by Stina Leicht
They considered the fates of certain contractors over the years and decided the situation displayed a certain just symmetry.
Anything could’ve been done to them while they’d been unconscious, and probably had. Nonetheless, Vissia hadn’t gotten what she wanted. Not yet. They were still alive. Their memories since being drugged were like the inadequate blanket, fuzzy and threadbare. An awareness emerged of past small sharp pains—needles or scalpels, of course. They assumed it’d been for the administration of drugs and the collection of biological samples. Vissia had made countless such demands for her little projects in the past. They couldn’t imagine she had waited for permission now that she had access.
A loud clanking thump from the door’s electronic locking mechanism signaled that someone had come at last. Rosie tugged their shredded dignity over burning vulnerability. They searched their besieged mind for a prayer, but the only thing that came was a partial scripture verse from the latest revision—or at least the latest revision they were aware of.
“For they who sow of flesh will reap corruption—”
The words weren’t a comfort but sliced in multiple directions all at once.
It’s difficult not to take that literally at the moment, they thought with a weary, bitter irony.
The medical tech entered, pushing an empty wheelchair. She wasn’t alone.
Vissia wore a long white lab coat over an impeccable designer suit. Genuine gabardine wool in an austere black wrapped her pale slender form in artfully expert folds and seams beneath the boxy white cloth. The skirt’s hem rode just above her knee. Her dark brown hair had been smoothed into a classic chignon. She wasn’t wearing any jewelry. Bright lipstick in a sickly shade of red spoiled the pristine, spartan impression. It clashed with her pale skin and brought out the redness in her nose.
Rosie’s guts tightened at the sight of her.
“You’re awake,” Vissia said. Her voice had a slightly nasal quality.
“You’re a colossal bitch who uses the bodies of others for personal gain,” Rosie said. When a shocked silence resulted, they added, “Oh. I’m sorry. I thought we were pronouncing the obvious.”
Vissia frowned and sniffed. “You seem to be unclear about your situation.”
“Oh, I’m clear,” Rosie said. “I’m clear that you’ve overextended yourself. Your control of Brynner has slipped. The crime families won’t support you. And without them, you won’t be able to hold Persephone, let alone Serrao-Orlov. Your little house of cards is collapsing.”
Reaching into the pocket of her lab coat, Vissia retrieved her hand terminal. “I’ve been looking forward to this.” She touched the screen with an index finger.
The effect was immediate. Rosie’s back arched in a contraction of agony. Blinding pain scorched their nerves, blotting out thought. The wall of hurt made it impossible to breathe. The chill temperature of the room seemed to amplify the agony. They vaguely registered that someone somewhere was screaming. And then all at once the pain was gone.
They gulped for air. Their cheeks felt cold and wet. Their feet were blocks of ice. Their heart thrashed inside their chest. Trembling with cold and spent adrenaline, they wanted to vomit. The sheet and blanket had slipped off, leaving only the hospital gown to cover their nakedness. Blood oozed from their wrists.
“You’ve nothing else to say?” Vissia asked. She didn’t wait long for a response. “Good. We can get on with our day.” She gestured to the med tech who pushed the wheelchair next to the bed.
A second med tech appeared. He deftly removed the catheter that Rosie hadn’t known about, and cut the restraints. Blood rushed into Rosie’s numbed hands. They rubbed at the pins and needles, hissing with discomfort. No move was made to staunch the cuts on their wrists. The techs helped them into a robe and lifted them into the wheelchair.
Warmth shielded Rosie from the cold for the first time. They pulled the cloth tighter as the shivers began to dissipate.
“I hope you don’t mind a brief visit to the lab,” Vissia said. She retrieved a monogrammed handkerchief from her other pocket and used it.
“You’re going to tell me that my feelings on the matter aren’t of any concern?” Rosie asked. Their voice was hoarse and weak. Their throat was raw. “Anyway, this won’t have been the first time, will it?”
Vissia smiled.
An icy knot formed in Rosie’s stomach. “May I have some water before we go?”
