Rain had not expected just about half of the crew to follow him, the captain, and Eletta out into the Gravity Interlock terminal of Widow Station, but they did. Idle conversation echoed behind him as the throng of people filed through the single airlock door that connected the Cradle 3 docking umbilical to their ship.
“There's this nightclub I heard about, Frenzy? It's supposed to be this exclusive place in the business district!” Isobel, Retha, and Cleopatra, at the front of the pack, excitement evident in their voices.
“This place is supposed to have the best gun ranges in the system, none of the weak crap from the core colonies.” Matt Garcia.
“Nah man, we gotta hit the red-light district, first thing! My buddy from boot camp said Widow is supposed to have the best-” Kenneth, responding to him.
Noa, standing next to him, cuffed him upside the head before he could finish. Kenneth cursed, but he didn’t continue.
Rain led the pack, a datapad in his hand. He supposed he should be excited for shore leave as well, excited for a chance to let loose after a long seven months out in the void.
But something loomed over him. A shadow of what-could-be, longer than the station where they sought refuge. They were many thousands of kilometers away from the site of their short skirmish, and the few days it took to travel here had seen them unmolested by a sudden Confederate patrol. He had half expected the entire fleet to bear down on them, but...
Before his anxiety could spiral anymore, a piercing whistle silenced the various conversations taking place. He winced at the piercing sound, a mere meter from his ear.
It did its job. Everyone was paying rapt attention to their captain now, though he did wish she hadn’t done it right next to his ear.
He turned towards her himself. He had exited the ship with her, but he had been too engrossed in double-checking Edmund’s parts order to look at what she was wearing.
Contrary to her usual rough and tumble look, Alexandria Valentina was clad in what passed for smart-casual clothing among the less than desirable elements of Confederate society. Form-fitted canvas pants tucked into tall boots, paired with a low cut shirt under a canvas jacket lined with faux-fur, a jacket thick enough to hide a fairly large handgun he noted. Her hair was even tamed, laying back over her head as opposed to its usual, uncontrolled nature. The sides of her head were even freshly shaved.
Next to her was Eletta, similarly up-dressed compared to her traditional tank top. Where Alexandria put on the air of the self-assured bandit queen, Eletta made the traditional bodyguard garb look good. Dress shoes, dark synthetic fiber slacks with a matching jacket, brought together by a white collared shirt with the top buttons left undone. It must have all been a hair too small because it did nothing to hide the strength in her arms, though Rain thought that could well be the point. Her hair had been left in its usual cornrows.
It didn’t escape Rain that her jacket could easily conceal a weapon as well. The way it lay on Eletta screamed that it was weighted to reduce cloth movement.
“Alright people!” spoke the captain, her voice carrying easily in the open space. A few stragglers from other ships looked over momentarily, but their attention did not stray for long. “I know everyone is very excited to have some proper time off. But sadly, we still have today to finalize everything that needs to happen while we remain docked at this...fine, station.”
Mumbled groans rippled through the assembled crowd for a moment before Alexandria spoke up again.
“You all already have your assignments, so I won’t belabor the point. However, be aware! There will be a rotating watch! The schedule has already been sent to your devices. If this ship is ever left unattended, I will personally find whoever was responsible and turn them into the Speak’s first-ever figurehead, got it?”
“Ma’am, yes ma’am!” chorused everyone at once.
Directly outside of their airlock was a handle-and-track system similar to the system aboard their ship. This system took the form of a long elliptical track with handles set about two meters apart from each other. It was kept constantly rotating at a speed slow enough to not injure someone’s shoulder when they grabbed it as it passed. Opposite it was a second, identical track that rotated in the opposite direction.
Dutifully, the present crew waited for their turns to grab handles and be whisked away towards the end of the large room, where a long line of open elevators doors waited. “Rotation” with an arrow pointing to his right was emblazoned over them in blocky white letters, and each had a bright green light lit over them.
Through the window next to their airlock, the Speak Softly was visible in its docking clamps, held in the void of space almost...gently. A small shuttle was flitting about it, likely assessing the surface scoring for repair costs.
Through the other windows near the other airlocks, he could see several other ships moored in their docking clamps, both larger and smaller than the ship that had carried them here. Kilometers in the distance he could still see ships, tiny against the massive form of the port.
He shook his head. He’d grown too used to living aboard an old frigate; he’d forgotten the sheer scale of the megastructures that mankind now called home. An elbow nudged his side. Shaking his head, he turned and looked at Eletta. Far from looking concerned, she just looked amused, a slight smirk on her face.
