Chaos in the Night, ten

Chapter Ten.

When the white garbed technicians arrived at his portal door, Milo begrudgingly let them in. Draybeck and Stephen looked about the spacious room and stowed what little gear they had. Their uniforms went into a recycling chute, so all evidence of their escape from Titan was now erased. The agreement that Milo and Omja Phookan came to allowed no other options; these two Earthlings would be his bunk mates for the next twenty-four point three years. Of course they would be quite asleep for all of that, and quiet as mice, so it wasn't all bad. They all sat around Milo's quarters and looked sheepishly at one another. Draybeck was exhausted from all the rushing about. He relaxed into the absorbing chair and was close to falling asleep.

There came another knock, and Milo stood to unlock the door. He was greeted by a woman of astonishing beauty, one he recognized from widespread paintings and photographs. “Annie,” he whispered. Omja hadn't been forthcoming as to who the third party would be.

“Annie!” Draybeck jumped from his chair and rushed to her. They fell into one another's arms and cried. The tears flowed in a swift torrent of the weeks and months gone by, and together they sank onto knees and fell onto their sides. Then they just lay there and laughed, while Stephen and Milo looked on in wonder.

Even before Newtonius engaged its thrusters, Stephen and Draybeck and Annie shed their robes and climbed into the large deep-sleeper. Annie was relieved when she saw she wouldn't be shoehorned into one of the standard coffins. She didn't even mind that she had to sleep naked with two men she hardly knew for twenty-five years. Once the chamber filled with somavapor the three drifted off, Stephen off to one side while Annie and Dray leaned in close to each other.

Milo stayed up and watched them for awhile, before climbing into his own coffin. This would be the longest interstellar trip of his life.

–

An agent hired by Omja Phookan spirited the two greens and one auraless woman out of the docks and away from the relocation District where all of their troubles had begun. The agent went by 'Weasel' and he had recently been sent back from Saturn's moon with a fortune in Titan ambergris, and the promise of more. As soon as the three fugitives made it safely into New Detroit, Annie paid him off with her polished necklace and scrip made out in the hand of Omja for the decided amount. Weasel kissed her hand and disappeared into the night.

From there they had no plan. Stephen and Draybeck were greens now, cut off from their families; and Annie was a blank slate. She had a new identification, but was a stranger here. They all were.

“We have to find that witch again, and get our blue status back...get our families to take us back,” said Stephen. His experimenting days were over, and he just wanted to live the life of luxury again in his father's house. But going back to blue from green wasn't as easily done. Draybeck was happy enough; he had Annie and together they would be fine. Dray had no qualms about starting a new, less affluent life.

--

She always wore a hat, and her hair was long to cover her eyes. Annie of Titan was almost as well known on Earth as she was in the Outermost; her visage and mysterious story was legendary. It wouldn't do to be recognized, Elena Consuelos was possibly still looking for her, even after twenty-five years.

Annie and Draybeck found a small apartment. He did odd jobs and was slowly finding his way in the green world. Annie worked in the artist's quarter instructing and sometimes posing for the students. She had dyed her skin a shade of aquamarine and wore her hair in chain, fuzz-head braids. Her eyelashes reached to her bangs, but her body was lovely as a spring nymphs. They lived in a Company town, but remained low key, out of the Company's sights.

Stephen was about to make a big noise. His attempts at contacting his family had gone nowhere. He was antagonistic and loathed the greens. After mere weeks Draybeck was forced to kick him out of their apartment, an easy decision for everyone involved. Now Stephen was living off the street, moving from one mellow house to another.

“Weasel,” Stephen shrugged his way to the relocation District bar where Weasel sat flanked by sumptuous blondes. 'The Old Bastard' was now 'Weasels' and still a favorite spot of Penslar dogs, among others. Weasel now did all his wheeling and dealing from this place, surreptitiously acquired from his old, strangely deceased partner.

Weasel didn't recognize Stephen, but once the strung out mellow junkie came to the point, he was all ears. “I wouldn't want to go against Omja Phookan; we had a deal. But I can make some discreet inquiries...I do know some Company men. If it ever gets out that I did you this favor, well; you'll wish you were never born.” Weasel salivated at the thought of the commission for finding the one and only Annie. The portrait of her fending off a mammoth Grokspawler under an Ammonia tree hung behind his bar and Weasel pondered it, trying to work out a scheme to get her into his own clutches, at least for a little while.

–

Draybeck finds himself in the relocation District, at the mellow cafe where he and Stephen had been shanghaied all those months ago. Stephen is at a corner table, the orange waitress in subtle boots pours him another drink then moves away to serve another customer.

“It's just you and me again, friend,” says Draybeck. He pulls up a chair and sits. He is covered in dried blood up to his elbows where he fell inside the slippery ambulance. Their green auras cast shadows on the two men's faces in the shady nook. Draybeck slaps away the glass of mellow and lays his arms on the table. “Are you comfortable, man? Are you so mellow that you can sleep at night?”

Stephen leans back against the wall and seems to look right past his old friend. “I was going home, Dray. Weasel was going to drop off my share, and I was taking my chit to that fucking witch, and going home.”

Draybeck stared at him, stared and wondered how things could go so wrong. He and Annie had just met Stephen at the park, and he said he was leaving; he wanted to say he was sorry; he just wanted to say goodbye.

“That Weasel – he was going to set me up. I heard it by mistake. He was going to take her and keep her for himself.” Stephen shook uncontrollably and searched for the waitress. He was going insane without the mellow.

They were in the park when the Company men showed up. Stephen had somehow come up with a zip pistol, probably stolen, and started firing at the Adjusters. He shrugged off his backpack and tossed it at Annie, then ran, disappearing into a stand of trees. Annie held it loosely, she and Draybeck were confused. Then the concussion charges blew. They were set low, but the charges were meant for the hard pack of Titan and the reverberation tore into Annie, rupturing her organs and splitting open her flesh. He tried to hold her together.

Draybeck stands and walks over to the bar. “Two more mellow, please.”

Stephen watches, and Draybeck returns; he sets his glass down and begins to hand the second to his friend, who is wincing with the anticipation of relief. Suddenly Draybeck smashes the glass onto the table's edge; liquid splashes onto Stephen who gapes and paws at the stain. “You bastard; you killed Annie, and now I'm sending you as far away from home as you'll ever go. Go to hell, Stephen.” He slashes the jagged glass at Stephen's throat and the blood geysers out in a wide semicircle, splattering the walls and table with a deluge of crimson.

“Another one,” Draybeck calls to the waitress, who is ready with her platter. Dead Stephen slumps off his chair into the puddle that is dripping from his compromised gullet.

Dray downs the drink and slams the cup onto the slippery tabletop. “Keep 'em coming; and what about the dessert menu? I feel like celebrating.”

The end.