The Last Horizon

by Anthony Hartig

  Less than a minute later, the blue running lights of a runway appeared just outside city limits.

  “Zephyr, you should have a visual on the landing strip from your position, please confirm.”

  “10-4, Fluture, I have a visual and have initiated final approach sequence.” I glanced at Scotty and nodded.

  “Adjust airspeed to three hundred knots.”

  “Welcome to Nexus.” I smiled as I pushed forward on a lever to my left that lowered the landing gear. “Looks like we’re setting down in a mining colony.”

  “How far are we from the city?”

  “Not far, about sixteen kilometers.”

  “I’m going to have to make arrangements for transportation when we land.”

  “Fluture. That’s a beautiful name for a city.”

  “It’s Romanian.” Scott smiled back. “The founder of the city, Dimitrie Lascăr, was from a European continent on Earth. Fluture means butterfly.”

  “The city’s named Butterfly?”

  “Yes. The area that Fluture was built on is actually the breeding grounds for a species of butterfly called the Blue Morphus Luna Didius. It’s the largest butterfly known to man. Every five years, millions of Didius migrate here to mate. It’s a spectacular event to witness.”

  “Why here?”

  “It’s the fauna. Their larva feed on a variety of plants that can only be found in several places on Nexus. The Didius that come here were born here. After their metamorphosis, they make a twenty-five hundred mile journey to a coastal region where they spend nine months. When they come back to Fluture, they mate, lay their eggs, then fly lack to the southern coast to die.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I’m a genius.” Scotty smirked. “This is the year for the Didius to return to Fluture. Maybe we’ll get to see them.”

  “Blue Zephyr,” our contact said briskly, “once you touch down, full reverse on your thrusters. The landing strip is only a mile and a half long.”

  “Shit!” I laughed and shook my head. “It’s always something.”

  “Is this a problem?”

  “We’ll be okay…” I grinned, “…trust me.”

  “Good god.”

  We could see a huge mining site sprawled ahead as we made our approach. Wide dirt roads crisscrossed for miles in the darkening landscape that had been scarred by intense excavations. Heavy earth-moving equipment dotted the ground and the silhouettes of conveyor systems in steel trestles loomed in the darkness as we neared the landing strip.

  There were hundreds of white, three story tilt-slab apartments, and dozens of glass office buildings that stretched for at least five miles on the western border of the mines. There was also what appeared to be a water treatment plant seated on the southern portion of the colony along with a series of process facility buildings, warehouses, and bulk chemical tanks.

  I centered the Zephyr between the running lights of the strip and brought the nose up ten degrees. The thrusters droned heavily, and I extended the leading edges of the wings and rear stabilizers along with the air brakes to slow our descent as I lit up the high intensity beams under the fuselage and wings to illuminate the terrain in front of us.

  We touched down with a slight bump as the main landing struts absorbed the force, and the nose wheel made contact with the steel tarmac. I reached down and pushed the trim levers forward steadily and began reverse thrust with the engines.

  The Zephyr barreled past the small control tower of the landing strip, when I deployed a drag chute and put the thrusters in full reverse; the engines screamed and we were pushed forward against our seat harnesses as the ship vibrated hard and came to a slow taxi.

  We came to a full stop at the edge of the airstrip where steel deflector barriers lined the perimeter. I could see the high grass in front of us being blown flat from our jets when I ramped them down to a five percent thrust and turned the Zephyr around a hundred and eighty degrees. A pilot truck pulled in front of us with its lights blinking and we were flanked on both sides by two black FAV’s as we taxied forward.

  The VDU blinked and our host appeared once again. “Bravo, Zephyr.” The man smiled widely. “A well-executed landing on your part Ms. Wells. Please follow the truck to the designated hanger. Welcome to Cybelle.”

  Chapter 8

  I shut the thrusters down when we reached the area by the control tower where a crawler latched on to us, and we were towed into a brightly lit hanger. I removed my helmet, set it on top of the instrument panel, and sighed with relief.

