Mercury's Orbit

by Lia Black

  That sounded like more “Flutterby Logic”, but Sean couldn’t claim to be surprised. Despite declaring some kind of truce between them, Mercury was still Mercury, and Sean didn’t have a home to offer him, because he didn’t even have one himself. Mercury would likely reject it if he did.

  34

  He’d hated to have to leave Sean. It had been so difficult to get out of the warm bed with the strong body beside him. Sean’s body beside him. Mercury felt something jagged rising to his throat and he swallowed it back; it burned all the way down to his heart. Sean. His Precious one. The look on Sean’s face when he’d told him he would be gone for a while…it was confusion, pain…maybe disappointment because Mercury had withheld another secret from him. Something else he couldn’t know. Mercury wished he could have told him, but Sean, well-meaning, would have kept him from coming here. He would have kept him from risking so much.

  But Mercury was risking it all for him.

  He didn’t care what the chip contained. It would be destroyed when he went down in flames with the burning Sol Labs. But if there was something there that could clear Sean’s name, he had to access it, get it someplace safe.

  There was a place in Underbridge that was the closest thing to a medical clinic the residents had. Not nearly as sanitary or safe as the place on the main level where he’d taken Sean. Few had the means or interest in going above. Up there, they might be cured or healed, but the cost for many would be freedom, or a prognosis that made them aware of impending death. Down here, nobody had the luxury of wasting away surrounded by the legal trappings and certainty of final death. Down in Underbridge, every day was survival, and if survival meant a meat saw and leather straps, the momentary price of pain was worth it. Infections were not treated so much as cut off. That could mean fingers, limbs, flesh went with it. It wasn’t pretty, but it was necessary, and the best option Mercury had. He’d set this all up in bits and pieces, slipping out while Sean slept, to arrange for his inevitable, though hopefully temporary, absence. He’d hoped to have more time, but that was letting in doubt. There would be time. There was no “just in case” alternative.

  Thanks to his clandestine visits to the clinic above when Sean was in residence there, Mercury had accumulated things this place didn’t normally have, and sorely needed. He dumped out the bottles and wipes filled with antiseptic that he’d stuffed into his bag, across the top of the counter where the other man stood. A few rolled off, but the man—Doc Barton, he was called—didn’t seem to notice. His rheumy red eyes were fixated on the credits being piled on the counter along with everything else.

  “Two hours,” Mercury said. “I will clean it before, you will clean it after and make sure that my body remains alive and gets to Elias Klegg.” Elias and Glenn had been working for Mercury, helping him to get things set up here ahead of time. Glenn’s daughter, Delia, was an excellent runner—transporting things from place to place, delivering messages. If she were older, Mercury would suggest putting her in charge of Underbridge. She was smart, and had an emotional strength Mercury hadn’t seen before in someone so young. She obviously loved her father and he loved her back. Maybe if Mercury’s father had loved him, he could have found that same strength and been so much more.

  Well, none of that mattered now.

  Doc Barton, which was more of a nickname than his profession, had managed to have his makeshift clinic built atop a maintenance shaft. Stairs telescoped down to the floor below as Mercury lifted the hatch and descended into the compartment. It was an area that was only slightly larger than the ten-by-ten container above it and lit up with a light so bright, the lack of shadows was disorienting. There was old medical equipment here, but it was mostly in good shape and fairly clean. Most of it, he wouldn’t be using; only the specialty pieces he’d commissioned from Glenn.

  He popped the scans of his brain into a small projection device, turning the three-dimensional image to double-check the path he’d found that should lead him directly to the chip in his head. Set dead-center on his frontal lobe, branches of neural fibers were spread across it, twisting around it and firing off whatever impulses its presence affected. None of those signals were programs of any use, for that’s what he’d decided they were. Perhaps they were supposed to be useful somehow, but they were malfunctioning, which was the reason for the headaches, the hallucinations, and the bursts of rage that he rarely remembered. That had to be it, because it all fit so neatly together. He supposed it also affected his impulse control, but he hadn't found the lack of it so bothersome. Hesitation and introspection were time-wasters; guilt and remorse were unnecessary if one didn't consider that other options existed.

