Olivia: Hey, Uncle Will. I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time.
Uncle Will: No, no! Not at all! I'm just waiting for dinner to finish cooking. What's up?
Olivia: Not much... I just thought I'd give you a call. See how you're doing.
Uncle Will: Oh, that's sweet of you. Well, we're doing great! Slowly getting acclimated to the new place. And to living on an actual planet, too. *laughter*
Olivia: Yeah, I bet that's gotta be a bit strange...
Uncle Will: Ah, it's great. We'll figure it out in no time!
Olivia: How's... how's Mom?
Uncle Will: Hmm... Well, she's alright, I think. She was a little restless the past couple nights, but I guess that's just her getting used to her new home.
Olivia: Have you taken her outside? Maybe some fresh-
Uncle Will: No, we haven't gone outside yet. I think she should take things slowly, first. It's a big change, after all.
Olivia: Yeah... yeah, you're right.
Uncle Will: How are you doing?
Olivia: ...
Olivia: Huh? Oh, I'm fine. You know, the same old same old.
Uncle Will: *laughter* I doubt anything's ever the same out there! You're keeping safe, right? Not doing anything too dangerous?
Olivia: ...
Olivia: *distractedly* Yeah, sure. Of course not.
Uncle Will: ...
Uncle Will: Are you sure you're alright? Sounds like you've got something on your mind.
Olivia: ...
Olivia: It's... it's nothing.
Uncle Will: Come now, Olivia. *chuckling* You know better than to keep secrets from your ol' uncle.
Olivia: It's...
Olivia: Do you remember that friend I told you about?
Uncle Will: The one in the LPI?
Olivia: Yeah.
Uncle Will: Of course! That was the first time you'd ever called someone a friend in years!
Olivia: Yeah... it was.
Uncle Will: ...
Uncle Will: Did something happen?
Olivia: No. Well. Yeah. She...
Olivia: She almost got herself killed again.
Uncle Will: ...
Olivia: We were just out in space, talking. Just having a good time. *angrily* And out of nowhere some ship shows up and she chases after it and opens up on it. And there was this fucking agent who just sat by and watched instead of helping her and I knew she wouldn't want me to jump in either and...
Uncle Will: ...
Olivia: And she got herself fucking spaced. The agent didn't do shit and all I did was sit there and watch.
Uncle Will: But is she-...
Olivia: And then... And then she fucking skips any sort of medical check up, hops into that fucking cruiser of hers, and gets tied up in another firefight right away! It's like she has a fucking death wish and there's jack shit I can do.
Uncle Will: Olivia-...
Olivia: *hysterically* And I can't do that! I can't let her get herself killed!
Uncle Will: Olivia, as long as you have her back-...
Olivia: I don't! I can't! She's not Robert! I can't be around her all the time! And even if I could... what fucking good would that do? What good did that do Rob?
Uncle Will: Olivia-...
Olivia: She's the first person I've let myself get close to in forever and I can't...
Uncle Will: Olivia, listen.
Olivia: I can't let Rob happen again...
Uncle Will: Olivia! Listen to me.
Olivia: ...
Uncle Will: I know I've told you this a thousand times already, but: Robert wasn't your fault. You can't go on blaming yourself for that forever.
Olivia: It was my job to watch over him. It's the one thing Mom asked of me every time we headed out.
Uncle Will: There was no way you could have seen it coming. It's not your fault.
Olivia: ...
Olivia: Mom disagreed.
Uncle Will: Your mother... Your mother wasn't herself. That wasn't her who said those things to you. She was just... She was grieving. We all were.
Olivia: ...
Olivia: I just can't believe that there was nothing I could have done. And now, with her... She's my friend, Uncle Will. My friend. If something happens to her...
Uncle Will:If. From the way you described her, she sounded pretty capable. After all, she's a police lieutenant.
Olivia: She's just a little girl. Hardly any older than I was when-...
Uncle Will: She'll be fine. More importantly, you'll be fine. Right?
Olivia: ...
Uncle Will:Right, Olivia?
Olivia: ...
Uncle Will: ...
Uncle Will: *sighing* Hey, why don't you come for a visit soon? Now that we're here, you can come see us any time!
Olivia: Uncle-...
Uncle Will: Hell, you could even live with us. I'm sure your mother would-...
Olivia: No.
Uncle Will: ...
Uncle Will: Alright, but do come for a visit. I miss you. And your mother does, too. A lot. Even if she can't always show it.
Olivia: ...
Uncle Will: Promise you'll come by?
Olivia: Yeah. Yeah, I promise.
Uncle Will: Alright, great! Hey, dinner's almost done and your mother's getting hungry. I need to get back to it.
Olivia: Okay, Uncle Will. Thanks for the talk. Sorry if I-...
Uncle Will: Hey, don't sweat it. Just take it easy. Try... try not to worry so much. Everything'll be fine, alright?
Olivia: Yeah. Alright.
Uncle Will: Okay, we'll talk again soon, yeah? We love you, Olivia!
Olivia stood in the empty hallway, right hand raised as to knock on the apartment door. The other clutched a bottle of wine. The old ceiling lights flickered and somewhere down the corridor there was the scurrying of rodent feet. The place smelled of burnt-out electrical cables and musty carpets. The bottle shook slightly in her hand.
Olivia took a deep breath and knocked. From beyond the door came a shuffling of feet and the sound of clattering dishes.
"Yes, one moment please!" a voice called out from within. There was more shuffling and more clattering. The door slid open with a grating sound and a tall, fair-skinned man in his mid-fifties stood before Olivia. He smiled broadly and stepped out into the corridor, embracing her. "Olivia, you came!"
