Juliet had landed the Lady on Callisto many times and a few times on Luna, but coming down into Earth’s thick atmosphere, into its powerful gravity well, was a totally different experience. The ship rattled violently, and Juliet could feel the atmosphere sheering over the hull, trying to throw it one way and then another. Each adjustment had to be precise, and Juliet was ever grateful for Angel’s AUI overlays, helping her to keep the ship exactly where she wanted it.
She must have grunted or cursed softly to herself as she struggled to hold a course on the narrow flight path they’d been granted because Dora Lee spoke up, her faintly lilting voice strained as the acceleration couch did its work on her, “Everything . . . all . . . right?”
Juliet spared her a glance and a quick smile. “Yeah. First time flying down to Earth’s surface is all.” Her voice was smooth and unstrained; she hardly felt the Gs, not after all the training she’d put in with Nick. It didn’t hurt that her cybernetic lungs weren’t taxed by the pressures at all. “Landing on a moon like Luna or Titan is effortless. Now, though, I’m dealing with air so thick it’s like soup. It feels like the planet’s trying to push me away! If I fought the stick this hard coming down to Luna’s port, we’d be flying in loops!”
“How . . . much . . . longer?” Dora grunted.
“Hang in there a few more minutes,” Juliet said. She’d already noticed quite a reduction in the G forces, and the atmosphere was hitting the ship more like waves than full-force tsunamis. “We’re almost through the thicker parts, and our speed’s coming into line for our landing approach.” She glanced again at the small, wiry woman and saw she had her eyes closed and looked even paler than usual. “When’s the last time you were Earth-side?”
“Long . . . time,” was her only response.
Juliet grinned, wondering how the boys were doing in their couches. She had a feeling they were much better off; she’d learned that both had done time as mercenaries, dropped through Earth’s atmosphere in assault pods, fighting for various factions in small-scale “conflicts.” Barns had a lot of upgraded organs, though he made a point of showing scars from bullets and shrapnel to prove they hadn’t been elective surgeries. Hawkins was just . . . tough, she decided, was the right word. Not that Dora wasn’t tough; she wasn’t exactly complaining, but her time as a mercenary had been spent in a netjacking rig.
As they broke through the upper atmosphere and followed their strictly monitored flight path down toward the Colorado Protectorate, Juliet began to relax. They’d shed their orbital transit speed, and things smoothed out considerably. The Lady Hawk was a sleek, angular fighter, and she handled the atmosphere with aplomb. The engines hummed evenly, the hull hardly shuddered, and Juliet found she could relax her grip on the stick; Angel could make the minute adjustments necessary to bring them down to port. She touched the ship comms and said, “Rough part’s over. If I were worried about insurance, I’d say you need to stay strapped in until we land, but I’m not, so, yeah, go ahead and enjoy the view.”
“Lovely,” Dora chuckled, opening her glossy black eyes to peer at the view screens. “Think we’ll see the Rockies when we come in?”
“Oh yeah,” Juliet said. “According to my PAI, you can’t miss ‘em.”
Their atmospheric entry point had put them on a direct course down to the port, and their speed meant they had to wait less than an hour before the mountains and urban areas in their foothills began to come into view. Old Denver was a vast, sprawling concrete wasteland of burned-out, blasted skyscrapers and megastructures. What made the devastation obvious from the Lady’s perspective were the blackened craters where nothing grew, juxtaposed with the overgrown, too-green areas where nature was making a comeback, overtaking the concrete as it found footholds in the broken streets and foundations.
A human-made river and densely treed park along its banks separated Old Denver from New, and on the eastern side of that park, the rebuilt city and its spaceport stood like a plasteel and glass art installation. From the vantage of the sky, Juliet thought New Denver looked almost like a model city built by an idealist—monorails, parks, and megastructures designed to incorporate nature with their more utilitarian function vied for her attention, and she almost wished the descent took a little longer so she could take it all in. Before they landed, though, nature stole the show as the Rocky Mountains’ majesty dwarfed the human settlements.
The slopes were purple-blue at their heights, with white-topped crowns and shoulders. They reminded Juliet that humans could make enormous structures, conquer the heavens, and populate the stars, but nature was always there, waiting and watching, ready to resume life as usual whenever humanity stepped away, leaving a void. To her, the contrast of Old and New Denver, both lying in the shadow of the mighty mountain rage, was like a sharp pill, hard to swallow, a poignant reminder of human conflict, shame, triumph, despair, and hope.
