by Stina Leicht
“That smells like a load of Shalmund mammoth shit.”
Sukyi hadn’t blinked. “How do you know what mammoth shit smells like?”
“My grandfather owned a finca on Thandh. I spent a summer there,” Angel said. “If we weren’t careful about the fences, the mammoths would come down from the mountains and overgraze the pastures. Trust me. It stinks. A lot.”
“Mammoths exist on Thandh?”
“Not the kind you’re thinking of. These have four tusks, two sets of eyes, and tentacles,” Angel had said. “But they’re furry and big. So, close enough.”
Sukyi was, Angel had decided, entirely too calm for someone who owed one of Inaba’s most dangerous loan sharks money she didn’t have.
“You don’t look, sound, or smell like a farm girl,” Sukyi said.
“And how would you know what a farm girl looks, sounds, or smells like?”
Sukyi smiled. “You didn’t work more than one summer on that farm. I’d wager money on it. Fifty credits.”
“I thought you didn’t have any credits?” Angel could see it would be too easy to lose control of the conversation. “I’m not here for social reasons.” She was determined to remain focused. “Do you have what you owe or not?” She was beginning to dread the all-too-near future. She couldn’t help liking Sukyi—not that that was an important factor. A contract was a contract. Angel had hoped she’d never have to beat the shit out of anyone. It was a naive expectation, but she’d held out hope, nonetheless.
She began to run through her more creative options.
Sukyi replied, “Sadly, I must report that I am, in fact, financially bereft. If Mr. McDonald would grant me another generous extension. A week—”
“A week?” Angel prepared herself to hear about a long-shot gamble due to pay off at any moment or a sad tale of woe involving a family member.
“I came to Inaba with a lucrative cargo. Food relief for the city of St. Shaishahar,” Sukyi said.
Angel said, “Draught hit the province hard. And they aren’t having much luck negotiating with other countries.”
“Prejudice is such an ugly word,” Sukyi said. “In any case, it should’ve been a simple exchange. Me dropping off cargo to a specific warehouse, and them issuing the credits. It was scheduled to be resolved weeks ago. Unfortunately, the transaction has been indefinitely delayed.”
“Delayed? Why?”
“A small matter of paperwork, I’m afraid,” Sukyi said.
“I’m listening.”
“I own a Maelstrom-class starship, Sergeant Todd. Have you heard of it?”
Angel shrugged. She’d been warned that Sukyi owned a space-worthy ship and that she might opt to flee off-world. For some reason, Mr. McDonald hadn’t been able to secure a lockdown order with the dock authority.
“The sad and embarrassing truth is, my ship and cargo have been impounded,” Sukyi said, being uncharacteristically direct.
That explanation was at least believable, Angel decided. That might explain why McDonald hadn’t been able to lock down the ship Of course, it begs the question why didn’t he know about it? Then again, maybe he did? McDonald wasn’t known for being open with useful information even when it came to his employees. In that sense, he was practically a stereotype.
Sukyi’s story had the benefit of being easy to verify, at least.
Angel fished out her hand terminal. A quick check confirmed the confiscated cargo.
A consummate storyteller, Sukyi rambled on. Five minutes passed. Then fifteen. Twenty-five. And before Angel knew it, she had messaged her employer, quit her job, and then joined Sukyi at the bar for a celebratory shot of whiskey. A 30 percent share in what had been described as a lucrative independent interplanetary shipping company had seemed like a better, less morally ambiguous future than the one she currently faced.
Sukyi was extremely charming when she wanted to be.
Ultimately, Angel didn’t have the lack of humanity required to literally kick people when they were down on their luck.
Several rounds of drinks and five hours later, McDonald issued a warrant for breach of contract. Sukyi suggested that perhaps it was time to seek opportunities off-world. Angel noted that Sukyi hadn’t hesitated to pay the bar bill. She inquired about the impounded cargo as they were leaving the bar. Sukyi had shrugged. “I’ve a good friend in the impound office who can broker the sale for a small fee. It will cut into short-term profits. However, it would seem a wise investment at this venture.”
