…THE STAR, AND THE STEEL-FACED MAN
by Kristen Lee Knapp
“Oh, baby. Oh, baby. You like it like that, don’t you?”
“Voice off,” she said, sighing. The sexer thrusted on, faux sweat glistening down its faux skin. Still it grunted, sighed, breathed fake breath all over her.
“Breath off,” she said.
The sounds stopped. The android continued its programmed rhythm. She grunted, amused, reached to the nightstand and pulled out a gold antique sixgun. Vix pressed it to the android’s head and cocked the hammer back. It did not notice, dutifully focused on its solitary purpose.
She pulled the trigger. Gears and circuits flew and the sexer fell to the floor, a four inch hole in its head.
Vix sighed and lounged back against her gold satin sheets, looking outside. A titanic blue star rose past the putrid surface of a green gas giant. Icy light poured across her yacht’s golden hull.
Someone knocked on the door. “Come in,” she said.
Maude marched in, wearing her frilly maid’s black and white ensemble. “Nous sommes arrivés, madame. Vos ordres?”
Vix stood and slid into a silk robe. “How many?”
“Dix-neuf.”
Vix frowned. She’d never had to take as many as nineteen. She gingerly stepped over the sexer’s scattered pieces. “Clean this up.”
Maude bowed her head. “Tout suite, madame.”
She went up on deck. A ship hovered motionlessly ahead, its ugly iron surface bleeding air from a hundred different points.
“Voulez-vous les voir, madame?” Maude appeared behind her.
“Yes,” she said. Why not go and see them?
“Je ferai certain c’est sûr.”
“Do so.” Vix tightened the sash on her robe and walked down through her yacht onto the gangplank and into the other ship. Lights flickered and sparks flared from conduits. The smell of smoke, sweat and blood made her wrinkle her nose. She came to the mess hall.
Nineteen men sat on the ground. Chrome plated robots stood over them with rifles.
“Which one of you is the captain?”
No response. The men averted their eyes from her.
Vix paced and stopped in front of a young man. “Are you the captain?”
He shook his head. “No.”
She shot him in the face and he slumped to the ground. “Which one of you is the captain?”
A pale twig of a man stood up. “What do you want?”
“You’re the captain?”
“Yes. Captain Mafalda. Do you realize how many regulations you’ve broken by – ?”
“What is your purpose here?”
He hesitated. “Terraforming.”
“There are no inhabitable planets or satellites in this area,” she said, drawing a bullet from her pocket and reloading.
Mafalda looked at the others and frowned. “We’re here to destroy the star.”
“Why?”
“This area is a hotbed for criminals,” he said, meeting her eyes. “We’re to build a new outpost here.”
She frowned, thinking. “When was your scheduled detonation?”
“144 hours. That’s precisely…”
“I think it’s prudent we cancel the detonation. In 168 hours I will restore your systems and you will be free.”
“Why 168 hours?”
“If you consider your current position, you will find you have no other choice. I promise I will not kill you.” She smiled. Mafalda looked away. The others were stone silent.
She went back aboard her yacht and into her bedroom and sprawled across the bed. Maude was watching her expectantly. “Blow up the star as planned. Make it look like an accident,” said Vix, stifling a yawn.
“Oui, madame.”
Vix propped her chin in her palm and stared at the wall, grinding her teeth left and right.
“Peux-je n’importe quoi pour vous, madame?” Maude said.
“Send invitations,” she said, rolling on her back. “I’ll have a party.” She looked outside. “A special last viewing of the star. Stellar detonations are all the rage these days.”
“Une celebration? Tres merveilleux, madame!”
“One week.” She waved Maude away and lay alone in her bed, staring out at the blue star and smiling.
~*~
The strap of her gauzy slip of a gown slipped down her arm. Vix tugged it back up and sighed.
“Can I get you anything?” the bartender said.