Face flushed at being caught musing, Rain caught a handle and let it drag him away. He heard a chuckle from behind him as Eletta grabbed a handle herself.
“It’s a lot to take in, right? You get so used to the little ship you call home, and then…” She said, from behind, mirroring his earlier thought process.
“It’s a lot bigger than where I grew up, that’s for sure…” Rain said, absently. His eyes widened as he did. Dammit, again?
“Really? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about your past...ever.” She responded.
They reached the end of the track, Alexandria waiting patiently for them.
In response to Eletta, Rain said, “It was a tiny research station,” Not a lie, “It's...not around anymore.” An incomplete truth. He inwardly winced at revealing even this much, though he was saved by Alexandria.
“What were you two talking about?” Alexandria asked, curiosity writ in her raised eyebrow.
“Rain was just giving me some tips. I’ve been having trouble wrapping my head around the controls for the Peregine.” Eletta answered before Rain could even try to find an answer. He sighed internally, though he did catch the side glance from her that promised a talk later.
“A bit outside of my wheelhouse, but good to hear. Let's get going while we can. I don’t wanna wait for the next go around.” Alexandria responded. As the three of them drifted into an open elevator, Rain let his thoughts shift towards memories he hadn’t considered in some time.
A research station built into the asteroid belt object 2 Pallas. Men and women in lab coats taking his vitals, measuring his growth. He remembered eating with, training with, other young people with faces like his but different. He remembered guards taking away tiny forms covered in white sheets.
The doors slid closed, and a ding sounded over the speakers, which jarred Rain from his thoughts.
“Please be prepared to experience rotational gravity. Please be prepared to experience rotational gravity.” came a prerecorded voice over the elevator speaker, the typical synthesized female voice most expected.
He felt the elevator begin to move, both down and to the side, slowly enough that he could brace himself against the wall as it pushed against him. The feeling was strange, like an increasing pressure. As he felt able to support his weight with his legs, no matter how light he still felt, the window, once obscured by metal, suddenly...wasn't.
Rain couldn’t help himself. A small gasp escaped his mouth. This didn’t compare to the tiny research station he’d grown up on or even the grungy way-station in the sticks where Alexandria had found him.
As far as the eye could see in the distance stretched what looked to be a massive square of the crust of a planet, torn from the Earth and rolled up into a tube. Three strips of land were separated by a large window between each, allowing for an unimpeded view of the off-white surface of Ganymede. Each one was seemingly equally split between beautiful grasses and large cities. If he squinted, he thought he could make out a high-speed bullet train passing over one of the windows on a specially designed track.
“Damn, that never gets old.” Said Alexandria, with a small appreciative whistle.
“It’s a damn sight prettier than the ship, that's for sure.” Eletta said in agreement.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, Eletta. Have you made any headway into that journal you found?” Alexandria responded.
Rain turned some to listen, though most of his attention was still on the view outside. Fluffy white...clouds, he thought they were called, drifted through the open air, buoyed by some invisible wind current.
“It’s not exactly light reading. I’ve been skimming it from the beginning, looking for context. I know three things for sure. The journal belonged to a Chief Petty Officer Carbine, the ship was called the Bifrost, and it was intended to be a supercarrier.” Eletta said as she folded her arms across her chest.
“Hmm. I don’t remember anything that size being fielded during the war. The government would have run more than one propaganda piece with a ship that size in their fleet.” Alexandria responded.
“Could have been a skunkworks project gone wrong, maybe?” Rain inserted, turning away from the window to engage in the conversation fully.
Eletta snapped her fingers, “That's the other thing. It describes a bunch of weird, experimental Frames being loaded onto the ship. One of them matched Freyja’s description.”
“There's more machines like Freyja out there?” He asked, astonished. The sheer performance of Freyja alone was mind-boggling; the thought of an entire lance of machines like her was...chilling.
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Though...there was something at the back of his head and on the tip of his tongue again. He raised a hand and rubbed his neck, where the data terminal lay under his skin.
“They’re out there...the others.” He murmured, softly.
“What do you mean?” Alexandria asked, concern in her voice. Eletta frowned but didn’t say anything.
He closed his eyes and focused. Fragments, visions of color, and sound.
“I’m gonna call Love, this is-”
“No, don’t!” Rain said, pulling his hand away from his neck and holding it out to Alexandria, palm facing her.
“I’m fine! I think it’s just residual information from the connection.”
“...Okay, but keep a close eye on it, you hear me?” Alex pointed at him. He nodded and swallowed.
They sat in silence until the elevator came to a stop, relative to their new reference frame. It dinged again, the same cheerful voice piping up.
