Seasons of Murder: In the Shadow of This Red Rock

by John Wiltshire

  Cal hissed in his breath, not so much at the analogy the man had used, which was one of the most politically incorrect ways to refer to the current implant project, but at the swift, almost painful barrage of images that had swept through his mind at the word. He actually saw this tall stranger naked on a bed, hands holding him down as he screamed. Sweat and pain and something almost like desire swept through Cal as it became him on the bed, and the Minder’s hands upon him. He shuddered and swallowed, licking his lips. “I’m Lieutenant Calan Hartland. I’m Head of Security on the Elon Musk.”

  “Land of the Heart. I like it. I’m Zero. In charge also, but I fear only of my poor friends and myself. I would have come out first, but I had to report our safe arrival.”

  “I’m sorry? Zero? Do you have a proper name?”

  Zero laughed again, staring openly at each of them. “After a hundred years on Mars my ancestors found it easier to give numbers rather than names to children. After all, we all tended to have the same last names anyway…” Cal heard Hunter make a small grunt of disgust, and he came forward with the implant to cover his 2IC’s antagonism.

  “Sit down, please…Mr Zero?”

  “It’s commander, but please, call me Z. May I call you Cal?”

  Cal wanted to say no, but for some reason found himself assenting.

  Zero sat as requested. “Well, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” He tipped his head to expose his temple rods to Cal and closed his eyes. Cal placed the device onto the clamps.

  Zero suddenly jerked, a spasm of pain apparently ripping across his body. His eyes flew open, and he cried out, a harsh, ragged pant of agony. Then, before Cal or Hunter could react, he laughed and winked. “Sorry. Joke. But you should have seen your faces.”

  Cal gritted his teeth, but before he could stop it, a small smile broke through his defences, and he murmured, “Bastard,” very softly under his breath. It was hardly protocol and had certainly not been covered under ‘Correct Ways to Address Our Martian Friends’ but Z seemed to take it in the spirit it was offered. Suddenly, Cal found himself staring into the greenest eyes he had ever seen and they were entirely focused upon him. The brilliant green irises were flecked with brown, and for a moment Cal had a sense of overwhelming sadness that his man had never beheld grass, never seen all of Earth’s shades of green under dappled sunlight.

  They were human and yet they had been banished to Mars, a place with seasons noted only by shadows lengthening upon red rock.

  He pulled his own gaze from the one locked on his and examined the silver disc as he held his monitor over it. A lock of Zero’s hair had fallen across the shiny surface, and before he could stop himself, Cal extended a finger and brushed it back. It was the colour of bitter, dark chocolate, of the deep burnished mark that appears on a perfect conker, not quite black, not quite brown, not quite auburn. It was startling against the pale skin and the luminous green eyes. Cal’s mouth began to water and he swallowed a rush of saliva. As he did, he tasted chocolate.

  He stepped back, frowning. The machine registered positive on all counts. The Minder was castrated.

  Zero stood, his eyes level with Cal’s. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I would appreciate it if you could find time later today for us to meet? We have a great deal to go over.”

  Cal nodded. “I’ll be free by 1700 hours. I’ll find you.” He gestured at Sloane to escort the man out.

  When they were alone, he turned to Hunter. “Impressions so far, Sergeant? That one, Commander Zero, for example.”

  “Field Marshal Z? Yeah. Commander of diddly squat, I’m thinking.”

  “Okay, besides the fact he outranks you? Useful impressions?”

  “Bloody stupid name. Weird eyes. Too tall. Dumb hair. Anything else? Yeah, he was annoying as bat shit. Sir.”

  Cal repressed an eye roll. “You didn’t sense anything odd about him?”

  Hunter frowned. “He seemed a bit too unconcerned, but then the first bint did, too. I don’t know, maybe it’s an honour or something. Didn’t messengers in the olden days get castrated so they could take royal messages safely?”

  Cal mirrored Hunter’s expression. “I don’t think I ever learned that in history.”

  Hunter grinned. “Ah, good English education here, sir. We learn the juicy stuff.”

  “Have we just gotten badly off the subject?”