She waved him off and watched the guests mingle. Nearly thirty had RSVP’d and a little over twenty had actually shown up. For the past three hours, Vix had waited alone at her own party. Their faces were impassive, indistinct, each brimming with a fake smile or shaking with false laughter.
A lone alto sax murmured a remorseful solo. She drifted along with the melody, ignoring the hum of inane conversation around her. “Bartender,” she said.
The robot bartender approached. “Yes ma’am, what can I get you?”
Before she could speak, a man leaned against the bar beside her and said, “Try a Manhattan.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve never heard of a Manhattan?”
“I don’t think. . .”
“Two Manhattans,” he said. His face was split in two, like the sides of a coin. One was powerful, brutish, with heavy cheeks and a jaw like a rocky cliff. The other was steel, reflecting the lounge’s light with a dull sheen. His eyes were dark, predatory. “Beyond disappointing,” he said.
“What is?”
“Two reasons. I was hoping to see this monstrous Vix,” he said. “She’s a murderer or a demon with an appetite for humans. Depending on who you ask.” His half-lips quirked upwards.
The bartender arrived with the drinks. Vix took a sip. “If I see her, I’ll let you know.”
He lifted his glass. “I was also looking for some companionship. I must be the only bachelor here.”
“How lonely.”
“Your husband won’t mind us talking, will he?” He glanced around. “Where is he, anyway?”
Vix craned her neck and passed sweeping looks over the party. “He should be back any moment. No doubt he’d be happy to make your acquaintance, Mister. . .”
“Quintus Vant,” he said. “You?”
“I guess you don’t recognize me without my horns.”
He smiled.
“And to be clear, I’m currently unmarried.”
“You’re joking,” he said. “And I have you all alone. I’ll bet you’re natural, aren’t you?”
“You tell me,” she said.
“You’re natural.”
Vix combed her fingers through her blue black hair. “It would be unladylike to say yes or no.” She paused. “So is that a wild guess?”
“An expert’s hypothesis,” he said, sipping and staring at her over the lip of his glass. “Synthetics and prosthetics are something of a specialty for me.”
Vix felt her eyes glance at the cybernetic half of his face. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“Does it frighten you?”
Fear took on a new meaning when one lived life on the run, and in her profession. “How did it happen?”
“You tell me,” he said, a teasing tone in his voice.
Vix tapped her lip. “Ex-military.”
He rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”
“Navy, or Marines.”
“Which?”
“Navy,” she said.
He smiled. “Go on.”
“Must have been serious combat.” Vix stretched back and smiled inwardly at the look in his eyes.
“What else?”
She shrugged. “You wear your prosthetics like medals when you could’ve regrown. You’re proud or you’re stubborn.”
“Which do you think?”
She hid her smile behind her glass. “You’re wrong, you know.”
“About what?”
“There are single women here.”
He raised his only eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes. But they won’t talk to you. It’s your government training.” She trailed her fingers up his dinner jacket and flicked away a tiny speck of fuzz. “Some of them have less than stellar records.”
“And you?”
She touched her chest. “Why, I am a model citizen.”
Vant’s eyes found hers. “My apologies. A silly mistake.”
“I will forgive you this once,” she said, holding back a laugh. “And you? You are at least as unscrupulous as the rest of my guests.”
“Absolutely.”
“Then how in good conscience could we continue this conversation?”
“We could go somewhere private.”
Vix knew an invitation when she heard one. “Scandalous,” she said.
“You’re right.” Vant turned and looked outside. “When is the detonation?”
“Soon.”
A portly man nearby overheard. “Did you say soon? Everyone! The star’s going to explode soon!”
The guests all began to chatter excitedly. The music stopped, and the party gathered to watch outside.
“They seem excited,” Vant said.
“You don’t.”
He finished his cocktail, set it down and pointed to it. The bartender saw and began to fix another. “I didn’t come here for that.” The bartender returned quickly with his drink. “Your ship is crewed entirely by androids?”
