Neptune - Part 2

Part 2 – Injustice
Neptune's Journal, 02/02/2025
I never expected it to look like this. Outside for the first time in my life, and while I am finding the weather unpleasant, I have never felt this free in my life. After removing one of the Bio-Tech vehicles for transport into a nearby city, we find ourselves in as much a bind as we have ever been in. Without medical supplies to treat my injuries, without much but our limited amount of supplies to feed us and without anyone to turn to for help, we have become discouraged.
Uranus and Venus are both upset over the loss of Mars yesterday. While his loss was tragic, it was for the greater good, and impossible to avoid. It was either he or Mercury who had to die, and I would prefer to keep her alive. I will have to talk to Uranus about it, especially because he has been spending his time making Saturn guilty about the whole affair. I can tell that Saturn is hurt over the decision that she had to make, regardless of whether it is right. She is not strong enough to bear that kind of burden.
Jupiter and Mercury have both been helping me with our state of affairs, and I am thankful for their presences. Jupiter has acknowledged that Mars is dead, but the fact that she's unable to adequately empathize with the rest of us has kept her stable. I would have expected Mercury to still be in a state of mourning over the passing of Mars, and she probably still is, but she has been hiding it under a cover of cheer.
All six of us reported present today.
***
I sit outside on the stairs of the building, trying not to think of the inevitable resultant dust marks on my suit and instead I focus on why Darryl Racer was wanted dead, and it was clear that he was wanted dead. Four days ago, while Samara was at school preparing for her Master's presentation that evening, someone broke into their apartment and put bullets in Darryl's skull. Presumably, his children witnessed it, but their testimonies will also go unheard. When Sam saw that he wasn't in his usual place, she panicked and left her show to find the bodies. To add insult to injury, her absence caused her show to fail and dashed her chances for this year's review.
Frankly, that someone managed to make it in without Racer knowing it is impressive. He used to be the top of the mercenary game.   I had always thought that he would someday lose his life on the job, so his being slaughtered in his own home came to me as a bit of a surprise, to understate it.
I hear the door opening behind me, but I do not look to see who it is. I had already felt the soft reverberations approaching alone. Nova sits down next to me and looks over, eyeing me wordlessly. I think she wants to know if I am upset, if I have come out here because, like Samara, I am too proud to let anyone see me cry. That is not the problem, though. I am not crying. I turn my eyes to hers and say, "Hello, Seven."
Her head inclines slightly and she says, "Hi, Errol. It's nice to see you again, even if the event bringing us together is less than cheery." I look over at her. She is one of the loveliest women I have ever met, and she is not even a woman. Most would be surprised to learn that she is an androgyne, since her figure is not exactly what one pictures when the word comes up. Samara's compact, wiry frame is far more typical. I know, however, that she is an androgyne not by her word alone, but because I am one of the few clients that she ever takes herself. She is the madam of a Martian brothel which I have had the opportunity to visit.
"What are you doing out here? Weren't you comforting Samara? I don't want to leave her alone at a time like this."
She shakes her head slowly and says, "Errol, you know how she is. She doesn't want a shoulder to cry on. She wants everyone to look away from her pain."
I acknowledge this with a nod. "She can't bear every burden on her own. I think everyone knows that except for her. But I will respect her wishes."
Nova smiles a bit sadly at me and comments, "You know... the last time I saw them both together was the day they were married. I saw Darryl a couple of times when he was working a contract for you, and Samara came to visit once or twice, but they never visited together. I had never seen her so happy with someone for, well, for a very, very long time."
I look down at the sleeves of my suit to see that they are just as clean as ever. I brush them off anyways. "I remember their wedding. The attendance for that was about the same as for this. I guess they never were in a position to make many friends. I remember after their wedding, too." I stand up and try to swipe the dust off of me. "I assume I will see you later tonight."
