Juliet read through the language on the contract, but after a few paragraphs of legalese, she decided to trust Angel to analyze the wording. “They’re not trying to jerk me around with all this fancy language, are they?”
“No, it’s a boilerplate contract—they’ve only filled in certain portions with the details pertinent to your arrangement. I don’t see anything duplicitous; they’ve included all the terms you discussed, including a provision for a simple majority vote to force liquidation if the gunship isn’t operable in six months’ time.”
“And the pilot clause?”
“Yes, you are guaranteed first consideration for the position, though hiring any pilot will require a sixty percent majority vote.”
Juliet nodded and laboriously stood up from her couch; the Kowashi was burning at one point two Gs toward Luna. They’d been away from Titan for thirteen hours, but it still felt good to know she was speeding away from that place. Juliet had never even laid eyes on Levkin, and she was fine to keep it that way. If all went well on Luna, he’d be a wanted criminal before long. “Yeah, right. People like Levkin never see the inside of a jail cell.”
“He’ll likely have several legal recourses to avoid such punishment, yes. His status on megacorporation boards and political councils on more than one planetary system will make it difficult to prosecute him. Still, he’ll lose some clout, and Lilia will gain some powerful allies who will be able to keep her safe as she grows.” Angel’s pragmatic response was a little depressing to Juliet; why were there two different systems of justice for the plebes and the powerful and wealthy?
“Whatever happened to justice being blind?” The question was rhetorical, and Angel knew it, remaining silent. Thinking about Levkin and his likely escape from true repercussions for his crimes brought Juliet’s thinking around to her sister, and she said, “What about Emma, Angel? Have you been able to see if she’s doing all right?”
“Your sister is in a low-risk penitentiary, and her record indicates that she’s been awarded several privileges for good behavior. Her eight-year sentence is already showing a high likelihood for early parole. Her first hearing will be in two years and four months.” After a short pause, Angel added, somewhat hesitantly, “I have a vid feed from the prison yard if you’d like to see her. It’s from last week.”
“How?”
“The prison operates a pay-per-view public access network. The cameras are only in the non-private areas of the prison, though some inmates earn extra stipends by allowing them in their cells. Your sister doesn’t have a cell cam.”
“How long have you known about this?” Juliet struggled with her feelings, some part of her annoyed that Angel hadn’t told her about the camera footage immediately, and another, more reasonable voice reminding her she hadn’t shown much interest; was Angel supposed to read her mind?
“I suppose some part of me has known since you first told me that your sister was in the correctional facility in Phoenix. I researched the corporate prisons in the metro area, looking for your sister’s name, and when I found it, I learned nearly every publicly available detail about the prison. I . . . should have known you’d want to see her. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, don’t apologize. It’s not like I indicated I was looking for anything like that. Besides, you’ve been busy helping me stay alive, dealing with more pressing matters. I’m not surprised this detail wasn’t something you brought up.”
“That’s partially true. I don’t . . . think like a normal PAI. I have my own interests and priorities, and I put a lot of information aside, and sometimes my judgment about what to focus on isn’t always perfect. I hope you don’t find me less . . .”
“Hey, stop it. That’s what I like about you, silly. You’re real, Angel. Those things make up your personality. Anyway, you told me about it now, and now is when I’m interested, so what am I complaining about?”
“So, you do want to see the footage?”
“I want to see her, but that whole thing sounds sketchy . . . gross.”
“Yes, it’s rather exploitative.” Taking her words literally, Angel opened a window in Juliet’s AUI, and a video began to play. It showed a high-angle view of a typical prison yard. Concrete covered the ground, and chain-link fences rose up around the perimeter with razor wire on the top. Drones buzzed in the sky, and inmates, all female, were scattered around doing various activities. Some women were playing a weird game involving bouncing a ball and jumping in a pattern drawn with chalk. Others were clustered around a set of gym equipment. The largest group of inmates sat or stood around aluminum picnic tables, talking or playing tabletop games.
