Crescent

by Phil Rossi

  “Gerald. Calm down. You’re okay in there,” Ina’s voice came across the comm channel.

  I’m freaking the fuck out, Gerald thought. Far from goddamned okay. He forced himself to take a deep breath.

  “Gerald?” Ina’s voice came again.

  Another deep breath. Gerald looked for what had tripped him. There was nothing but empty floor. I tripped on my own foot, he thought.

  “I’m okay,” he said at last. He could hear Ina exhaling on the other end of the comm. She didn’t say anything. “Where do I have to go, Bean?”

  “There is a bulkhead at the aft of the hibernation cabin. Go through it and you’ll be in a corridor. Follow that corridor one hundred meters. There is a portal in the floor with a ladder that will lead to the engineering deck. Descend that ladder. I’ll instruct you from there.”

  The corridor seemed to go on for a featureless eternity. The narrow, arched passage had not seen light since the shuttle had crashed, Gerald was sure of it. He half expected to see albino, cave dwelling spiders skitter from his path. He was glad that he did not. He desperately missed the patch of stars that had been visible in the hibernation chamber. With each step into the dead interior of the lifeboat, he felt the panic try to resurface. He bit it back as best he could and focused on moving one foot in front of the other. Just ahead, he could see the portal to the next deck; a ladder emerged from a black hole in the floor and disappeared into an opening in the ceiling panels. A few more meters, he thought. A few more meters and he’d have to go into that hole. Further away from the starlight. Further away from Bean. If the lifeboat harbored any more mysteries, they’d been down there, in the dark. They’d be the kind of mysteries with glowing eyes, dripping fangs, and an appetite for salvage boat pilots.

  Gerald expected to hear his boots clank on the rungs of the ladder as he made his descent. All he could hear was the air handler within his suit. Beyond the helmet’s thin face plate was the silence of vacuum. The lack of sound was more unnerving than ever.

  “Where to now, Bean?” Gerald fought to keep his voice even. He had been on too many derelicts to count, some even older than the lifeboat, but this ship felt different. There was a sense of being in the wrong place that nagged at him with every soundless step.

  “There is a panel in the lower aft wall. Remove it by depressing a small release in each of the four corners. Crawl an additional fifty meters and you will come to a small ovoid chamber. This sits directly above the reactor core. You’ll find the release in this chamber.”

  Gerald removed the panel and it floated over his shoulder to bounce silently against the ceiling panels. He got onto his knees and peered into the service tunnel. It was far from spacious. Wall-to-wall and ceiling-to-ceiling, it was no bigger than a coffin.

  “Ina, your father’s rates have just gone up. A lot.”

  Gerald got onto his belly and used his elbows to drag himself forward. The going was slow. He kept his eyes down, only glancing up occasionally. There were dark smudges on the flooring and on the walls, the color of engine oil. He came to an oculus hatch that was frozen three-quarters open. It was just wide enough that Gerald thought he’d be able to get through, but when he tried, his shoulders got stuck. He started to jerk frantically, filling his lungs in preparation to scream bloody murder, but he managed to wriggle free. He exhaled and continued on.

  His head lamp beat back the darkness as he finally floated into the ovoid chamber. Walls curved into ceiling which curved into wall and back into ceiling again in an unending geometry. Gerald bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut.

  No. No. No. I’m not seeing this, he thought, not just in denial, but in blatant refusal of the signals his optic nerve transmitted to his brain. No.

  “Gerald?” It was Ina’s voice. “Your respiration is spiking again.”

  “I’ve found the passengers,” he whispered.

  Bodies filled the center of the room, piled in a tangled heap. Thin, sinewy arms and legs were twisted together in inhuman contortions. Mouths gaped; peeled-back lips exposed teeth that returned the light of Gerald’s head lamp in gleaming death-smiles. What the hell were the crew and passengers doing in here? He looked to the ceiling. There were more bodies up there, spread-eagled and just as black and as space-mummified as the others. What the hell happened on this ship? Gerald engaged the boots’ magnets and came in contact with the curved deck. A few hesitant steps brought him to the cadavers. Some of the passengers had been naked when they died. Their members were shriveled like the curl of a spent match. The passengers’ ragged flesh told of old wounds. Most, if not all, of the bodies had severe lacerations covering their torsos. In some instances, their bellies were torn wide open revealing dark, empty cavities.