"I couldn't keep you waiting for ever, Uncle Will," Olivia replied, stepping out of the hug, a weak smile on her face. Uncle Will grasped her by the shoulders.
"Whenever it works for you." He turned around and returned into the apartment, beckoning her to follow. "Come on in! I'm just about done fixing dinner." Olivia stepped into the flat's lobby - if one could call the cramped hall a lobby. Three more doors led into three more rooms. One was open and Uncle Will went through it. The sound of boiling water and the smell of cooked meat emanated from it. "You're lucky, you know?" Uncle Will continued from the kitchen. "I decided to fix an extra large portion, so there's plenty for you, too!"
Olivia peered in through the door. The kitchen was small but well equipped. Everything one would need to fix meals for oneself. She could tell that Uncle Will had installed some of his old utensils from Freeport 10.
"It smells great."
"Yeah?" Uncle Will turned and smiled at her. "I hope it tastes great, too!" He laughed.
Olivia looked around the hall again. To her right was the door to the living room, straight across from her the door to the bedroom. She knocked on the door to her right and listened closely. A faint muttering came from with in.
"How's Mom?" Olivia asked, turning back to the kitchen. Uncle Will stood before the stove, stirring the food in the pot on top of it. He sighed.
"Today is a... quiet day for her." He replied. "Go on in, she'll want to see you."
Olivia stepped back towards the living room door and carefully pushed it open. The room was small, like all the others, but still a comfortable size. Though the once white walls were stained yellow and the carpet's color had long ago faded away, the light flooding in through the east-facing wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling windows nonetheless gave it a pleasant appearance. In one corner stood a small dinner table. Along the far wall lay a cheap, plush couch. Beside it, in a wheelchair, sat a woman. Her long, dark hair fell into her face. Her hands lay in her blanket-covered lap. She stared absently at the wall across from her.
Olivia took a few steps into the room, observing the woman. She didn't react to her. Olivia crept closer and kneeled down in front of her.
"Mom?" she said softly. The woman kept staring ahead, not noticing her. Olivia reached out with her right hand and gently touched the woman's knee. "Mom, it's me. Olivia." The woman slowly turned her head towards her. For a brief moment, they locked eyes. Olivia's mother faintly muttered something Olivia couldn't make out. Then her focus faded and she stared straight through her daughter, becoming silent again.
Olivia gently patted her mother's leg, sighed, and got up. She walked over to the dinner table and placed down the bottle of wine.
"So, how's space?" Uncle Will asked as he put down his knife and fork neatly on his empty plate. He smiled at Olivia. Across from him, Olivia finished the last of her meal.
"It's keeping me busy," she replied. "There's plenty of work for a freelancer."
Her uncle nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, I bet. What with the pirates and insurgents. You're keeping safe though, right? Not taking any jobs too risky?"
Olivia cocked her head to the side and smiled mischievously. "Of course, Uncle Will. I'm a mercenary who doesn't take any risks." Uncle Will laughed and she found herself chuckling, too. Beside her, her mother gazed listlessly across the table. Olivia reached out and carefully caressed her hand. Her mother briefly twitched at the touch, then remained motionless.
Uncle Will watched silently for a minute or two. "How's that friend of yours," he finally asked, "the police officer?"
"Police lieutenant," Olivia corrected him, still caressing her mother's hand. She glanced over at her uncle and smiled softly. "She's doing fine. I was actually spending some time with her just before coming here."
Her uncle curiously raised his eyebrows. "Really?"
Olivia nodded. "Yeah, we ran into each other near Philadelphia. It seems she took yesterday's 'tirade' to heart." Olivia looked back to her mother, sighing. "She promised she'd be more careful in future."
Uncle Will leaned back in his chair and sighed, relieved. "See? I told you she'd listen."
"She still managed to get in a fight with some jackass, though," Olivia went on, a smile on her face. "She took him out easily enough." Her uncle smiled, listening. Olivia reached out with her other hand and cupped her mother's within both of hers. "I'm just glad things turned out alright. I was worried I was too harsh on her yesterday. That I might have scared her off."
Uncle Will leaned forward. "Come on, Olivia. She'll know you're only trying to look out for her."
Olivia nodded silently. Her mother's gaze slowly wandered around the room, looking at everything but her. Uncle Will reached over and with his fingertips gently brushed the hair out of her face.
Olivia stood at the apartment door, ready to leave.
"Are you sure you don't want to take any of the leftovers," Uncle Will asked her, standing in the kitchen door, a parcel of food in his hands. Olivia smiled and shook her head.
"No thanks, Uncle Will. I'm good."
Her uncle disappeared into the kitchen. "Suit yourself!" He called out with a laugh. Olivia turned towards the door and grabbed the handle to slide it open.
"I'm heading out," she called out to Uncle Will. "Thanks for dinner, it was great!" She opened the door and stepped forward.
"Olivia?" a soft, faint voice spoke from behind her. She froze.
"Olivia, dear?" the voice repeated, a little stronger. Olivia's hands shook. It was a voice she had not heard in a long time. She took a deep breath and turned around, facing back into the apartment.
"Olivia, is that you?" Her mother, in her wheelchair, sat in the door frame to the living room. Her eyes were clear as she gazed up into her daughters face. Her lips formed a weak smile. "Is that you?"
Uncle Will appeared in the kitchen door. He glanced from Olivia to her mother and back. Olivia hands clenched into shaking fists and she took a careful step towards her mother.
"Yeah, Mom. It's me," she said quietly. The smile on her mother's face broadened at the sound of her voice. She raised her frail hands towards her daughter, shaking slightly from the effort.