  Glenn’s equipment had all ready arrived and been set up down here. It was a simple, yet remarkable reproduction of a surgical device used when operating on the head to keep it still. Nothing high-tech, just a padded stabilizer mounted to a block. Glenn had added a few extra pieces, modifying it to meet Mercury’s request.

  He’d thought about forcing an actual surgeon to handle this matter, but one slip—deliberate or not—could render him incapacitated long enough for Sol Labs to come pick him up. Besides, no one here, even above, was skilled enough to pull this off.

  Mercury had spent hours following the correct path in his imagination to get to the chip in his head. He wasn’t going to remove it—that would surely kill him or make him as useful as a dead man. No. Chips stored data. Data could be captured and copied. Whatever was on the chip was important enough for his father to stop at nothing to get it.

  Glenn had been excited to create the recording probe for Mercury, as well as this set-up. Good tinkers didn’t ask why someone wanted what they wanted; they just made it for a price. Glenn was a good tinker.

  Most recording devices didn’t need to stretch great distances; some could even be configured to pick up the data being transmitted to them through the air. Unfortunately, the thing in Mercury’s head wasn’t transmitting, so it would have to be jacked. For that he needed a long probe and a wire to attach to the chip where he intended to copy the data.

  The probe was a thing of disquieting beauty. It looked like a very long and solid 10 gauge nail with a tiny light at the pointed end to guide the enclosed camera. Mercury would have to see exactly where he was going once he got into his head. According to Glenn, the recording mechanism was very sensitive; all he had to do was touch it to the chip in his brain and it would transfer the data, likely heavily encrypted, to a device outside of his body. Then it would be packaged up with the rest of the things that had needed doing, and Elias would make sure they got back to Earth at the specified time.

  Mercury performed a careful ritual, laying out all of the tools he would need. He had one chance at this. While he had no doubt he would be successful, he found self-inflicted pain far less enjoyable than being hurt by someone who wasn’t sure if they wanted to kill him or fuck him—or both. Maybe he’d outgrown that somewhat since meeting Sean.

  Something tightened in his chest as he thought of his most precious one. He understood that even if he somehow survived destroying his father, there would be no future between them. Mercury had not been created for the good of humanity, so it seemed reasonable to assume he wasn’t capable of being good for even one man. And Sean was a good man. It was too bad that Evan hadn’t seen that; perhaps he might, someday.

  Making certain everything was aligned and ready, Mercury turned on the monitor in front of him, adjusting it so he could see the projection of his brain without having to shift his eyes. He moved the probe around, verifying that the embedded camera was sending data, and paused to look at his face, reflected back at him from the monitor as he pointed the camera at himself. Did he resemble the man who made him at all? Maybe the shape of his face, his nose, the placement of the ears? He had no idea. His memories of his father were vague, but he was certain that when they came face to face, his father would recognize him, seconds before Mercury snuffed out the sun. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to ca
lm his fluttering heart, and set himself into the head brace.

  The light from the camera was very bright in the field of his right eye, making it water as the surgical contraption kept him from blinking. He could make out a little with his left eye, enough to verify what the camera was seeing. Mercury slid the probe forward along the track. For a moment, the world was nothing but white on that side, then came the sharp pain as he pierced through the soft tissue of his eye.

  The sensation was intense and Mercury let out an uncontrolled combination of whimpers and giggling, biting his bottom lip to keep it from turning into a scream. Once through the sensitive membrane, the pain became duller, sickening, like a deep bone bruise. He watched the camera’s slow progress on the monitor until he was able to see the dark chip, woven into the fabric of his brain. The chip actually had a tiny Sol Labs logo, which Mercury would have found funny if he wasn’t trying not to pass out. The tears running from his right eye were getting thicker with blood and whatever else was leaking out. The eye would be useless for a few days, but would heal. The benefits of being a monster.

