Persephone Station

by Stina Leicht

  A background in combat and military augmentation wasn’t something most people assumed about a bartender that looked like Sarah did. She’d been a street rat when Rosie had first met her. Rosie often recruited individuals from Brynner’s streets. Sarah was not only a good friend, she had been a particularly good investment.

  “It’s a simple enough task. The server farm in question is on the first damned floor. They’ve been inside for thirty minutes,” Rosie said. “Fuck.”

  Sarah blinked and then raised an eyebrow. “You should’ve let me handle it.”

  “You already have enough to do,” Rosie said.

  “Hold on,” Sarah said. Her expression grew distant again. “It looks like we’ve access now. Beta is almost in position.”

  Rosie said, “Time to get started, then. We need to get everyone inside.”

  “It’s fine. Relax,” Sarah said. “We’ve got good people. Trust them.”

  “I do,” Rosie said. “Let’s do this.”

  “Harvey,” Sarah said to one of the men a few feet away, “time to go.”

  Harvey, a short man with a shock of black hair and a badly set broken nose, nodded once and motioned to three others. They moved with quick stealth, using the stacks of huge freight containers positioned on the tarmac for cover. The small group made it as far as the keypad to the right of the first hangar door before an alarm sounded.

  “What’s that?” Rosie asked.

  Once again, Sarah checked her hand terminal. “It’s Beta. They’ve started their attack.”

  Red signal lights bolted to the tops of the hangars began flashing and spinning. Matching bulbs set into the tarmac did the same. The brilliant bursts of crimson seemed to stab through Rosie’s retinas and all the way to the back of their now aching skull. The door next to the keypad that Harvey was attempting to hack abruptly opened. A corporate goon dressed in riot gear and bulletproof armor shot Harvey in the head before he could react. Blood and lumps of brain matter painted the panel, the hangar wall, and the clothes of those nearby.

  Damn it, Rosie thought.

  Three more corporate troopers rushed out. Harvey’s compatriots bolted for cover from the spray of automatic fire.

  “So much for surprise,” Sarah said.

  A ricocheting bullet exploded against the short wall. Both Rosie and Sarah started and ducked. Shattered cement stung the backs of Rosie’s hands.

  “Time to get serious!” Rosie shouted. Here we go.

  The air swelled with a deafening cacophony of gunfire, blasters, and various other explosions as Alpha team responded to the advancing corporate troops.

  Aiming a pulse rifle, Rosie scowled in concentration. They returned fire in precise actions learned over the course of more than a century. Five decades had passed since Rosie had used a weapon in a fight. They’d hoped they would never have to again. They couldn’t help feeling that this was a personal failure.

  Not now, after. After this is finished.

  Below, volunteers from the lesser crime families fought as a diversion. Underequipped and outnumbered, they’d end up paying a high toll for their part in this little rebellion. Rosie had tried their best not to think of this as a side benefit.

  Sarah waited for the opposing gunfire to slow and then peered over the top of the wall. She fired a few more rounds and resumed her place. “Well, this is fun.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Rosie said.

  “You’re just out of practice,” Sarah said. “Too many years of leaving the messy stuff to underlings.”

  “You’re not an underling.”

  “And I’m not usually the one dealing with this shit either,” Sarah said, and returned to shooting.

  “Are you saying you’re rusty?”

  “Oh, I keep my hand in,” Sarah said. “Makes dating less complicated. Frightens off the real assholes.”

  Rosie decided not to ask what that meant. “They’ve got us pinned,” they said, changing the subject. “Any estimate from the other team?”

  Sarah paused. Once again, she tilted her head, and her eyes grew unfocused as if she was listening to something. “Transportation doors have yet to unlock,” she said. She resumed reloading her pistol with a short series of efficient motions.

  Rosie retrieved their hand terminal from a pocket.

  Sarah asked, “Any news from your hacker friend?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You sure about her?”

  “Certain enough.”

  “That’s pretty certain for someone you barely know.”

  “I know her as well as a level-eight security check will allow.”

  An impressed expression passed over Sarah’s face.

