The Ares Weapon Page 5

  For the past five years, I’d made a point of remaining under their radar and I went to great lengths in covering the footprint of my business activities. Yet, here and now, in my only attempt to solicit in forever, I’d been trapped like a stupid rabbit and stood on the brink of losing every speck of respectability I came to Luna to attain. Though I replayed the events leading up to this, I could not see where I messed things up. It must have been a huge fluke of luck that placed me in the crosshairs of “Jake” and on the path to Moral Correction.

  Everything got much worse after my arrival. They cleared out my bank account and found the other carefully hidden ones buried under layers of shadow accounts and dummy corporations. Every credit I earned outside of my regular pay was deemed corrupt and forfeit to the government. It was the price of getting caught and I was paying it, with interest.

  Following the economic humiliation, there began an invasive batch of medical tests for STI’s, ending with a prescribed course of nanite injections as a preventative measure. They understood the limits of re-education and chose to hedge their bets in the eventuality of a moral relapse.

  The medical workers acted surprised to find that I already possessed a previous series of nanites, given to me as a routine requirement for Terran medical school admission. Despite the fact that my bloodstream crawled with the little buggers, they thoughtlessly decided to proceed with their own treatment, giving no consideration to how the different machine species would interact with my body. No matter how vigorously I argued my case, the idiots ignored me and in the end, strapped me to a gurney and injected me with them.

  I was desperately sick for the better part of two weeks as the competing nanites battled each other. God only knew what kind of permanent mess they made of my guts in their turf war. Finally, when it looked like I might die on someone’s watch, they decided that I needed some attention and reviewed my blood work.

  They administered a bunch of toxins to try to kill off the less established system of nanites they’d introduced. They said they couldn’t do anything about my original population because they didn’t have access to their pseudo-genetic code.

  After a couple of days, I felt better. The attending physician who obviously got his degree by correspondence tried to tell me they managed to eliminate most of them, but hybridization probably changed a significant number of them before the treatment, so I retained a second population inside me. The good news was that they were adapted to my system, but nobody could say if they were neutral, or if they would turn around and eat out my insides over the next few years.

  Not satisfied with attempting to murder me, after my recovery, I was forced to endure another week of morality education in which the evils of my way of life and the horrors it held for society at large were explained ad nauseam. My name was posted to the public record for anyone to see and I was released back to the tram station with only an ugly orange jumpsuit and a pass to get me back to my own hub.

  The stares of the people eventually ceased as the car made its way to Hub Two where most people knew someone or had themselves been victimized and done time at SPEC. I drew no attention as I exited the monorail and hurried home.

  Once inside, I stripped myself naked and placed the orange abomination into the incineration chute. I spent far more money than I could afford to take a long, hot shower before I crashed in bed for fitful sleep.

  Waking nearly twenty hours later, I dressed and sat down in front of the terminal in the bedroom. Every bank account I owned, secret or not had been located and rifled. There were only a few credits left in one of them to pay next month’s rent and allow me to feed myself. The food was not a problem as I was due to ship out on Requiem in a couple of days. The ongoing lease was another matter. I would have to beg Tanza for an advance. I had some cash hidden in the safe, undiscovered by the MP who most likely took one look at my address and decided they didn’t want to catch anything by walking down the corridor. Unfortunately, the money couldn’t be deposited to the account as that would set off a flag for an undocumented income source and trigger another round of investigations that might prompt them to bother searching here next time. I had more than enough credits to cover the long-term lease but had no way to spend them.

  After five years of hard work, I had nothing to show for it but a shitty apartment and a shittier job. It would take me even longer to rebuild now that I sat in the middle of the sites of the authorities.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a blinking icon indicating a message. I so rarely received messages of that kind that I didn’t routinely pay attention to the interface. The log for it was dated two days prior and indicated it was from Tanza.

  Not having a good feeling about it, I reluctantly played the video. His smug face stared from the screen and I could sense he was prepared to enjoy his announcement.

