Crescent Read Online Free Page A

strolled back behind his desk. The mayor waved a hand through the floating holographic projection that still hovered above the desk. It winked out of existence.
    “Sit, Gerald. You’re making me nervous.” Kendall’s lips twitched with another smile, but there was little fondness in the mayor’s watery eyes.
    Gerald smiled and gestured to the large, leather chair behind the desk.
    “You first, Mayor,” he said, and Kendall laughed. The sound of it set Gerald on edge.
    “Very well, then.” Kendall seated himself and Gerald sat down across from him. Gerald was thankful when the chair didn’t try to cop a feel. “In short, Gerald, I’m looking for a good salvage man. Core Sec has appointed Crescent the salvage hub of this system and the neighboring Tireca system. With all the recent raids on miners and the like, Crescent stands to do very well with the influx of scrap, ore, and whatever else is floating out there. I need a reliable man to get out there and haul. A trustworthy man who won’t siphon off some of the salvage for himself.”
    “And why exactly am I that man?”
    “You’ve done four jobs for me in the past, Gerald.” Kendall paused and spread his hands out over the monitors. “Four jobs and I haven’t had to order you killed yet. That’s a pretty good track record in my book.” Kendall laughed again, though he made no joke. “You will be paid three times your non-contract commission.”
    Gerald knew he would have to say yes or he’d never get a job from Crescent again. Not that that would have been a huge loss. Crescent wasn’t exactly a vacation resort. Not to mention, Gerald wasn’t thrilled about being contractually obligated to a man like Kendall. It was one thing to do a job or two for someone. It was another thing entirely when they owned your ass . But, three times Gerald’s non-contract rate—that was a lot of cash. More than Gerald could make in a year. He thought of his brother’s message. Was Kendall’s offer a coincidence or a chance to get on the right track, with a head start to boot? Fate or fool’s luck. Kendall placed an envelope on the desktop.
    “There’s a data wafer in there. It has the details of the contract. Take it with you. Review it and let me know tomorrow. It’s a big decision and I won’t rush you. We’re done here for now.”
    Gerald placed the envelope into the breast pocket of his flight jacket and left the office.
     
    (•••)
     
    Gerald tottered out of Heathen’s and onto Main Street. A faint blue glow trickled down from the sun globes—the shadows held sway now. A big clock disc floated over the distant Main Street exit tunnel. It was 3:45 a.m. Gerald’s head felt like it was stuffed with gauze. He had finally managed to have that drink, and countless more had followed. The occasion for the revelry: he had decided to accept Kendall’s offer and felt obliged to celebrate.
    Now, swaying on the sidewalk, he began to wonder if drink number ten had been such a great idea. He reached out a hand and grabbed a nearby lightpost to steady himself . The globe atop the onyx shaft cast a sphere of dull, wavering orange. Chin-to-chest, he began the trek back to his apartment, hoping to high hell he could figure out how to get there. When he successfully exited Main Street, he figured he was at least going in the right direction—away from the bar.
    “Look out, boy.”
    The voice startled him. He felt a hand on his chest. “You almost ran old Naheela down, ya did.” He lifted his head and in his shadow stood Crescent’s resident crone. She was the epitome of old age. Naheela’s dark skin was so wrinkled it didn’t even appear to be flesh. Her face reminded him of a crumpled ball of rice paper, with chaotic and equally intricate creases and folds. She smiled a crooked grin; her few remaining teeth glistened in the low light of residential corridor 2B.
    Her breath was fetid.
    “Sorry,” Gerald managed. “Late. I’m…   drunk. Sleep.”
    “You