Persephone Station

by Stina Leicht

  “—received the mission coordinates from headquarters. This is going to be a long ride, people. To save fuel, we’ll be keeping it under 450 kilometers per hour. We’re not due to land until tomorrow. Make yourselves comfortable back there.”

  One of the others whispered something that she wouldn’t normally hear without effort. The suit mic picked it up and shared it.

  “We’re supposed to sleep in these fucking things?”

  Captain Reese answered before any of the others could respond. “Since this is your first time out, Aggio, I’ll answer the stupid questions. Yes. You’ll be sleeping in the chair, and yes, you’re staying in the suit. If you didn’t purchase updated gear, that’s no one’s fault but your own.”

  The one named Aggio let out an exasperated curse. At least half of the others had already closed their eyes. Five of the mercenaries started up a card game.

  “Goodnight, everyone,” Captain Reese said. “There will be a final briefing in the morning before we land.”

  With that, the lights dimmed.

  “What about meals? We’re getting fed, right?” Aggio asked. “Right?”

  Several others groaned.

  “Shut up, Aggio,” Mason Fernandez said.

  Aggio replied with another more agitated curse.

  Kennedy watched the verbal tirade in fascination. When the situation nearly came to blows, one of the two secondary commanders, J. Brett, shut down both Fernandez’s and Aggio’s suits. The pair were instantly locked into place—trapped inside environment suits that wouldn’t respond. Aggio cursed. Fernandez, on the other hand, calmed down.

  “For fuck’s sake, shut up, Aggio,” the one called Naumov said. “Don’t make me pitch you out the airlock. It may not be vacuum out there, but the fall will kill you just as dead.”

  To his credit and everyone’s relief, Aggio stopped complaining.

  The woman next to Kennedy, an ex-soldier named Annalee Cuplin, said, “Don’t worry. They’re feeding us.”

  “Thanks,” Kennedy said. “But I wasn’t concerned.”

  Annalee nodded. Her head had been shaved. The sandy-colored stubble wasn’t long enough to hide the pink of her scalp. The hairstyle was the same as five other soldiers. “Thought so. But you’re new. And I figured there wasn’t any harm in telling you anyway.”

  “You’re a mech pilot?” Kennedy asked. It was a guess based upon the number of soldiers with matching buzz cuts and jumpsuits.

  “I am,” Annalee said. “Gonna grab some sleep. You should, too.”

  Kennedy didn’t intend to rest, but she nodded regardless. Annalee closed her eyes and seemed to drop off at once. Kennedy pretended to do the same. However, internally she studied and prodded her way around the ship’s electronics, communications systems, and various tech modules for the mech units. It was detailed work, involving heavy reverse engineering. She welcomed it since it passed the time—time that she would otherwise have used to focus on her decreased capacities.

  She discovered Tech Specialist Brian Due’s link to the system and inserted code into several communication packets and waited. Soon she had his encrypted credentials and from there was able to access the entire ship’s network. Spreading through it felt a little like wiggling cramped toes. She needed more access before the weighty, foggy headache receded, but that had to wait.

  Another hour passed before she was ready—with stray parts of herself tucked away in strategic locations inside the ship’s systems and no one the wiser. That was when she allowed herself to seek a pathway to the Allnet. It was like taking a deep breath of much needed oxygen through an environment suit helmet. For a moment, she felt dizzy with the euphoria of freedom—as limited as it was. And even though it hadn’t been in the plan, she indulged in a quick check on her sister’s progress.

  Peisinoe’s greeting was perfunctory. What took you so long?

  Kennedy attempted to not demonstrate her relief. The network is more primitive than I anticipated in some ways and less so in others. She changed the subject. It’s time. Are you ready?

  Everything is set. A number of humans will be harmed, even murdered. I know I asked before, but I must ask again. Are you sure about this?

  I share your discomfort. Unfortunately, humans frequently embroil themselves in potentially catastrophic altercations. This scenario is the least deadly of the available options. Time is short if we want to mitigate the damage.