“We have reached an effective nine point eight meters per second squared of gravitational force! We hope you enjoy your stay here at Ganymede Two!”
Guess they never bothered to change the message when the station's name changed.
The window he was looking through split open down the middle, spilling him out onto a long concourse. Several open-air stalls were scattered throughout the area, selling any number of small mechanical items. In the distance, he could see larger buildings, though it was difficult to tell which was which from his position. People paid him no mind, winding through the stalls, perusing wares, and ignoring shopkeepers yelling about their wares.
“Good luck Rain,” Eletta clapped him on the shoulder, “We have to get going. Alexandria’s meeting is on the opposite side of the station.” And with that, the two women walked away, winding towards a tram station pushed off the side behind several stalls.
Rain waved, then checked his datapad. The map was only slightly confusing, the district a maze of cross streets and hastily erected new buildings. Still, his destination was marked with a red dot and a name.
“Salvage and Souvenirs? Let’s see...” He muttered as he set off deeper into the maze of concrete and steel. He looked up and looked back at his map.
“Seriously Edmund? This shit is old,” he sighed, before pocketing the pad and walking off to find it himself.
---
Eletta took in the space around her. A relatively quiet tram car, which suited her just fine. Less to worry about. Didn’t have to worry about using the weapon hidden under her arm, disguised by the suit coat she wore.
A comparatively primitive semi-automatic, it still operated on the centuries-old technology of gunpowder. She had to admit, she preferred it that way. She’d heard horror stories of man-portable coilguns detonating in soldier’s hands while she was in the force. Something about capacitor failure, but it went right over his head.
“So, remind me why I’m carrying, Captain?” She asked, her voice low, despite the relative emptiness of the car. There was just one very sleepy old lady, on the opposite end from them.
Alexandria, seated comfortably next to where Eletta was standing, responded.
“I’m carrying too, El,” the captain patted her jacket, just under her arm where a similar pistol lay in a similar sling, “and it’s not about the pistol. It’s about the message it sends to the man we have to meet.”
“What message would that be? That we don’t trust him?” Eletta asked. Alexandria hummed softly.
She cast her gaze across the tram once more. An idyllic park passed by, lush trees and greenery casting a green tint on the light that drifted into the tram from the artificial lighting that ran across the center of the colony.
The idyllic view was marred somewhat by the few less than savory transactions she had seen. She supposed maintaining healthy greenery was a survival tactic here. A more efficient carbon dioxide scrubber had never been invented.
“It’s about sending the message that we aren’t underestimating him, that we’re taking this seriously.” Said Alexandria, after her moment of contemplation.
“So it’s just a bunch of theater, then?” She asked.
“Theater matters with these kinds of people. It’s not like the military where everything happens serves a straightforward purpose, even if that purpose is stupid.”
Eletta shook her head, smiling despite herself. “You aren’t wrong, boss, you aren’t wrong.”
The mirth was short-lived. “I think I deserve to know what I’m walking into.”
“I agree,” Alexandria said. Eletta waited for her response, but her boss stared out the window for a few moments, her brow furrowed under her bright purple hair.
“His name is Marshall Slate. I’m not sure if that's his real name, but that's what I know him by.”
“Slate? I think I remember some intel guys mentioning that name…” Eletta mused.
“He has his fingers in every criminal enterprise in the system. He’s the de-facto ruler here on Widow, and the reason it has nearly no military presence.”
There was something in her voice, Eletta thought. A well hidden, old anger, making itself known in the old memories coming to the surface. A kind of tenseness she heard in veterans.
“You’ve dealt with him before.” She said, a simple statement of fact.
Slowly the tram came to a halt. Alexandria stood as the doors of the car opened on a
much larger station than the one they’d boarded it at.
“Back when I was just the first mate, back when the Speak was still the Cannoneer’s Glory.” They took in the new station together as they left the tram, Eletta’s head on a swivel even as she thought.
She knew everyone on the crew had a past they weren’t willing to talk about, each of them for valid reasons. She had just never assumed that her captain would have been involved with such a criminal magnate.
This station was crowded, she noted, but no one was interested in them. A few bands of grungy teens, pierced and tatted, squatted in the out-of-the-way corners of the open-air station. They were less interested in the people around them and more interested in the card games they were playing on the ground. Gambling of some kind, she thought.
They strode through the crowd, Eletta’s sheer size making a path for them through the teeming people.
“Listen,” Alexandria said as they approached the long, graceful form of a high-speed, maglev, bullet train.
“I’m not happy about this meeting either, but I don’t see another way out. It’s either this, or go on the run, and we can sustain that for long.” she sighed, then, her shoulders slumped for but a moment.