  “Bean. Where is this goddamn release? I need to get out of here now.” He wasn’t even sure why he was bothering. The lifeboat should be left where they found it.

  “It is in the center of the room. There will be a protruding handle. Pull and turn it one-hundred and eighty degrees.”

  Center of the room. Beneath the pile of death.

  Gerald began to move the bodies, trying to his best to not to think about what he was doing. He lifted the desiccated and frozen remains of the lifeboat passengers, first one at a time, and then in armfuls, casting them aside. The bodies drifted away from him in graceful cartwheels, raisin-like eyes staring, jaws set in perpetual grins. It was too strange. Absurdly, Gerald felt like an intrepid explorer who had just stumbled into the lair of some savage, long-tusked beast.

  Lair. Was that what this room was—a lair? Don’t even think it, he thought. Keep digging.

  Gerald thanked a god, he wasn’t really sure which one, when he got to the bottom of the heap and saw the metal protrusion Bean had said would be there. Gerald grabbed it and pulled. It gave easily. He began to turn it, finding that it moved freely in its close-fitting socket. A stroke of luck at last. The release caught and Gerald felt a vibration in the handle.

  “Bean?”

  “The core has been jettisoned, Captain.”

  “I need to retire. Today,” Gerald said.

  There was a loud, concussive bang. It came from a black opening at the opposite end of the room. I didn’t hear that. I felt it, he thought. It happened again. Stronger this time. Something had caused the chamber to tremble with such force that it reverberated in his suit.

  “Bean? Is the ship falling apart?” Gerald was already on his belly, dragging himself back into the cramped service channel.

  “Negative, Captain. The structure is stable.”

  He felt it again—a rhythmic thump, thump. Like something was moving. Moving toward him. Whatever it is, it’s still here, Gerald thought, and I’m in its lair. He pulled himself down the tunnel as fast as he could. The vibration was getting more intense.

  “Captain. I’m picking up a strange energy reading on the ship. It’s emanating sixty meters to your rear.”

  Faster, Gerald thought, I’ve got to move faster.

  The tremors continued to increase. Gerald could feel them between his legs as a growing tingle. Faster, come on. There was light in the tunnel. Cold and violet, it leaked around the small space between his body and the channel wall, casting sharp, writhing shadows.

  Murhaté. The word was whispered in his ear, the dry husk of a nearly incomprehensible voice.

  “Motherfucker.”

  The light was getting bright enough that Gerald could see his exit and the corridor beyond it. The dark smudges on the tunnel walls stood out in the lilac glare. How had he not realized it before? It was long-dried blood that stained the walls.

  Make us whole.

  Gerald burst free from the service channel and ran for the ladder.

  “Gerald, are you okay?” Ina sounded panicked. He didn’t spare the breath it would take to answer her.

  Gerald hazarded a look over his shoulder.

  The light bled from the service channel hatch in a painful blaze.

  “Gerald!” Ina sounded frantic.<
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  Gerald had to squeeze his eyes shut against the cold radiance. He stumbled. Fuck me, he thought defeated, this is it.

  Make us one!

  Darkness. The light was gone. Gerald sensed that he was alone again, but that didn’t slow him down. He was up the ladder, down the hall, back in the hibernation chamber and floating toward Bean in a fraction of the time it had taken him to enter the ship.

  “Gerald?” Ina said over the comm again. He could see her, pressed against the glass of the viewport. Her voice was small.

  “You call your father,” Gerald said, struggling to catch his breath, “and tell him there is something very wrong with this ship.”

