“It’s not an issue. She’s welcome to stay as long as she needs.” Pavo shook his head. “That Heitzenroeder guy’s a real edgy sort. Started a gang, lives off the grid. Even the Syndicate stays out of his way. I guess they don’t like their own methods pointed back at them.”
“Huh?” Genevieve glanced at him.
Pavo set his bowl down and dropped the chopsticks into it. “Both react the same way to people who interfere with their business. Usually, it involves destroying anything the person cares for, piece by piece, while they watch… then killing them.”
“We shouldn’t be in bed with the Syndicate.” Risa twirled her chopsticks around in her soup. “They’re worse than any of the dustblow the NewsNet ever accused the MLF of doing.”
Pavo blinked. “You said ‘them,’ not ‘us.’”
“Yeah.” She splayed her fingers flat on the table, pondering her plastisteel bones and the synthetic diamond blades within. “I’m not going to be able to go back when I’m done.”
Genevieve fixed her with a stare. “What are you gonna do?”
Anger bubbled up. Risa pictured her claws entering Garrison’s neck, delivering her long-awaited revenge on the man who murdered her father. “I’m going to…” She closed her eyes. Upon the black of her eyelids, the sad face of the man she’d spent the past sixteen years thinking of as a protector appeared. The same expression he gave her whenever she did something foolish: disbelief tinged with sorrow… and hurt. Her heart thudded in her chest. “…talk to him.”
For what he did to her father, she wanted to kill him, but couldn’t. To get her revenge, she’d have to start an argument that would give her enough anger to lash out in the heat of the moment. However horrible she felt after the fact, well, she’d find some way to deal with that. Maybe she could convince herself that he hadn’t ever really cared for her like a father, that he only became what she missed the most in order to control her. So what if he started taking care of her when she’d been nine years old, before any cybernetic augmentation? Intelligence agents play the long game.
Pavo stood, rounded the table, and offered a hand. “You look exhausted, and I am in dire need of a shower.”
Risa let him pull her standing. “‘Kay.”
“Right. The holo-bar calls me. I haven’t seen this one yet. Monwyn’s taking on the Shadow Goblin king.” Genevieve drifted off to the living room. As soon as she flopped on the couch and put her feet up on the table, the tiny orb leapt up with a happy chirp and resumed painting her toenails.
Risa trudged along behind him out of the kitchen, down a short hall decorated by drab grey carpet and slim silver light bands on the walls. A thin door of gloss-black ‘glass’ slid out of their way as they approached the bathroom. Like an assembly robot performing a rote task, Risa removed her shirt and stepped into the floor-to-ceiling autoshower tube.
He tucked in behind her and closed the door. “Standard cycle, start.”
Machinery in the metal base whirred to life, and within seconds, the interior filled with warm spraying water. Risa turned and wrapped her arms around him, chest to chest. A mechanical ring descended around them, rotating as it coated them with a sudsy mixture. She kept her eyes and mouth closed, and basked in the reality of having him back. Steamy air in her lungs sapped the energy right out of her.
He kissed the top of her head. “You’re not dreaming yet.”
“Mmm.” She tucked her face into the crook of his neck. All the emotional weight of having thought he’d died hit her at once. She didn’t want to deal with any more surprises, any more deceptions. One more revelation that her world existed as nothing more than a series of intricate lies balanced on top of more lies would be too much. She thought of attempting to outrun an explosion on The Strand, a leap onto a tiny patrol flier… how many thousands of ways that could’ve gone wrong. Her stoicism, battered to shreds by Garrison’s betrayal, gave out. Strength left her legs, and she clung to him, crying into his shoulder.
“Risa?” whispered Pavo.
“I was ready to stand there and die. I thought you were dead. I gave up.”
He held her upright, swaying side to side. The gentle motion coupled with the rhythmic thrum of the machine lulled her into a half-awake calm. “You’ve got a guardian angel.”
She chuckled and recovered her footing. “He’s not real. You were right; I must’ve really sounded Cat-6. He’s―” The rinse started; she clamped her mouth closed until the driving spray from the descending ring stopped pelting her in the face. “A synth. AI.”