It made her think of people and their various natures. Thoughts of Rodric Barrington and Mary Moon vied for attention with people like Aya and Honey and Frida. Realizing what she was doing, comparing people she valued as “good” versus “bad,” she thought about all the people in between whom she’d met. Images of Nick, Tanaka, Jensen, White, and the mercenaries in the ship with her danced through her mind’s eye, and the only logical extension of that line of thinking was to wonder where she fit in. Was she “good?” It was hard to think so after everything she’d done to survive. Just the day before, she’d sliced a man in half. Did he have a little girl at home? Was Leo’s life worth all the people she’d killed? Was her own?
“Hard to believe the war was only ten years ago,” Dora muttered, eyes fixed on the display panels and the panoramic view of New Denver as they approached.
Glad for the distraction, Juliet nodded. “Miracles of modern construction.” Before pursuing the conversation further, she got distracted, listening to Angel communicate with the port’s flight control AI. She watched their flight path change on the ship’s HUD, projected to her AUI. It populated with their berth designation—E12—and Juliet held her hand ready to take control if anything went wrong with the automatic systems. Coming into a busy port on Earth was a lot different from landing on a moon or docking with a space station; she knew she could do it but played it safe like pretty much every other pilot, letting her AI handle the landing.
Angel was, of course, flawless in the execution, deftly threading them through their flight path, avoiding the other ships and planes, whose flight paths were also managed by the port’s AI, and when they touched down, the landing was smooth and gentle. After a few minutes of taxiing, Angel pulled the ship into hangar E12. As Juliet spooled down the drives and turned on her parking lights, indicating it was safe to approach, some orange-vested port staff placed blocks behind the interceptor’s wheels and activated the stanchions that would prevent traffic into or out of their hangar.
“Full service,” she grunted. Things were different on Luna and Callisto; landings and takeoffs were done directly from the hangars. When she left New Denver, she’d have to taxi out to a launch pad unless she wanted to pay some hefty fines. She spoke into the team comms channel again, “We’re here. Grab your stuff—Frida says our liaison will be waiting with a ride. We’re getting concierge customs treatment.”
Following her own instructions, Juliet unbuckled, stood, and pulled her gun belt out from the small storage compartment under her seat. She strapped it on, adjusting the positions of the Texan and her monoblade before buckling the strap around her thigh. Meanwhile, Dora had slipped out of the cockpit, and she could hear her and the others chatting, creating a traffic jam in the narrow cargo compartment. They’d been in transit for almost fourteen hours, and she was sure everyone was antsy, trying to be first to get out and stretch their legs.
“Funny how a short trip from Luna to Earth takes longer than a full day of escorting gas harvesters around Jupiter.”
“Yes,” Angel replied, “primarily because Jovian space is far less regulated than that around Earth.”
“Yeah, I know,” Juliet sighed, stretching her neck as she came up behind Dora. She could hear Barns bickering with Hawkins about something and shouted, “Come on! Just grab your shit and move out!”
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“Keep your panties on,” Barns barked. “This rig ain’t easy to put on!”
“We’re getting into ground transport, Pierce,” Dora chimed in, leaning through the bulkhead door. “Why are you putting all that on?”
“You ever tried carrying a gun like Doom Bitch off its harness?” he growled.
“Doom Bitch” was his lovely nickname for the sixteen-millimeter, exoskeleton-mounted autocannon. Juliet sighed and nudged Dora, “It’s all right, Lee. You know how he is; the more we push him, the slower he’s gonna be.”
“Too right. What he should have done is gone last.”
“I’m done,” Hawkins called from the cargo closet. “Room to squeeze past him on the left.” That got Dora moving, and by the time she’d unstrapped and rolled her hard-shelled equipment case out, Barns was also ready to progress, leaving Juliet alone with her duffel. She slung it over her shoulder, hoisting it with her cybernetic arm, and passed through the open airlock into the hangar. For the first time in something like a year, she breathed Earth's air. It was cooler than she’d expected, so she sat down her duffel and rifled through it, looking for her motorcycle jacket.
The others stood around, idly alternating between watching her, as she shrugged into her jacket, and the fast-approaching black SUV outside the big hangar bay door. “Suppose that’s our ride,” Barns said, hawking a loogy and spitting it onto the pavement.
“Gross,” Juliet grumbled, walking up beside him and punching his shoulder. “Frida, are you there?” she asked into comms. Thanks to a plethora of relay sats, there was only about a second of delay between Earth and Luna, but Juliet was still a little startled by her near-immediate response.