Angel did something to the footage, isolating a corner and zooming in on a pair of inmates standing near the fence, chatting. As soon as her focus was forced on the two, Juliet immediately recognized her sister. She’d always been a little shorter than Juliet, and her hair was naturally darker. Still, she looked a lot like Juliet pictured herself. She had the same olive skin and pale, green-brown eyes under dark, thick brows.
Her sister had cut her hair short, the sides almost buzzed, and she had new tattoos on her neck. A pair of skeleton hands reached up from her collarbones to hold a broken, red heart at the center of her sister’s throat, and Juliet felt instantly ashamed that she had no idea what the tattoo was meant to signify. Regardless, Emma was laughing in the video, and her eyes looked genuinely happy. The woman she spoke with laughed, too, and they seemed to be trading funny quips. Juliet could see from her body language that Emma was completely relaxed, and she looked far healthier than the last time they’d been together. “Damn, Angel. I think prison is doing her some good.”
“She does appear to have a friend and doesn’t seem wary of being shanked.”
Juliet barked a short laugh. “Shanked?”
“Much of the contemporary prison fiction involves inmates creating improvised knives and ‘shivving’ or ‘shanking’ their rivals.”
“I don’t think that’s something that happens a lot in low-security prisons.” Juliet shook her head. “You’ve gotta be careful getting an education from fiction.”
“I find that historical fiction is often more trustworthy than the corporate-approved news sites and databases.”
Juliet frowned. “You’ve got a point, I guess.” She looked back at her sister, watched her laugh with her friend a while longer, and added, “Thanks for showing me this. I feel a lot better about her being in there, even if it isn’t exactly fair.” Juliet had been thinking about her sister, about maybe trying to get her out early, legally or not, but the more she considered her enemies in the world, especially WBD, the more she felt she was safer inside the prison. WBD could probably still get to her in there, but if Juliet never showed any interest, maybe they’d leave her alone. At least, that was her hope.
She closed out the video window and then got dressed in some gym clothes—pale blue tights, a moisture-wicking tank top, and her new cross-trainers; she’d had Aya pick them up for her a few hours before they left port on Titan. Thus girded for pain and sweat, she began to make her way down to the hold. She didn’t run into anyone on the way, and when she stepped off the lift and walked down the corridor to the cargo hold door, she said, or, more accurately, groaned, “All right, let’s get this over with. I can’t believe I agreed to train with Honey, followed by weights with Bennet.”
“Excellent economization of your time!” Angel was far too enthusiastic for Juliet’s taste. She pressed her synthetic palm to the door panel, and the door clicked and then whooshed open. The hold was bright, all the overhead floodlights turned on, and the gunship looked different in the harsh illumination. Its scars and mismatched paint were a lot more noticeable. Even with those defects, it resembled nothing more than an angry monster held down by chains. She could imagine it straining against them, wanting loose, and Juliet smiled, drawing the analogy out further, considering herself and the others something like monster tamers. They had to treat the gunship’s wounds, befriend it, and then, when it was rejuvenated, Juliet would ride it into battle.
“Yo,” Bennet called from the right, and Juliet turned her gaze that way to see the weight rack had been set up and, nearby, on a five-by-five-meter section of mats, Honey was stretching, wearing clothes similar to Juliet’s—she’d also benefited from Aya’s shopping skills. Bennet sat on one of the weight benches, already drenched in sweat.
“Hey,” Juliet replied, walking toward them. “Where’s Aya?”
“She wasn’t in the mood—wanted to work in the gunship. She’s stripping some of the old wiring.” Bennet shrugged, then added, “We’ve both been working on it—getting as much of the old, dead stuff out as we can and doing a proper inventory of the parts we’ll need. When we’re done here, I’m gonna start disassembling that port VTOL drive. You wanna help?”
“Of course!”
“Cool. Ready to move some heavy stuff around?” He grinned, jerking his thumb toward the stacked plates.
“No, no, Bennet!” Honey jumped to her feet. “I get her first.”
Juliet shook her head, half laughing, half groaning, and, after pulling off her shoes, stepped onto the mat. “We starting with those today?” Juliet nodded toward the two weighted, black, nylon practice swords Bennet and Aya had picked up on one of their pre-launch outings.