And with that, Angel did something she’d never done before or since. She’d left everything behind on impulse.
Of course, Sukyi had neglected to inform Angel that a majority of their business involved smuggling, and the ship in question had multiple unpaid liens levied on it. However, by the time Angel had discovered this, she’d already made six times the bounty she’d been promised by McDonald on top of cementing the friendship of a lifetime.
Eventually, Angel invested a majority of her earnings in Kurosawa. She’d presented the idea to Sukyi as business expansion. Sergeant Todd, while both deep space and planetoid docking capable due to a certain amount of homegrown engineering, wasn’t small enough to be used as local transportation. A dropship was ideal—particularly since Sergeant Todd had two and a half functioning dropship bays. Sukyi never let on but they both understood. Kurosawa was Angel’s insurance policy against darker outcomes.
She and Sukyi had had quite a few good times together since then. Some bad ones, too, Angel thought.
She genuinely liked Sukyi. Angel trusted her in spite of all the reasons she shouldn’t. She understood Sukyi’s limitations and flaws. It didn’t hurt that Sukyi had what Lou jokingly called an overactive sense of duty. It was why Sukyi had never once allowed her self-destructive streak to affect their partnership. No matter how often she ran out on a gambling debt or got behind on paying bills, she always paid Angel her share of the profits on time. Always.
In addition, Sukyi hadn’t lied to Angel since that day on Inaba—no matter how painful the truth had been. Sukyi didn’t always discuss important issues, but when she did, she told the truth.
That had been the reason Angel had ended up alone on Persephone. Sukyi had told her it was time to suspend their partnership. Temporarily, of course. Sukyi hadn’t given an explanation beyond that. Angel had assumed it was the illness. Sukyi had been getting worse—so much so that Angel had insisted Sukyi remain in her cabin during the last delivery. Even then, if Angel hadn’t noticed that Sergeant Todd’s next scheduled destination was a medical treatment facility, Angel would’ve fought to stay.
Watching Sergeant Todd take off from Persephone Station’s dock that day, Angel hadn’t expected to see her friend alive again.
What trouble have you brought with you, Sukyi? Whatever it was, it had to be a powerful reason. Sukyi had a morbid fear of planetside contamination, and Persephone seemed to be an entire planet made of hostile elements. Mind, Angel hadn’t heard of native microbes or viruses that were particularly dangerous within the city’s walls, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any.
Angel’s hand terminal emitted a series of loud chirps. She crossed the room and dove into the pile of discarded clothes to stop the alarm before it woke Sukyi. Upon retrieving it, Angel ducked into the bathroom and shut the door.
The number on the screen was Monk’s.
“Rosie?” Angel asked, keeping her voice low. She’d sent Rosie the requisite confirmation code the instant she’d gotten home, but sometimes Rosie required details in order to reassure the client.
“Get down here as soon as you can.” It was Sarah, and she sounded frightened. “Do it quiet. And tell your crew to prepare to leave Persephone as soon as possible.”
Angel blinked. “What’s wrong?”
“Theodella Archady,” Sarah said. “She was assassinated. Last night at the party. Rumor says you and yours did it.”
“What? We wouldn’t—”
“Don’t waste time on excuses,” Sara
h said. “Get your ass down here before the whole of Brynner west of the Dead Line comes down on top of us and you.” She hung up.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.”
A knock sounded on the bathroom door. “Is something wrong?”
“Go back to bed, Sukyi,” Angel said, and messaged Enid. She glanced at the time in the corner of her screen. “Take your morning meds before you do.”
“You read the labels on the bottles?”
“I most certainly did.”
“That’s an intrusion upon my privacy and—”
“Stop blustering. There’s fresh juice in the fridge. There’s also green tea, coffee, rice, fish, and miso for breakfast.”
“Oof,” Sukyi said. “You still eat that crap?”
“Don’t worry. I bought ogi. It’s already made. Apricots, too. I’ll join you when I get back. Shouldn’t be gone long.”