“A lot of things make sense now.” He spun her around and pulled her back against his chest before the dry cycle started. “Restart program.”
The console chimed a pleasant tone, and the initial rinse spray fell on them. He stood behind her, clasping her hands and holding her arms up to expose her front to the following soap. She let her head drape back against him, wishing the massaging torrent of hot water would scrub her emotions clean. Again, before the dry cycle could start, he shifted around to expose his front and restarted the process.
Risa clung to his back, content to hold him while the shower did its job. After the third wash cycle, he let the hot air tornado run. Once dry, he faced her and they stood holding each other without speaking for a few minutes, breaths echoing in the plastic tube. She drank in his scent, wishing she could forget all about the Martian Liberation Front and spend forever holding him like she did right there.
Pavo kissed the side of her neck.
“I’m too tired to―”
He brushed a hand over her hair, staring into her soul with total sincerity. “It’s more than I could’ve asked for to be with you right now.”
She cringed inwardly at the reflection of her violet irises in his eyes.
Pavo backed out of the tube, holding both her hands. She stumbled after, drowsy gaze on the floor, and let out a muted squeak when he lifted her into his arms. Too tired to protest, she held on as he carried her to the bed. After he set her on the Comforgel pad, he glanced at the door.
“She won’t mind.” Risa stretched into the satin sheets, unable to keep her eyes open. “The safehouse isn’t big on privacy.”
He crawled in next to her. She rolled half on her side, arm across his chest, and slipped into a dream of free fall. Again and again, she saw herself leaping out over the Melas Chasma, missing the little aircraft, and plummeting down eleven kilometers to the ACC settlement below. Tired as she was, and with Pavo at her side, even that nightmare didn’t wake her.
2
Behind the Curtain
A few seconds after Risa realized she’d become conscious, her mind latched on to the reason for it―a conspiracy between an overfull bladder and the scent of bacon in the air. She emitted a weak groan and rolled onto her belly. As soon as she stared at the nightstand, a tiny holo-bar sensed her looking at it and projected a transparent clock: 11:14 a.m. She scowled at the lump of flexible armor on the floor. Confronting Garrison could go sour fast; she’d have to wear it again.
Risa dragged herself upright, intent on heading straight for the kitchen after a stop at the bathroom. In the hall, she caught a scrap of conversation between Pavo and Genevieve, and realized she hadn’t put any clothes on. After a second or two of indecision, she doubled back for a clean shirt. Not that Genevieve would mind, but there was such a thing as too casual. She rummaged a shirt from the floordrobe and pulled it on, suppressing the urge to be annoyed at not being alone with Pavo. She’d spent years thinking her ‘sister’ was dead, and worried the tiniest scrap of resentment at her presence might cause fate to change its mind.
After a quick detour to the bathroom, she trudged into the kitchen. Pavo and Genevieve sat catty-corner at the table, both absorbed in their breakfast. Risa headed for the ’sem and dialed up scrambled eggs with bacon. While standing and watching the beige slime reconfigure itself into her meal, she lamented being unable to send her armor out like laundry. No one in their right mind would risk a two-million-credit
set of quasi-legal armor to a delivery laundry service.
Grumbling, she took her plate and headed for the table. Pavo’s hand intercepted her ass before it could touch down on a chair, and he guided her into his lap. Since he’d already cleared his plate, she pushed it out of her way and used him for a seat. He threaded his arms around her middle, pressed his face to her hair, and inhaled a deep sniff.
“You two are adorable,” said Genevieve.
“Did anyone call Aurelia yet?” Pavo’s voice vibrated over her.
Risa shook her head. “Not yet. I was so twisted up and exhausted, I never got to it. She’s gonna kill me for not calling her from the flight in.”
Genevieve collected her and Pavo’s empty plates and carried them to the dishwasher.
“You’re right. She’s going to be upset,” said Pavo. “But, Everett did ask me to stay out of sight until he had a chance to brief my superiors in the Defense Force. Hopefully, it won’t take long. I figure each day we don’t tell her roughly triples the nuclear response.”