  They heard another movement from the doorway and Cal put aside his concerns to get the rest of the mind readers constrained.

  §§§

  All the devices appeared to be working satisfactorily. The Minders were safely in their cabins and other than memories of rolling in freshly mown grass and tasting chocolate, Cal could not say the day had gone as badly as he’d feared. He went swiftly to the bridge to report the highlights to the captain, and then grabbed some food from the mess and took it with him, eating as he went, to the small wing of cabins that had been set aside for the Minders.

  He knocked, wiping his hands on his uniform trousers as he waited. When the door opened, he made a point of putting out his hand to shake. It was a little technique they’d covered in training: show early and sincere trust in the implants. He was a little annoyed when Zero entirely ignored his gesture but held up a tiny object.

  “What’s this?”

  Cal frowned. “A leaf?”

  Z mirrored his puzzlement. “It seems…I thought they would be more…Is it dead?”

  “It’s made of paper.”

  “Oh! That’s a relief then.” There was a pause as Z regarded the leaves scattered in the corridor.

  Cal narrowed his eyes. “Don’t ask.”

  Z nodded slowly as if he thought this was very good advice.

  “You don’t have trees in the colony?”

  Z held the delicate, veined, golden leaf up to the light and the wonderment in his eyes gave Cal the answer to his question. He experienced a strange stirring of…was this pity? Z was entranced by a piece of coloured paper. Pity, however, wasn’t an emotion Cal was familiar or comfortable with. He covered by pretending to inspect the cabin. “Do you have everything you need?”

  Zero placed the leaf carefully onto a shelf where it appeared he had already amassed a small collection. “Yes, thank you. It’s all very satisfactory. Please, sit.”

  They sat facing each other. Cal tried to keep his gaze averted from the distracting green eyes, but he found his own reluctantly dragged back every time he tried to focus on something else in the cabin.

  “You must have a thousand questions, Lieutenant. Please, ask anything. We don’t need political correctness between us in here. Ask me if I’m a monster intent on devouring your children, and I’ll tell you the truth.”

  “I don’t have any children.”

  Z laughed. “Well, there you go then. You’re safe from me.”

  Once more, Cal was sidetracked by the disturbing spark of interest deep in his spine that had distracted him during the implant fitting. He shifted in his seat. “Does the inhibitor hurt?”

  “No, not at all. More importantly, does it suit me?”

  Cal snorted with wry amusement. Laughing twice in one day—he was mortified and tried to cover again. “It’s not designed to be fetching. Does it feel like it’s working?”

  Z raised his brows. “How would I know? Do you want me to try and read your mind? I thought that was as intimate a thing to ask a Braindead as, ‘Do you want me to fuck you?’”

  Cal reared back, not sure what to object to first. He went for the most obvious. “Braindead?”

  Zero didn’t even look apologetic. “Oh, come on, like you haven’t got equally polite and inventive names for us as well. So, shall we test it?” And before Cal could draw away, Zero took his hand. The Minder’s fingers were cool and smooth. Cal leant back, his eyes narrowed, so tense he feared he might explode. They both watched each other cautiously then Z withdrew his fingers with an amused twitch of one eyebrow. “See? Nothing. Oh—but you wished you’d had more to eat before you came, and you�
��re still hungry.”

  Cal shot to his feet. Zero held up his hands, placating, grinning. “You were wiping your hands when I answered the door. You were still chewing and, hey, you look like a guy who’s always hungry—like me. I have eyes, Lieutenant.”

  Cal clenched his jaw. “You are a funny guy, you know that? I think we’re going to get along famously.”

  Zero pursed his lips. “I don’t need to mind read any more to see sarcastic air quotes there. Come on, you’ve got to admit this situation is a bit funny? If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry.” He stood up abruptly and went to where, in one of the more luxurious cabins, there would be a viewing port. He studied the wall instead. “It’s been a rather tiring and stressful day, Lieutenant. Perhaps we could continue this tomorrow? I assume I’ll meet your captain then?”

  Cal spoke to the broad shoulders, staring at the almost liquid chocolate gleam at the back of Z’s head. “Yes. I’ll collect you at 0700 hours, if that’s acceptable.”