“I’m here, and, yes, that’s your ride. The driver has instructions to bring you to our temporary base of operations on the outskirts of Boulder; it’s a vacation rental on a few acres, so things should be quiet. I’ve already had some supplies delivered.”
“Good, ‘cause I’m starved.” Barns held out a meaty fist for Hawkins to bump as though he’d said something applause-worthy. Unfortunately, Hawkins, perhaps out of reflex, bumped his knuckles, reinforcing the behavior.
“Can you tell the boss I’m going to call?” Juliet asked, and Frida’s voice came back a couple of seconds later.
“Sure. He’s in his office. By the way, Leo’s awake, everyone. He’s very peeved to be left behind.”
“Oi!” Barns interjected, “Let me talk to ‘im!”
Frida sighed. “He’s not on comms, and I’m outside his room. I’ll tell him you said hi.”
“Tell him we all said hi, Frida,” Juliet said, catching a thankful nod from Dora.
“Of course! If you’re all still at it after a week or so, Boss will probably send him down in a shuttle. Things are looking good—he’s already on the schedule for kidney transplants.”
“Tell ‘im to get a new liver while he’s at it! I’m sick of him getting drunk twice as fast as me.” While he spoke, Barns stomped toward the SUV that had pulled up just outside the hangar.
Juliet sighed as she followed them over to the vehicle. “Our ride’s ready. I’ll update you when we’re at the house.”
“Roger,” Frida replied, and then her comm line went dark.
The driver greeted them rather coolly, but he was just their ride and customs escort, so Juliet didn’t press for friendliness. She let Barns sit in the front while Hawkins and Lee took the middle bench seat. She sat in the back, wanting to avoid people looking at her while she subvocalized a call with Tanaka.
Barns uttered his first intelligent words of the day, asking the driver, “What’s the deal with customs? We gotta get checked?”
“Ayup,” the dark-haired, dark-glasses-wearing man grunted. “You’re coming through the private space terminal, though, so we just get a quick scan for contraband at the exit gate. Just make sure your PAIs respond quickly when they ping for credentials.”
Juliet tuned them out, knowing Angel would alert her if anything went amiss, and contacted Tanaka through a direct, encrypted line. Since she was subvocalizing, she didn’t use video, and Tanaka was happy to return the gesture. His gruff, clipped words came through loud and clear: "Lucky, glad you made it.”
“Same,” Juliet subvocalized. “We’re en route to Boulder, I’m sure you know. Had any thoughts about how I should approach the commune?”
“I managed to get access to a satellite with coverage. Been watching the people coming and going and walking around in there. I only had access for an hour, or I would’ve forwarded the connection to you. The hour was enough, in any case. Based on the images you shared with me, I spotted your friend. I also saw her hugging a child—perhaps the niece you mentioned.”
“Really?” Juliet suddenly felt butterflies in her stomach. Was this actually happening? Was she about to come face to face with Ghoul? She’d tried to rehearse what she’d say, but nothing ever sounded right in her head.
“Hai, really. In the hour of coverage I had, I saw her leave the commune once and tracked her to Boulder’s downtown. She traveled with a small convoy, and they made two stops: a low-rate motel and a farmer’s cooperative. They seemed like routine stops. It might be easier to approach her at one of those locations than by walking straight to the commune.”
“I’m guessing you did the watching because you haven’t shared any of these details with Frida yet?”
“Hai.”
“Okay, can you send me the locations?”
“I’m doing so now.” Juliet thought about his news and tried to formulate another question, but he beat her to it, “Are you worried?”
“I’m a little worried about how much we’re keeping from the others. What do I tell them when I go to meet Ghoul? Should I have them watching my back? Am I going to wait until I see what I can learn from Ghoul, see if I can get a connection through her old PAI to . . . the people looking for me?”
“No! I mean no to your second question. You need to have someone watching out for you when you go in. Tell the team you’re meeting an asset. I’ll make it clear that they’re watching your back but that you’re taking the lead. They won’t be given the details on your contact because I don’t need one of them trying to get ahead; they’re an ambitious crew. I don’t want Dora sniffing around the nets, and I don’t want the other two trying to get eyes on her. Their eyes should be on your back.”
“Understood.” Juliet inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm her nerves, oddly comforted by Tanaka’s instructions. He might be in the dark, but he was trusting her.
“Any other concerns?” he asked.
“Nothing I can’t handle. I’ll keep you updated.”
“Good. You’ve got this, Lucky.” At that moment, Juliet wanted so badly to tell him her real name that she almost did it. Still, she knew he wouldn’t approve; right now, no one, not even him, could tie her to “Juliet” or WBD. He’d want to keep it that way.