  (Part VI)

  “Yes, dear. I like you just fine,” Ezra Kendall said and slipped into a pseudo-silk robe. It was the truth. He did like her just fine. His fondness for her or lack thereof had nothing to do with his inability to finish the job. Mayor Kendall eyed the prostitute’s bare breasts. They were the real thing. He was sure of it. A prostitute with real tits was not something you found every day, Kendall knew. Even that fact hadn’t helped him finish the job. He looked at her face now. He could see that she had been pretty once. That was fairly certain. Now, a scar ran from her chin to her left eye, the cornea was milky and malformed; the blemish detracted from her looks. But, she was a real woman. I’m too uptight lately, Kendall thought. Might be that I’ll just have to try again later. He went to the small, oak bar that stood along the far wall of his bed chamber and looked up at the framed LCD suspended there. The shimmering pixels showed a super-station floating over a backdrop of stars; two rings glittered as they rotated on a shared axis. The portrait was a vision of Crescent—Kendall’s vision of what the station would look like, were it to be completed. One of these days, he vowed, he would finish the construction that was halted so long ago. And soon, he reminded himself.

  “My money?” the girl said in a voice that was almost a whisper. It was like she was afraid to ask for her payment. If there was one thing that Kendall appreciated, it was making good on a deal. He filled a snifter with a brandy that was as genuine as her breasts.

  “You’ll be paid on your way out. I’m old fashioned. I’d rather not be part of the money exchange. Understand?”

  “Yes, sweetheart. I believe I do.”

  The bed linens whispered as she slipped from between their soft confines; the sound was followed by the clack of heels on the hardwood. She click-clacked her way to the door; it hissed open. She clacked through, the door hissed shut, and Kendall was alone again. He lifted the snifter to his lips and inhaled deeply. Yes. Real was the only way to go. Snifter cradled in one hand, Kendall padded barefoot past the antique mahogany sleigh bed and drew open the curtains that hung above the headboard. A circular viewport showed a toss of stars, snaked with faint wisps of nebulosity. He placed his hand on the glass; it was cool to the touch. Kendall depressed a finger beneath his ear and there was a click.

  “Taylor, please have Catlier and Raney go retrieve Ms. Griffin. Officer Griffin. I will meet with her here.”

  “Right away, sir,” Taylor’s voice crackled over the cochlear implant.

  (•••)

  The door slid open on its track; Kendall still stared out the window, enjoying the lingering taste of the brandy. The glass was empty now. He’d have to see about that.

  “You wanted to see me, Mayor.” There was the slightest quaver in the alto voice. She probably didn’t even know it was there—most wouldn’t notice it—but he did. It was like blood in the water; Kendall licked his lips.

  “Yes, Officer Griffin.” He moved from the window and settled into an antique, cushioned chair; the plastic and metal frame creaked as it adjusted to his weight. “Your first name is Marisa, is it not?”

  “It is,” she said. She was in her uniform; fitted, blue sleeves tapered to hands that were at her sides. Her hair was piled atop her head in a tight bun. She was a pretty girl. Fetching, even. Perhaps a little old for his taste. Kendall preferred his females young. According to her personnel file, Griffin was approaching thirty. Even still, exceptions could always be made.

  “May I call you Marisa?”

  “I don’t see the harm in that.” Marisa smiled. The gesture was forced. Kendall appreciated the effort.

  “Sit down, Marisa… sit down, please.” Kendall gestured to the tousled bed. Was that a little blood on the sheets? Marisa hesitated, but only for a moment; she crossed the polished floor and seated herself on the thick mattress, just across from the mayor.

  “Do you know why I’ve asked you here?” Kendall looked into his empty snifter and got to his feet; the robe parted slightly and he felt a draft on his member. Marisa’s eyes snapped up to his face; she had noticed. Good for her.

  “I think so,” she said. Snifter refilled, Kendall returned to his seat.

  “Good. No sense in beating around the bush then. I appreciate that. It was unfortunate. The incident at Heathen’s. Core Sec is sending someone to audit the operations of this station. Imagine that. An auditor. Here. You know as well as I, Marisa, that I—we—run a tight ship here. Still, there’s bound to be a mistake or two, here or there. It is a crying shame that your superior saw fit to file an official report on one small incident. Not to mention, place a permanent mark on your record as an officer.”

  Marisa’s face remained calm; there was no hint of emotion. He admired her control. The supposed betrayal must have been hard to swallow.