  “It’s about three hours before I normally surface. I suppose life has to change. It’s what we’ve done this for, after all.”

  Cal knew he ought to say something else. He had the odd desire to deviate from his script—offer something that wasn’t formulaic and rehearsed. Something that would make this stranger…happy.

  Instead, he nodded to the turned back and left rapidly.

  §§§

  Cal put his whole team on alert that first night to quell any potential discontent amongst the crew or passengers, but all remained quiet. The Minders stayed in their own quarters as ordered, and other than the occasional muttered comment overheard in food lines or in rest areas, nothing seemed untoward. Cal stayed on patrol with Fuller until 0300 hours then, when the next shift came on duty, he retired to sleep for a while before he had to meet with the commander. At 0700 hours, he dutifully knocked on the cabin door. He was tired and slightly groggy and hadn’t been able to fit in going to the gym so he felt incredibly scratchy, like he needed nothing more than a good fight. He knocked again, louder and called out, “Commander?”

  He heard, “Yeah. It’s open,” so he stepped inside to find Zero sitting on the edge of his bunk in nothing but some shorts and with his hair rumpled at all angles as if a severe wind had suddenly wreaked havoc throughout the ship.

  Cal immediately jerked his gaze to a neutral wall. “I’ll come back later.”

  Zero rose. “No, I’m good. Just give me a minute…” He indicated toward the tiny shower. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep well.”

  Cal tried to sympathise whilst counting flecks in the bulkhead. “No voices?”

  Zero laughed, apparently at some private joke, then offered more seriously, “Yes. I expect we all suffered the loss. We used to sleep in vast naked huddles, all chatting together throughout the night.”

  As Z walked past him toward the cubicle, Cal perceived once again a very irritating frisson of excitement at the base of his spine, but this time it was tempered by the suspicion he’d just been shown up by Minder humour once again.

  Cal wanted to look away, but every time he tried, he felt some irresistible urge to focus back on Zero. The Minder was lean, but his muscle definition was perfect. It was extremely disturbing to trace the ridges and hollows with his eyes because it made Cal actually feel the hardness of Zero’s abs beneath his fingertips. This inappropriate reaction didn’t stop when Zero disappeared into the small bathroom. Cal tried to concentrate on what he needed to do that day, but his errant mind kept returning to the sounds from the adjacent room: the shower running, an off-key singing.

  He flung himself angrily into a chair and ran his fingers through his hair. He never allowed himself to become diverted from his duty. Distraction was for weak people who could not keep their emotions under control.

  If only he could work off some of his angst in the gym. He began to circle his neck to relieve the kinks then stood to pace. When that didn’t help, he was about to leave and come back later, when the door opened and the Minder came out of the shower wearing only a towel, his hair wet and slicked back in a dark mass.

  Zero stood regarding Cal as water droplets cascaded down his pale skin in exactly the same places Cal had envisaged his fingertips running only moments earlier. “Apologies. I will be with you in a second.”

  Cal shook his head to clear it. His heart was racing. It was as if he were running on the treadmill already. He blinked, as if the warm drips were in his own eyes. “I’ll wait for you outside,” and before the other man could stop him, he slammed out of the door. He leant against the bulkhead wall, hands on his knees. Anyone seeing him now, he reflected bitterly, would hardly recognise the habitually austere head of security.

  They’d probably think he was inspecting the leaves—checking to see if they were aligned in military fashion. He toed one with his boot, and, predictably, it stuck.

  He wondered briefly if he was sick. He never usually fell ill, but it was possible he’d brought back a virus from Earth. It was equally likely he’d caught a Martian one from the Minders. It was even feasible, he supposed, he had the early symptoms of Sandman. He made a mental note to check with the doc to see if anyone else on board had reported similar indications. He heard the door to the cabin open and straightened.

  The Minder was dressed and watching him intently. “I wanted to ask you something.”

  Cal began to stride away, knowing Zero would follow. “What?”

  “I was wondering if you could give me a tour of the ship after we have seen your commander.”

  “Captain. It’s Captain Laskar.”

  “Captain then. I would very much appreciate a personal tour.”

