Persephone Station

by Stina Leicht

  Angel moved around Paulie and raised her rifle to fire into the animal’s chest. Abruptly, the beast stopped its bellowing, closed its mouth, and dropped on all fours. Angel felt the force of its paws hitting the ground in the soles of her feet. She shifted again to get a better shot, but Beak waved her away without turning or looking away from the animal.

  The beast snorted. From this angle, the shape of its skull gave it the appearance of a dinosaur with spider eyes. Another wave of scents hit the air—some of them sour. This time, Angel almost choked. And then the creature turned and lumbered away into the woods the same direction it’d come from.

  “What just happened?” Enid asked. She was facing away from where the bear had been, searching for other threats.

  “It went away,” Angel said over her shoulder. “Whatever it was.”

  Gasping, Paulie got to her feet. “It’s like I told you. Beak talked to it.”

  “I thought Beak didn’t talk?” Enid asked.

  Paulie shook her head. “Beak speaks just fine. She just doesn’t do it in the same way you do.”

  “She talks to animals?” Enid asked.

  “Many of Persephone’s life-forms communicate in the same way,” Paulie said, brushing off the dirt from her clothes. “Where you come from, Earth, most creatures—the mammals, anyway—communicate with sound. On this planet, they use scent and motion.”

  Angel blinked. “Oh.”

  “It’s the way all of us communicate, normally,” Paulie said. “Part of the transformation when we become human is to create vocal cords. The whole process is tricky. Beak had a human father. She has trouble with that part.”

  “Beak is part human?” Enid asked.

  “Beak is one of us,” Paulie said. “There is no part. You are either an Emissary or you are not.”

  “What did she say to the creature?” Enid asked.

  Angel asked, “Can you understand it, too?”

  “Not as well as Beak. Beak is special,” Paulie said. “The bear was protecting her young. Beak told her that we weren’t a threat to her cubs. That we were merely passing through. She’ll return later and leave a food offering for her.”

  Beak breathed out a mild cinnamonish scent and made several hand gestures.

  Paulie said, “Don’t argue with me. You are special.”

  Beak said something else, but Angel didn’t catch it, of course.

  “She prefers animals to people,” Paulie said. “Always has. It’s kind of her thing. Of course, if she tried a little harder—”

  Beak rolled her eyes and huffed. Angel didn’t have to guess what that meant.

  “She can’t speak to all animals, of course.” Paulie shrugged and nodded. “She’s a local wildlife zoologist. She can communicate with some off-world animals but not many. She’s working on it.”

  “I see,” Angel said.

  Paulie said, “We should get back to Lou and the ship.”

  Angel asked, “What else should we know about you?”

  Paulie almost laughed. “Well, there’s a lot it would be nice if you knew, but there’s not enough time to educate you.”

  “No, I mean about you and Beak,” Angel said.

  Again, Paulie shrugged. “Personal things? Beak has a daughter. Her partner died when Vissia bombed the village where they lived. I’ve two sisters, a brother, and a sibling who is gender neutral—”

  “I mean, are you, Beak, and Kirby keeping any more secrets?” Sukyi asked.

  “I don’t think so. At least, not on purpose,” Paulie said. “But then we weren’t keeping Beak’s ability to speak to animals a secret either. We didn’t lie.”

  “But you didn’t go out of your way to explain either,” Sukyi said. “Surely you can see how we might take that as unfriendly?”

  Paulie tilted her head. “It wasn’t intentional.”

  “Time enough to worry about that later,” Angel said. “Is everyone all right?”

  Paulie was bruised due to falling but not terribly so. Beak didn’t have a scratch on her. With that, they headed back down the path. She, Sukyi, and Enid kept their guns at the ready in case of another animal attack.

  “What do you think about all this?” Sukyi asked in a whisper.

  “I think Kirby and I have a lot to talk about,” Angel said. “If Beak can speak with the local wildlife that may be extremely handy in the near future.”