  Mercury touched the edge of the probe to the chip and his head became full of sparks. He saw monsters, the teddy bear, flashing lights…things he couldn’t name, all swirling, running together like paint. The encrypted data was flooding his brain, making pictures, nightmares and dreams, a roaring wall of sound. If Mercury hadn’t thought to strap himself in, he would have been flinching, as his body jerked from the electrical impulses jangling along his nerves. He was vaguely aware that he was having a hard time breathing through the blood running down his throat from his bitten tongue. Lungs did what they should, forced a cough that brought it all up and out of his mouth. He heard rain, that he would realize later was the sound of his blood hitting the floor tiles. Everything was a cyclone of sound and sight and smell. The pain was intangible as such, but he felt the probe rip through his eyeball as it moved of its own accord in the socket. His muscles locked with one final explosion in his head, then ink flowed cold, dark, and silent into his brain. With his last conscious thought, he released the clamps on the surgical chair, pushing himself back and out of the halo. The sharp crack as his skull hit the floor felt like mercy.

  35

  It had been several days since he’d heard from Mercury. He’d told Sean he thought he’d be gone for three days, but three days had ended yesterday. Sean had gotten dressed and gone out—down to Underbridge—to look for him. He hadn’t hung around for long. There was increased military presence there, keeping what appeared to be a turf-war under control. It left Sean with speculative hope—maybe Mercury had intended to return, but needed to wait for an opportunity. If he’d been arrested all ready, Sean was certain he would have heard about it. He’d also spent some time researching Sol Labs—mostly the basic history one could find in marketing materials—but one thing he’d found in an old press release had the potential to change everything. Dr. Frederickson Sol was dead, and had been for over sixteen years. Maybe Sol had known he was dying and had recorded everything he deemed important then planted it in Mercury’s brain…or someone had. Sean assumed that the only reason they hadn’t come after it before now was the same reason the CSD had suffered such frustrations over trying to catch Mercury—he was wily, and kept a low profile, but when he did make an appearance it was something quick, big, and surrounded by layers of security.

  Sean wasn’t certain if hearing the news about his father would stop Mercury from his suicide mission, but he wanted to believe Mercury might consider other options…that there was something worth living for, or at least the possibility that the something existed. But being unable to find Mercury, or even know how to get a message to him, left Sean with an anxious sense of dread.

  Sean thought he heard a sound and automatically reached across the bed, his hand meeting an empty mattress.

  “Merc?”

  Silence. The room was completely black and just as empty as it had been since Mercury had left. Sean sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. He sat up in bed, debating whether to get up or try to go back to sleep. He was aware of movement out of the corner of his eye—darkness over darkness—but before he could turn his head, he was grabbed in a choke-hold and something cold and hard was pressed against his right temple.

  “Where is he?” A woman’s voice hissed from the same side.

  Sean fought with the arm around his neck, trying to get enough air to speak. The grip loosened only enough for him to take in a couple of noisy gasps.

  “I’ll ask you again, Mr. Argeneau. Where is Mercury Fie?”

  A light shone in his face, temporarily blinding him. Sean tried to turn his head and he squeezed his eyes shut, seeing the flash seared into his retinas. “I don’t know, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you assholes.” Regardless of what Sean told them, he knew they wouldn’t believe him, and it was unlikely that they would let him live either way. Not surprisingly, he received a squeeze to his damaged shoulder that had him seeing stars.

  Sean swallowed the nausea as the world spun around on itself. Pain blossomed, deep and shredding.

  “Not so hard!” The woman snapped at the man the man holding him. “He’s no good to us unconscious!”

  Her speech patterns were too refined for her to be a regular mercenary, unless Sol had upgraded somehow. That left CSD, military, or Sol Labs’ militia. “Who are you people?” He choked through the tightness of his throat.

  “We represent the company that owns him,” the man holding him answered.

  “Owns him?” Sean scoffed. “I didn’t realize Sol Labs dabbled in slavery.”

  “He’s not a person, Mr. Argeneau. He’s a product,” the woman said. Her voice was rigid, lacking emotion.