She stands up as well but doesn't bother making her clothes right. Even so, they seem to fall on her perfectly, and she knows it. "You're insatiable." She smiles and places her hand on my shoulder for a moment, "Be seeing you, Errol." With those words, she walks away to the non-descript vehicle she must have rented for her stay on Luna. I go back inside. With so few people, there is no mingling. The gay couple whose names I cannot recall seem to be getting ready to go. We exchange an awkward greeting as they pass me while I continue to the front of the building.
"Go away," Samara speaks hoarsely. She is done crying for now, but I can tell that she has a lot more to do. I have never seen her so overwhelmed by emotion, but in her situation, with the loss of so many loved ones, I know that I would feel the same way. I sit down, but I do not move to offer her any comfort. I do not even look at her, instead opting to stare at the three closed coffins on display in the front of the room. It is just customary now to even have coffins for funerals, since on Luna all remains are cremated in order to preserve space.
She speaks again, her cold blue eyes looking up at me, still shining from the held back tears, "I didn't want to do this, he just deserves to be remembered, and my babies deserve to be remembered, but there's nobody to remember them. I regret not having been a better mother now. I wasn't affectionate enough. I made mistakes and I could have shown them more how much I loved them. They died without me being able to really let them know how much they meant."
"Don't do this to yourself. They knew how much you loved them and they loved you back. I could tell whenever they were over to play with my kids. They seemed to know when you were getting there, and they were always excited to see you. They loved you because you loved them." I glance over for just a moment and then return my gaze to the coffins.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can tell that she is brushing tears out of her eyes with her wrist. Weakly, she asks, "How are Paris and Tash doing? I didn't see them here..."
"Paris didn't want to come. She doesn't even want to come out of her room. I decided to let her mourn in her own way. Natasha is... I don't know. You know how she is. Trying to tough it out, I guess. I don't think she could have toughed out much longer if she came here, so she opted not to come."
Sam nods. She has watched my children several times in the past, and I know that she likes them very much. That they aren't here is probably a bit disappointing to her, but I want my children to choose how to react to this loss. I recall too well of being dragged to funerals when I was a child.
"I knew I would lose Darryl eventually. Someone was bound to kill him. That's just the life he lead. He was thinking of retiring from the business, so he could spend more time with me and our kids," says Samara quietly, "but now I don't have any of them. I'm going to sleep in an empty bed. I'm not going to be reading any stories tonight. And I'm going to have to get used to that."
I look over. I am sympathetic to her pain. I imagine my own home routine, where I tuck my kids in and give them both a goodnight kiss. Sometimes they ask to talk to me about something on their minds, perhaps only in an effort to extend their bedtimes, and then I return to the reading room to spend some short amount of time offering quiet civility to Cheryl before we too retreat to our separate beds. She continues, the sorrow in her voice giving way to hostility, "Whoever did this, I am going to find them and choke the fucking life out of them. I will crush their windpipe and watch as they helplessly try to gasp for air. I'll gouge out their fucking eyes, too, so they have nothing but darkness to comfort them." Her teeth are clenched and her hands are already bent in a way that leads me to believe she is quite vividly imagining this. I can't help but notice her curse words are a bit archaic, but so much about her is. I put my hand on her shoulder, careful not to contact any of my skin or fur with hers.
"Please calm yourself. A vendetta won't do you any good, not now."
She closes here eyes and tries to calm enough to listen to me speak further: "I am going to run an investigation. Darryl was my employee, and he was clearly targeted. I don't want you to do this, because you will be sloppy. You'll get caught."
"So what?" she responds hastily, "I get caught. Nobody is around to care. I don't even do anything productive. I make shows. I love doing it, but it's not important to anyone... You have a family, Errol, I don't want your kids to have to lose their father."
I shake my head and stand up, "People still care about you, Sam. If you'd like, you can stay in my family's guest room, so that you do not have to suffer alone. You should consider it."
She looks up at me and nods, "Thanks, Errol. I'll think about it. But I'm going to stay here for awhile. I'll call you when I know what I want to do."
I walk away, back down the artificial corridor created by the positioning of the chairs.
"And Sam?" I stop and speak in an afterthought, "When I figure out who did this, I will make them suffer." I don't look back and continue following the path to outside.