"Oh, my dear, it's been so long," she spoke. Olivia took another ginger step forward, tears forming in her eyes. She could not remember when she had last heard her voice so clearly. Her mother's gaze slowly wandered around the hall, searching.
"Where's Rob?" she asked, a quizzical expression on her face. Uncle Will lowered his gaze. Olivia froze again. "Where is he?" Her mother repeated, worry creeping into a soft voice. Olivia stared at her. Her mother locked eyes with her again, fear growing in her voice. "Where is Rob?"
"Mom..." Olivia started.
"Olivia, where is Robert!" Her mother shouted, pressing her hands into her wheelchair's armrests, trying to raise herself up. "Where is he! What did you do?"
Olivia took a step back, staring at her mother. The woman's arms shook under her weight and she fell back into the wheelchair. Uncle Will stepped up and kneeled down beside her.
"Where is he?! Where is Robert?!" Her voice transformed into a hysterical screaming, her face an angry, panicked expression. "Where is he?! Where is he?!" Olivia could feel her face go pale and the hall around her blurred through the tears.
"Olivia, it's best you leave," Uncle Will said over his shoulder as he reached out and grasped her mother by hers. "Your mother will be fine, just let me take care of this."
"Samantha, listen to me-," Uncle Will spoke to her mother as Olivia turned and walked out the door, gently sliding it shut behind her. Through it, she could hear her uncle soothingly talk to the crazed woman as she continued to scream hysterically for her son.
Olivia stood in the hallway, the ceiling lights flickering, and let the tears run down her face.
Olivia sighed heavily as she closed the door to her motel room behind her. She leaned her back against it, weary from an exhausting day. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to relax her muscles, tense from spending hours upon hours strapped into the cockpit. It had been rough, trying to maintain her usual attitude throughout the day as memories of ten years ago rushed through her mind like a torrent of guilt and regret. But she didn't want anyone to worry about her. To guess at her past. At her failings. Especially not Isla. She had enough to deal with on her own, she didn't need Olivia's troubles weighing her down, too.
And here Olivia was now, in her dingy motel room on Manhattan, exhausted. She opened her eyes and exhaled. The room was dimly lit by the old light strips that ran along the corners of the ceiling. All it contained was an old, plastic desk and chair beside the door, a small bed and closet across from it, and a small, grimy kitchen counter in the far corner, a little, round table with two chairs standing beside it. She glanced over at it. Everything was where she had placed it this morning. Three empty glasses, one with an unlit candle inside it, and a bottle of vodka stood on the tabletop.
Sighing, she meandered over, unzipping the top of her flightsuit, letting it slide down around her waist. The sleeveless undershirt beneath revealed the burn scars that crisscrossed her forearms. Absently, she scratched at her right arm, the scars flushing an angry red. Olivia slumped into one of the chairs and took one of the glasses, cupping it in her hands. She stared at it absentmindedly.
Had it really been ten years already? It didn't feel that long. The pain was still so fresh, it seemed like it could have all happened days ago. Olivia glanced up at the bottle of liquor. She reached out and took it, pouring full measures into the two empty glasses before her. Then she produced a lighter from within one of her flightsuit's pockets and lit the candle in the third glass, placing it in the center of the small table. She slid one of the glasses of vodka across the top, to where the other chair stood, empty. For a few moments, she stared at it blankly.
Robert should have been sitting there, across from her, as he always had on his birthdays. The candle flickered.
Around her, the small, grimy room disappeared, a lively bar scene replacing it. Olivia glanced around her. Men and women sat at tables all around her, shouting, laughing, drinking. A young waitress gracefully made her way from booth to booth, table to table, serving drinks and food to the patrons. The strange jazz-like music, so popular in the Taus, blared from speakers mounted to the ceiling. A few couples and groups danced on a small dance floor in the corner. The smell of alcohol permeated the air.
Olivia looked back across her table. A young man sat there, also gazing around the room. His hair was brown, the same shade as her own. A soft smile decorated his face. His head turned and he looked Olivia dead in the eyes. His were kind and caring and his smile widened joyfully. Olivia stared at him, lips quivering. Carefully, she reached a shaking hand out towards him. Still smiling, he took it and squeezed it.
The candle flickered. Olivia was back in her cramped motel room. Her empty hand hovered in midair. She stared at where her brother had been a second ago. A tear rolled down her cheek, dripping into her glass of vodka. She slowly clenched her hand and pulled it back, collecting it in her lap. Holding back a sob, she sniffed and recollected herself. She sat up straight, she reached out with her other hand and grabbed her glass, raising it before her. She looked at the empty chair opposite her. The candle flickered again.
"Happy birthday," she whispered and raised the vodka to her lips.
Olivia sighed as she walked down the poorly lit hallway towards her motel room. The air was musty and humid, the stench of cheap carpet not cleaned in years wafting around her. She could hear sounds coming from some of the rooms she walked by; drunken laughter, sick coughing, lustful screams. One door was wide open and Olivia glanced inside as she passed it. Two men lay on the room's bed, passed out, covered only by a thin, dirty blanket. A naked woman - clearly of the working kind - stood before a mirror, pulling up a pair of pantyhose.
At an intersection in the hallway, Olivia arrived at her door. She reached out for the handle, only to notice that the door wasn't shut. She hesitated. She knew she hadn't forgotten to close it when she left in the morning, nor did the motel offer any room service that might have left it open by mistake in the meantime. Olivia withdrew her hand and ran it down the right leg of her flightsuit. She grasped the hilt of the knife that was holstered to her thigh and slowly drew it out. With her other hand she cautiously pushed the door open, keeping the old, rusty hinges from creaking. The room was dark; she couldn't see anyone inside. However, light shone in from the narrow door at the far end, leading to the tiny bathroom.