“Sure, but let’s stretch and do some sparring first. When was the last time you practiced? I mean, other than when you were fighting for your life?”
“It’s been a while,” Juliet sighed. She rotated her mechanical arm, wincing at the twinge in her shoulder and the clicking sounds that emanated from the elbow and wrist. “You gotta take it easy on this arm, all right? Don’t throw me with it.”
“Okay, we’ll go slow. Come on; you lead the stretching.” Honey moved to stand before her, both of them near the center of the mat. From the corner of her eye, Juliet saw Bennet sliding his bench closer so he could watch from a better angle.
Juliet took a deep breath through her nose, squared her shoulders, and said, “Start with neck rolls.” Leading by example, she began to roll her neck around in a circle, enjoying the stretching sensation and savoring each tiny pop. Honey followed her lead, and that started off a very painful hour-long session of throws, groundwork, and grappling. By the time they were done reviewing just about everything Juliet had learned at the dojo, she was tired, sore, and ready for a hot shower. Honey wasn’t having it, though.
“Now, pick up that sword,” she said, snatching up her own.
“You sure we should go so hard on day one, sis?” Juliet padded over to the practice sword and picked it up, smiling at its sturdy heft. She whipped it left and right a couple of times, her arm accompanying the moves with whirs and clicks.
“Yeah. It’s best to learn new things when you’re tired. Well, that might be bologna, but Sensei said it enough that I believe him. Now, stand in front of me here and try to copy my movements. We’re going to start very slow with the sword. How to hold it, how to respect it, and maybe a couple of guard transitions.”
At some point during their earlier sparring, Bennet had grown bored and gone to help Aya, so Juliet didn’t have to worry about looking like an idiot as she asked, “Guard positions?”
“Guard positions or postures are ways to stand with your sword held ready. It’s like when you get into a fighting stance for hand-to-hand; you’re getting your body set to move and react a certain way.”
As Juliet mimicked Honey’s movements, trying to hold her practice sword the same way she did, Honey spoke at length about how to respect a blade, how to understand that she was a novice and that every time she handled a sword, be it dull nylon or deadly steel, she needed to practice good habits. “If you ingrain these habits into your muscle memory, someday, when you draw that monoblade, you might avoid killing yourself or a nearby friend. Or, I don’t know, poking a hole in your spaceship.”
“Sure, it’s like trigger discipline, in a way.”
“Exactly!” Honey nodded, and then the two of them practiced “drawing” their swords for the next twenty minutes, holding them at their sides with one hand and then pulling them into a “middle guard.” Honey said that Sensei had occasionally used Japanese terms for the various guard postures but usually kept things simple. “I don’t have the right accent or knowledge to use those terms, I’m afraid.”
“No worries. If I wanna learn more about the art, I can have Angel do some research.”
“Already done,” Angel deadpanned.
“Yeah, for sure. Now, let’s practice taking forward steps in this guard position.”
Juliet nodded and, once again, spent twenty minutes mimicking Honey’s very basic-seeming movements. She knew from experience that, in fighting, form and technique were very important, so Juliet didn’t get bored, didn’t get impatient. Instead, she enjoyed the fact that Honey was starting her on a fundamental level and building her up instead of throwing a practice sword at her and expecting her to start batting it around in some kind of spastic attempt to learn on the fly.
As they wrapped up Juliet’s very first sword lesson, Angel said, “Bennet asked that you message him when you’re done. Shall I do so?”
“Yeah.” Juliet turned to Honey. “You gonna lift with us?”
“Sure, but nothing heavy. I’m not trying to bulk up.”
“Oh, sis,” Juliet laughed, “Please do me a favor and tell Bennet that!”
An hour later, Juliet staggered out of the cargo hold, her legs and arms feeling like jelly, and her clothes, despite their moisture-wicking properties, completely drenched in sweat. She’d gotten into the workout, enjoying how it allowed her to tax her body mindlessly, pushing away all the thoughts she constantly had racing through her mind and focusing on something as simple as ensuring she was isolating her muscles properly during each lift.