  When we came to a full stop, I shut down all the systems and subsystems and depressurized the bridge and cargo bay. I stood up and put on my jacket and fedora and stretched my arms.

  “What do you think, Scotty?”

  Scott grabbed his gear and looked at me sternly as he put away his SCaT Pad. “Thanks for the ride Nikki,” he smiled shyly as he shouldered his pack, “I’ll see you back here in five days, okay?”

  “Five days,” I replied, “and don’t be late.” I opened the rear cargo doors and dropped the loading ramp.

  When we stepped out of the Zephyr, we were met by the passengers of the FAV’s. Rough looking bunch. One of them was clean-cut, bald, and well-dressed. He wore a dark suit and stood confidently among his cronies at the bottom of the ramp.

  Scotty and I walked down the ramp and watched in silence as the suit lit a cigarette and inspected the Zephyr, he shook his head as he ran his hand over the tears and holes in the panels. “Jesus.” He shot me a hard look. “You’re the pilot?”

  “Yes I am.” I sighed as I gazed up at the thrashed vertical rudder.

  “I see your ship has incurred some damage.”

  “We ran into some trouble on the way here. Pirates tried to hijack us, it’s the reason we didn’t get here sooner.”

  “What system did this happen in?” He frowned.

  “Doesn’t matter. We took care of them.” I said coldly. “Can you recommend any aerospace mechanics?”

  A moment later, two forklifts pulled up followed by a small crew of workers that gathered around us. They stood in a loose group and peered into the ship’s hold.

  The man in the suit clapped his hands and barked, “Okay boys, you know the drill. Let’s get the merchandise off-loaded.” He turned to one of the drivers, “Flynn, get the containers to the staging area and start an inventory. I’ll contact Charon and let him know that they’ve arrived on time.”

  The driver nodded silently and looked at me. “Is the overhead crane in your ship operable?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “May I?”

  “Certainly. Careful with the handle for the trolley--it sticks sometimes.”

  “One moment please.” The suit crushed his cigarette and pulled out his phone. “Mr. Charon, Jase. Yes sir, the product is here. It’s being brought to the staging area as we speak. I’ll call you back with a full inventory when Flynn’s done. By the way, the pilot’s ship took some damage from hijackers during the voyage. Yes sir, I’ll let them know.” Jase put his phone away. “When did you plan to depart?”

  “Five days from now…the 29th.”

  “Your ship will be ready by then. Please make yourself available to answer any questions the mechanics and technicians may have concerning the Zephyr.”

  “I’m prepared to pay for the repairs.”

  “My employer will take care of the repairs for your ship.”

  The suit walked up to us and extended his hand. “I think a formal introduction is overdue. I’m Jase.”

  “Nikki Wells.” I said with a nod as I shook his hand.

  “Fenmore Scott.” Scotty volunteered.

  “We’ve made accommodations for both of you here at Cybelle. I think you’ll find your apartments quite agreeable and your stay pleasant.”

  “That’s very generous of you, Mr. Jase,” Scotty said, “but I’ve already made provisions in Fluture.”

  “As you wish.” Jase bowed. “I’ll arrange for your transport
ation to the city. “I have to admit, Ms. Wells,” Jase smiled, “I was skeptical about your ability to hit the schedule when I was told you left Earth six days ago.”

  “It’s been a hell of a journey.”

  “Looks like it. Let’s get you settled in.”

  Scotty and I exchanged SP numbers as I threw my gear in one of the FAV’s.

  A black Avarno SS-2 sedan pulled up to us and the driver got out and handed Scotty the keys.

  “Nice ride, Scotty.”

  “You’ll be okay Nikki?”

  “Yeah, I can handle things on my end.” I glanced at the FAV driver that was waiting for me. “What about you?”

  Scott smiled wordlessly as he put his bags in the passenger seat of the car, slid into the driver’s side, and fired up the vehicle. He nodded at me then drove into the night.