Olivia crept inside, quietly closing the door behind her. She could hear the sound of running water coming from the bath and a man's muffled humming. She stood perfectly still in the room's entrance and waited. The water stopped.
The door to the bathroom opened wide and a man stood in the frame, wiping his hands with a towel. Olivia could not make out his face against the bright light shining behind him.
"Well, well," the man said in a mocking tone. "If it isn't my dear Olivia." He reached behind him and flicked a switch, extinguishing the bathroom lights. At the same time, Olivia reached out to her side and pressed the switch for the room's ceiling lamps. The darkness was washed away by the flickering, yellow glow of the aging light strips.
The man stood across the room, his head tilted slightly to the side, smirking. His face was clean-shaven, his thick, black hair slicked back over his head. He wore a casual, dark gray suit. Olivia knew him.
"What are you doing here?" Olivia growled, hostility plain in her voice. She took a careful step towards the man, knife still clutched at her side. The man's smirk disappeared as he glanced the blade and was replaced by a menacing scowl. "I messaged you that I'd be a late," Olivia continued.
The man's gaze returned from the knife to Olivia's face. "I didn't feel like waiting," he replied. He nodded towards the weapon in her hand. "Now put that away before you hurt yourself." His face softened again and he stepped towards the small dining table in the corner of the room. Pulling out one of the chairs from underneath it, he waved one hand at the other, inviting Olivia to take a seat.
For a moment, Olivia stayed put, staring at him. Finally, she sheathed her blade and approached the table. The man smiled at her and sat down, making himself comfortable. Olivia remained standing behind the second chair, looking down at him with an empty, cold expression. He gave out an exaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes.
"Come on, now. I just want to talk."
"Then talk."
He leaned forward, glaring up at her. "Eye to eye."
They stared at each other for a moment before Olivia resigned herself to the situation and sat down across from the man.
"What do you want, Pedro?"
The man leaned back in his chair with a soft laugh, relaxing and crossing one leg over the other.
"How have you been?" He asked, ignoring her question. "It's been a few years, hasn't it?" Olivia kept her eyes on him but didn't respond. After a brief silence, he continued, "How is your mother?" He smiled at her as she clenched her fists under the table top. He glanced around the dingy room and let out a whistle. "Sure found a nice place for yourself," he said, mockingly. "I always knew you had class." He looked back at her and laughed. Olivia glared at him.
"Oh, come now, we're old friends, you and I," he jested.
"If we were friends," Olivia snapped in response, venom clear in her voice, "I wouldn't be imagining plunging a knife into your throat right now."
Pedro chuckled softly to himself. "Go ahead and try, my dear." He locked eyes with Olivia, a smile tugging at his lips. "But let me warn you: there are three very heavily armed men standing outside the door." His smile widened as he spoke. "And they would just love to meet you." Olivia straightened her back at this and placed her clenched fists on the table.
"What do you want?" She asked again, emphasizing each word. The man leaned toward her, placing his elbows on the table and resting his chin in his hands. His eyes wandered up and down her body, sizing her up. Olivia's fists tightened, her knuckles white.
"I want to offer you a job," he replied after a moment's silence. "You know, for old time's-"
"No thanks," Olivia spat, interrupting him. Pedro paused, smirking.
"But, my dear, aren't you still living the life of a mercenary?" He spoke, feigning surprise at her response. "Surely an opportunity to earn some credits-"
Olivia slammed her right fist into the table top, anger plain on her face. "I told you the last time we saw each other," she snarled, "I don't work for you anymore."
Pedro leaned back in his chair, laughing. "Yes, I remember. You were so determined." He glanced at her furious expression, guffawing. "Oh, my dear Olivia!" Recollecting himself after a moment, he wiped a tear from his eye. He sighed, his face hardening. "By the way," he stared at Olivia, his eyes suddenly cold and menacing, "how is your friend? The one at Liberty Police?"
Olivia's face went cold, the blood draining from it in an instant.
"She's in the hospital, right?"
Her chair flew across the room as Olivia leaped up out of it, hand reaching for the sheathed blade on her thigh. Her eyes were wide, teeth clenched. The man looked up at her, not moving. His face was expressionless.
"Did you think I'd come looking for you without doing some research?" He spoke quietly, matter-of-factly. Then, in a mocking tone, "Olivia Sable, finally making friends again." They stared at each other, neither moving. Olivia could feel her muscles tense up, ready to pounce on the man across from her. Her right hand clasped around the hilt of her knife, slowly drawing it out. Finally, Pedro relaxed and leaned back again, his cold face warming with a smile. "Don't worry, my dear. I haven't done anything yet." Olivia eased up a little, hearing this. "Nor will I have to, if you do what I ask."
Olivia leaned forward, placing her hands on the table.
"What do you want, Pedro?" She hissed. The man clasped his hands behind his head and sighed.
"A job, like I said." He looked at her, waiting for a response. When none came, he continued, "You see, a courier of mine has gone AWOL with a delivery of...," he glanced around the room as he searched for the right word, "collector's items. Now, I'm a businessman and as such I have a reputation to maintain. So, I can't exactly have my employees stealing from me, can I?" He paused, raising his eyebrows at Olivia.
She continued to stare down at him, lips pressed tightly together in anticipation for what would come next.
