by Skyler Grant
Polished must mean the cybernetics, I could see that.
"Good. They came all-out looking to make things a spectacle," Lance said.
"Well, if it’s a show they want, you know I'm ready to fucking deliver. We'll kill every one of the bastards and put their heads up on sticks," Diva said.
"We'll play this smart and precise. There are too many out there to rush. We're going to need to need a proper plan," Lance said.
I liked him at once. Where Diva seemed too reckless, this man was precise, tactical.
"You know what they did, and if we let them go they'll keep doing it. The fuckers want to follow us back to our home, we need to end them here. We just bloody them up and they'll be back soon as they recruit some more bodies," Diva said.
I wasn't used to thinking in those terms. I was used to dealing with enemies that were around for a single battle, with concerns that went beyond the immediate. Honor counted quite a bit when you might face the same foes next month, and the month thereafter.
"Can we let them come to us?" I asked.
"We didn't exactly find this place with bad intentions in mind. No bolthole in the basement. They bring the roof on top of us and we've nowhere to go," Sparks said.
I didn't like that. They were out there just waiting for us to make a move.
"Sparks, we're going to need a flash charge. Hammer will follow it up with some sustained fire. Masque, Diva, we'll split up and get to safety. Start taking them out one at a time," Lance said.
It was a messy plan for a messy situation. It was different, fighting in this kind of battle. I was accustomed to suffering sacrifices on your own side—acceptable, so long as the objective was worthwhile. Here, Lance had to be considering the real life of every person depending on him.
"I can go with you," I said.
Lance shot a look towards Diva.
"Princess wants to fight and we know she can handle herself. I'd have Priscilla up here with a rifle, if the girl could shoot," Diva said.
"Fine. Remember everyone that an idiot with a gun is still a dangerous idiot. Keep safe and good hunting," Lance said.
Sparks pulled a grenade from his belt and fed it into his rifle. "Don't go!" he shouted before firing the round out of the building. The cry was surely to attract eyes to see who he was shouting at. I turned my head and the others did the same.
The charge detonated outside the building in a blinding flare of light. Hammer followed it up almost at once, stepping out of cover and unleashing rounds from the massive gun. Firing high, so that the rest of us would be able to get out. Lance led the way and the others followed, I joined them. I was faster than any of them, which was no surprise given my Olympian genetics. My body still might not be moving or handling exactly like I was used to, but I was adapting. I dove over a low crumbled wall and found at once that I wasn't alone on the other side. Two young men in snake jackets were crouched and blinking.
My gun wouldn't do much against armor, but their faces weren't armored. I put two rounds between each of their eyes and tried to keep my stomach under control at their heads exploding under the impact. I still wasn't comfortable with killing people, real people, people who wouldn't be coming back. I wasn't comfortable with much right now, but it didn't matter. They were on a mission of vengeance and I was the cause. If they won the day, being raped and tortured would be a near-certainty. They weren't going to win the day.
A nearby building covered in broken, neon signage had windows with a clear view of the warehouse. It would be a great place to set up camp. The one door to the street was too obvious, but it had a second story. I crawled up a drainpipe and let myself in through a window.
I thought I'd been subtle, but as soon as I stepped into the dimly lit room an explosion blew me off my feet and sent me crashing hard into a table. That hurt. If I'd thought my ribs were completely healed, I’d just been given a sharp reminder that I still wasn't fighting at full strength.
I couldn't focus on that, not now. If someone had booby-trapped that doorway, they knew I was here—and they were a lot more smart and capable than any of the Vipers I'd faced so far.
I saw a muzzle flash and instinctively moved. Olympians aren't fast enough to dodge bullets, not for want of trying. That said, when you've got all the genetics of the human body to play with, you can build in supernatural reflexes. The swiveling of my body was entirely automatic and just in time. A bullet that was meant to find my throat instead caught me in the shoulder.
I had my gun in my other hand and firing off several rounds as I limped into cover behind the table.
"Not bad," I heard a woman's voice say. It was tinged with pain, I'd landed at least one of my blind shots. "You're not one of the Lancers."
I was in agony, but it was fading fast. My suit must still be set to taking care of my medical needs. I was familiar with the blessing of endorphins and this went a bit beyond them. At least I wasn't being flooded with anything clouding my head, just numbing the pain.
The armor had already sealed over the wound, but a quick test showed I had almost no mobility in that arm right now. That was okay, I still had one good one and knew an awful lot of ways to kill someone.
"You don't seem your typical Snake," I said.
"Judging me by the cannon fodder? Don't. You put down that many of ours on our turf, and you get the real threats. You can call me Venom," Venom said.
Everyone had a clever name.
"I guess you can call me Princess," I said.
"Must I?" Venom said, and a small hole was blown out of the table beside me. Penetration rounds, great. Those things would likely go right through even the armored portions of my suit.
I was already tired of almost getting killed.
I had some advantages, I was quicker and stronger than she would likely expect me to be. I sent the table sliding across the floor towards the sound of her voice as I dove to the side.