“Yes,” she said.
“How many are there?”
“Running the ship?” She shrugged. “Fifty. Another twenty or so for other purposes.”
“What other purposes?”
“They prepare my meals, serve my drinks, play music, wipe down tables. . .”
“Keep you company?”
“In what way?”
“Do you own any sexers?”
She felt dizzy with sudden anger. “Vargas is about to go. Can you see it?”
He glanced over but did not respond. She wondered if he’d even heard her.
“Would you excuse me for a moment?”
Vix turned to say something, but he’d already gone. She frowned, picking her nails. She replayed their conversation, trying to find where she’d gone wrong. What had she said?
A blast of brilliant white light filled the lounge. The guests cheered. The green gas planet was engulfed and vanished. The star split into chunks as its core destabilized, each one exploding into a myriad of dazzling colors.
Vix watched, thinking for a moment of Captain Mafalda and his crew. At least she had given them a quick death. Where had Vant gone? He went in the direction of her lavatory, but why leave just when the star was exploding?
Fanfare played and everyone cheered. Then the band began weaving another somber tune, sax and trumpet and clarinet converging into a melancholy melody. One of Vix’s band began to sing the lyrics. Only then did she recognize the song, an oldie.
A gentle soul
An empty hole
Out comes that shriveled heart.
Vant returned, adjusting his cufflinks. “Sorry.” He glanced outside, and then to the band. “Shall we dance?” He took her hand, pressed her to him and laid his hand on her hip. They rocked slowly to the music.
Vix smiled. “I thought you ran away.”
He smiled back. “No. Forgive me if I was forward.”
Her hands are cold,
Her eyes are old
But her tears are piping hot.
“You weren’t,” she lied, swaying her hips to the melody, left, right, left, right. “I own one. I barely use it,” she lied again. “And you, Mr. Vant?”
“I had my share of synthetic partners during the War.”
He felt solid as stone through his dinner jacket. Vix realized quickly she was touching more cybernetics. “You missed it,” she said.
“I don’t miss anything.”
Outside, the unformed clouds and remnants of Vargas were losing shape and rapidly cooling into shades of deep blue and heady purple.
No love required
The gun is fired
The bullet goes through walls.
“A lady could forget herself around you,” she said. She paused, looking at his face. “I’m not some virgin girl.”
“I know.”
“But…” She tried to find the words. “I don’t want you to think I’m some whore…”
He chuckled.
She clenched her jaw. “Take me serious.”
“I do,” he said. “Deadly serious.”
That silly bird
Knows not a word
But he sings along anyway.
“Tell me about yourself. What you do. Why you’re out here. Everything.”
His eyes did not reflect his eyes. “Some of it, anyway.” He shrugged. “Work brings me out here. I was on my way back to the capitals when I intercepted your invitation. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Is that wise? Will your employer care?”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. And they can’t afford to lose me over some trivia.”
“That’s a big assumption. Don’t you care?”
Vant’s face lit with a purple red light. Vix turned and looked outside where two of the erupting fragments of the star had collided and had begun exploding all over again. She smiled and buried her face against Vant’s jacket. “Shame.”
“Shame?”
“That this has to end. This is magic.”
“Magic,” he said.
“You make me feel like I’m innocent all over again.”
“What are you guilty of?”
“Everything. Too many things, from as far back as I can remember,” she said. “It’s the only way I’ve lived.”
“Can you change?”
“No more than you can.” Vix played with Vant’s hair, trailing her fingertips down the back of his neck. “Am I a bad woman?”
“Circumstance grinds us all to dust,” he said.
The song drifted to a close, breaking the spell. Vix touched her forehead. “Forgive me,” she said.
“For what?”
“Our bleak conversation.”
“No.” He lifted her hand and kissed her wrist. “It can still end happily.”
Vix had a number of ideas how. “It’s a shame you really must go,” she said.