Vissia again signaled to the med techs. Water was poured into a glass. Rosie drained it three times. When they were done, the cup was placed on the cart. With that, the female med tech steered the wheelchair to the exit while the male tech followed behind. Vissia entered the hallway first. Rosie was pushed through, and then the male tech locked the door.
“I shouldn’t need to say this, but don’t do anything stupid,” Vissia said. She silently demonstrated that she still had her hand terminal by holding it up.
Rosie shrugged.
Vissia turned and purposely walked down the hallway. Vigilant for clues that might indicate where they were, Rosie quickly lost hope. The hallways, doors, and floors were all the same in this part of the building. It wasn’t until the group had gone through a large sliding door accessing the main corridor that Rosie understood that they were on the station.
Rosie knew Serrao-Orlov’s headquarters and employee residences took up much of the station’s fourth floor, but that was the only information they had. After taking several turns, Vissia led them to what was apparently a lab. Rosie spied the small square metal plaque on the wall next to the door handle.
425C LAB-5 Admittance to Authorized Personnel Only.
They silently repeated the lab number to themselves in an effort to remember. If the opportunity arose to get a message to Sarah, they would have something for the rescue team.
Vissia used the retinal security camera. After a gentle flash of light from the mechanism, the door slid open with a hiss. Rosie’s chair was guided into the lab.
The smell of disinfectant hung in the air. The main laboratory contained seven desks and glasstop computers. A long counter with cabinets below and above stretched the length of the wall to the right. Various lab equipment rested on the countertop. Six techs worked at their stations. A couple of screens were visible, but none of it made any sense to Rosie. They didn’t have an extensive scientific background. However, one glasstop was clearly compiling computer code.
On the left was a row of three glass-enclosed rooms. Two Emissaries were strapped to gurneys in the first. Both were unconscious. The sight of them was like a punch in the gut.
The room seemed to spin. “No,” Rosie said before they could catch themselves.
“Yes.” Vissia gave a little pleased laugh. “Your little rescue attempt failed. While your mercenaries focused on the frontal attack, I was able to slip into the back and grab whatever I wanted. I have everything. I know what they know. Or I will soon enough.”
“You didn’t—”
“Kill everyone we found in Ogenth?” Vissia shook her head slowly. “Why waste valuable assets? They can hide themselves away for a few months, but sooner or later they’ll have to acquire more supplies. The community isn’t sustainable without imports from Brynner. It’s always been their main vulnerability.”
“What are you doing to them?” Rosie asked.
“Those two? They refused to cooperate,” Vissia said. “We’re using them for raw materials. Their friends, on the other hand”—and she motioned to the second secure enclosure where three Emissaries gathered around two glasstops—“have decided to be more helpful.”
“This is vile,” Rosie said. “You couldn’t possibly—”
“I’ll do anything for my little girl,” Vissia said. “Anything at all.” She pointed to the third enclosure.
A girl slept in the hospital bed in the third enclosure. She could’ve been anywhere from six to eight years old, but Rosie knew she was much older. Her blonde curls had been shaved close to her scalp. Senso
rs connected to wires were taped to her head, arms, and legs. Those attached to her head were connected to a glasstop. The wires taped to her legs led to another set of electrical equipment. Her pale, bloodless face had the sunken, wasted appearance of a long vegetative state.
Beatrice, Rosie thought.
Next to the sleeping girl, another healthier version of her played with a red ball. She was dressed in an old-fashioned dress that Rosie may have only seen in an antique children’s book illustration. She had blonde hair cascading in thick ringlets down her back. Her limbs were long and straight, unlike those of the girl in the bed.
Behind both, a broad window displayed a spectacular view of the planet turning below the station.
“Say hello to Rosie, darling,” Vissia said.
The projection-girl caught her nonexistent ball and turned to face them. Her head tilted in curiosity. “Who is Rosie, Mommy?”
“Don’t be rude,” Vissia said. “Remember what I said about manners.”