"I need to make it excessively clear to everyone that I have my business under control. So," Pedro reached into his suit jacket and produced a PDA from within, sliding it across the table towards Olivia, "I need you to find my missing pilot." Olivia glanced down at the small screen. It displayed a picture of a young man, perhaps in his early twenties. Above it was a name, Juan Perno.
Glaring back up at Pedro, she asked, "What do you want me to do with him?"
"Kill him," the man replied without hesitation. "And record it. Then send the recording to me and you're done."
Olivia straightened up and turned her back on Pedro. Her eyes moved around the room as she considered her options. Finally, still turned away from him, she replied, "I'm not an assassin."
The man at the table chuckled. "You're whatever I need you to be."
They both fell silent. Olivia's mind was racing as she tried to figure out a way to escape the situation, to somehow get rid of the man behind her without having to stoop down to working for him. The silence was broken when Pedro continued, "Have you visited your friend yet? In the hospital?"
Olivia's heart skipped a beat.
"Perhaps I should. It would only be polite to, after all." Pedro's voice was laced with malice. Slowly, Olivia turned to face him. Her face was white and her hands clenched tightly at her side. She could see a satisfied grin on the man's face. "That's what I thought."
Olivia lowered her gaze in resignation. Pedro stood up from his chair and straightened his jacket with a slight tug.
"My man is on Ames Research Station in the Kepler system." He walked up beside Olivia, his face just a few inches from hers. "He must think he's safe with the zoners. And he's not wrong. I'd rather not piss them off. So you'd better get on your way and deal with this," the last few words were spoken in an urgent whisper.
Pedro clapped her on the shoulder in faux camaraderie and walked to the door. As he reached it, he looked over his shoulder. Olivia still stood at the table, motionless.
"I'll be here, waiting," he spoke, opened the door, and left.
Olivia stood there, her body beginning to shake as she thought of the danger she had dragged both herself and Isla into.
The ship shuddered as the bright, blue tunnel of hyperluminal travel receded around it, spitting it out into a dark, starless system. Olivia stared out into space, giving her eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden lack of near-blinding light.
Kepler.
Less a system and more a perpetual storm in the middle of deep space, it harbored little in terms of civilization. Amidst the everlasting dark matter clouds, in the junction between trade lanes, lay Ames Research Station, a Zoner freeport and safe haven for anyone traveling through the sector. Almost anyone.
Olivia checked her instruments for any contacts in the vicinity of the jump gate. Nothing showed up, traffic was quiet. Satisfied that she wouldn't have to deal with any pirates or - worse yet - Xenos, she locked onto the nearby trade lane and engaged the autopilot. Taking a deep breath, she relaxed, leaning back into her pilot's seat, and closed her eyes.
Images of the hospital flashed into her mind. The busy hallways, the scurrying doctors and nurses, the sound of medical devices whirring and beeping, the smell of disinfectant. The door to a room sliding open. The bright daylight flooding in through the window. The silver-haired woman lying in bed, covered by white sheets.
It had been the first time they met in person. The first time they could see and speak with each other face to face, instead of over ship-to-ship communications, with hundreds of meters of empty space between them. It was... strange. Awkward, at first, but also wonderful. Seeing Isla's face in the flesh instead of on a screen and hearing her voice so clearly instead of over the radio had been almost magical. But witnessing her in her frightened, damaged state had also broken Olivia's heart. Memories of her brother had haunted her throughout the visit, reminding her of what could have happened had things turned out just a little worse. Reminding her that she would need to be at her friend's side at all times if she wanted to protect her, keep her from getting hurt worse.
But she couldn't. Isla was not her brother. They weren't attached at the hips, like Olivia and Robert had been. They were two independent adults, working separate jobs. Olivia could never keep an eye on the young woman forever. Instead, she had to learn to trust her - to let her fend for herself when necessary and to believe in her ability to do so.
Olivia wrapped her arms around herself, as she recalled the warm embrace they had shared on the hospital bed. A feeling she hadn't allowed herself to experience in many years. If possible, she would have stayed in that room forever, holding Isla tightly to her body. But it seemed life had other, far less pleasant plans for her. Plans that would take her far away from her friend, to a system she had never been to, under instructions from a man she despised. Olivia sighed, opening her eyes.
The ship lurched forward as it entered the trade lane, almost instantly being accelerated to the superluminal speeds required to cross the system at a reasonable pace. A glance at her nav computer revealed that the trip to Ames would only take a few minutes. Olivia decided to use that time wisely, unbuckled herself from her flight seat, and crawled through the hatch at the back of the cockpit into the cargo-bay-turned-living-quarters. On top of the small bunk she had installed along one side of the compartment lay what resembled a large toolbox. Beside it rested a compact rifle, scope, battery pack, and magazine separately arrayed next to it. Carefully, she placed each part into the box, making sure to cover each with a piece of cloth and laying actual tools on top, as to hide the weapon components from at least a rudimentary inspection.
Satisfied with her toolbox, Olivia stepped over to a small metal desk she had mounted to the opposite wall and opened its top drawer. From within she removed her trusty combat knife and a large, slug-throwing sidearm, placing both in their respective thigh holsters.
The ship started decelerating as it approached the end of the trade lane. Olivia crawled back into the cockpit and slipped into the seat. The Sutinga rumbled as it exited the lane, automatically reengaging its engines. Before her floated the Zoner station, illuminated only by collision lights and the glow of engines as a few ships drifted by. Olivia paged the station's tower and requested permission to dock, which was promptly granted.
Olivia looked out at the busy hangar bay from the relative quiet of her cockpit. Her ship shook gently as the engines spun down. A score of men and women hurried around the place, from one craft to another, carrying maintenance equipment, dragging fuel lines, pushing cargo carts. Olivia glanced to her left. Parked beside her was a freighter, a Dromedary. The markings on it coincided with the identifiers Pedro had given her. It was the courier's ship.
