The winter of 82.10 left a frost as far as one could see from the Eosides manor. The young Chione woke up shivering in her bed and really didn’t want to leave the soft comfort of the quilt to brace the open air. When she finally risked it and went downstairs, she found that Boreas was nowhere to be seen. He was neither in the kitchen, the drawing room or even his bedroom. It was strange because his constitution could not stand the cold, and it was hard to imagine him being anywhere but huddled up by the fire during this season. But if he was not indoors, then where?
After wrapping up in thick leggings, a scarf and coat, she went outside, although hadn’t made it a few steps before she heard rustling and a familiar muffled voice from the side annex. The stable door was ajar, and the noises grew louder as she came up. She pushed it open a little more to peek inside.
“Ah come on, I know it’s freezing,” her father was saying in half-despair, “how do you think I feel? Just get into place and I can go to the heater.”
The responding whinny made Chione’s heart jump. Boreas was struggling with a rope, hooked to the neck of a horse frantically bobbing its head up and down while steadfastly refusing to move from the spot.
Boreas whined, “Please just comply! It is already dawn, she’ll be up soon.”
“Father?”
The man jumped, releasing the rope in his shock which allowed the horse to pace back. With wide eyes, Chione came into the clear, while her father rubbed his hands down his face. He let out a defeated laugh.
“So much for the surprise….”
“I think I’m still surprised. Where did you get him?”
“A colleague of mine needed to get him off his hands. Though I hear he’s excellently behaved, just not for me. His name is Voivode and, well, I thought it’d make for a lovely Solstice gift.”
Chione went up to Voivode and offered her palm in a safe movement, and the still animal let her pet his fur. With a little coaxing, she helped the horse find his way into his pen, before giving him some left-over grain. She patted him again, smiled, and left him to munch on his food. She turned back to her father who watched with nervous focus.
“So… do you like him?”
She jumped into him for a hug. He blinked, but then looked down with a warmth in his face he always had, and rested his arm around her back.
Half a decade later, and Chione was being shoved against the cell block walls with a gun jammed against her back.
“Tobacco is contraband and I smell smoke all over you!” The guard shouted at her, causing all the other prisoners lined up for Count to look their way.
“The hell are you––nnngh”
“What was that, asshole?”
“Nothing,” Chione said through grit teeth.
The guard leaned in close, so much her every breath spit into Chione’s ear. She hissed low enough that only she could hear:
“I know you’re having your nice chats with guard Dee. If I ever catch you together breaking protocol I’m fucking up the both of you, you understand?” She pulled back, lowering her weapon so she could reach for some gloves. “Now strip down, spread your legs and put your hands to the sky so I can search you down.”
It seemed most people in Asphodel were out to get Chione. At first she tried very seriously to keep any names or faces from sticking in her memory. She didn’t need to justify this rabble with acknowledgement. They all ought to hang together.
But she had since reevaluated ––or perhaps just lacked the stamina to stop herself. Now she could more or less list off her enemies in here. Rigoletta of course, and her cronies Vil and Roxie ––she especially needed to watch out for Roxie. Cheshire’s girls Melissa and Rover, as well as the four-to-five girls they appeared to have conscripted and with whom Chione already had a run-in in the showers; and on that point the two aggressive bois as well. She couldn’t forget Zak and Patch. Though she could admit they had reason to hate her, it didn’t make them any less a nuisance. And now she could add one or two guards to the list. She already had warden Romanoff on there.
But there was none so vile as the twisted chief of security, Ekaterina Sheinberg. With the electrorod which she used as a cane, she walked down the line of Shtrafbats on the day they were finally ready to disembark on their first patrol. She gave each one a shrewd eye. She was waiting for the slightest measure of ill discipline, but none of them gave her an excuse to reprimand.
“I recall each and every one of you, I believe,” she said, “the days your miserable rears were pulled onto this facility and you had the fortune ––or perhaps the opposite–– of completing integration. I understand McVaughn has shaped you into capable fighters. But you are foremost ––and forever–– my prisoners and I shan’t let you forget it. It remains my responsibility to ensure you are contained and cannot pose any risk to a society that doesn’t want you. Is this understood?”