  “Doctor Destin. I have the duty to inform you that your employer, Sato Corporation, has no further need of your professional services. Your employment is hereby terminated under the moral deficiency clause, section twenty-two, paragraph six, subparagraphs twelve through sixteen. I would recite the contract to you, but you are an intelligent woman and can read. Besides, we all know what you have done. Good luck in your future endeavours.”

  The message ended with a satisfied smile on Tanza’s ferret face. It took all of the remaining willpower I had not to punch in the screen.

  I stared at the vid screen and tried to process what happened. What fucking contract? It took me a few moments to remember the agreement I signed five years before as a formality when Chambers persuaded me to enlist as ship’s doctor. I didn’t recall the thing because nobody read the standard legal document imposed by the Ministry of Moral Conduct. Anyone who needed to work from Luna signed one. Nobody ever paid attention to those fucking things because not one word could be negotiated. You signed or didn’t get a job. After Chambers placed it in front of me, he made it clear the contract made no difference to our verbal understanding of how things functioned aboard Requiem.

  Even before the topic of the contract came up, Chambers himself proposed the idea of skimming pharmaceuticals, with him taking a ten percent cut. I didn’t take much convincing and everything worked wonderfully for five years. Now the same innocuous document we all dismissed as nothing more than an inconvenient formality came back to haunt me like some Faustian arrangement.

  Now broke, unemployed and unemployable thanks to the scarlet letter placed on my file, my destroyed life hung pathetically before me. I wanted to break down into tears and cry into my pillow for the next week, but I didn’t even possess the energy for that. I could only stare at the screen in the stupid hope the whole thing was some kind of practical joke fermented in Tanza’s pointy head.

  Who had I ever fucked over so badly in the past karma dealt out this shit to me? I ran through the list of everyone I knew, but couldn’t think of anyone screwed by me to earn me this payback. The truth is I am a trusting pushover who gets myself into these situations. I usually received the shitty end of the stick. There seemed to be an almost endless parade of people to kick me around, from my dear, alcoholic mother to her abusive boyfriends, to my own poor choices of paramours.

  Up until this moment, I never thought of myself as a victim. I always thought I’d just drawn some bad breaks and the universe was not out to screw me over. Damn it, my life was on track and I was working to a plan! Victims didn’t make plans, they rolled over and let people piss all over them.

  I had been a few credits away from breaking away from all of the ghosts of my past and the creeps in my present and starting life on my own terms when the entire mountain came crashing down on top of me. If I wasn’t a victim, I certainly presented a good approximation of one.

  I shuffled into the kitchen and made a cup of tea. Taking it into my small sitting room, I sat down on my worn out couch and stared blankly into space, lost in dark thoughts. My mind turned to the vault above the toilet and the drugs I had left in my inventory.

&nb
sp; Being a user had never been a consideration for me, even during the darkest times as a teenager on Terra before my rescue. I witnessed first hand what they had done to my friends and acquaintances. I determined long ago my life was bad enough without overprinting it with a drug habit. But in that moment, the temptation to try something and float away into blissful oblivion was stronger than ever before. I fell back onto the couch with a sigh. Too much energy was needed to open the safe.

  Normally, booze was my preferred form of self-medication. While I routinely indulged in binge drinking whenever I returned from a run, the usual after effects of the morning after were enough to dissuade me from any kind of regular repetition. Something about living with a chronic boozer can make the idea of spending your life in a bottle seem stupid. I know some people follow in the footsteps of addicted parents, but something inside of me didn’t let that happen. For that little boon, I was grateful. Still, if I had any booze in my place, I would have been nursing it.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something which didn’t belong. A business holo-card lay on the floor beside me. I lethargically rolled onto my side and picked it up to examine, grateful for the unexpected distraction. The card belonged to Charlie Wong.