The projected Beatrice approached the glass and curtsied, hands on the hem of her pink skirt. A flash of white revealed she was wearing a lace crinoline beneath. Her pale cheeks were set in a heart-shaped face. Her brown eyes were wide. “Nice to meet you, Rosie.”
“What is this?” Rosie asked.
“This? This is Beatrice, of course,” Vissia said.
“That is not Beatrice. That is an AGI projection,” Rosie said. “Beatrice is rotting in that bed due to a missing frontal cortex. She never had one. And, therefore, has never spoken a word.”
“Don’t make me discipline you again,” Vissia said. “Not in front of the child.”
Rosie bit down on another tactless remark.
“Go on, darling,” Vissia said. “Return to your play. Let mommy talk to her friend.”
“Goodbye,” the fake Beatrice said. A disquieting electric-blue glint flickered in her eyes. “It was nice to meet you, Rosie.” She returned her focus to bouncing the ball.
Vissia said, “Beatrice is the direct result of a secret project I funded more than a decade ago. One that apparently continued even after the death of the experiment’s lead scientist. At long last, I am about to see the project’s completion, and I have you to thank for it.”
“I don’t understand,” Rosie said.
“Are you familiar with the work of Dr. Xiuying Liu?” Vissia asked.
Rosie paused. The lie fit comfortably in their mouth. “No. Should I be?”
Vissia slowly shook her head. “Honestly, I thought you were well-read.”
“Literature has long been my subject of interest, not science,” Rosie said. “Ever since our little accident.”
“Honestly,” Vissia said in disgust. “Dr. Liu was famous for her work in neurotechnology. She was also one of the foremost experts in artificial intelligence. She established the basic regulatory controls for every AGI and AI currently in use across human-inhabited space. She rendered AGI safe for humanity.”
“So, you’ve created a replica of a child that doesn’t exist,” Rosie said. “It doesn’t make her your daughter. It doesn’t do anything for the poor child in that bed.”
“What if I told you that Dr. Liu created a means to transfer an AGI consciousness into a human body?” Vissia asked.
“I’d say you’ve lost your damned mind,” Rosie said. “The transfer of consciousness has been the holy grail of lunatic transhumanists for centuries. It’s a failed concept. It can’t be done. And even if it could, AGIs aren’t human. They’re nothing like human.”
Again, Vissia shook her head. “You’re missing the point.”
“Even if it were possible, it wouldn’t be legal,” Rosie said.
“You’re going to tell me that you, of all people, would let a little thing like law get in your way?” Vissia asked. “In this case, there is no consciousness to transfer. I’ve created one for her.”
Rosie blinked. “You can’t be serious.”
“Dr. Liu successfully created an AGI with empathy,” Vissia said. “Unfortunately, she had a change of heart before completing the final phase. She refused to turn over the work I hired her to do. She threatened to destroy everything. So, I had her killed.”
“You had a renowned scientist murdered?” Rosie asked. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Fortunately, Beatrice tells me that Dr. Liu’s daughter completed the experiment,” Vissia said. “Her name is Kennedy. Dr. Kennedy Liu.”
“Kennedy Liu?” Rosie asked, pretending to be shocked.
Vissia nodded. “I’ve been searching for years. I recruited Beatrice, once she’d grown old enough, to send out messages. M. Liu came to Persephone in answer to those—”
“This isn’t happening,” Rosie said. “I met her. She’s an agent for Planetary Division. She’s not here in response to your message. She’s here to help the Emissaries. Planetary knows what you’ve done, Vissia. Kennedy Liu is here to press charges against you.”
For a moment, doubt crept across Vissia’s porcelain features. “That can’t be.”
“It is,” Rosie said.
“Beatrice reassured me,” Vissia said. “She wouldn’t lie to her own mother.”
“You’re not its mother,” Rosie said. “Not in the sense you’re using. It has no loyalty. It can’t love.”
“I told you,” Vissia said. “Beatrice is different. She understands. She has emotions.”
