The Osiris Contingency

by Virginia Soenksen

  Liane didn’t take it, instead saying, “I don’t belong here.”

  He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t belong here,” she said, shaking her head and almost sounding angry. “I don’t belong here with these people, in this place. I don’t…” She turned away, her lips pressed together for a moment before she finished, “The more I see of the world, the less certain I am that I’ll ever belong anywhere.”

  Seth seemed at a loss for words. He started to speak

  several times before he managed, “Look, it’s late. You’re worn out. Let’s go back to the bunker and get some sleep.”

  “Sleep won’t change what I am,” Liane said miserably.

  “Maybe not, but it might help you look at things differently,” Seth said, motioning to her. “Come on.”

  Reluctantly, her head still spinning, she turned and followed him back to the alley.

  The drizzle increased to a light downpour by the time they reached the bunker, and Liane was shivering hard as they walked down the staircase to the quarters below. Seth was soaked as well, and as soon as they entered their bunk, he peeled off his dripping jacket and hung it up to dry. He stripped off his shirt as well, tossing it onto a pile of dirty laundry in the corner. As he turned to their stacks of clean clothes for another, Liane caught a glimpse of something dark on his lower back, asking out of curiosity, “What’s that?”

  Seth glanced back at her, then down as he said in

  surprise, “My tattoo?” When she nodded, he gave a small shrug, “Got it after I’d won my badge. All the officers in my class got one. We picked out things important to us. You know, family crests, symbols, things like that.”

  She stood and walked over to him, reaching out a hand and tracing it over the swirling circular design in black ink. An

  intricate, twisting knot without a visible beginning or an end. His skin was warm and slightly damp under her fingertips. With her eyes on the inked lines, she asked, “Why a Celtic knot?”

  Seth smiled, “Well, I am the son of an Irishman. Helps to

  remind me where I come from, you know?”

  “I don’t know,” Liane said, her hand falling away. “I don’t know anything about my past or where I come from. I don’t even

  remember my real name.”

  He turned to face her, frowning. Bringing up a hand, he let his fingers light along her jaw. Her eyes rose to his, and she seemed to hold her breath. Seth moved closer, so near that she could feel the heat rising from his bare chest. Liane’s heart was pounding as his lashes lowered and his head came nearer to hers…

  At the last minute, she pulled away, moving around him to

  retrieve one of the bedraggled towels from a rack near the bed. Seth watched her go, disappointed. But he remained where he was as she dried off her hair with her back to him.

  “It doesn’t matter if you don’t have a past,” Seth said. She didn’t look at him, but she did pause in her movements as he went on with forced confidence, “You can still make a future for yourself.”

  Liane had never given much thought to her future. When she’d been an Agent, it was just a series of certainties strung together between hazy possibilities; fulfilling missions, becoming a Handler or Administrator, facing what she hoped would be a good death. She could feel her face contort with the realization that though she had the freedom to choose otherwise, she didn’t know what to choose.

  Behind her, Seth suggested, “Maybe one day we could make a future together.”

  Liane glanced back at him at last, her expression grim. “Don’t make promises like that. Not now; not when you can’t be certain if we’ll live to see next year.”

  Without waiting for him to answer, she grabbed a handful of clothes and headed off to the showers. By the time she returned, Seth was asleep on the cot, allowing her to avoid any further

  attempt at conversation.

  CHAPTER 16

  The next morning when Seth woke up, Liane was nowhere to be found. He went to breakfast and searched through the crowds, but there was no sign of her. Giving up, he went to run his usual marksmanship training in the arena, all the while worrying where she’d gone. By the time he returned to the canteen for lunch, he headed straight for the first mod he recognized—Ox—and called out, “Any sign of my surlier half?”

  “Headed to her bunk last I saw,” Ox answered, turning his attention away from the pretty mod sitting next to him. Seth let out an aggravated yet relieved sigh, and the wolf mod grinned, “Trouble in paradise?”