She unbuckled herself and crawled back into her cargo compartment, pressing the button to lower the exit ramp as she went. From within her quarters she grabbed the supposed toolbox and descended down the ramp onto the bay's deck. A man in dusty overalls approached her, a PDA in hand.
"Welcome to Ames," he spoke loudly over the din of activity. "Name and purpose, please?"
Olivia dug into a pocket on her flightsuit and drew out a plastic ID card, extending her arm for the foreman to see.
"Isabel Dines, just looking for work," she lied. It was an old alias, one she had used a dozen times in the past. She hoped it would still pass superficial scrutiny. The foreman glanced over the ID and typed the information into his tablet. He nodded to her and turned away without another word. Olivia released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"One ale, please," Olivia said to the man behind the bar as she sat down on one of the stools at the long counter, turning to face the room. Like the hangars, it was quite busy. A dockworker had told her that an outcropping of the western dark matter cloud had passed across the trade lane junction earlier, forcing much of the through-traffic to dock at the research station. It seemed most of the pilots and crews had decided to wait the storm out here, getting drunk. The bartender placed a bottle of Liberty ale on the countertop behind Olivia before going back to polishing some silverware.
As Olivia observed the crowd, her thoughts went back to her previous inspection of the station. The hangars were all bustling with activity, which would make catching her target on the decks difficult. However, barely lit maintenance catwalks criss-crossed the ceilings, offering a perfect vantage point for a sniper. The habitation modules, meanwhile, were relatively calm. Finding an empty hallway to take her mark out in would be simple, hiding the body on the other hand would be a challenge. Most of the quarters were occupied, the doors kept locked by their inhabitants. That left the engineering decks as a third option. Rarely frequented, loud machinery, plenty of nooks and crannies to hide in. A perfect environment for a kill. Problem was, how to get her target down there. The courier had no business moving through the maintenance levels.
Olivia sighed. This would be more difficult than expected. Taking her eyes off the other patrons of the bar, she produced the PDA that Pedro had left with her from inside her flightsuit and went over the information on her target once again. Juan Pedro, twenty-five years old, of Cretan descent. Tall, athletic. Not someone she would necessarily want to take on in a fistfight. She glanced around the room again, scanning for the man's face in the masses. There were plenty of Hispanians around, most likely from Malta. None of them resembled her mark.
Olivia turned on her stool and placed the PDA on the bar. She stared at the bottle of ale before her for a moment, imagining breaking it over the countertop and ramming the jagged shards into Pedro's throat. Then she grabbed the bottle and raised it to her lips, allowing herself to enjoy the taste of beer before she would have to get to work.
A few hours later, Olivia found herself wandering around one of the habitats. As before, it was quiet, only a few of its inhabitants to be found in the corridors. Most of the doors were shut, a few sounds of conversation or neural net broadcasts to be heard through some of them. Olivia tightened her grip on her toolbox' handle. She wanted to get this job over with quickly. The sooner she could be done with it, the sooner she'd be rid of Pedro and back in Liberty.
Thinking about this, she nearly ran into two men rounding a corner in the hallways. They all stopped short, staring at each other in surprise and apologizing. Looking at them. it struck her. One of the two was Perno. He stood half a head taller than her and wore a simple grey jacket over a brown and yellow overall. Olivia quickly averted her gaze, fearing to be recognized in case he had ever seen her back during the days when she worked more frequently for Pedro. The recognition never came, however, as the two men excused themselves and continued past her. Olivia glanced back at them over her shoulder. The other man was shorter than her and a little plump, of Libertonian origin most likely.
She listened closely to what the two were discussing while they were still in earshot.
"Juan, look," the short man muttered, "my client's interested, but he wants to see the goods first."
"Fine, I get it," Perno replied, agitated. "But I can't exactly show off a crate full of artifacts here when it's so damn busy."
"Yes, yes, of course," the other said. "He's well aware of that. That's why he'll meet you on the lower decks, engineering, in two hours. Bring a sample and make sure you're..." The two men turned another corner and disappeared.
Olivia lingered a little longer, weighing this new information in her mind. The engineering decks. Technically the best place for her to take her target out. But there would be others, whoever this "client" of Perno's was. Nonetheless, her odds were better down there than they were in the hangars or here in the habitats. She nodded to herself and strode off towards the nearest elevator.
The plan was simple. Intercept Perno on his way to the meeting with his client, kill him, hide the body, depart the station. What could go wrong?
What could go wrong?
Olivia crouched in the small space between two large atmospheric filtration units, pipes and tubing criss-crossing above her head, water vapor venting around her, the noise of the machines close to deafening. Beside her stood her toolbox, lid open, contents neatly lined up in front of it. She assembled the short rifle with deft hands, inserting the magazine and power pack, tightening the scope on top, and screwing a silencer on to the end of the barrel. The machinery may be loud, but she didn't want to take any chances at being discovered.
Once it was done, she placed it in her lap and leaned back against one of the rumbling machines, waiting. Assuming the meeting was to take place punctually, Perno had ten minutes. He would walk by Olivia's hiding place, coming from the elevators. She would step out behind him and put him down with a well placed shot to the head. Then it was just a simple matter of hiding the body among the machinery and leave. All the while, a small camera attached to her flightsuit's chest piece would be recording for her employer's pleasure.
The racket of the filtration units around her made hearing any approaching footsteps impossible and the deck vibrated too much for her to be able to sense footfalls through it, either. So she had to wait and stare out from her cover at the narrow corridor before her, so as not to miss her mark walking by.