“Hopefully Noa and the others are in position by the time we arrive,” said Eletta, letting Alexandria’s moment of vulnerability pass with grace, “This is time-sensitive, right?”
“It’s a delicate plan, I admit.” said the captain, “But it’s the best we have.”
They boarded the bullet train, the crowd around them keeping Eletta’s head on a swivel.
---
Noa Light was a simple man. He took his whiskey, no matter what shelf it came from, neat. Like every colony, it was simple enough to find a small hole in the wall dive bar. The one he’d chosen was only a few blocks away from the high-rise tower where Alexandria would be meeting one of the worst men to grace Jovian space.
The sudden jump from pristine, high-class business and residences to barely maintained apartments and hastily erected shops was...stark, he thought privately. One of several reasons he preferred shipboard life.
His eyes roved the room from his position at the bar. The bartender was a non-issue, busy with his duties for the night, as well as keeping an eye on the two men playing pool in the corner. Noa had marked them as potential trouble when he first entered, swagger and bravado hung around them like heavy smoke.
The bell above the door, a low-tech solution aboard a high-tech station, rang. An unassuming man entered. Close-cut brown hair, brown eyes, and deep tan left him with nearly no notable features, aside from one scar just under his left ear.
Noa watched him navigate the tables, winding his way towards the bar sedately. Soon enough, he sat down next to him.
No words were exchanged. He raised a finger to the bartender, a silent order. A regular.
But Noa knew this. He had expected the man, after all.
They drank together in silence, Noa facing away from the bar and the man facing in.
Glasses emptied at the same time and passed to the bartender. The man stood up, and left, heading home for the night.
He left a small datastick in Noa’s jacket pocket, thin enough to not even leave a sign that it existed. Noa waited, and then he stood, paid the bartender, and ambled out of the bar, waving side to side, his steps unsure. The two men playing pool watched him leave, a keen look in their eyes.
He walked like this down the uneven surface, the path winding through several poorly kept trees and bushes. He turned suddenly and ducked into an alleyway, cast in shadows by the surrounding buildings.
He reached the end and leaned against it as if a very tired, lost man. He heard footsteps on the ground behind him, two sets of heavy boots.
Rough hands grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him around, and slammed him against the wall. The two burly men from the bar, one standing in front of the other, holding Noa in place. The second man stood back, a wide grin on his face.
Noa took them in for a moment. Brothers, twins by the looks of their faces. They each bore a fascinating series of scars on their faces, clean and neat. Purposefully performed, then. Scarification was popular in some areas of Jovian space as a form of self-expression.
“You look a bit too nice for this part of town, old man.” The one not holding him up said arms crossed over a barrel chest.
“Wrong side of town, isn’t it?” The second one continued. Noa looked him in the eyes. A smarter man would have noticed the lack of physiological tells of excessive drink, a wobble to his head, difficulty focusing his eyes, and similar.
But these were not smart men, Noa knew. He reached up, took hold of the arm that held his shoulder, and dug his thumb deep into a pressure point, a bundle of nerves that sent shocks of pain racing through his assailant. His eyes widened, a sudden understanding in them.
Noa took the momentary distraction this offered him. He pulled the man forward with his grip on his arm, hooked a leg around the other man to put him off-balance, then grabbed the back of his scarred head with his free hand and slammed his face into the wall, twisting his entire body around to both switch places with the former attacker, and to put as much force as possible into the blow.
A sickening crunch filled the alleyway, and the man slumped forward and slid down the wall. Blood trailed from where his face slid down the wall, and as he slumped on the ground only the unsteady rise and fall of his chest put tell to his tenuous grasp on life.
“What the fuck-”
Only two steps and Noa was inside the second brother’s guard. He lashed out with a knife hand, his fingers slamming into his enemy's solar plexus up to the first knuckle. A gasp for breath that wouldn’t come. Noa pressed his advantage. A low kick into a knee, shattering the patella and sending the man stumbling in pain. A second knife hand slammed into his throat, and he fell to his broken knee, face purple from lack of oxygen.
It was with an idle strike to the temple that Noa rendered him unconscious. He turned and took in the two broken bodies that lay at his feet. He sighed.
“Wrong mark, gentlemen.” He reached up to a bud in his ear and spoke.
“Lookouts, are you in position?”
“Yes sir!” Chorused several voices over his earpiece.
“Good. Alexandria and Eletta should be meeting with Mr. Slate soon, be on your toes.”
“Sir, are you okay? I thought I heard something over your mic.” asked one member of his team. Darlene.
Noa smiled as he left the alley. “Nothing to worry about. Just a minor annoyance.”