  “We’ll see, won’t we?” Seth said as he piled up two trays with food before heading back to their room.

  The door was ajar; Seth pushed it open with his shoulder.

  Liane was inside, sitting cross-legged on the floor with one of their computers on her lap. She looked up briefly before saying, “You’re not supposed to take meals out of the canteen.”

  “I’ll just hide behind you when they come to court-martial me,” he quipped, sitting down next to her with the trays. He looked at her for a moment, asking, “Why’d you disappear?”

  Liane seemed determined not to look at him as she answered, “I needed time alone to think. There’s an old utility closet on the lower level...no one bothers me there.”

  “Let me know next time, okay?” he asked, waiting until she nodded before digging into his tray of food and gesturing to the computer. “What were you up to, anyway?”

  She gave a small shake of the head, not looking away from the screen. “I’ve been looking through the medical files we took from Genentech. The ones that talk about me.”

  Seth’s chewing slowed, and he asked, “Looking for what,

  exactly?”

  Her voice dropped softer as she said, “If there’s any way to

  reverse the modification process...a way to make me normal.”

  “Why would you want to be?” Seth blurted out without

  thinking.

  Liane’s eyes flashed, and she closed the laptop with more force than was necessary. “I’ve always wanted to be normal. Now I know I was engineered, I thought there might be a way. But the Strain is irreversible, as far as I can tell.”

  “I get it. But...there is no ‘normal’ in this world,” Seth said. “I mean, look around you. There are mods and Agents and God knows what else. Nons like me are at the bottom of the food chain.”

  “Yet I don’t see you lining up for modification,” she returned somewhat sharply.

  “Yeah, because I don’t want to be changed into someone else,” he protested. “You’ve never known any different; your abilities are part of what makes you Liane. Just like your lightheartedness or sunny personality.”

  That managed to get a small smile out of her, but she still said, “We don’t know for sure, though, do we? Maybe I was different before...maybe I’ve just forgotten…”

  Seth shook his head, twisting open a bottle of water as he said, “Well, if it matters at all, I wouldn’t want you to change.”

  Looking away, she said quietly, “It matters a great deal,

  actually.”

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t be searching for a way back,” he said, moving closer to her. “Why not focus on the good you can do with your abilities instead?”

  Liane let out a sigh, then nodded, “I’ll try.”

  Seth pushed one of the trays towards her. “Eat up. I know you skipped breakfast today.”

  Liane picked up the sandwich from the tray, turning it over with a distasteful look as she said, “I haven't been hungry lately.”

  “Well force something down, will you? We’re supposed to help Neil with training this afternoon, and you’ll need energy to properly frighten them.”

  She looked up, wondering aloud, “Is Owen still sending mods out on patrols in the city?”

  “I think so; why?”

  “You said to focus on the good I can do,” she went on, eyes brightening with inspiration. “Maybe instead of hiding down here, I should
be out trying to do just that.”

  Seth frowned. “You sure? Even with the Agency still looking for you?”

  “Dead Agents can’t look for anyone,” she said, taking a wolfish bite of her sandwich and tossing aside the remainder. “I’m going to see Owen. Tell Neil I’ll help with the recruits tomorrow.”

  “Hey, hold on,” he said, scrambling to his feet to follow her out of the room. “You expect me to stay behind?”

  “Yes,” she answered, continuing down the dimly-lit corridor. “I know how to fight against Agents. You don’t.”

  “Oh really? So, the ones I shot in your building were, what? Flukes?”

  “Lucky shots,” Liane corrected. “And luck will only get you so far when it comes to survival.”

  The two of them were still arguing when they entered the

  command room. It was empty aside from Owen, who looked up at them as Seth snapped at Liane, “Look, I wouldn’t ask you to sit here and wait for me while I charged out looking for

  trouble—”

  “I want to go on a patrol,” Liane interrupted, her eyes locked on Owen. “I want to help people.”