She turned to face Chione, who looked back with resolute eyes. She wasn’t allowed to react, but she could calm her soul by imagining razors cutting into the Chief’s face, or perhaps throwing a fist right into her teeth and breaking every one. But the thought of choking the breath from her until her face went blue did nothing to stop the hag from her droning.
“Let me explain how this is going to work. There are tracking devices in your machines. There is recording equipment in your machines. We will know where you are and what you’re doing at all times. If you try to escape, we will kill you. While we considered remote detonation of the VA1s, Danton had made it very clear that they are worth more than your lives could ever be; so we’d prefer to be able to retrieve them. Instead, we can remotely activate your Vio and stop your hearts. So much simpler.”
Cutting and breaking the woman’s body frankly wasn’t doing it. No matter how much physical abuse Chione gave her in her mind, no matter how gratuitous, she couldn’t erase the woman’s smile. The alternative was to break her spirit. Humiliation, a language Sheinberg understood. Chione directed her mind’s eye to strip the woman down, to chain her up, display her. But then what? There was really only one thing to do.
“Nngh,” Chione softly muttered, shaking her head.
Roxie’s eyes darted to her, though her face remained forward.
“Shut up, princess,” she mouthed.
She couldn’t have gotten the message any sooner. Sheinberg whirled around, looking back at the girls, only to see them standing as firm and motionless as they always were. She raised her brow. She had definitely heard something but nothing she could prove. A small smile touched her lips.
“McVaughn deserves her kudos. She really made soldiers out of you whores.”
“Ladies, I’ve come to know you somewhat during the tournament, though individually we’ve not been introduced. I am Danton Pygamile as you know. I will continue to be stationed here at Asphodel to monitor the VA1 program as we embark on field testing for these units. I will be interested in discussing your experiences personally although I should remark that lady Romanoff–– ah, the warden–– she is highly opposed to me treating you as anything more than undesirables.”
“Gee, you are chatty, Dan,” McVaughn smiled, hand on her hip as she shifted her weight. “Girls, he’s your engineer. I know you’re mostly dykes but please don’t try to fuck him. No matter how chiseled that jaw is.”
Danton gave a small chuckle, though none of the girls felt like laughing. He quickly fixed himself with a cough.
“You will be going on a routine patrol,” he explained. “You will hopefully see engagement with pirate skiffs. These are commercial shuttlecraft refitted with contraband weaponry. Hardly an army but something of a light challenge for you girls. McVaughn?”
The trainer nodded. “I’ll be on hand through your comm. Romanoff is the overall commander but I expect she’ll delegate. One of you will be fireteam leader. Any volunteers?”
The girls looked among themselves for a few seconds, with a silence that waned for just a bit too long. It was Melissa who managed to break it.
“Um… shouldn’t it be Zak?”
“Yeah, Zak’s good,” Vil seconded with a shrug.
“Hmm, I guess so,” said Roxie. “She did top the comp.”
Zak looked around for a second, before clearing her throat, “y-yes, I think that makes sense. I’ll be tactical leader of the Shtrafs in combat. Assuming everyone is on board.”
The short green-haired girl shot a look at Chione, almost daring her to object. Just for that alone, Chione felt an urge to contend it. She didn’t expect anyone to make her captain or anything, but she did beat Zak one-on-one. But she decided not to: best not to ‘stir the pot.’
“No objections here,” Chione said, “so long as you don’t hold me back, captain.”
The Shtrafbats entered the cockpits and locked themselves into place. The five were aligned along the central floor of the cavernous workshop, directly below the recently renovated transport shaft. Chione was in a familiar armour ––the one with the broken hand. The VA1 heavily damaged in the tournament had been repaired and was assigned to Melissa. Chione thought this a tad cruel but the small girl just had worn a completely stiff, unrevealing face as she slipped into the hatch. McVaughn oversaw them from the high platform.