  “I thought Captain Benedict was a man I could rely upon. I’m sure you felt the same. But his prudence in this matter seems to be lacking, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Marisa didn’t answer. Her features remained still and she almost appeared disinterested. Kendall imagined the rage that must be bubbling up inside her. He felt his cock give the weakest of twitches.

  “Of course you would. After all, you’re the one who took the blame for the whole incident. Marisa, as Mayor of Crescent, I’m in a fairly powerful position. I could have your record wiped clean.” It was a lie. He had no strong relations in central Core Sec. He cared as much about the lie as he did about her record. The incident at Heathen’s was not even the impetus for the auditor’s visit, Kendall knew. General Audit was the only reason given on the notification. Heathen’s was but a footnote. None of that was important, what was important was that her eyes brightened. Kendall had her. He was pleased.

  “Go on,” she said in even tones.

  “Nothing is for free, Marisa. I’m sure you understand that. If you want a shining record of service again, you’re going to have to work for it, dear.”

  She stood suddenly, cheeks flushed, and she wrapped her arms around herself protectively. Her dark eyes fell to the twisted sheets and then moved to the door.

  “No, no, sweetheart. Nothing so dramatic.” Kendall smiled, attempting to lace the grin with as much reassurance as possible. They’d get into that bed together in due time, but not now.

  “It is clear to me that I’m going to need a second set of eyes, ears, and hands within Crescent’s security force when this auditor arrives. It is also clear to me that I cannot trust Captain Benedict with the task. Do you think that’s something you could do for me? Act as my eyes and ears?”

  “What would it entail?”

  “Whatever I ask. That is what it will entail. If you please me, then I will make sure your record reflects your stalwart service. Get us through this rough spot with Core Sec and we can move forward from there.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  Kendall nodded. He got to his feet and extended a bony hand. She took it in her own for a single, downward shake. Her skin was soft and warm. She began to withdraw, but he gripped her fingers for an instant longer, his smile going from sweet to venomous.

  “Don’t fuck this up, Officer Griffin. I wouldn’t want to have to punish you as much as you wouldn’t want to be punished.” Another lie—he’d love to punish her. He released his grip.

  “Are we done here?”

 
“Unless you want to join me for a brandy, yes. We are done here.”

  She began to move toward the door.

  “One more thing, Marisa. Let’s keep this little talk between you and I.”

  “Of course,” she said, the words almost lost in the whine of the door motors.

  Kendall felt better. He activated his cochlear.

  “The young prostitute with the scar and the real tits. Find her and bring her back. I don’t care if she’s busy. Deal with it and bring her here. And Taylor. Make sure she’s clean.”

  “You have a four thirty with the finance minister, Mayor.” Taylor responded.

  “Well, send him here. He can watch for all I care.”

  Kendall was going to fuck the hell out of the little whore, picturing Officer Griffin’s pretty face the whole while.

  (•••)

  Marisa looked at Gerald. Gerald looked at Marisa. Neither spoke.

  I saw that motherfucker’s prick, Marisa wanted to scream into Gerald’s face. But he seemed to be unable to make eye contact with her, or even to speak. He seemed more interested in the top of their table; the LCD above the bar came in close second. Instead of yelling, she lifted the pint of amber lager to her lips. The beer was Heathen’s own special brew, made right on the station. She took a shallow sip. Although a favorite, the beer wasn’t doing all that much to settle the chaos in her gut, but she thought it smart to feign normalcy. Despite her best efforts, nothing felt normal. Her world seemed to be fucked every which way from Tuesday and showed no signs of righting itself.

  The batwing doors of the club swung open. Both Marisa and Gerald looked over and watched Taylor amble into the bar. Marisa had never seen him walk before. It was almost comical. Taylor’s legs were so damned huge, he had to keep them slightly apart to accommodate movement. It looked like he had just pinched off a loaf in his knickers. I bet his prick is as shriveled as his boss’, she thought, and actually laughed out loud. Gerald arched a brow but still didn’t say anything. He lit a cigarette and watched Taylor make his shit-pantsed way to the bar. The big man leaned in toward Maerl and said something to him. Maerl frowned and dropped his eyes. Taylor leaned in closer and the bartender pointed a finger in the direction of Marisa and Gerald’s table.