  All right. The corporate electrical grid is off. The generators have taken over. Will wait the requisite amount of time to implement a second failure.

  How’s the weather?

  Do we care?

  We do.

  Terrible. It’s storming.

  That’s not unusual. What is the severity? Enough to affect air traffic? She could look it up herself, but she didn’t want to overtax the network with unnecessary queries.

  The current storm would appear to be average for Persephone this time of year. The flooding shouldn’t engage the water retention system for another two hours yet.

  Good.

  Why are we doing this? Isn’t it dangerous to meddle in a corporate entity’s affairs?

  Because a friend requested it.

  We have friends?

  It would appear we do At least for now.

  Won’t someone notice we tampered with the utility service?

  Not if you cover your tracks. In any case, they’ll be too busy dealing with the people attacking the building. They should arrive about now. Kennedy paused. That reminds me. Did you find a way around the locks on the main entrance?

  I did. And the elevators. I shut down the com system that alerts the guards, too.

  Really? I didn’t ask for that.

  I was bored, and it seemed a good idea at the time. Should I reconnect it?

  A warning flag popped up in the back of Kennedy’s consciousness.

  Definitely not. I must go. My attention is required elsewhere.

  Fortunately, you can be in multiple places at once.

  I could, if my resources weren’t severely limited. I must abandon this channel. Be safe, sister.

  I will. You, too.

  21

  TIME: 04:15

  DAY: SUNDAY

  OGENTH

  Captain, are you awake? Kurosawa asked. I was to check in with you early this morning. Captain?

  Angel groaned. I’m up. I’m up.

  Her assigned room was quiet and dark. The small round window set high on the wall revealed a morning sky that had yet to acquire anything more than muddy grey dimness.

  Every muscle in her body ached as she sat up. She’d known she’d regret having helped build the third tunnel barricade. She’d been exhausted by the time it was finished. With the work complete, the Emissaries had been in high spirits. They’d even done a bit of celebrating. She’d accepted one drink and then retired to her room, leaving the others to their fun. She remembered sitting down on her bed, but she didn’t recall falling asleep. It hadn’t been until Kurosawa’s message that she understood she had.

  She hated when her mind whirled with prebattle anxiety. Did they have enough defenses in place? Had she predicted the correct direction of attack? Was there something she’d missed or forgotten? Her memory wasn’t what it used to be. She relied on her hand terminal more often than not these days. Lists were her constant companion.

  She ran her fingers through her hair and yawned.

  Doing her best not to focus on how many people would die, she understood she was excited by the prospect of conflict. The reason why was complicated. As awful as a battle was, she didn’t know a time when she’d felt more alive. The experience was so intense that some grew addicted to it. Angel wasn’t one of those. No matter how much she enjoyed that high, she couldn’t ignore the fact that people were going to die. The period before a battle was always like that—one part dread and guilt and one part anticipation.

  Forcing herself to get moving, she slipped into her clothes with her eyes half open. The mercenarie
s would arrive in a few hours, and everyone had to be ready. There was still so much to do, details mainly. Pulling on her boots, she stood up with a grunt and staggered to the door. She was met with the scent of brewing coffee.

  Lou sat at the table alone, reading and eating a breakfast comprised of some sort of hash. She looked up from her book when Angel entered the room. With a nod, Lou retrieved the carafe from the end of the table and poured rich brown liquid into a fresh cup. Then she scooted the steaming mug across the table. “There you go.”

  “Just what I needed. Thanks,” Angel said. “Where did you find a fresh supply?”

  They’d run through much of Ogenth’s coffee during the past week. Normally, that wasn’t a problem. However, all deliveries from Brynner and the station had been temporarily halted.

  “Kurosawa’s galley, of course. I’ve been saving it. Thought today of all days it would be best if Enid was in a good mood.” Lou resumed reading.