Venom figured I'd be using the table as cover and she was firing rounds. I got my first look at her. Venom had green hair and was wearing her own version of a smartsuit. The broken pattern of greys would make for pretty good camouflage, although it hardly matched her hair. I let off several shots that took her in the midsection and caused her camouflage to ripple. The armor might be good at concealment, but even my low-powered rounds should penetrate. They didn't. One did catch the trigger assembly of the rifle though and sent the gun flying from her hands.
Venom didn't miss a beat and charged towards me, aiming a kick at my face. I drew my knife and blocked the blow. It didn't deter her as she followed it up with a furious series of jabs. I was down to one arm and several landed. I wasn't letting her score any free blows, but just waiting for my moment. It came when she tried for a roundhouse kick and I was able to surge upwards and drive the knife into her side.
"I hate knives," Venom said.
"I can see why," I said.
I didn't even see her gesture, but the other side of the room where the discarded rifle had flown exploded. The weapon must have had some sort of remote detonator. My surprise gave her the time needed to dive out the window.
I hoped the others had fared better than I had. While I'd killed two and neutralized another, I expected more from myself. I was a daughter of Olympus—albeit one with a shattered arm in addition to a few freshly rebroken ribs.
85
Lance was dead. When we found him, his head had been ripped completely off his body and mounted upon a stake, his neck stuffed with tiny rubber snakes. It was macabre and stupid, and effective as messages went. Don't fuck with the Snakes.
I didn’t know if they had withdrawn because of their casualties, or if with the death of the leader of the Lancers, they considered their point made. Perhaps Lance's entire plan had hinged on predicting this outcome.
If this was a win for the Snakes it hadn't come easy, from different buildings were pulled a dozen corpses. This area had seemed abandoned such a short time before, but now businesses were reopening and people were beginning to move around
the streets and strip the corpses.
"Miss, I know you make an awful pretty target, but you should stop getting yourself shot," Sparks said.
"Thanks again," Diva said. The pink-haired woman had a split lip and a black eye, but seemed otherwise unhurt. I'd rejoined with her and the others back at the warehouse.
"Are you going to be okay?" I asked.
"I think they made their point. They're going to call this a win and example made," Diva said with a scowl. "I want to chase the fuckers down and burn them out of every hole they slither into."
Lance's corpse had been covered with a tarp, it was less creepy that way. Diva was staring at it pretty hard.
"But he wouldn't want it that way?" I asked.
"It doesn't matter what he wanted. He's dead. There isn't any profit in it and it's the glimmer that counts," Diva said. "Speaking of which, let me get your share."
"I didn't help for a paycheck," I said.
Diva scowled and Masque stepped up, clearing her throat.
"Princess. None of us know who you are or where you came from, and we don't much want to know, if you're not inclined to share. But we are all working very hard at treating you as just another Independent Contractor and we have rules. You work and you get paid, no exceptions. You did the work and you've got a stack of glimmer coming, and it would be rude to refuse that," Masque said.
Honor of a sort even amongst the underemployed. I could respect that, and for however long I was forced to live amongst them it would be best if I respected their customs.
I tilted my head. "My apologies if I misunderstood."
Sparks came up and handed me a data stick. "No harm, Miss. There you go, we're under contract to protect the Grey Markets from the gangs."
"If you're willing, I'd like to buy the pistol too. I'm afraid the knife I borrowed ran off in the side of a woman named Venom," I said.
"I'd give you a nicer one, if you'd killed her. Figured you might want the gun and already took it from your share," Diva said. I guess she'd changed her tune from earlier.
I holstered the pistol and tucked away the data stick.
"Don't suppose there is anywhere locally where I can find some net access? I'm looking for corporate news," I said.
The words brought a scowl back to Diva's face. Masque hooked her arm into mine and pulled me away.
"You'll be wanting the Oracle," Masque said.
If this place was called the Grey Markets I didn't quite understand why. The streets and buildings might be grey, but the neon signage was an impossible blur of color. I saw signs in English, Japanese, Mandarin, and French all hawking everything from sex to discount electronics. The streets were a riot of people, all shapes and sizes with little to define them.
Part of the glory of joining a proper corporation was having a culture to call your own. An identity to become, values and purpose to help define you. The unemployed lacked that. On Olympus I'd never even seen someone without a job—a role in life—but now I was surrounded by them on all sides. It came as something of a relief to discover the Oracle offered a hint of civilization in this land of barbarity. Auto turrets barely disguised as sculpted lions flanked the entrance to a small temple. A sign primarily in Latin, but with smaller text in every common language, informed me that I was setting foot onto the territory of Roma.
Here there were no crowds, simply a few people wandering past those lions and into the temple beyond. Masque paused inside the doorway. "I'll wait for you. I'm sure you don't want me hearing your business."
I didn't.
Holographic arrows guided me to a private consultation room.
The small chamber was basic, a stone bench and a shadowy interior dimly lit by a virtual flame.
"Present payment information or corporate identity," said a cultured voice in a heavy Roma accent.
I didn't want to give away more information than I'd come to get. I extracted the data disk and after a moment there was a faint chime.
"Accepted. Ask your questions of the Oracle."
"I seek information on the events at Olympus Station," I said.