  Charon moved through the crowded floor of the casino accompanied by two bodyguards. He enjoyed mingling with the clientele and checking in with the dealers on busy nights like this, it gave him a chance to press the flesh and see everything in action. This was his business now, and he liked to be as hands-on as possible.

  It’s been three hours since he talked to Jase and he wondered what the status was with his purchase. He spent a lot of money on this product and he was concerned about Montrell’s ability to deliver. If he got burned on this deal, he would see to it that Montrell suffered.

  He sighed with relief when his phone rang, and saw that it was Jase. “It’s about time. What’s going on Jase?” Charon said impatiently.

  “Sorry for the delay, Mr. Charon, we had to make sure everything was copasetic, so we counted and weighed everything twice.”

  “And?”

  “All three thousand gallons of isomerized Beta-ephedrine are accounted for, they came in five-gallon containers beneath the cosmetics. Sorben tested random samples of the product and it’s a hundred percent pure.”

  “Excellent, get the Beta-ephedrine palletized and to the lab as soon as possible. Looks like Montrell came through and is a man of his word.”

  “What do you want to do with the ship’s crew? Shall we go ahead with the repairs?”

  He was feeling unusually generous in light of the good news. “Nothing. They’re Montrell’s employees. They’ll be useful to us again for the next delivery. Do whatever it takes to get their ship space worthy.”

  “What about the cosmetics?”

  “Get them distributed to the call-out sites for the girls.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Charon hung up and smiled. Three thousand gallons. His production rate was going to escalate twenty-fold over the next few months, and his drug ring profit would grow exponentially once this new batch of Crunch hits the streets and mining colonies.

  He walked up to a young woman wearing a silver gown with a plunging neckline. A choker made of blue Serenian pearls accented the curve of her neck and gave her an air of nobility. She was about eighteen years old and stood at a Black Jack table with a well-dressed man that was at least twice her age.

  She was just fourteen years old when Charon found her. A runaway from Southern Icarus wandering the streets of Fluture; lost, confused, and desperate, she stood outside his casino spanging the customers when he saw her and took her under his protection from the nickel and dime urchins.

  She was a petite 5’-4”, with long brown hair and a dark complexion that brought out the color of her light blue eyes. Exotic. Her birth name was irrelevant now, to Charon and his clients, she was known only as Summer, and her time was worth a fortune.

  “I want you at my table.” Charon whispered in her ear as he put his hand on her shoulder.

  “Now?” Summer asked demurely.

  “Be ready in thirty minutes.”

  “Yes Mr. Charon.” Summer smiled as she dismissed herself and headed up to her room.

  Charon’s bodyguards watched her disappear into the crowd then looked at each other deviously.

  Summer was well cared for and her apartment was luxurious. She bought everything with her own money, and it was her sanctuary from her job--it was the one place they couldn’t touch her, the only place she knew as home.

  Her only wish was that one day she could leave this place and go far away from Fluture. Far away enough to forget this life and find herself peace and happiness. She could barely remember her old life before Charon; all there was were broken memories of an abusive step-father that used to beat her mother.

  She remembered the blood-stained aprons and the blackened eyes on her mother when she got home from school…the falling down the stairs excuse was never a convincing story. Especially when he would be passed-out on the living room couch from another alcohol-induced coma. She hated him for what he did, and she often tried to persuade her mom to leave before she ended up dead.

  But it was Summer that ran, under the cover of night, she packed a small bag, stole the cash out of his billfold, and hitched out of the house without looking back. She would never look back.

  She turned heads as she glided through the hotel lobby and stepped into the glass elevator that would take her to the fourteenth floor apartment. Summer turned around and clutched her small purse as she watched the glimmering city lights below as the elevator rose.

  She surveyed her studio as she walked in and turn on some music. Summer sat in front of her vanity and reapplied her lipstick as she checked her hair and eye shadow. She sat quietly and opened a drawer where she pulled out a small mirror and razorblade and set them on the counter.