“You’re going to kill Garrison today, aren’t you?” Genevieve kept her back turned, leaning both hands on the counter by the sink.
Risa mulled it over while chewing a piece of bacon. Having had the real stuff from that hole-in-the-wall lunch counter, the OmniSoy variety amounted to pork-flavored snot. “It’s possible. Finding the person who murdered my father and destroyed my childhood was all I thought about for years…”
“But for some reason, you can’t make yourself angry enough to kill him.” Genevieve shifted around to lean against the counter. “Or are you still numb?”
“I keep seeing him. Whenever I close my eyes, I see him. That same sad face he always made when I did something stupid. Almost like he cares.”
“Maybe he does?” Pavo hugged her tighter. “You weren’t an ACC infiltrator. He had to feel awful for you. Ever think maybe he lied because he was afraid you’d hate him?”
Risa squirmed, trying to move his squeezing arms off her stomach so she could eat. Her motion stirred his interest, and he poked her through his boxers. Awkwardness at having Genevieve so close bubbled over. She covered her mouth to avoid spitting half-chewed eggs on the table and laughed.
“Are you sure you’re not Cat-6?” Genevieve’s smile evaporated when she glanced at the clock. She hurried to the living room.
Pavo took a deep breath and let it out. “Oops. Guess she noticed.” He kissed the back of her shoulder, an inch to the left of her neck. “You don’t have to run off right away, do you?”
“You’re unbelievable.” She gasped and giggled as he tried to pull her shirt up. “Not here!”
He relented, letting his hands rest innocently on her hips. “You think Gen would mind if we locked ourselves in the back for a few hours?”
“I think she’d understand.” Risa scooped the last forkful of eggs into her mouth.
She set the plate down and did a little shimmy, sliding her butt back and forth across his lap. He grunted. When she started to get up, Pavo’s fingers dug in and held her down. Risa looked up, about to ask why, but stalled at the sight of Aurelia in the archway between kitchen and living room, in civilian clothes: a loose raspberry top and tight black leggings. Her normally medium-tan face darkened with a look caught between livid and about to burst into tears.
“How long?” Aurelia’s voice came flat, detached, near lifeless.
Risa sat as still as she could manage. “Sorry. We got back late last night and basically went straight to sleep. And we had, uhh, orders to keep it quiet.”
Aurelia ran over, arms wide. Genevieve appeared in the doorway looking guilty.
Pavo eased Risa to her feet and managed an ungainly hug with his duty partner that somehow managed to conceal his aroused state. Risa made herself a cup of coffee and took a seat at the table. Over the next hour, they brought Aurelia up to speed on how one faction within C-Branch had attempted to have Pavo eliminated, but other operators loyal to the Pueri Verum Martis extracted him before he could be killed. Risa danced around specifics and names, giving Aurelia the abbreviated version: one part of the government wanted the Liberation Front to attack its own people, while the other did not.
“General Maris’ continued refusal to basically commit war crimes caused them to re-evaluate the need for the MLF.” Pavo sighed. “There’s an internal war going on right now. One we can’t afford. It could give the Corporates the upper hand.”
“That’s fucked up on an entirely new level.” Aurelia accepted a refill from Genevieve, and smiled at her. “So the bastards that left me hogtied on the floor of my bedroom were ours?”
“More or less. The hardliners who are afraid of the PVM.” Risa swirled her coffee around, staring into it like a fortuneteller. “The guy at Arden said they need the continued ‘threat’ of terrorism to justify large budgets for military operations.”
“But there’s an actual damn war going on.” Aurelia grumbled. “Isn’t that enough?”
Pavo shook his head. “Apparently not. It’s not a traditional war. There aren’t large groups engaging out in the Martian desert. I mean, yeah, there’s small-scale engagements all the time but when you look at it from a macro perspective, it’s basically a planetary pissing contest. You’ve got maybe four million people on this rock. Full-scale war isn’t something either side could survive. No matter who ‘won,’ we’d cripple each other into extinction. Humanity’s grip on Mars isn’t that solid yet.”
