaking water all over my damn floor.”

  Dean looked down at his clothes. “Yeah, well, that wasn’t really how I’d planned this meeting to go.”

  “Yeah, you were put through the ringer. Look, I’ve got about a billion calls, texts, emails, and shitograms to answer, so can you tell me why you’ve chosen to show up here? I don’t work with Limbus, you know. Never directly anyway.”

  Dean tried to suppress his shock that she also knew his affiliation. “I wanted to see if we could make an arrangement. I need access to surveillance from a few taverns in the lower district. It’s for marketing purposes.”

  “Like hell it is.”

  “I have no reason to lie.”

  The Firecracker Lady laughed, but it sounded angry. Her eyes held him fiercely like a prey-hunting hawk. “I’m not some stupid broad who nods at something just because a man said it was so.”

  “You don’t know much about me, but if you did, you’d know I’m not a charmer. I’m not cunning. I’m not trying to pull one over on you. I just need what I need, and I hope we can make a deal.”

  “A deal?”

  “Yes.”

  She leaned back, amusement flickering in her steely eyes. “That sounds great, said the woman who has every goddamn thing she could ever dream of.”

  “Everybody has something they want and can’t have.”

  “Not me.”

  Dean seethed. He was tired of people messing around with him. He glanced to the shadowy recesses of the far walls. The Grettish Friars huddled there, gray eyes glowing with silent anticipation. He looked back to the Firecracker Lady. Her body language suggested she was through, that she wouldn’t entertain anything he would say. But he had to keep her. He had to see that Killer on those video feeds.

  “You’re wasting my time,” she said, smacking both of her lips with a crisp resonance in the room. “I don’t need to give you access to anything.” She stood and shoved the chair away from her. “I’ve got to get going. This was nice.”

  “Wait.” Dean straightened and cleared his throat and his toes curled inside his wet shoes. “Where’d you get that red hair from?”

  Donaldo gasped and stepped back toward the elevator.

  The woman slowly turned, eyes slits and face almost as red as her hair. “What did you… say?”

  “No, I didn’t say anything. I asked,” Dean reminded her. “Where’d you get that red hair from? Did your mom mate with a radioactive clown? I mean I’m sure some people are into that sort of thing, but it must be hard with all the good samaritans dousing your head with buckets of water all the time.”

  Donaldo tried the door, but it was apparently locked. “Shit…” he muttered.

  Dean locked eyes with the woman. She was actually very attractive, not
at all clown like, and her perfectly straight, unusual fiery hair was one thousand shades of beautiful, but he knew exactly why she didn’t like it mentioned. The Firecracker Lady wasn’t an object. She was a presence. A force. And he picked up quickly that she’d rather see a man dead than have him comment on her most striking features. She didn’t have time for sexist bullshit.

  That said, she looked pretty damned offended, even if she hadn’t called her Grettish Friars out of the shadows just yet.

  “Well, will you look at that,” she said with a twinkle in her savage stony eyes. “I see you needed my attention and you got it. Amazing. You’ve gone and amused me for a second, Dean.”

  “Aim to please,” he replied.

  “Fulsome, will you shut the hell up! I don’t want to die, you bastard!” Donaldo throttled the door knob.

  “Calm down, meatloaf face,” the Firecracker Lady demanded.

  Donaldo’s hand fell away from the door and he went as silent and still as a statue.

  The woman walked down and stood before Dean. He was several heads taller than she was, but her gaze held him like a vice. She made a circuit around him and hummed. “I deconstruct everybody I make a deal with, Slaughter Man.”

  Dean’s head cocked in surprise and her silken black lips parted into a grin. “I know who you are. I know you worked as a sticker at a slaughterhouse on Earth, in a city called Corona, California. Your job was to shove a knife into the throat of range animals all day long. Is that right?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Then you were fired for something unfair. Boo hoo. And Limbus found a contract for you with the Princess of Ganymede, which led to an attempt on your life. Namely, her trying to eat you, and then you incapacitating her with poison. You did me and the universe a pretty big favor with that little trick.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Still,” she mused, taking another walk around him, sizing him up, “you were probably more suited to continue working in a factory. You’re a director of a large program in an organization that spans the multiverses. It’s making that bald spot on the back of your head widen.”

  Absently, Dean stroked the back of his head. He maintained it was a cowlick.