“Yes. I’ve delayed too long.”
“I understand,” she forced herself to say.
Vant paused. “Why don’t you come with me?”
“To the capitals?”
“Yes.”
“Not possible,” she said. “I have business as well. And someone has to clean this up.”
“Yes,” he said. He sounded sad. “Business.” He looked outside. “It’s gone.”
Vix looked as well. The star had vanished completely, replaced by the pervasive emptiness of space. “Beautiful though.”
“It was.”
~*~
Maude entered her bedroom. “Peux-je vous obtenir quelque chose, Madame?” Vix rolled over and stretched luxuriously. “Mmm.”
“C’est bon de vous voir si heureux, madame,” Maude said, smiling.
The android was right, she did feel happy. She had replayed her rendezvous with Quintus Vant over and over in her mind. “How long until we reach the capitals?” she said.
“Douze jours, madame.”
She’d told herself repeatedly that she wasn’t chasing after Quintus Vant. It just so happened she wanted to visit the capital planets and settlements. Vix would make a round of the systems, take in the sights, maybe throw another party or two. She would have to tread softly.
And she decided she’d come out of retirement. Why not? A life aimlessly coasting the galaxy wasn’t for her. The memory of the kill still thrilled her. If she met Vant again, all the better.
“Peux-je vous obtenir quelque chose, Madame?” Maude repeated.
“No.”
Maude bowed her head. “Oui, madame.”
“Wait.” Vix sat up. “Has the sexer been fixed?”
“Réparations sont completes, madame. Je le prélèverai?”
Vix smiled. “Yes. Alter its physical specifications.”
“Quel est votre preference, madame?”
“Send it in.”
“Tout suite, madame.” Maude withdrew.
Vix threw herself back against her satin sheets. Chills rattled through her body, she felt like she was sixteen again.
The sexer entered, blank faced and genderless.
“Copy profile for guest Quintus Vant,” she said.
“Copying.” The sexer began to morph and shift, growing taller, broader in the shoulders. “Complete.”
The sexer did a passable job, copying Vant’s sullen brow and chiseled jaw, but its eyes were impassive, bored, lacking his ferocity. Worst of all, the sexer had not copied Vant’s prosthetics. “Copy Quintus Vant’s prosthetics.”
“Unable. Profile only able to synthesize natural epidermal tissue and…”
Vix sighed, she supposed it would have to do. “Why, Mr. Vant. I know I should say, ‘What a pleasant surprise,’ but I always knew you would come back to me.” She contained a girlish giggle and shimmied out of her gown. “You’re just like me, you know. Your smiles are invisible. Beneath it all, I bet you’re as cold as your prosthetics.” She stretched and exhaled. “Come here.”
The sexer walked over. Its hand shot out and gripped her neck with crushing force. Surprised, Vix grabbed its wrist with both arms, fighting desperately to pull it away. Overmatched, she reached for her nightstand and gold-plated sixgun inside.
The sexer’s hands clenched tight around her windpipe. The room was growing darker, darker, until the stars were whisked out.
~*~
“Captain Mafalda and his crew are confirmed safe. I remind you, that was only half of your assignment.”
“It’s only a matter of time.”
“There are surer ways of killing than reprogramming her sex toys.”
“And less conspicuous ways.”
“Your orders were very clear.”
“The next time she turns her sexer on she’s dead.”
“Next time, you will follow your assignment to the letter.”
“She was an instrument. A rusty weapon, out of the syndicates for decades.”
“Vix murdered dozens, hundreds of people. She was an assassin, killing to ensure her anonymity. We required her death. Why did you let her destroy the star?”
“It made a perfect distraction. All eyes were on the star while I was reprogramming her sexer.”
“Risky.”
“Riskier to sabotage the detonators. If I had, she would have suspected something.”
“Report back, Agent Vant.”
© 2009 Kristen Lee Knapp
Original fiction debuting in Residential Aliens.