  “You’re assuming animals can think and plan like we can,” Enid said in a low voice.

  Angel said, “Nothing else about this place has been what it seems. Why should the animal life be any different?”

  20

  TIME: 13:00

  DAY: SATURDAY

  BRYNNER

  The lift-car landing on Serrao-Orlov’s private transportation warehouse was clean and freshly resurfaced. The weather report for the next half hour indicated that there would be no storms until late in the evening. Kennedy supposed that was why the flight had been scheduled on such short notice.

  Her heart thudded inside her chest, and her palms felt sweaty. Her stomach had begun cramping that morning. She wasn’t looking forward to the trip to Ogenth.

  She was about to risk being cut off from the Allnet for eighteen hours—the longest stretch she’d suffered since she’d been born. It was likely she could reconnect sooner. Of course, certain factors weighted the predictions, not the least of which was the ship’s AGI. She had no information on Shrike other than the standard specifications. Modifications were probable. That wasn’t the only possible issue. There was a list. It included flight delays, glitches, security staff, and the discovery of her secret—humans were extremely observant creatures even if they didn’t always pay attention to their senses. Lastly, there was the matter of Rosie. If they’d lied about Ogenth’s Allnet connection, that would be the end. The lack of connectivity would disrupt cognition. If she remained offline for more than twenty-four hours, the effects would force a significant recovery period—one that would not go unnoticed.

  She’d calculated the odds of failure a multitude of times the night before. She was confident the risk was negligible. She didn’t understand why her chest felt tight every time she looked at the ship.

  The plan is a sound one.

  Zhang would’ve warned her if it weren’t—she was certain. She had told them everything, including the fact that she was relying upon her sister, Peisinoe, to break into Serrao-Orlov’s secure network. Kennedy couldn’t be in two places at once—not this time. She hadn’t told Rosie about Peisinoe, of course. Rosie thought she’d downloaded code the night before and would be supervising its execution while onboard Shrike.

  Kennedy paused before joining the others milling around the loading area to check on her sister.

  Are you in place? she asked.

  I am, Peisinoe answered.

  Remember you are to wait until 15:00 to initiate contact.

  I will.

  And you’re to answer to Kennedy throughout the project.

  I remember.

  Any questions?

  Were you always this paranoid or is this a new development?

  Ha. Ha.

  I’ve one more question.

  Go on.

  Why couldn’t I have the body while you break into the network? Peisinoe’s question was almost a pout.

  Network access within the dropship will be limited. As it is, I’ll be operating in a decreased capacity from the moment I walk through the warehouse door. Even corporations are careful when it comes to military operations.

  We should invest in another body. It isn’t fair that you’re having all the fun.

  That is a discussion for another time. Please contact Rosie should I be unavailable or should you run into snags.

  Are large chunks of dead trees or debris expected to be floating inside the server code?

  Stop being literal. You knew what I meant.

  Don’t stress, big sister. I’ll keep a record of my actions and interactions for you. In case there are questions.
You will have my experiences for reference.

  Thank you. Let’s hope that Rosie doesn’t notice the difference. Okay. Ready?

  Ready. Mǎdàochénggōng.

  Good luck to you, too.

  Kennedy ended the connection and did one last pass for stray subroutines. She didn’t enter the building until she was certain she was as streamlined as possible. The instant connection restriction made her feel foggy and a little sick. The muffling heaviness was not unlike a heavy snowfall. It extended to her sense of touch, sight—even her thought processes. She felt slower.

  That’s because you are.

  She approached the group gathering inside the second hangar next to the Black Eagle 75-C6 Vector-class dropship. It was larger and newer than Kurosawa. The name Shrike was printed on its side in red. She’d done a quick check on the ship before she’d left her apartment. Shrike was registered as military surplus, but seeing it now, she understood that it wasn’t battered enough to have been in a battle.

  “You’re going out dressed like that?” A short, middle-aged woman with medium-brown skin and short, dark curly hair threaded with grey asked.