Two more minutes passed.
Finally, a man carrying a large crate in his arms strode by her. Olivia gripped her rifle and ducked out from between the pipes and ducts, raising it to her shoulder, ready to take the shot. Instead of the back of the man's head filling the sight of her rifle's scope, however, what she saw was the crate flying through the air, straight at her. Before she could react, it crashed into her, sending her stumbling backwards, dropping the rifle. She regained her balanced just in time to see her target come barreling towards her.
Perno leapt at her, throwing his full bodyweight into the tackle. The two went down, Olivia reflexively kicking up her legs as she fell onto her back, catching the man between the legs with her shin. The momentum sent him flipping over her, landing hard on his back. Without pause, both of them rolled over onto their hands and knees, staring at each other. Olivia tried to catch her breath, but Perno was already charging her again, crashing straight into her, forcing what little breath she still had in her lungs out explosively through her mouth. Their heads collided and there was a soft crunch as his nose gave in against her forehead.
The charge sent them sprawling to the deck again, Olivia on her back, Perno on top of her. Before she could scramble out from under him, he had his hands wrapped tightly around her neck, squeezing down on her trachea. Olivia desperately kicked her legs, but her opponent shifted his weight to pin them down, rendering her practically immobile as he slowly crushed the life out of her. She tried to reach for the knife holstered to her right thigh, but his torso covered it, too heavy to get her hand underneath.
Blood and sweat dripped onto her face as she stared up into the face of the man she was supposed to have killed by now. Darkness started creeping into the corners of her vision as her body thirsted for air. She gasped, desperately, her tongue bulging in her mouth. Her hands gripped his wrists in an attempt to loosen his vice-like grasp on her throat, but his muscular arms were like hardened steel, her strength fading too quickly to release them.
Olivia tilted her head to the right, not wanting to look the man in the eyes as he suffocated her. Her fading sight landed on an object on the deck...
Her rifle.
Her eyes widened and she reached out for it with her right hand. The weapon was barely out of reach, mocking her with the inch of space that lay between the tips of her outstretched fingers and its grip. Her fingers shook as she stretched her arm as far as she could, pain shooting through her shoulder as the joints protested against the tension. The world around her grew ever darker, as the last bit of oxygen escaped her body.
With one final groan, she yanked her arm outward. Her fingers brushed over the textured grip of the rifle and clasped down on it. With the last of her remaining strength, Olivia swung the weapon up into the air, bringing it down on Perno's temple. The vice around her neck disappeared as the man yelped in pain and rolled off of her.
Olivia gasped loudly, arching her back as she desperately gulped in the musty air surrounding her. Her vision cleared up as oxygen shot through her body and she rolled over onto her hands and knees, struggling not to collapse from exhaustion. She glanced over at her opponent. He lay on the deck beside her. A bloody gash had opened across the side of his face where the rifle had struck him, blood oozing from between his fingers as he covered it with his hands.
Trembling, she stood up. The corridor spun around her as she dizzily stumbled backwards, crashing into one of the air filtration machines behind her. She remained there, leaning her back against it and panted heavily, raising her left hand to her throat to loosen her flightsuit's collar. She stared down at the man before her.
"Fuck you, Pedro," she muttered to herself as she grasped her rifle in both her hands and took aim at Perno's head. The man's eyes widened in fear and he reached out one hand towards her, pleading.
"Please! Please, don't!" He cried desperately. Olivia swallowed hard. "Please, please!" He shouted over the noise of the machinery around them. "Don't!"
Olivia breathed hard as she slowly lowered the rifle from her shoulder. She felt dizzy and completely exhausted; her lungs ached and her throat felt like she had swallowed a cup of gravel. The pounding of her heart almost drowned out the pounding of the machinery around her.
She looked down at her target. His outstretched arm now lay limp on the deck, a pool of blood slowly expanding around it. His face was gone, shattered by the bullet's impact. Olivia shuddered. Despite her years of mercenary work, she had never gotten quite used to the sight of maimed corpses.
But the job was done. Juan Perno was dead, the kill recorded for Pedro's viewing pleasure. Olivia reached up to her chest and detached the small camera from her flightsuit. She stared at it and could feel herself get sick at the thought of her employer enjoying the footage. She tucked it into a pocket. The job was done.
Well, almost. She still had to hide the body and get off the station, which wouldn't be so easy now that she looked like she had been beaten to a pulp, blood splattered over her face and clothing. She sighed. Working for Pedro was never simple.
Still in a bit of a daze, Olivia glanced down the corridor. Three men stood at the far end. She stared at them. They stared at her. One of them was huge, built like a battlecruiser and looked extremely angry. One was lean and tall, dressed in a nice suit, his hair grey with age. He looked displeased. The third was short and plump, pointing at her and shouting something she couldn't understand over the noise of the machinery.
The large man started shambling down the hallway towards her.
"Oh," Olivia muttered upon realization. "Shit."
Instinctively, she raised her rifle again, aiming down the corridor at the advancing figure. She hesitated, her finger hovering over the trigger. If she stayed and fought, she would have to take out all three of them. She'd have to hide four bodies, one of which was most likely too heavy for her to even move - especially in her exhausted state. And she would have to manage all that without anyone else stumbling upon her. She lowered the weapon again. The man's slow lumber sped up.
"Shit," she repeated, turned, and ran the other way, towards the elevators whence Perno had come.