  She reached into her purse, took out a small glass vile, and emptied some of its contents on the mirror where she started chopping-up the white powder with the razor. It was a regrettable ritual. Summer pushed the Crunch into a line, took a short glass tube, leaned down, and inhaled it quickly. When she looked at her reflection again, she was crying.

  “Jesus Christ this bird’s been through some shit!” The mechanic cussed as a half-chewed cigar dangled from his lips. He rubbed the back of his head as he looked over the fuselage of the Zephyr. “Look at the farking hole in this panel!” He pointed. “What the hell did that?”

  “Nevermind what did that, can you fix this within four days or not? I’m looking to head back to Earth by then.”

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s doable, girlie.” The mechanic exhaled. “I’m going to have to purge the cryogen system in order to cut out and replace the punctured section of that twenty inch main.”

  “But it’s got a bypass.”

  “Oh yeah. I can see it now,” he gestured as he pulled the stogie out of his mouth, “I strike an arc, it ignites residual cryogen gas, and blows my ass up to the back of my neck.”

  “But you’ve got hair on the back of your neck.”

  “Then I guess I’m gonna have a hairy ass after the explosion.”

  I looked away trying not to laugh. “What do you think?”

  “Don’t worry young lady, the guys and I will have your ship tooled and fueled in three days.”

  “Hey, where can a girl go to have some fun around here?”

  “You plan on going to the city?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Ya got a way to get there?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  He squinted at me and shook his head. “Space jockey.” He smirked. “Follow me.” He led me down a corridor to another part of the hanger. “What’s your name anyway, girlie?”

  “Nikki.”

  “Pleased to meet’cha. I’m Doolie. I’m the master mechanic in this facility. The boss said to take care of you, so here we are.” He turned on the bay lights in a workshop and there were six cars parked tightly in a garage. “Take your pick. They’re all loaners reserved for special guests.”

  “How about that one?” I pointed at a black racing bike sitting in the corner.

  “That’s a Neko A3 Cyclone.”

  “Yeah, it sure is.” I smiled. “Otherwise known as The Cat.”

  Doolie rolled his eyes as he pulled the keys off a pegboard mounted
on the wall and tossed them to me. “Space jockey.” He grinned. “Have fun in Fluture.”

  “Meow!” I winked as I slipped on the helmet.

  Chapter 9

  Fluture was truly the city of lights on Nexus; beautiful, overpowering, and restless, I could almost feel the pulse of the city as I watched the sidewalks swarming with people prowling through the lights in the nightly hunt for the next thrill in their lives in the concrete jungle.

  The boulevard was lined with clubs, casinos, and luxury highrises that towered over the mass of activity. Brightly decorated banners with tiny blue and white lights were strung overhead and declared this year as “The Year of the Butterfly”. Scotty was right, the migration of the Didius was an event not to be missed in Fluture.

  The neon lights of the main drag flashed in a kaleidoscope of brilliant colors as I cruised along with stretch-limousines, taxi cabs, and flashy status symbols of the ultra-rich. This was the city where fortunes were made and lost in seconds, and lives hinged on fate and luck.

  The casino I was looking for was just up ahead--The Orchid was the largest and most lavish structure there; it was the diamond of Fluture nightlife. There were huge fountains with waterfalls in the center of the porte cochère where guests pulled up and were greeted by smartly dressed valets constantly hustling to park their cars or open the doors of the limos to usher in the highrollers and celebrities.

  This was the place where the rich and famous came to be seen, adored, and envied. The Orchid was where money worshipped the face of youth with extravagance and excess.

  I pulled in on the Cyclone and idled in front of the main entrance when a valet in a red jacket jogged up to me. “Excuse me sir, you’ll have to park over there.” He pointed to a gated area where about forty motorcycles were grouped for the evening. “I can take your personal items and helmet after you find a spot.” He smiled warmly.

  I nodded silently at the valet and gunned the Cat to the designated space and shut it off. I opened the small storage compartment behind the seat and grabbed my silver clutch bag and headed toward the lobby.