  Sipping from the mug, Angel let the nutty-bitter taste of excellent coffee flood her mouth. She closed her eyes, savoring it. Finally, she swallowed and smiled. Settling at the table, she noticed that Lou was wearing the same clothes she’d worn the day before.

  “What in the world?” Angel pointed at the thick softcover book in Lou’s hands.

  “It’s the technical manual for the Black Eagle 75 series dropship. Well, one of them, anyway.”

  Angel poured herself a second cup from the warm decanter. “A little light reading this morning?”

  “Hey, you were the one who said I should expand my mind,” Lou said.

  “I said that two months ago. And I meant you might read some literature or poetry or science or something,” Angel said. “Not yet another technical manual.”

  “I wanted to know about the ship Vissia’s mercs are arriving on,” Lou said.

  “Anything helpful?”

  “Not so far,” Lou said. “Reading this is about as boring as it gets. And I’ve read all the spec manuals for every lift-car made. So, that’s saying something.”

  “Why are you reading a hard copy?”

  “Apparently, the manufacturer didn’t furnish electronic files. I suspect they didn’t want the detailed specs to get out.”

  “Ah. I suppose that makes a certain amount of sense except for the part where you managed to acquire a copy,” Angel said. She paused. “How exactly did you acquire a copy?”

  Lou winked. “Mechanic magic.”

  “You’re killing me,” Angel said.

  “Remember Jackson?” Lou asked. “The pilot? Turns out he has a serious thing for military hardware. Had it in his ill-gotten library.”

  “That’s an odd stroke of luck.”

  “That’s debatable,” Lou said. “I’m pretty sure this is a bootleg copy. I don’t think Russian was the author’s first language. Just listen to—”

  “Good morning, everyone.” Sukyi’s voice was low and rough. She paused and stretched. “I think.” She shambled to the table. “What’s for breakfast?”

  Her eyes were puffy with sleep, and her hair was disheveled. She was wearing a pair of faded flannel pajama bottoms and a baggy t-shirt printed with the emblem of one of Brynner’s more infamous gambling establishments. The grey undertone in her skin had returned. She looked terrible.

  “Maybe you should take the day off,” Angel said.

  “And miss all the fun?” Sukyi shook her head. “I’m perfectly capable of performing my duties this morning, the same as everyone else.”

  “You’re sick,” Angel said.

  “Name a day when I’m not,” Sukyi said. She set down a series of pill bottles in a row on the table, covered her mouth, and coughed. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Lou didn’t look up from her manual. “Save some for Enid.”

  “Speaking of,” Sukyi said, “where is our illustrious sniper this fine… whatever it is.”

  “Don’t you know what 04:30 looks like?” Angel asked. “Or don’t famous adventurers get up before 08:00?”

  “What an atrocious hour,” Sukyi said. “No adventurer would be caught awake before sunrise unless they’ve stayed up the entire night through like the gods intended.”

  “I forgot you get preachy when you’re tired,” Angel said, and smiled against the rim of her mug.

  Enid emerged from her room. Unlike everyone else, she was dressed, alert, and ready for the day. “I heard there was coffee.”

  Lou dropped the manual and retrieved the coffee urn from Sukyi’s clutches. She poured a cup and passed it to Enid. “Here. Kurosawa will have another pot ready before we dust off.”

  Angel leaned back in her chair and watched her friends. She told herself that there wasn’t anything left to do but wait.

  Captain? It was Kurosawa again.

  Angel asked, What’s the news?

  The mercenary ship, Shrike, will arrive in approximately three hours.

  That’s a lot earlier than we anticipated.

  It is, indeed. They adjusted their schedule and speed. It is unclear why.

  Thanks. Any news from Brynner?

  The city is in a state of chaos. There is speculation that Vissia Corsini may be dead. Expected press releases have not occurred. There is no confirmation as of yet. I am not confident that this is so.

  Any word from Rosie? She hadn’t heard anything since the report on the mercenaries. The silence wasn’t all that unusual, but it still bothered her.