  “I’m not sure the Board of Medical Ethics would agree,” Sean said. He felt the gun press harder against his head. From the angle, he guessed it was the woman holding it.

  “They don’t have to know,” she replied.

  All of this was suddenly too real. Being shot at in the forest and outrunning Sol Labs’ invisible militia was one thing, having them here, drilling a gun into his head was something else entirely.

  “Look,” Sean began, “I never wanted to be involved in any of this. If you’re looking for Mercury Fie, I suggest you return to Sol Labs because he’s on his way there.”

  “Impossible,” the woman said, though he detected enough of a pause that it seemed she might not be so certain. “There is a lock-down on ships entering or departing the port.”

  That wasn’t surprising. With turf wars going on in the Underbridge, the military had stepped in to try and smooth things over. “You don’t know your quarry very well then.”

  “Not as well as you,” the man grunted, his arm flexing a little tighter around Sean’s neck. “We know he has been here with you. Recently.”

  “Recently was several days ago,” Sean hissed, reaching up to try and loosen the hold.

  “And we believe he’ll come back,” the woman said.

  “Then you really don’t have a clue. I’m nothing to him. I’m nobody.” Sean doubted if that would matter either way. They’d probably just kill him if they believed he wasn’t useful, but Mercury would find out. He had a way of knowing things about Sean that was uncanny.

  “We’ll see about that.” The gun moved as the woman’s voice became muffled by her turning her back to him. When she turned on the bedside lamp, Sean blinked to adjust his eyes and try to get a look at his captors. The woman was human and unremarkable; Sean could have seen her a hundred times without noticing her. She had dark hair, dark eyes, and her mouth was drawn in a thin, straight line across her stern face. She was probably in her late forties; jagged scowl lines carved sharp vees between her eyebrows. She was dressed in civilian clothing, and resembled a well-dressed professional. Sean got the impression that she was more likely a scientist than a soldier. Not that it mattered; a scientist could shoot him at point-blank range just as easily. The man who held him was definitely part of So
l’s militia. His arm was thick, corded with muscle, and immovable.

  “Exactly how long do you intend to wait?” Sean asked, stretching his neck to try and take a deep breath.

  “As long as it takes for him to—”

  A sound from the door stopped her in mid-sentence, returning the gun to his head. The door opened slowly; the first thing visible was Sean’s father’s gun in Mercury’s pale hand.

  ”Drop the gun or I’ll kill him!” The woman said. Sean felt the barrel digging into his scalp.

  Mercury came fully into view. He looked tired, pale, and wore an eye-patch over his right eye. Sean opened and closed his mouth, realizing that now was likely not the best time to ask what had happened.

  Mercury’s eyes darted to Sean’s face; his expression looked like an apology. “Let’s see who’s faster,” he said as he turned the gun on himself. He pressed it to his forehead. “Let him go.”

  Sean’s throat constricted, silencing any protests and making it even harder to breathe. He remembered the conversation with Mercury in the modular: How many bullets are left? Through everything, Sean had lost track of the weapon. He assumed it had been left behind. He wished now that it had.

  “What the hell is he doing?” The man’s voice behind Sean was high with panic.

  Sean could feel a tremor go through the woman’s hand, moving the barrel of the pistol just barely against his head. “Fuck.”

  “I hate to repeat myself. Put the weapon down. Let. Him. Go,” Mercury said.

  “Fine,” the woman said through gritted teeth and crouched, putting the gun on the floor. The man behind Sean shoved him forward. Sean stumbled but caught himself a few feet from where Mercury stood just in front of the open door.

  “Merc—”

  “I love you, Sean,” Mercury said, though his smile was not reassuring. “Run.”

  Sean would have argued but a flurry of movement in the hallway drew his attention. At first he thought they were station guards and security drones, but then he saw the patterns of the uniforms, and the familiar Federation badges. Military. They were a surging black wave of flesh and metal, filling the hallway, crashing through with the power of a perfect storm. This could all go so horribly wrong, seeing Mercury Fie with a gun, he worried they would just start shooting. Sean started out the door to meet them. “No, wait—!”