“I saw the inside of your refrigerator before I went to bed.” Sukyi’s formal accent had vanished as it always did when she was around people she trusted. “We both know it’s empty.”
“I had groceries delivered while you were sleeping.” Angel finished messaging her crew and exited the bathroom. “You need food and rest.” She pointed to the kitchen and then the bed. “Food. Rest.”
Sukyi was wearing a man’s white shirt, a pair of grey socks, and nothing else. Her hair was mussed.
“You look much better than you did the last time I saw you. The new pills are working,” Angel said. “Maybe there’ll be a cure soon.”
Rolling her eyes, Sukyi said, “There aren’t enough survivors left to make it worth the research expenditure. This is just another temporary recovery. The devil always collects his due.”
“Don’t be so damned hopeful. Will you?”
“I brought you a present.” Scanning the bare walls of the apartment, Sukyi appeared to be searching for something. “Where are your drawings?”
“I used to have a different wall there.” Angel pointed. “But an unexpected visit destroyed it and the last flimsy print I owned.” She shrugged. “I don’t draw anymore.”
“Why not?”
Something about living in West Brynner felt like purgatory. The more she lived there, the less she felt herself.
She shrugged again. “No time. I guess.”
Sukyi dug inside her duffel bag. “Ah. Here we are.” She handed her a half-meter-long black carbon cylinder and a small wooden box. “Open it.”
Angel worked the cap off the cylinder and tipped it. Two brushes slid out. Her mouth fell open.
“Ink and paper all the way from Earth,” Sukyi said. “The brushes are real sable hair. I wasn’t certain of the sizes. So, I guessed. The ink is from Thandh. I know you usually work on a tablet, but I thought this would be nice.”
Running a finger along the inside of the cylinder, Angel felt the texture of the paper.
Every Gorin student indulged in an artistic hobby of some kind. The school required it. It was thought to help balance the psychological price of violence. Some created pottery—raku was a particular favorite. Others sculpted or cooked. Angel’s mother wrote poetry. Angel enjoyed drawing, inking, and watercolor. On Thandh, she’d become accomplished enough to get a few pieces in a gallery. Losing herself in her drawings filled her with joy. However, that’d changed when she’d left. Art supplies were too expensive and fragile for the life of a marine, let alone a space-faring mercenary. So, she’d turned to using a tablet and printing the result. Most artists did. But the two mediums, electronic and physical, weren’t the same, and any classically trained artist knew it. This wasn’t a judgement. It was a simple fact.
Sukyi’s gift was like getting back a part of herself that Angel had forgotten she’d lost.
“Say something, damn it,” Sukyi said. “Do you like it?”
“I love it,” Angel said, blinking back tears. She clutched the tube to her chest. “Thank you.” Then she gave Sukyi a hug. “You’re an amazing friend.”
“Of course I am.”
Angel stepped back and sniffed.
“Now, tell me what that call was about,” Sukyi said.
Angel leaned the tube of paper against the wall she didn’t share with Ben and Dave. Then she set the little wooden box with its glass bottle of ink inside on the kitchen counter. “The Vice President of Serrao-Orlov Corporation is dead. They’re saying we did it.”
“Did you?”
“What kind of a question is that?”
“The kind one asks when one’s best friend is in a business that involves buying bullets in bulk.”
“You know me. I haven’t changed. I only take contracts on people who deserve it.”
“According to whom?”
“Everyone knows Gau had people tortured. He was a violent pimp who kidnapped women and enslaved them. Ask Rosie.”
“Uh-huh. And this Rosie is always truthful?”
“I trust them.”
“Sure.”
“And anyway, Kurosawa needed some expensive repairs.”
“Uh-huh.”
“We don’t do black-bag jobs very often.”
“You don’t?”
“There was a second shooter at the party last night. It wasn’t us.”
“I can come up with fifty better stories than that.”
“We didn’t kill Theodella Archady. I give you my word.” Angel put a hand on her hip and executed a motion that encompassed the whole of the tiny apartment. “Does this place look like I recently came into the kind of money that hitting a corporate VP would mean? For that matter, do you think we’d have stuck around if we had done a job that splashy? Have you taught me nothing?”