Aurelia held her head in her hands, rubbing her eyes. “The MDF trains us to prepare for that moment when something happens out there. I always wondered if I’d be fast enough or strong enough to make that difference if anything went south… or if I’d be the one hoping you were fast enough.” She sighed. “I never dreamed that moment would come when I was at home asleep.”
“Hey, that isn’t your fault,” said Genevieve. “There aren’t many people in the world who could walk away from C-Branch sneaking up on them while they’re out cold.”
Risa frowned at her empty mug. If I could wish away the MLF and spend the rest of my life with Pavo, I’d do it right now. After a moment of intense concentration, she felt pretty sure Garrison still existed. “I’ll let you two catch up. I have someone to talk to.”
Pavo shot her a longing stare. “Be careful.” When she stood, he gathered her into an embrace. “Please don’t do anything stupid,” he whispered.
I already did. Risa shied away from his stare, not wanting him to see her metal eyes. “I won’t.”
Following a twenty-eight-minute shuttle hop from Elysium to Primus, Risa lowered herself down a vertical shaft in the ventilation ducts as she had countless times before. The Martian Liberation Front safehouse existed well below the level of ‘civilized’ tiers, where even the gangs had little interest in going. Not so much that they feared what dwelled there, but being too far away from the city made it boring―no one to mess with.
Plastic cups, cartons, and wrappers crunched under her boots as she settled into a junction in the conduit, down on what would’ve been the twelfth tier of the city had they continued building that deep. Night vision revealed the childish decorations still hanging on the walls in her ‘safe place.’ Old pillows and a blanket sat atop the trash in the left corner, the one farthest from the vent leading to Garrison’s office. Three of her childhood dolls hung from loose rivets nearby. One still had char marks from where the flames had gone under her bed. This chamber of thin plastisteel had been her sanctuary away from everything, a place where an angry little girl could feel protected from the world.
I should’ve stayed right here. She curled up with her chin on her knees and her arms wrapped around her legs the way she always used to. Never should’ve trusted the MLF.
The voice of her father, of Andriy Voronin, of an ACC spy, roared in her head, screaming at her to run. For the millionth time, her brain returned to the instant she’d watched the fire engulf his face. His death elicited somewhat different emotions now. Pure rage and a t
hirst for revenge had given way to nonspecific anger at the war in general. She couldn’t call it a case of the military betraying its own any more. Andriy was a foreign combatant pretending to be a UCF soldier. An enemy infiltrator. Learning that he’d murdered her mother, Marisa Donnelly, when she tried to convince him to betray the Corporates, had blunted the fangs of her rage at his death. Could Risa hate Andriy for killing the mother she never had a chance to know more than she wanted to hate Garrison for issuing the order that killed her father? To him, the man had been a foreign enemy.
She peered down the length of ductwork at the pattern of lines created by light in Garrison’s office. After he’d found her on the street and brought her here, it took her two years to work up to sleeping out in the open, in the bed he’d set up for her. Two years to trust Garrison wouldn’t hurt her. What did it mean that he allowed her to keep crawling back in here at night instead of forcing her to sleep in her ‘room’ outside? Did it mean anything at all? She sighed, remembering how she’d resented him and screamed when he tried to keep her from volunteering to be wired up. I thought he wanted to ‘protect the weak little girl’ or keep me from getting my revenge. She squinted. Maybe he was afraid I’d find out the truth someday and come after him.
Anger pushed guilt aside. She crept down the tunnel on all fours. No one would see her enter. She could get out before anyone found his body, but once they saw him, they’d know who did it; Nano claws were distinctive weapons. Would anyone in there possibly believe she would be able to hurt him. For so long… and even during her angriest years, Garrison had been the only person she’d allow close. With any luck, the others might think an outside agent tried to frame her.
The vent offered two routes into the office. Closer, a floor-level opening. Farther ahead and beyond a short vertical spar, a vertical duct led to a second exit nearer the ceiling at eye level. Risa opted for the nearer choice and crawled into a short section of duct between the feed shaft and the office where she crouched behind the slats, staring at the back of a man she no longer understood.
Ghost Black Page 2