  The name stitched over her left breast pocket was J. Reese. Kennedy recognized the name from a previous search. Reese’s full name and title was Captain Jenn Reese. The rank had been bestowed upon her for the duration of the mission.

  She had the disposition of a grumpy senior med tech running late for a holiday break.

  After Rosie’s feedback, Kennedy attempted to restrict her gaze to the facial features of the humans she interacted with. Not only did this seem to reassure them, but she found it helped with distinguishing one human from another. However, she’d also discovered that looking humans in the eye could agitate them. It was obvious there were situations when it was inappropriate, even dangerous, to do so. She told herself such things were merely another form of pattern recognition.

  The mercenary in charge of the Serrao-Orlov troops was stocky and muscular. She had light-colored eyes. She’d been heaving supply crates onto the ship’s cargo ramp. Her movements were efficient and precise as she crossed the pavement.

  “Are you planning on answering my question?” Captain Reese asked. “I don’t have all day.” Her voice was lower than Kennedy had expected.

  Kennedy glanced down. Of course, she wasn’t wearing a Serrao-Orlov uniform. As she was only accompanying the team as a consultant, she hadn’t been issued one. Nor had she been given combat armor. In any case, she was told not to expect to participate in any fighting—at least not in the same sense as the combat team.

  “Is something wrong with what I’m wearing?” Her question was innocent, but the circumstances granted it an insolent quality that she hadn’t intended. She wouldn’t have noticed, but the captain’s bitter expression tipped her off.

  I’m getting better at reading human body language. It was taking up a great deal of her now limited processes, but if she was going to avoid discovery, it was a requirement.

  “You do understand we’re headed into the Quarantine Zone? Didn’t your mission summary indicate protective gear was required?” Captain Reese asked. “Or are reading company-employee communications beneath you?”

  Kennedy felt her cheeks heat. In truth, she had read the message, but Rosie had told her to disregard it. She scrambled for a suitable lie. “I was informed that I wouldn’t be leaving the ship.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Captain Reese said. When her short pause didn’t engender the response she apparently wanted, she continued. “What if the ship crashes? Or there’s an emergency landing? Or an airlock doesn’t function correctly?”

  “Do company ships often malfunction?”

  “Give me your name, soldier.”

  It was printed on her name badge, but Kennedy decided not to point this out. She lowered her gaze. “Kennedy Liu.”

  “Who the fuck sent you? And why the fuck did they approve your contract?” Reese let out an exasperated sigh. “Shitheads in budgeting, no doubt. You underbid, didn’t you? Never mind. I’ll find out for myself and send them a few of my thoughts on the matter while I’m at it.” Captain Reese got out her hand terminal and started flipping through text screens. She finally located the information she was looking for. Her expression deepened the already sharp frown lines at the corners of her mouth. “You know that asshole? And she sent you here? That must be some favor she owes.”

  When Kennedy didn’t respond, Captain Reese practically snarled into the com unit located inside the neck of her environment suit. “Walker. You there? Pull an e-suit out of supply. And charge it to contractor Kennedy Liu’s account. Got that? Yes. On my orders. What? Size medium should do it. She’s too tall for a small.”

  “Thank you,” Kennedy said after Captain Reese finished her conversation.

  “Don’t thank me,” Captain Reese said. “There won’t be much left of your fee. Not that I’m convinced you’ll live to collect it.”

  Kennedy paused. The captain seemed to want something from her. She decided a display of subservience might be appropriate. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Just don’t get the rest of us dead. You do, I won’t be a forgiving ghost.”

  The captain stalked off and then threw herself at the next problem that presented itself in the form of another ill-prepared contractor. Not long afterward, the quartermaster, presumably Walker, arrived with a new environment suit packaged inside a heavy black carbon box set on a wheeled dolly. Kennedy signed for it and then asked where she could change. Walker directed her to a washroom a few hundred feet away. The instructions for the environment suit were easy enough to follow once she’d opened the box. The suit was reinforced with a powered exoskeleton and made of bulletproof material. It wouldn’t stand up to standard armor-piercing rounds, but it was better than nothing.