“How much time do we have?”
“What do you mean ‘we’?”
“You know I won’t leave you,” Sukyi said.
Angel noted Sukyi didn’t add the obvious. And what if Kennedy Liu told someone she saw us together?
“I won’t know until I talk to Rosie,” Angel said, and pushed past Sukyi in order to get to her closet.
“I’m going with you.”
“You’re ill, and even if you weren’t, you’ve got enough trouble of your own.”
“It’s pointless to argue,” Sukyi said. She folded her arms under her breasts and gazed up at the ceiling in mock sincerity. “I’ll only follow after you like a faithful hound.”
“Then I’ll tell you I hate you and don’t want you around anymore,” Angel said, facing the closet. “I may even throw rocks.”
“I’d know you were lying. I am smarter than a faithful hound.”
Angel sighed. “You’re a stubborn, bull-headed—”
“Don’t forget suicidal.”
“All right. All right. Let’s get dressed and out of here before security rounds us up already.” She searched for an appropriate outfit. If there’s an appropriate outfit for begging for mercy.
“What about breakfast?”
“Coffee is ready,” Angel said. “Scoop the ogi into a mug and grab a spoon. There’s no time.” She selected a pair of trousers that were mostly clean.
“Any moin to go with it?”
“Sorry, they didn’t have any. Now, move. You’re standing on my shirt.”
10
TIME: 09:16
DAY: SUNDAY
MONK’S
Monk’s was a very different place in the harsh morning light. Normally, it had a mildly sinister but comfortable atmosphere. Now, it took on the demeanor of an aging alcoholic battling a hangover. It felt empty and lonely. Currently, the only occupant was the cat laying on the bar.
Angel stopped where she was after Sukyi shut the door behind them with a gloved hand.
“This isn’t right,” Angel whispered. She activated her CA and laid a palm on her pistol grip.
Kurosawa online.
Room scan.
Scan complete. I detect multiple heat signatures in the office. Details unavailable due to operational security. No human presence identified on bar level. Multiple electronic de
vices present. Surveillance and weapons-grade. All have been powered down and/or locked. Do you wish specific locations?
Yes. Please.
An overlay of Monk’s main room appeared in Angel’s vision with at least twenty-five different areas highlighted in yellow. Weapons systems were marked in red. One was a taser shockwave barrier designed to stun anyone within range just under the bar.
That’s expensive.
None demonstrated signs of recent use.
No mobile security? No human security?
No, Captain.
Prepare tactical analysis. You know the layout. Remain on standby. I want an infrared scan of Rosie’s office and the upper floors the instant they’re available.
Affirmative.
Angel locked the doors and drew her stunner. She had a pistol, too, just in case.
Sukyi took note and readied her plasma rifle. She kept her voice low. “Who are we shooting today?”
“What’s with the portable cannon?”
Sukyi raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know we’d be inviting our attackers to tea afterward. Is that how assassins do business these days?”
“I’m not an assassin.”
“If you say so, Gorin.”
“I’m not Gorin anymore either. Didn’t you bring anything smaller?” Angel asked. “I suspect Rosie would prefer Monk’s doesn’t burn down today.” Or any other day.
“I’ll be careful,” Sukyi said. “What’s got you on edge? It’s an empty bar. Aren’t closed bars supposed to be empty?”
“Door was unlocked. Sarah should’ve met us,” Angel whispered. “Never known this place to be unguarded, no matter the hour. Also, Sarah doesn’t allow Josie on the bar. Health regulations.”
“Electronic surveillance?”
“A great deal of it. But the system should’ve weaponized when we entered the building unescorted. It hasn’t.”
“So, we should be dead and aren’t. That’s the trouble?”
“Maybe.”
“Remind me to inquire about social protocols the next time we visit one of your friends.”
Sukyi assumed point. Angel frowned but didn’t argue. The two of them crept across the room, guns at the ready as they scanned for signs of trouble.