“To make things simple your callsigns will be something we’re already calling you. Leader Zak, Vil, Roxie, Bog and Fridge. I’ll also invite you to register your new equipment. They’re Asphodel property but you’ll be in them for the duration. Consider them yours.”
So the five girls logged a name for each of the VA1s, to finally distinguish them from one another. Zak called hers Beast, Vil chose Rampage, Roxie Scarlet, while Melissa went for the Revenge. Chione’s mind went blank for a few minutes, unsure what name was best. A dramatic name, something fierce to prove how tough she was? Or was she supposed to use it to make a statement. It wasn’t lost on her why Melissa had chosen hers. In the end, the name she decided seemed so obvious when she finally landed on it.
“Fridge, time’s up, what are you calling your VA1?” called McVaughn.
“Sir,” said Chione, “I’m calling him Voivode, sir.”
With a smile, McVaughn turned her full body and signalled to a guard by a control panel. They switched a lever, and the entire platform beneath the armours’ feet began to lift. They rose, up through to the ceiling of the workshop and through the shaft at a forward angle. Lights built into the sides strobed past them they sped all the way to the top. At last, they came out into the open ––a large hangar, which had only just been cleared of all shuttlecraft.
The VA1s were loaded into docking tubes, each reaching out to a sealed circular exit. The shtrafs waited, with comm chatter coming from the central command staff –– all the way from the tower within the prison. Slowly the air was sucked from their surroundings, while ionised metal clamps curved inwards. These were rounded, meant for the hull of shuttles, not mechs.
“Unit 1 — Beast — you are cleared,” central command stated. “Prepare for launch. ”
In the far left tube, the circular door to the outside spun open. The ring-shaped clamps holding onto Beast shot forward, sending it all the way to the edge of the tube before a sudden release. One by one, Asphodel spat out the machines: Rampage, the Revenge, Scarlet, and lastly, Voivode.
They were now hurtling through space. Reaching peak velocity, Chione cut the thrust, and she just had to wait as they headed to their destination. While her heart drummed from the initial liftoff, it was starting to settle, subdued by the quiet main of space. She looked out again. They really were there, out in the blackness surrounded by nothing but stars, the occasional rock and themselves.
She was off Asphodel.
To her side, she opened the small compartment beneath the bright blue screens, where she had a bottle of water and a few food rations. She took a small sip, but stowed it away again. Like the fuel, she had to make those last.
“All units,” Zak’s voice crackled in, “new heading 90/90. ETA thirty minutes.”
“Half an hour of this?” That was Roxie. “Well I guess it’s not so bad but it’s gonna get boring fast.”
“Cut down on that, Roxie. No unneeded chatter on the comm.”
But if that was supposed to stop her it didn’t work, as Roxie spoke again.
“Heh, thinks she’s so cool now she can pull rank. But she’s only like a year older than us, and she looks like a baby.”
Chione reached over to her right and fiddled with the knobs, testing out the rudimentary long-range scanner Danton had installed. Apart from the cluster of white blobs— the five VA1s— there was a faint signal at the far edge of the scanner screen. That would be the convoy.
“Uh hello, princess? Hope you haven’t died on me already.”
She looked over at the comm, blinking, then scowled.
“Did you patch through just to me?”
“Bit risky, but Zak can’t hear, heehee.”
“What do you want?” Chione let out in a heavy breath.
“Yeeesh, do I need to want something? Like I said, I’m bored. What are my choices? Melissa’s a little freak, and conversation is not Vil’s strong spot. So believe me, I’m just as upset as you are that this is my only option.”
Chione rolled her eyes.
“That supposed to make me feel better?”
“Heh, who said I was your therapist? But maybe I could play pretend.” There was a brief pause, but grin Roxie probably wore was palpable. “Wanna tell me your deepest darkest secrets?”
“What I want is for you to shut up,” said Chione, staring ahead at her panels and the porthole.