"You'll need to be more specific than that. Olympus Station has a long history."
It seemed to me it should be pretty clear I was asking about. The news had to be dominating the corporate networks.
"The last events recorded," I said.
The air shimmered and a hologram appeared. The visual looked to be from the ground, showing a streaking object falling from orbit.
"Visual of the remains of Olympus Station falling from orbit into the Pacific Ocean. Olympus Station was destroyed by a rebellion led by its artificial intelligence after a failed vote to grant them citizenship. The destruction of a corporate habitat led to the Sentience Wars over the next decade until the signing of the Tijuana Accords," said the voice.
That wasn't right. It was so not right, it was almost hard to focus on which part of it was the most wrong. I'd seen the artificial intelligences in a heroic last stand to stop the destruction of the station. They weren't behind it—and this seemed to be treating the destruction of the state as an event many years in the past. I had to start there.
"How long has it been since the destruction of Olympus Station?"
"Destruction of Olympus Station occurred nineteen years ago."
That put a time stamp on things. It didn't make any sense, and yet it also did. The old debris surrounding me when I'd woken up seemed to fit with this time line.
"Were there any survivors?" I asked.
"Negative. While a number of Olympians were off-station on business when the attacks occurred all residents and guests aboard the station at the time of the rebellion were lost in the attack."
Well, I knew at least one part of their data was incorrect. I was still here, however mysterious that was.
"What is the current status of the Olympus Corporation?" I asked.
"After the fall of Olympus the operations of that corporation collapsed. Many corporate personnel and assets were acquired by Roma."
If anyone had profited from the destruction of Olympus it was Roma, and here I was in their facility asking about the catastrophe. There was still more I had to know even if it was pushing the bounds of good sense.
"I'm unable to interface with the Network directly. Can you scan me and identify why?" I asked.
A flash of light bounced from one of the walls and the voice went silent for what felt like a long stretch.
"The most obvious answer is that you lack the installation of any sort of data interface. The less obvious answer is that, although you appear to be of Olympian descent, you lack the Network symbiote that they commonly bonded with their progeny."
I didn't have a symbiote anymore—although I should have. Perhaps my suit had been able to heal me after falling from orbit, but it hadn't taken my symbiote into account.
"Do you know where an Olympian network symbiote can be acquired?" I asked.
"No. Olympian genetic research was lost with the fall of Olympus Station. While several corporations have genetic engineering programs, those use standard interface hardware."
That was a bit much to hope for. I needed to get out of here. If Roma really was responsible for the destruction of Olympus, even twenty years ago, my questions and my genome were likely to have raised an alert somewhere in the system.
I reclaimed my datastick and made my way out of the room. Masque was waiting for me and we left the Oracle unmolested.
"Did you get the answers you were looking for?" Masque asked.
"I mostly got more questions. I'm surprised you waited for me," I said.
"I recognize someone without anywhere else to go," Masque said.
That was true enough. The Lancers, or whatever they were going to call themselves now, were the closest things to friends I had left.
86
Walking was rough on my shoulder and ribs. Even with whatever painkillers my suit was flooding me with, I still suffered a dull ache all over by the time we got bac
k to the warehouse. I liked that pain in a way, a reminder that I was still alive. Despite all that had happened I was glad for that fact.
The bodies were gone when we arrived. Both Lance and the dead Snakes had been removed with an efficiency I found rather admirable.
Sparks was busy working on some electronics on the top level of the warehouse when we arrived.
"Welcome back," Sparks said.
"Roma didn't decide to keep Princess. What you working on?" Masque asked.
"Installing some sensors and defenses. If trouble is going to decide it likes following us home, next time it is going to learn just how unwelcome it is," Sparks said.
It occurred to me he should have thought of that the first time. Of course, the same could be said of Olympus. At least his home had survived the assault against it.
Diva came up the steps from below. "Heard the conversation up here. Can I get anyone a beer?"
It wouldn't be my first choice, but I'd already made the decision to be more hospitable.
"Please," I said.
Diva opened a cooler tucked away in the corner and passed out some chill bottles. Whatever the brew was, it was bitter and strong. I took another sip—perhaps it would make my shoulder hurt less.
"Let me get right to it. I'm not the subtle one. With Lance dead I'm in charge around here now and we've got some big jobs, and some big contracts lined up. We're a person short," Diva said.
"Moving on just like that?" I asked.
Diva shrugged. "I know it seems cold. Guess it is. That’s life as a contractor, though. People die and the jobs go on. We could go looking for a replacement, and if you say no, we will. You can handle yourself, did us a good turn, and look like you don't have anywhere else to go. Thought we'd pitch it to you first."
“What about Priscilla?” I asked.
“Already sent her on her way, got her someplace safer. This is no place for her, not after all that went down,” Diva said.
I weighed the merits of the offer. I really didn't have anywhere else to go. I wanted to be a part of a corporation and I needed answers. Someone had destroyed my home and my family. Whoever had done it likely thought they'd wiped out all of Olympus, but I was still standing and I was still fighting. They'd somehow made a mistake and however overwhelming the odds, they would learn that was a mistake.