“I really enjoy deadlifts, you know?” she remarked as she walked toward the lift.
“They’re a very efficient way to train your body. Speaking of which, would you like to see your updated numbers?”
“Hold off, Angel! Let’s get back to Luna first.”
“Excellent idea. I think with the time you’ll be spending working with Honey and Bennet, you’re likely to see some gains over the next couple of weeks.”
“Yeah. Exactly. Speaking of gains, you messaged Dr. Ladia, right?”
“Yes, I gave her our estimated arrival time and asked her to schedule you an appointment. I’m sure we’ll have a message waiting for us.”
“And my bit balance?”
“330,784 Sol-bits. I didn’t bother adding the Bumble money; I’ll transfer it to the new gunship corporation as soon as it’s registered on Luna.”
“Think of that, Angel,” Juliet said, stepping onto the lift. “If you do count those funds, I’ve got more than half a million bits. I never imagined I’d have that kind of cash.” The lift jerked and rumbled its way up, and she added, “Let’s make a list of priorities; what should I invest in next? You mentioned I need a dream-rig, but those are only a few thousand. Are there any cybernetics I should aim for?”
“I’ll start putting together a list of ideas.”
“Cool.” Juliet lifted her rubbery, weak left arm to her head, brushing some sweaty strands of hair behind an ear. She was looking forward to her shower but really craved a good soak in a tub. “Not a luxury that’s available on the Kowashi, I guess . . .”
She’d just stepped off the lift when Angel spoke up again, “Juliet, I have some news.”
Juliet stopped in her tracks and, standing in the amber lights of the battered, stained, plasteel corridor, asked, “News?”
“Yes, it’s about the video message you received from Ghoul—Cassie.”
“Ah.” Juliet sighed, leaned a shoulder against the corridor wall, and braced herself for whatever Angel was about to spring on her. “Let’s hear it.”
“When you told me something about the message didn’t ‘feel right,’ I did some modifications to Fido and set him loose analyzing every bit, every pixel, every soundwave in that video. He had to scrape the net for references, but after a truly exhaustive examination, he’s come to the conclusion that the video is, in fact, not genuine. I’ve looked at his work and concur with his findings.”
“What? You had Fido working on this? Where? Is he running in your chip with you?”
“No, I downloaded him to your deck.”
“So . . . oh, never mind. The video is fake?”
“Yes.”
“That means someone is watching Ghoul or at least snooping her messages, right? I mean, you sent her that address on an encrypted line. Whoever faked that video must have, like, monitoring software in her PAI or something, right?”
“That would be my bet.”
“Those tricky bastards. Think about it, Angel; they sent me a nice, sweet little note from my old friend, saying she was getting back into operating and that she was sorry, blah, blah, blah. I bet I’ll get another message in a week or two, and it’ll be Ghoul asking me to help her with a gig, something too good to pass up.”
“If you do receive such a message, it will be a good confirmation that she’s been compromised.”
“Yeah. I guess that’s one way to look at it. Dammit! What a bummer; I was looking forward to maybe seeing her again soon. It’s gotta be WBD, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know who else would be able to figure out that you were friends with Ghoul. Nobody at Grave knew anything of your connection to her.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think WBD did either. Let’s not rule anything out. For now, though, I think it’s best if I don’t respond to any of her messages. Or, well, if I do, I’ll say something to throw them off my scent even further. I’ll send ‘em on a goose chase.”
“That’s a clever idea, Juliet—if we know they’re using that channel to attempt to trap you, we can use it against them.”
“Yep,” Juliet smiled and started walking again. As usual, she was glad for Angel’s approval but wasn’t precisely thrilled she’d been right about that message. She’d wanted it to be genuine. She’d wanted Ghoul or Cassie, if that was really the name she was using now, to be okay, to be in the clear. It had seemed too good to be true, though. WBD was still looking for her back on Earth, and they had long arms and a lot of fingers. She shook her head and tried to push those thoughts away. “Let’s take a shower. Then we can see what Cel’s cooking up. I can smell something good coming from the mess.”