“Thanks, Rutger.” She spoke softly but was well aware that the team, despite their constant banter and giggles, would hear her.
“Hai,” he said, and then the connection was gone.
Before anyone could start grilling her for information, Juliet took the initiative, “Did we pass the customs checkpoint?” She knew they had; the vehicle had slowed, and she’d seen the big scanners out the window.
The driver cleared his throat and responded, “Yep, all clear.”
“What did the boss . . .” Barns started to ask, but Juliet cut him off.
“Do we have any wheels waiting at the house?” She activated the team comms, expecting Frida to answer.
A few seconds later, the operations manager didn’t disappoint: “An old SUV and a couple of all-terrain vehicles—single-seaters.”
Juliet switched to subvocalizations, continuing to speak into comms, “When we get unpacked, I’m gonna take a poke around town. One of you can come with me, but the other should stay with Dora to watch her back while she gets set up in her netjacking rig.” The crew immediately realized she was trying to keep from spilling too many details in the driver’s presence and followed suit.
“I’m with her,” Barns said.
Hawkins nodded. “Good. I’ll secure the base.” Dora just shrugged; she knew what her job was and wasn’t concerned about who watched over her.
“Tell us about Boulder, Frida,” Juliet said, wanting to visualize and help time to pass.
A few seconds later, Frida’s calm, clear voice came through, “All right. It wasn’t hit as hard during the war as Old Denver. Most of the destroyed buildings have been demoed and cleaned up—part of the same automated renewal program that’s turning the abandoned towns and suburbs into farmland. You all know the Colorado Protectorate is famously anti-corp, but after doing some research, it looks like a lot of that is overblown, spun up by the corpo news streams in other parts of the world. There are corporations in the Protectorate, but they have limited rights—no campaign contributions, no paramilitary forces, and no one sitting on a corporate board can hold public office. You’re going to run into old-fashioned police forces. Boulder has a civil police force, and a sheriff holds jurisdiction in most towns and cities on the eastern slope.”
“No corpo-sec?” Barns asked, a note of incredulity in his voice.
Frida sighed, and Juliet could tell she was disappointed having to recount the same old sad story. “Nope, but that doesn’t mean the cops are all good guys. I’ve found reports of corruption, vote rigging, and all the lovely problems people like to bring to the table with their good intentions.”
“So Boulder’s big?” Juliet asked, trying to get back to the topic she was interested in.
“Not really. It's smaller than New Denver—there’s only one megastructure, and it’s a civilian arcology with levels devoted to farms and parks. The streets are well laid out, and the parts of the city destroyed in the war have mostly been rebuilt or converted into parks and agricultural zones. Forty percent of the local populace live in the arcology, and the others are in designated residential zones; you won’t have trouble getting around. From the net, it looks like the downtown area has a lot of restaurants and a couple of clubs. The brochures talk it up, of course.”
“Of course.” Juliet smiled. Angel had already shown her some images and a few real-estate brochures. The imagery was stunning: The Rockies provided a backdrop that was hard to beat, but their natural grandeur juxtaposed with modern Diamatex and plasteel buildings was something else.
Barns asked the only question he probably cared about, “So, we’re good to carry?”
“Yes, but not your big gun. Not around town, big boy,” Frida laughed. “The Colorado Protectorate recognizes SOA licenses.”
“Okay. Can you go over our cover again?” Juliet leaned her head on the window, only half listening as Frida reviewed their supposed reason for being in the area. She looked through the bullet-proof glass, watching the fields of grain pass by, the purple mountains looming beyond them. It was weird to think that those fields had been occupied by strip malls, homes, and factories a few decades ago. It was spooky to think that an area populated by more than twenty million souls was now home to less than one. So many had fled the “conflict,” and so many had died. Now, most of the survivors lived in a few arcologies, and automated machines were reclaiming the abandoned and destroyed structures, using the land in other ways.
She wondered how long it would take for something similar to happen back home in Arizona. How long would there be buildings, streets, and parking lots in the ABZ? The worst part was that she couldn’t decide whether it was good or bad. Was the planet happier with farms and parks? Was it a sign of the human race in decline, or was it just a signal that they were moving to the next stage of their existence? She’d seen enough arcologies to know they weren’t the paradise they promised to be.
She used to daydream about humanity spreading out to live on other worlds, but having seen those settlements and the people going through the same problems they went through on Earth, she felt like something had to give. Was another great war inevitable, or had the corps accomplished their goal of subjugating the masses? Were people too beaten to rise up?