  Owen stood, folding his arms across his barrel-like chest as he looked down at her. “Alright. I’m taking a group out to Whitechapel tonight. There’s a sim factory there favored by mods; our intel says it might be targeted by the Agency.”

  Liane nodded with a grim smile “Perfect.”

  “I’m going too, then,” Seth announced. “I can act as a lookout if needed—”

  “I need you here to help Neil with recruits,” Owen said with a shake of the head. “This isn’t some jaunt out into the city, and I can’t be worried about a non when we’re facing off with Agents.” Jerking his head towards the hallway, he said, “Go get suited up, and then meet in the canteen for the briefing in an hour.”

  Seth’s mouth tightened in anger, and he spat out, “This is

  moronic; you might as well send her out with a giant target on her back.”

  Owen spared him a disinterested glance before leaning closer to Liane and saying, “You help no one by hiding down here. It’s time you go back and face what you once were.”

  Liane took a slow breath, then nodded. When she looked to Seth, he shook his head and walked from the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

  CHAPTER 17

  Like Chinatown, Whitechapel had never bowed to governmental authority. Surveillance cameras still lined the wide, irregularly-paved streets just like any other district, but most of the government-issued ones had been disabled, replaced by black market camera meant to help civilians keep an eye out for the authorities rather than the other way around. Neon signs and projections promising pleasure, pain, and everything in between masked the pocked, crumbling exteriors of buildings, while tented vendors filled the streets with the smell of cooking spices and remixes of old Bangladeshi dance hits. Patrons filled every inch of space between it all, most sporting the outrageous, street-punk fashions favored by mods.

  Liane crouched on the edge of a building, peering through the lens of her facemask as she drank in the chaotic sights. From her right, Owen asked, “First time?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve been here before. Not on missions, though; Damian always the crimes committed here weren’t worth our attention.”

  “That seems to have shifted. Agents have been spotted here on at least three occasions,” Owen noted, loading the last of his guns and standing to walk along the edge of the building. The group of mods, all armed and outfitted with fatigues, followed him, as did Liane. The rooftops were silent and dark as they leaped from building to building. Owen stopped them, turning down a side street. It was quieter here, but bright lights flashed behind the boarded-up buildings of one warehouse. Liane leaned out over the edge and spotted the messily spray-painted words Neverland on the side of the warehouse.

  Owen moved alongside Liane, looking at the building as he said, “That’s the potential target.”

  “Why would Agents care about a sim factory?” Liane wondered aloud. “Simulated reality lets mods live out fantasies; it keeps them in check.”

  Owen smiled. “Not if the sims being manufactured are ones that focus on hunting and killing Agents.”

  Liane let out a soft sigh. “Oh, they can’t be that stupid…”

  “They were. I warned them of the risk,” Owen shifted to get more comfortable. “Still, if we can help them tonight, it will mean more recruits for Black Sun.”

  Liane frowned at that, wondering if that the possibility of new recruits was the only reason they were there. Pushing herself up, she muttered, “I’ll check the perimeter.”

  Owen didn’t even look at her as he instructed, “Keep your com live.”

  She moved away from the group, leaping down onto the rooftop of an adjacent building. As she walked along the damp, gritty pavement strewn with discarded needles and empty cans, the com in her ear crackled and Owen’s voice echoed through her head, “Stay hidden and don’t go far; we know the Agents will be here soon.”

  “Right,” Liane murmured, getting a running start before leaping up onto the fire escape of the next building. She climbed to the top, leaping across the alley and tucking into a roll to break her fall on the rooftop next to the warehouse. As the light and music faded into background noise, she walked along the roof listening for any signs of Agents. She was ready for them, her nerves alight with the promise of a fight and gloved fingers itching to draw her weapon.