Every part of her body hurt as she sprinted towards the lifts, her lungs screaming at her to slow down and catch her breath, her right shoulder aching with every swing of the arm. But there was no slowing down now. Even through the constant vibration caused by the heavy machinery all around her, Olivia could feel the giant's heavy footfalls behind her reverberate through the deck as he charged into a full on sprint. The elevators were still a good thirty meters ahead of her. As she approached, however, she noticed a slight problem. The doors to the shafts were open, but there were no lifts waiting inside.
Fuck, she cursed as her mind raced to find another way out. There were no intersections, no corners she could turn to run down another corridor. She could feel her pursuer closing in on her from behind. Fuck, she cursed again and charged at the empty elevator shaft in front of her. With all the force her legs could still offer, she leapt into the empty space. Midair, she tucked her legs in in front of her and braced for impact against the far wall of the shaft. She hit it, hard, knocking out what little air was left in her lungs. For a split second, Olivia was glued to it. Then she kicked out her legs with every ounce of her remaining strength, and launched herself up off the wall.
For once, luck seemed to be on her side. The doors on the deck above her were also open, leading out onto another level of the station. Olivia twisted her body around midair and reached out with her arms as she fell towards the ledge above. With another breathtaking impact, she crashed into the opposite wall of the shaft, dangling from the threshold of the open doors. Her arms quaked as she slowly dragged her body upwards.
Olivia glanced down the shaft. Below her, her pursuer's head poked out into the abyss, looking first down, then up. Angry eyes glared at her as she scrambled onto the deck above. Completely exhausted, she collapsed to the metal floor, rolling onto her back. She gasped for breath as sweat and tears ran down the sides of her face. There she lay for a moment, before realizing that she wasn't alone. She tilted her head from side to side, only to see half a dozen men and women stand around her, surprised looks plastered on their faces.
She was on a habitation deck. A second later, klaxons started blaring across the level.
"God damn it," Olivia growled as she unsteadily got to her feet, staring at the people around her, her face wild. Two men cautiously approached her, hands raised in front of them. She couldn't tell whether they wanted to help her or detain her. So she ran. Her legs protested with every step, her chest feeling like it was about to explode. But she couldn't stop now. She had to get to her ship and off the station.
Olivia could sense the men and women behind coming after her. The hallway ahead was filled with more of Ames' inhabitants, heads poking out from open doors as they wondered what the sirens were about. They stared at her in shock as she ran and stumbled past them.
An intersection was coming up ahead of her. She tried to remember the layout of the station she had studied before coming down to the engineering decks - tried to remember which path led back to the hangar bays. But her mind was jumbled, pain and fatigue drowning out any coherent thoughts she tried to form. Too late, she noticed the two figures turning the corner in front of her. One short, fat man. One lean man in a suit. The latter raised a gun at her.
The bullet tore through Olivia's right shoulder, the impact sending her reeling backwards. Shocked, she tripped and sprawled to the deck. She convulsed as unbearably sharp pain shot through her arm and torso. Too little air left in her lungs to scream, she instead only let out quiet gasps of agony. Through tear filled eyes, Olivia could see the two men slowly approaching her. Clutching her bloodied shoulder with her left hand, she struggled onto her knees, whipping her head back and forth, up and down the corridor, looking for an escape. All around her, inhabitants of the station stood pressed up against the walls, staring with shocked and frightened faces.
Her eyes landed on a closed door, just to her right. She lunged at it, reaching out with her injured arm, slamming her fist into the button beside it to open it. It lit up red at her touch. The door remained shut.
Falling to her knees again before it, Olivia hung her head in defeat.
Rather abruptly the door slid open, and the soft thumps of a person's feet strode out from beyond the threshold of the previously locked room. Whoever it was, they were standing directly in front of Olivia, one of her pursuers perhaps? No, they would have no reason to be reaching for her face in a manner that was not aggressive, let alone hooking a finger under her chin to bring her head back into conformity with proper posture. Contrary to what she must have believed in the moment, she had lucked out twice now. Of all the rooms she could have buzzed the door of, she had buzzed the door of a well known and rather notorious terrorist that she'd shared civil conversation with in the past. "I wish you had told me you were coming, I'd have bought you something nice to wear and taken you somewhere more.. flattering than this." It almost sounded like he was amused having said that, promptly looking between his impromptu visitor and the two men, one of whom was armed. He didn't so much as offer the other strangers a second glance, nor an attempt at explanation. He just shot them both, and despite his gun being holstered unlike the already raised sidearm held by the sharply dressed pursuer, he was an order of a magnitude quicker. In a way, it hardly seemed fair for either of them to have pursued so well only for it to have turned out this way. But Damian knew better than to leave traces of his pastimes. Now there was just the looming question of whether or not he actually intended to help her, to which he didn't offer any immediate answers beyond holstering what seemed like a custom-built revolver.
Olivia stared up at the man who had suddenly appeared in the door frame. Through the haze of exhaustion and pain, she could barely make out the features of his face, yet he looked oddly familiar. Had she met him before? She glanced over her shoulder at where her two pursuers had stood a moment ago. Now, their bodies lay crumpled on the deck, blood oozing from smoking bullet holes in their chests. The lean, old man coughed one last time before lying completely still. Around them, the inhabitants of the module had scattered in a panic, fleeing from the shootout.
The two men after her may have been dead, but she wasn't out of danger yet. Her ears rang from the gunshots fired right over her head and the incessant blaring of the klaxons. She glanced back at her apparent savior. She wasn't sure who he was, but judging by her current situation, sticking with him was her best chance of getting off the station alive. Still clutching the bullet wound in her right shoulder, she got up on her feet and shakily strode past him into the quarters. Completely winded and in immense pain, she leaned against a wall to catch her breath, asking between gasps,