  “Only the very best will do,” Rosie said.

  They typed a message. There are some nice people who wish to come in from the cold. Me being one of them.

  Kennedy’s reply came right away. It was uncharacteristically short as had been most of their communications since the day before.

  Almost got it.

  It was clear that Kennedy was a far more talented hacker than she’d let on. That is both a good thing and a bad thing, Rosie thought.

  A huge explosion sent a shudder through the concrete beneath Rosie’s feet. The building felt briefly unstable. For a moment, they worried the platform might collapse.

  Chatter on the audio channel via the earpiece in Rosie’s right ear indicated that Beta team had breached the first hangar from inside the building.

  Done, Kennedy said. Anything else?

  The gunfire that had had Rosie and their team trapped behind the wall slackened.

  They tapped out a new message. I need to know what and who is inside the first two hangars. The third hangar was empty. The ship normally stored there, Shrike, was racing to Ogenth with Kennedy onboard.

  Two Black Eagle Vector-class dropships. One in each. Rand is a 75-C4, and Xeno is a 75-C7—with the following specifica—

  I don’t require the specs Who is onboard? Get me a passenger list.

  There were a limited number of places where Vissia could be. Her office was empty. She wasn’t at home either. Vissia didn’t shop. She had people for that. She didn’t have hobbies either. Work was the only thing she seemed to enjoy. Her only family was Beatrice, and Beatrice was on the station.

  She’ll head there eventually. But when? Rosie thought. Vissia was ill, and the station maintained strict health protocols that no amount of cash or influence could nudge, but somehow they didn’t think that’d stop her from trying.

  Reports from the other groups flashed across their screen. The others had begun fighting their way through the building.

  A crew list for the first ship, Rand, interrupted the reports. Then Rosie scanned the names of those who’d checked in on Xeno and finally found what they sought. Andreia Corsini.

  You didn’t try very hard, Rosie thought, you fucking bitch.

  Andreia was Vissia’s middle name.

  They peered over the short wall and spied movement from the second hangar’s doors.

  “Damn it! She’s going to leave before we can get to her!” Rosie shouted their frustration.

  Sarah didn’t ask who Rosie meant. Instead, she gave the signal to advance toward both hangars. Now that Beta Team was in place, they could afford it. Poised to leave, Sarah glanced over her shoulder.

  Rosie said, “Stop Xeno. I don’t care what you have to do.”

  “I will.”

  “Good luck.” Rosie thought, And may God go with you.

  “You, too.” Sarah nodded once and then vanished into the smoke and dust. A few seconds later, the rest of Rosie’s forces led by Sarah approached the hangars. They did so in staggered groups of five, taking advantage of what little cover there was—mainly loading equipment and stacked shipment containers.

  The dawn-grey sky continued to darken. In the distance, lightning flashed.

  The bay door on the first hangar finished its slow journey upward. A blast of jet engine exhaust blew dust and debris
off the tarmac, signaling that Rand was lifting off. It wasn’t Rosie’s main concern. However, Rand had guns.

  And then a group of mechs sprinted out of the building before the ship’s nose cleared the hangar. Rosie counted five of the piloted robots.

  My turn, Rosie thought. They waved over the three remaining members of their team—Han, Jiao, and their sister, Jun.

  Han was a middle-aged man with a stocky, weight lifter’s build and shoulder-length black hair. He’d lost his left leg from the knee down in an altercation with a rival gang member when he was seventeen, but unless you were unlucky in a knife fight and picked the wrong leg to stab, you wouldn’t know it. Jiao was the younger brother by ten years. He wore his black hair in a military buzz cut. Asian dragon tattoos covered both arms. He was more slender than his older brother and faster. Their sister Jun, the youngest, was average height and average weight. Her long dark brown hair was bound in a ponytail at the crown of her head. Each of them had a specialty. For Han, that was sharpshooting. For Jiao, it was knives. Jun was the explosives expert. All three had been with Rosie for almost twenty years.

  “Jun,” Rosie said. “Do you have the items I gave you?”

  Panicked chatter sounded via the audio feed. Thunder rolled through the building canyons of the city like a war cry.