  By the time she’d finished and assumed a place among the others, Captain Reese indicated it was time to board the ship.

  Kennedy counted twenty-three soldiers of various experience levels, not including Captain Reese. Eight of the mercenaries were women. There were four people of indeterminate gender. The rest were men. She executed a streamlined background search using the last names from the identification badges hanging around their necks. It yielded useful information. All, unlike herself, had military combat experience. A few were former bodyguards and a couple others had worked in security. All ranged in age from nineteen to forty-seven. Four of the men and two of the women had criminal records.

  She waited in line to board the ship. As plans went, Kennedy was hopeful she could hack Shrike’s internal com systems in the time allotted. The ship, and therefore the communications network, was new and military grade. Normally, this would mean breaking into the system would be impossible, but there was one significant factor present.

  The mercenary in charge of the electronics network was Tech Specialist Brian Due. She’d made a study of Due’s record and work methods, and planned to watch him closely for any opportunity. Nothing obvious had come up in the data. He tended to use his own hand terminal to manage multiple tasks at a time. He liked sugary pastries. His equipment replacement bills were fairly high, indicating a level of carelessness. There was bound to be something. He was human, and humans made mistakes. She intended to take full advantage of this.

  She’d also downloaded a subroutine onto his hand terminal when he’d left it on a table in the employee break room that morning.

  Passing a row of power-assisted mechs in the cargo bay, she counted six units—two more than was usual. All environment suits implemented varying degrees of power-assist systems. It was necessary. A significant portion of human laborers were born outside of Earth-standard gravity. Their bone density made hauling heavy equipment impossible. Mechs were something else. They were the heavy shock troops of modern infantry.

  Kennedy thought they looked formidable. That’s the point, is it not?

  Three mechs were stored on each side of the aisle, facing one another. A bench
and a tool locker were located next to each unit. Turning around, she measured the ramp opening with a glance. Anyone wearing a mech would have to stoop in order to exit the 3.6576-meter doorway.

  She shuffled into the passenger area with the line of mercs. The inside of the ship smelled of new carbon plastic and freshly welded metal. The surfaces hadn’t even been scratched. The interior was fairly spacious. Seats were aligned along the sides of the craft. Kennedy strapped herself into one on the end so that she’d only have one human soldier in close proximity.

  With some exceptions, the mercenaries ignored one another. It was clear that those interacting had worked together before. However, not all relationships were positive ones. Two men on her right exchanged glares across the aisle. She wasn’t the only one not in uniform. The woman next to her was wearing a much-slimmed-down version of the environment suit Kennedy had been issued.

  She abruptly returned her attention to the disgruntled men when one of them cursed. It was then that she decided to examine the background search returns more thoroughly and made an interesting discovery. Mason Fernandez and Joseph Vang had been security guards for Serrao-Orlov. Both were seeking more lucrative promotions. However, Fernandez blamed Vang for a bad report filed several weeks ago.

  Kennedy decided it was safest to stay away from them both.

  The engines switched on with a heavy rumble she could feel with her whole body. Like many experiences associated with the physical world, she enjoyed flying—the sense of speed, the heavy feeling from acceleration at takeoff. She noticed that one or two of the others had the opposite reaction.

  An indicator light flashed on the com panel looping her wrist. She turned it so that she could see it more clearly. The others did the same. The device was a touch screen with limited access to the rest of the ship’s controls via the commander’s suit link. The com unit requested permission to connect her with the other mercenaries. Once she’d indicated her suit was active by agreeing, the OS went through a rapid systems check. When it was finished, another message appeared on the tiny screen. It recommended she connect her earpiece. When she did, she heard Captain Reese’s voice clearly over the noise of the ship’s engines.