“Oh, God,” Rosie said. Terror made a ball of ice in their stomach. “Please tell me you didn’t—”
“The project was lost to me,” Vissia said. “But now its final author is headed to this station. And I have you to thank.”
Rosie felt sick yet again. “Kennedy is coming here.”
“To save you,” Vissia said. “Only she’ll be too late. You’re about to contribute to my project. A final trial before it is complete.”
32
TIME: 11:25
DAY: MONDAY
PERSEPHONE STATION
The plan had seemed like a good one planetside. Dressed in hard space-rated environment suits with the hoods down, Angel had hoped they would pass for repair workers. Paulie carried a tool bag as part of the disguise. Its actual contents might have been a problem if security inspected it, but Angel had gambled that they wouldn’t. She wasn’t sure Enid would pass for someone as prosaic as a maintenance worker. And then there was Big Bertha…
Now, Angel was viewing the scheme for what it was: an impulsive proposal with so many holes that it could pass for a piece of Starl wedding lace. I’ve led my people into a shit storm. The one thing I told myself I’d never do. All because I couldn’t face losing Rosie.
I should’ve waited a day. Put together a careful, solid, working strategy.
There wasn’t time for that, and you know it.
Luckily, none of it seemed to matter. They were here, and circumstances were working in their favor.
The entire hangar was empty of personnel. The security station was unattended. Even the dock’s AI had been shut down. If Angel had been so inclined, they could’ve stolen both of the expensive corporate corvettes and no one would’ve stopped them. The lack of alarms and the presence of unsecured objects—abandoned bulbs of coffee, hand terminals, and plasti-sheet forms—were the only indications that the staff hadn’t been spaced. It was as if everyone had simply set down whatever it was they’d been doing and fled in an orderly fashion.
Wasn’t that lucky?
Lieutenant Winston’s face came to mind and Angel flinched. He’d been particularly bad about relying on good fortune to see him through tight scrapes. He’d lasted four months before a spring grenade took his helmet and his head off. Unfortunately, most of his platoon went down with him—Angel included.
She shrugged off the bad memory, but her anxiety intensified.
There was only one working freight elevator in Section C. So, she risked crowding everyone into the single car. Standing directly behind Annalee and her mech felt like hiding behind a small tank. Very little would
get through Big Bertha. That was the point. Angel decided she rather liked having a mech pilot on the team.
Particularly today, she thought.
Her vision seemed clearer. The nonexistent sparkles at the edge of her vision were gone. So was the mind fog. The medication was working. Briefly, she wondered if the fault in her planning had been due to missing her meds. The thought tensed the muscles in her gut. Never do that again.
A few loose curls floated around the edges of her vision. Her muscles were tight. She watched for signs of trouble. Thankfully, the need for mag boots inhibited nervous shifting.
Enid said, “I don’t like this.”
“It’s downright spooky,” Paulie said.
“Too fucking easy,” Enid said.
Angel asked, “Was it a security drill? They conduct them sometimes.”
Enid said, “What security drill doesn’t lock down all the elevators?”
One elevator left operating. Conveniently, the one we need to get to the station proper. Angel’s stomach tightened.
“There is an indication of a hull breach alarm having been triggered,” Kennedy said. She was still concentrating on her hand terminal. She seemed particularly distracted.
She’s just scared. We all are. Any thinking person would be, Angel thought. “That might account for it.”
“But the alarm has been switched off,” Kennedy said.
“Huh,” Angel said.
“Pressure doors between sections are still active throughout the station. Individual residences are also in lockdown mode,” Kennedy said. “I’m seeing indications of large numbers of residents in emergency shelters.”
“Why cut the alarm before they were cleared to leave?” Angel muttered. She turned her attention back to Kennedy. “How does Section C look?”
“Atmosphere throughout the station seems to be intact, including Section C,” Kennedy said. “There is no evidence of an actual breach. Oh.”
“Oh. What?” Angel asked.
Kennedy said, “It seems not all of the pressure doors within Section C are engaged.”
“I really don’t like that,” Enid said.