  Jun slid her arms out of the backpack and held up the bag. “In here.”

  Rosie shifted her attention back to the battle via the corner of their eyes. “The mechs go first. We can’t do anything about the dropship until Sarah and her crew get into position. And that won’t happen as long as the mechs are operational. Open up.”

  Jun unzipped the bag. Reaching inside, she produced ten black palm-sized devices. Each had a tiny LED indicator in the center.

  Pointing at the pile of little round charges, Rosie said, “Han. Jiao. Take four each. The strips on the flat side chemically bind to the heat-signature-dampening coating on the mech. Slap them in place near a joint or on the environment pack located on the back. If you can’t reach either of those sites, go for the faceplate. They’ll stick there, too. Anywhere will do in a pinch. But remember the thicker the armor, the longer it’ll take to get at what’s inside.”

  Han gathered up four of the devices.

  Jiao asked, “What is it?”

  Rosie said, “Electrochemical charges designed to burn into the suit and short-circuit the interface between suit and occupant. Like a computer virus hidden in a biological virus.”

  Jiao’s face indicated he was seriously disturbed.

  “It won’t hurt you,” Rosie said. “It’s specifically designed to attack the suit’s synapse conductor gel.” They risked another glance at the ongoing fight. “We only have ten of these damned things. Lose or damage them, there will be consequences. Keep in mind we don’t know how many mechs are parked in the other hangars.”

  Jiao nodded.

  “The big ones are for the ships. Jun and I will handle those,” Rosie said. “Questions?”

  Han said, “No.”

  Jiao shook his head.

  Rosie said, “Good luck.”

  “We don’t need luck,” Jiao said with a grin, and punched his brother on the shoulder.

  “See you when it’s done,” Han said. Then he turned to his brother. “Whoever stops the least mechs owes the other a beer.”

  “You sure you have enough cash for that?” Jiao asked.

  “I’m not the one who’ll be buying,” Han said.

  The pair exchanged a nod goodbye with their sister, and with that, they sprinted away in a crouching position.

  Jun turned her attention to the two larger devices in the backpack. She selected one and closely examined it. “They’re EMPs. Localized, I assume. Nice design. Elegant.”

  Rosie said, “We need to get them inside the ship.”

  “Inside the ship proper? Or under the ship’s hull? One is easier to arrange than the other,” Jun said.

  Rosie paused to consider the options. “Under the hull should work just as well.”

  “Then that’s what the patron saint of explosive techs invented magnesium burn strips for,” Jun said.

  Rosie said, “You and I will focus on Rand once Sarah has cleared the way. We’ll move to Xeno the moment it appears. Understood?”

  Jun nodded. “You gave Han and Jiao eight of these things. What are the other two for?”

  “In case we have mech trouble,” Rosie said, pocketing one of the little devices.

  “Fair enough.” Jun repacked the rest.

  Rosie peered over the wall to see how Sarah and her team were progressing. The way to the first set of shipping containers was clear.

  Rosie asked, “Ready?”

  “Ready,” Jun said.

  The two of them bolted, stooped over, to the first stack of eight-foot-tall-by-twenty-foot-long storage units. Gunfire exploded all around them as Sarah and her team fought to maintain their positions.

  Rosie reached cover and put their back to the steel wall of the bottom container. Then they wove their fingers together and offered the improvised step to Jun. Jun activated her mag gloves by pushing her wrists together. Then she clicked her heels together. With that done, she stuck her right foot in Rosie’s hands. Rosie boosted Jun, granting her a head start on her climb up the bottommost of the heavy steel boxes. With Jun away, Rosie activated their own boots and gloves, and then followed. Jun rapidly scrambled up to the top of the container stack. Rosie wasn’t far behind.

  Rand was in the air and easing its way out of the hangar. Large automatic gun rounds punched trenches into the concrete. The wall of sound in the narrow space pressed against Rosie’s ears to the point of pain. Dust and debris flew up into the air. It was swept away almost at once by storm winds. Flashes lit the sky. Rosie wasn’t entirely sure it was due to lightning. There were screams and incomprehensible shouts.