  She halted at the edge of the line of rooftops, trying to decide whether to head back or not, when she heard a high-pitched scream from the alley in front of her. Instantly she was running toward the sound, stopping in the shadow of a utility shed and gazing down over the edge of the building. A small knot of people stood alongside overflowing dumpsters, and as she watched, a girl in a neon mini-dress said in a voice shrill with panic, “I swear, I thought the serum was clean!”

  “Well, it wasn’t,” said a man in a black jacket, his shaved head covered with swirling tattoos. He advanced on the girl, pinning her to the wall as he said, “Do you know what I like to do to suppliers who sell me shit? I like to make it so they can’t manufacture anything ever again.”

  The girl broke free from him, running only a few steps before the man caught her, grabbing a fistful of her long, dark hair and slamming her into the graffiti-covered brick wall, snarling, “You think you can cheat me and then just walk away, you scrubber?”

  When he drew back his arm and backhanded the girl across the face to the sound of cheers from the others, Liane felt cold fury flood through her.

  “There’s a girl being attacked,” she whispered into her com,

  already moving to the nearby fire escape. “I’m going to help her.”

  “Are the attackers Agents?” Owen asked.

  The crowd gave another drunken whoop of laughter followed by a scream of pain from the girl, and Liane said as she climbed down, “No, just your average reprobates.”

  “Don’t engage; we’re here for one reason.”

  Liane froze, uncertainty flooding her. “But they’re hurting her.”

  “You attack now, and you could blow our cover.” There was a pause, then Owen demanded, “Do you hear me, Liane?”

  “I hear you,” she muttered, reaching up and muting the com before adding, “I just don’t think I’ll listen.”

  Pushing off from the fire escape, Liane leaped down into the

  alley. She landed hard, and the noise of the impact caused the group to turn fast. There were seven of them, and even in the dim light, she could see the yellowish gleam in their eyes that signified wolf mods. She slowly straightened, and behind the mask, her eyes narrowed as they drifted from mod to mod. The girl had frozen against the wall, and the leader still had a fistful of her hair gripped in one hand. Without moving, he sneered, “Who the hell are you?”

  “Let her go,” Liane ordered, stepping forward.

  The leader laughed, yanking the girl in fro
nt of him. Even from a distance, Liane could see that the girl’s large brown eyes were wide and damp with tears, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Liane’s gloved hands tightened into fists as the leader taunted, “Come get her.”

  Liane tilted her head and then started forward as the mods jeered and laughed. The bravest of them stepped forward to meet her, laying a hand on her shoulder to hold her back. Liane grasped the wrist and twisted, bringing a fist down hard on the mod’s shoulder joint. The arm popped out of the socket, the man’s screams cut short as Liane grasped the back of his jacket and sent him flying into another mod.

  She straightened, looking up as the laughs died away. Several of the mods took a step or two back, eyeing her warily. She started towards the girl again, but one of the other mods leaped into her path with a growl. Liane dodged a wild strike, ducking under his arm and burying a knee hard into his gut. The mod went down, and she charged the next one, leaning back from his truncheon swing and punching his throat as hard as she could.

  One of them caught her with a kick to the knee, but as she fell, she swept his leg out from under him, bringing them both down to the ground. Drawing her gun, she brought the butt down hard on the mod’s temple, stowing the gun once more as she jumped up and leaped at a fifth mod. Only she stood up, just in time to dodge a chain swung at her head from the sixth. When he swung it again, she held her arm up, letting the chain wrap around her and then yanking the mod nose-first into the heel of her hand. She shrugged off the chain as she straightened, looking to where the leader stood, his face white as he hid behind the girl.

  “Let…her…go,” Liane repeated, stepping forward with each word.

  The mod let go, holding his hands up as he took a shuffling step forward, stammering, “Look, we can work this out, right?”

  He barely got the words out before he went rigid, eyes bulging as he collapsed in a convulsing heap. Liane looked past him to see the girl clutching a stun-gun in her hand, dazed and shaking as she looked down at the mod.