  A smile came across my face as I recalled seeing him again for the first time in years. Then, just as quickly I was ashamed at how I ejected him from my home.

  Charlie, from his point of view, wanted to give me a helping hand , but I was too fucking proud and kicked him out in a big huff. I didn’t want anyone’s help again. I had to be the one to lift myself out of my dysfunctional life and resented him for his success and his superior attitude.

  I looked around the shit hole I lived in. Why shouldn’t he think I needed a hand? Who was I kidding? I spent five years as a drug dealer and the last few weeks as a convicted hooker. I was pathetic to think I even had a chance at making my way out of here on my own. Nobody ever made it out of here. Why didn’t I see it before? He was only trying to help, dammit, and I treated him like shit. Maybe I did deserve to fail.

  I turned the card over and I looked at it through tear-filled eyes. Perhaps Charlie’s offer was still available? He said he couldn’t find a qualified doctor. I hoped I hadn’t so completely pissed him off with me he wouldn’t entertain the idea.

  I jumped off of the couch and raced to the vid terminal in the bedroom. I prayed as I entered the contact code he would answer in person and not let the call go to his avatar.

  “Hello, Mel.” He sounded cheerful and happy to hear from me. I wiped my eyes, realizing how frightful I must appear.

  “Uh, hi Charlie. Listen, I wanted to apologize for what happened the other night...”

  “I’m the one who needs to apologize to you. My comments were totally out of line.”

  I interrupted him before he could get syrupy.

  “How about if we agree we were both a bit at fault and leave everything as forgiven and forgotten?”

  “I would like that, thanks. It will make my leaving here a lot easier. I didn’t want to part from you again under a cloud.”

  “Oh? Are you going away? So soon?”

  “Mel, I have been on Luna for six weeks and I can’t find anyone here for the position, so I am going to try looking on Terra.”

  “If the job is still open, I’m interested. I’ve given it a great deal of thought and, well, I think you’re right.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, if you’ll still have me.”

  “Oh, Mel, this is fantastic news. You have no idea how much this means to me, and to my employers. We’ll make it worth your while, I promise. You won’t regret this.”

  “I appreciate the second chance.”

  “Listen, I have to go into a meeting right now, but I’ll send you the agreement documents, contract, and the schedule. Oh, this is amazing. Thanks so very much.”

  “Thank you, Charlie.”

  I signed off and felt a huge weight lift off of my shoulders. As uncomfortable as it had been, taking a helping hand from a friend could end up working out after all. Yet in the back of my mind, experience told me disappointment followed and to prepare for more trouble. I told experience to fuck off.

  Chapter 8

  I found it more difficult to say goodbye to my little home than I expected. Though the lease had been in my name for the past five years, I only lived in it for a total of eight months. With all my worldly possessions packed into two bags, I felt a pang of regret as the door closed on my old life.

  The idea of locking the unit briefly crossed my mind. The apartment was paid for at least another month and it would take the corporation that owned it the better part of a year to figure out I didn’t live in it anymore.That gave whoever next squatted here almost twelve months of undisturbed residency. Maybe the good ones from my last absence would return.

  Shouldering one bag and carrying the other, I strode down the filthy corridor for the last time. An hour later, a grinning Charlie Wong greeted me at the hangar facility.

  “Ready for this, Mel?”

  “You have no idea.”

  He continued to grin and led me into Hanger 23 where a sleek, modern lunar suborbital shuttle sat prepped and waiting to launch. The ship’s steward welcomed us, took my luggage and showed us inside the spotless ship. He directed us to our plush leather chairs in the passenger section. Moments later, another flight attendant offered us champagne and instructed us on the safety protocols and various entertainment features of our seats.

  “Is anyone else joining us?” I asked Charlie.

  “You are the last member of the team, Mel. Everyone else is assembled at the launch site and awaiting your arrival.”

  “I’m that critical to this mission? Seriously?”