  Feeling the world tilt ever so slightly, Rosie told themself that there was plenty of space between them and a fall. What are you frightened of? You just climbed up a skyscraper. This is only thirty feet. Tops. You’re perfectly safe. Don’t look down.

  The side of the ship slowly glided past. Rosie could read its identifying markings. The smell of gunfire, laser burns, powdered concrete, and the ozone of spent electrical charges hung in the air. The ship’s dull grey hull was now only a couple of meters away.

  They had to move fast. If the pilot spotted them, the ship could knock over the containers or bring the guns to bear. Rosie saw Jun ready herself for the jump. All at once, she gracefully leapt into the air with a shout of defiance that was lost in the chaos.

  Jun was safely aboard.

  Rosie steeled themself. You’re going to be fine. Just jump, damn you. They swallowed the dry acid of their terror and leapt. Gloves and boots clamped onto the ship’s hull. Rosie paused, letting the information sink in that they were, in fact, safe and alive.

  “Come on. You got this,” Jun shouted. She was pressed against the hull as tight as possible—presenting the shallowest profile she could. “Get up here, already. I need you to do something about the guns.”

  I never liked this part. Rosie forced their fear-frozen limbs to move. It was slow at first, but it got easier. At last, they made their way up the side of the ship.

  “Guns,” Rosie said. “Where?”

  Jun pointed to the rear of the ship. The turret’s guide couldn’t hit them at the moment, but that would be a different story once they moved to the front of the ship.

  Rosie asked, “How many magnesium strips did you pack?”

  Jun grinned. “If I answered ‘as many as I could cram into my bag,’ would I get in trouble for overextending my budget?”

  Rosie shook their head. “How did get that past Sarah?”

  “At this moment, shouldn’t your reply consist mainly of ‘What budget?’ ”

  “Point,” Rosie said, and held out a hand.

  Handing over a roll of magnesium charged strips, Jun smiled. “Careful, boss. That shit s
tings.”

  “Wait here,” Rosie said. They stuffed the roll into a thigh pocket. “This won’t take long.”

  Jun nodded.

  Rosie focused on the surface of the ship with all their might. They could sense the ground creeping past as the ship glided over the tarmac. Soon it would dart upward to get a better aim at the attackers on the roof. Hurry up. Rosie retraced their steps—partially. Then they scooted along the ship’s side until they were near the gun turret. That done, they navigated their way up the hull. Peering over the edge, they estimated how long it would take to make the crawl and how much of the tape would be required. This close the operator’s field of vision was made of blind spots.

  With a nod, they got started. Fear cramped their belly and their heart pounded in their ears. Moving carefully, they reached the turret. Everything seemed to take forever, and Rosie felt their movements lacked their normal grace. They applied the adhesive side of several strips to the base. At one point, they dropped the roll, but they were able to recover it before it rolled off. Once they’d placed enough to disable the turret, they yanked the tabs.

  Not waiting for the reaction, they scrambled over the side. They hadn’t gone far when they heard the pop and hiss of burning magnesium. They didn’t stop but kept moving. By the time they’d gotten to the spot where Jun waited, the strips had burned out. The gun turret spun, aiming at a group on the ground. With the first round of shots, the thing broke off its mount and teetered. Rosie felt it through their hands and feet. The gun unit scraped across the ship’s hull with a high-pitched squeal that set Rosie’s teeth on edge. The slide didn’t stop until the entire turret dangled off the side, smashing into one of the containers with a crash.

  “Well done,” Jun said.

  “Your turn,” Rosie said. Then they pointed to a spot not far from where the cockpit was supposed to be. “Start there.”

  Jun quickly knelt on the bulkhead and dug out the magnesium burn strips.

  Rosie turned their attention to the battle below.

  Rand continued to carve out big chunks of concrete with its bottom gun. Rosie gave the idea of sabotaging the weapon some thought. However, it was mounted on the underside of the ship. Such an attempt would involve climbing while hanging upside down. It would also mean dodging gunfire from the corporate mercenaries on the tarmac.