There weren’t any secrets to tell anyway. Everything dark in her life was back at Asphodel. Here though, the silence of space was all embracing. Just with the press of a button she could cut the comm and at last be away from that place and its people, completely alone. The prison would be vanquished by distance and the void. Maybe she would never be Boreavna again, but at least she could be nobody. Not a person made by that place.
Her hand reached out to the button. But then it hovered, and faltered.
“What about you?” she asked. “You have a secret to share?”
“A secret?” Roxie repeated. Chione couldn’t quite tell from her tone what her reaction was. “I like to think I’m a pretty open girl. I say what I think.”
“What about your past? Before Asphodel, I mean.”
“Hmm, it’s not much of a secret either. I’m from a dirty backwater on Kruschchyn-3. No one important there like you, princess. Colony life: our family slaughtered animals so I saw a lot of blood as a child. I lost my virginity age fourteen ––and yes, with a girl. I was like that before I came to Asphodel.”
This was followed by a cackle, frying the audio waves and making Chione grimace.
“So yeah,” Roxie continued, “I don’t hide that stuff, so it’s not a secret.”
“Well what about your crime?”
“Oh I killed my dad.”
“Grr,” Chione tensed her teeth, more at the flippancy rather than the horrific confession. “Fine then, forget I asked.”
“I still answered, didn’t I?” Roxie said. “Now answer my question.”
“This is getting quite boring itself.”
“Fair’s fair! Don’t be a sore loser again.”
“Again? When was I––” Chione screwed her eyes shut, feeling the annoyance in her waiting to burst but holding back. She resumed her emotionless face and voice. “Fine, ask.”
“It’s what I asked before of course. Are you single? I mean… have you always been? Have you ever wanted to be with someone?”
This damn bitch, Chione thought, only slightly tensing her face this time. This question seemed utterly unfair anyway ––her debut was robbed from her. She could say she was fond of Zoe Dee, and at least it wouldn’t be a total lie. She definitely wasn’t counting that other woman. But apart from her experiences here, what was there?
“I’ve never wanted anyone,” Chione finally said, in a quiet voice. “Apart from father, Voivode and my friends, I never needed anyone. And I guess… I think I want to know what it’s like. I want to want.” She sighed, but found herself smiling, “I suppose that’s my secret.”
Apart from the hum of the machines, its engines, and the ambient static of the comm system, there was silence. She nervously glanced at the metal grille, waiting for some sort of reply. Her chest began to rise and fall, her skin prickled and heat built up in her face.
“Uhh… Roxie? Hello?”
Still nothing. Her face grew taut, then contorted.
“Hey, asshole, say something! God you didn’t fucking cut off now, did you?”
But then, causing her heart to jump, there was a voice trickling in. It was Zak.
“…units, we’re get… some sort of interfer…...ease copy!”
“What the hell.”
She checked the monitor again, honing in on the signals in the distance. But they were flashing, some even cutting out. Through the small window she could spy the gathering ships at their rendezvous, though it looked more like an armada than a convoy.
“I’m here, Zak,” Chione said to the comm, “I see something. Must be our pirates.”
“Those aren’t pirates idiot,” said Vil on the same line. “Zak, we should 180 and get back to Asphodel.”
Chione’s mouth widened, and she looked again. The ships definitely towed more weight than either freighters or a few skirmishers. They didn’t look like Kratian engineering altogether. The central heavy cruiser was sleek, shaped like a shark, complete with dorsal fin. A minor cruiser flanked its right while several shuttles held the perimeter. The convoy was nowhere in sight.
“Orders from command were to engage,” said Zak.
“Against scavengers,” Vil argued, “not against an army.”
“I’m sending a message now. But until we get confirmation by McVaughn or the warden we’re not leaving. Remember Sheinberg can blow us up whenever she wants.”
Roxie scoffed, “what so we just sit here? Neither forward nor back?”
“You got a better idea?!”
“I don’t think we’ll get much of a choice.” Chione said, letting out a breath. Her eyes were fixed on the screen. “Looks like they’re not gonna sit by either.”
She gripped the handles tightly.