  “Yes, you are.” He smiled the friendly way he always used to. It seemed like no time had ever passed. And yet, the smile did not seem exactly the same. Something lay behind it that dimmed the sparkle in his eye, so subtle I almost didn’t catch the difference. Perhaps the death of his father? Whatever the cause, I regretted that I had not been around for him.

  The orbiter launched smoothly and after ten minutes of silence passed, I asked, “Now can you tell me where we are going?”

  “We are going to a launch facility the corporation operates on the far side, near Pirquet.”

  “Why so remote?”

  “Helps to keep it a secret that way.” He winked. “Settle back and relax. We’ll arrive in about three hours.”

  I relaxed into the plush leather and sipped on champagne. The landscape below silently scrolled past. In all my time on Luna, I had never travelled away from Armstrong. Aside from the first glimpses I witnessed of the lunar surface when arriving from Terra, I had never seen the terrain away from the Sea of Tranquility. It floated by beneath us, beautiful and hypnotic and lulled me into a dreamless sleep.

  I awakened to the ship’s deceleration. A disorienting blackness filled my view outside. Only the crisp stars gave any a sense of orientation and relieved the panic that gripped me. With no earthshine, the lunar night on this side of the moon was two weeks of utter darkness.

  My eyes couldn’t pierce the dark as I searched for any sign of our destination. I expected some lights or signs of a base, but only black nothing lay below.

  All forward motion halted and the blackness rose to devour the stars as the ship descended to the surface. The gentle bump of an expertly piloted touchdown was followed by the vibration of the landing platform’s descent. When we stopped moving, bright lights illuminated the exterior and revealed the inside the underground hangar. Through the window, I saw the ceiling above us close completely.

  Within ten minutes, we were allowed to disembark. Uniformed private security guards escorted us to the main facility. Once processed, Charlie led me through the labyrinthine complex to a conference room where eight other people were gathered.

  Without thinking about it I sent out a query ping through my CI to identify all the occupants. To my shock, I got noth
ing back from anyone. That only happened when someone didn’t possess an implant, or it was damaged; in other words, not very often. This site must have been using an ID blocker in the facility; very expensive and highly illegal. My new employers wanted anonymity.

  Charlie greeted the two older men dressed in business suits while I perused the other people in the room. My survey was cut short when I caught the eye of an equally shocked Norbert Schmaltz.

  Before we could acknowledge each other, I was pulled aside by Charlie to meet the two men. Mr. Avery Swan and his secretary, Mr. Xu Jhan politely shook my hand and welcomed me warmly. He then introduced me to my crew mates.

  Clive Garrick was the pilot and Captain for the mission. He stood and greeted me in with a firm, formal handshake. About fifty years old he possessed a fit build and grey blonde hair with a matching moustache. His white skin told of a lifetime spent in the confines of spaceships.

  The petite, middle-aged Eurasian woman sitting next to him with a shock of white streaking through her otherwise long, jet black hair was Shigeko Limn, the navigator, and co-pilot. She smiled amicably at me but did not rise to shake my hand.

  Schmaltz offered me his hand and pretended we had never met. Behind him, with a cup of coffee in hand stood his assistant engineer, Bogdan Skorupa. The twenty-year-old was ghostly pale and his light blue eyes locked onto mine as he smiled and waved hello before resuming his seat.

  Dylan Hodgson sat quietly across from Schmaltz. His close-cropped hair and too much muscle development for anyone having spent a lot of time in space flagged him as ex-military. He nodded at me, his face unreadable.

  Charlie addressed the room, “Erik Dunn, the Rego corporate representative could not be here and sends his regrets. He is finishing up another assignment and will join the crew in orbit after launch.”

  We spent the balance of the meeting going over operational details of the mission and the tight timelines involved. The Captain, navigator and Schmaltz all gave report around the preparedness of the ship. When questions about the readiness of the medical facilities were raised, everyone turned to me. Charlie intervened on my behalf.