  “We’ve arranged tours for all of you.”

  “Yes, but I would like you to escort me.” Zero stopped walking, forcing Cal to pause as well. Z glanced up and down the corridor, apparently wanting to ensure they were alone before he added, “May I speak freely?”

  Cal narrowed his eyes, thinking through implicit threats. “Okay.”

  The Minder came closer. “I know you didn’t want this assignment, Lieutenant—it’s written all over your face, and I hear it in everything you don’t say. I appreciate that. I don’t want to be bullshitted and lied to. I don’t need it. I know what Brain…what you all think of us. So, let’s cut the pc crap, yeah? I want you to show me your ship, because you’ll be honest with me.”

  Cal regarded Z. He was incredibly conflicted. Something was telling him to hold his ground, stick with the script, not trust this Minder, but something else, something that was as confusing as the spark of excitement and his racing heart, was telling him to trust, to…like Z. He didn’t like anyone. It was bewildering. Finally, he nodded briefly. “Okay.”

  Zero grinned, and Cal sensed once more the intensely powerful draw, the connection between them. He gritted his teeth. “I’ll show you the ship, but I believe I will, as you say, stick to the script.” He began to walk swiftly away, half hoping the other man would not follow.

  §§§

  They arrived on the bridge and the captain took charge of the Minder, and Cal was left to wait for him outside the briefing room. He took the opportunity to shamelessly eavesdrop on the conversations of the bridge officers. Nothing untoward. Some chat about the Harvest Festival planned for that Sunday. More about the Halloween party and proposed costumes the following week. He was pleased. He tried to relax, but had the odd sensation of needing to shake out his shoulders. He was uncharacteristically tense, wary, a primitive alertness pricking at him. He wondered if he had time to see the doc now before the briefing was concluded but realised that it already was. The two commanders emerged from the small back room, both appearing edgy. “Any problems, sir?”

  The old man shook his head. “I believe Commander Zero understands the score. Am I right?”

  Z nodded and made a gesture of salute, one too small to convey any real respect. “Score fully understood.”

  He swung away and began to leave. Cal had to take several deep breaths
to calm his pulse. Z was upset. Fury and shame radiated off the green-eyed man. Suddenly, Cal wanted to hit his commanding officer. The thought was so bizarre, so atypical, that he spun on his heel without acknowledging his boss further and stalked out after the Minder.

  When he caught Zero up, he said brusquely, “I will escort you back to your cabin and meet you there again in an hour for the tour. I have an errand to run.”

  Zero didn’t reply, and Cal glanced at him. “What’s wrong?”

  The Minder thrust his hands in his pockets and clenched his jaw.

  Cal found his hands going to his pockets, too. That would be a good look for the head of security. He wrenched them back to his sides. They arrived at the cabin. He saw the Minder safely inside then almost ran to the medical station.

  §§§

  The doc checked him over, not bothering to hide his amusement that he’d never had the head of security as a patient before. He checked blood and heart and took various readings. He weighed Cal and measured his height for some reason. When Cal questioned this, the doc only lifted an eyebrow and said it made him look as if he was doing something useful. Placebo healthcare. He could apparently find nothing wrong.

  Cal had calmed somewhat now anyway, and was ashamed of his earlier panic attack—for that’s what he’d decided it had been. Six weeks back on Earth, seeing grass and trees and breathing fresh air, and now this: synthetic leaves scattered on the decks, walls painted orange, stodgy food, and people drinking hot chocolate, wrapping artificially chilled hands around overlarge mugs. They were in space—it was ridiculous.

  For some reason, he thought once more of eyes the colour of spring shoots, and he could feel his pulse beginning to race again. “There, Doc, can’t you hear that?” He held the end of the man’s stethoscope to his chest. Primitive though the instrument was, it was still the most effective way for a good doctor to assess the internal health of his patient. The doctor dutifully listened and agreed that Cal’s heartbeat was now faster than it had been, but countered that he’d never had a patient on his table before who didn’t show slightly elevated rates while being poked and prodded. He gave Cal some mild tranquillisers and told him to take as much rest as possible. Cal threw the pills in the waste disposal and went to the gym.