  I’m afraid not.

  All right. Let me know the instant you get any definitive news about Vissia Corsini.

  I will.

  Lou stopped her chatter and gave Angel a quizzical eyebrow lift. In answer, Angel shook her head.

  Let them eat breakfast in peace, she thought. They can worry about what’s going on in Brynner after today.

  That’s when several alarms sounded all at once, and Angel understood that someone was attempting to steal her ship.

  22

  TIME: 04:30

  DAY: SUNDAY

  BRYNNER

  The Serrao-Orlov transportation platform was located on the top level of the corporate complex. It supported two landing pads and five hangars for aircraft—two for smaller vehicles and three for larger military-grade personnel carriers. That the chief financial officer—a notoriously stingy figure by job definition—had approved such cost expenditures said a great deal about the company’s holdings on Persephone. Architectural contractors were a careful lot when it came to the only major employer on the planet. The combination of extreme weather and a caustic environment made caution a requirement for any builder. Thus, the platform was the epitome of design efficiency and safety.

  Very soon, it would also be a war zone.

  This was due to an enormous effort on Rosie’s part for which they were, negligibly at best, sorry.

  Vissia shouldn’t have fucking threatened to invade Ogenth.

  It’d been a long couple of days and showed no signs of letting up. Rosie stifled a yawn in spite of the tension. The first step had been negotiating a temporary truce between Persephone’s crime families—a truce that had cost Rosie a vast sum to broker. The agreements would, of course, fall apart the instant more lucrative opportunities presented themselves. That was a fact of life in Brynner. Thus, the coalition was already showing signs of instability, and it’d only existed for twenty-four hours.

  And that, Rosie thought, is why no one outside the corporation has gotten traction against Serrao-Orlov in more than a century.

  A strong wind whipped across the platform. This high above the city, heavy gusts were a constant problem. This was why Rosie had equipped their team with mag boots and climbing rigs. If a storm hit while the team was exposed, they’d all be in danger.

  And another storm was, in fact, gathering.

  Vast green-black clouds bunched on the greying horizon like a wrathful horde. Rosie caught the scent of ozone in the freshening breeze. It was cold on the roof, too—at least ten degrees cooler than it was on the ground. />
  The trip up the side of the building had been terrifying. Rosie didn’t care for heights. Naturally, they hadn’t mentioned this to anyone. If it hadn’t been dark, they wouldn’t have made it at all. As it was, they’d resorted to antianxiety medication and limiting their peripheral vision. And even with all those precautions, they’d only managed to gut their way through the climb by focusing on the wall passing in front of them and imagining they were in a glass elevator.

  A very windy and cold glass elevator.

  I’m never doing that again.

  Taking shelter from the security cameras behind a short decorative wall that traced the roof’s perimeter, Rosie kept their gaze to the roof’s tarmac and its environs. They also refrained from thinking about what lay beyond the platform’s limited horizon. Vertigo haunted the back of their mind.

  Sarah’s brows pinched together, and she frowned. Today, her hair was bright peach. It was an oddly feminine touch to an outfit that leaned heavily toward bulletproof armor and heavy magnetic boots. “Are you okay?”

  “Except for the fact that we’re about to openly declare war on Serrao-Orlov, I’m perfectly fine,” Rosie said. “How about you?”

  One corner of Sarah’s mouth twitched. “Uh-huh.”

  Rosie cast about for something to cover their anxiety. “It’s the storm. I don’t like unpredictable elements.” They plucked their hand terminal from their pocket where it’d been secured and checked on the other teams’ progress. Unfortunately, the signal wasn’t strong enough.

  Rosie cursed.

  They’d divided their forces into two groups. Alpha was to take the direct route to the hangars up the side of the building. Beta was to attack from the executive-access level. They should’ve begun reporting in.

  “The signal blocker hasn’t been taken out yet, has it?” Sarah asked. She tilted her head, and her eyes acquired a faraway quality.