The briefing room had barely been used in the entire time Athena Romanoff had been warden. Unfinished concrete walls surrounded a bare table and steel chairs. It was only a virtue of semi-competent management that it hadn’t accumulated dust. But with the war and other recent events, it was going to see more use. She resented the fact that this was yet another room she could have had scrapped.
At the head of the table was naturally her, and immediately near was Sheinberg and Danton Pygamile. There were Sheinberg’s lieutenants, the chief engineers, the trainer McVaughn, as well as the key staff –– Nadia Neva and Sister Ambrosia among them.
“I received a communication from Kratia Prime,” the warden explained. “Of both amazement and concern. The first field test of our VA1 battalion exceeded expectations.”
She stole a quick glance at Danton, and of course he was softly smiling. But she quickly returned her gaze to her prepared notes, while the back of her neck prickled a little.
“But their concern is far greater. Why was a Demesnée flotilla even near our location? Why did our intel fail? This incident has highlighted some massive vulnerabilities in our defence, with implications not just for high command but also for this facility.”
“I don’t see how,” Sheinberg said, rather stiffly with little of her usual humour. In fact her expression was stone cold. “Our judgement was based on the information given to us externally. I believe we acted perfectly within reason.”
“Aha, no one said we were at fault, just that we have to be more vigilant going forward,” Danton said, giving the white-haired woman a reassuring pat to her hand.
Athena’s lip twitched, and she unconsciously gripped at the rim of her hat, laid on the table. Thankfully her head was lowered staring at her notes, allowing her a chance to suppress her facial muscles. When she looked up, it was with a perfectly flat affect.
“Mister Pygamile is at least correct on that fact. To that end Deniikin has released more funds and raw materials for our use immediately. Upgrading our Vio Armour capability is the first priority, and second is Asphodel’s own defences. Our artillery is extremely outdated and of low condition. I will authorise some diversion of labour from the mines towards renovation. Sheinberg, how many would you need?”
“A hundred,” the other woman said, “a hundred-fifty. It’s not Vio work of course, we can bring in other workers.”
“Pre-war, maybe. Right now it’s far easier to just get more prisoners. I’ll make the request for more transfers.”
“Heh,” Danton chuffed, reaching up to adjust his specs, “and here I thought you disliked increasing the prison population.”
“Enough of that,” Romanoff snapped, looking at him fully with sharp eyes, “you can be removed if you make another irrelevant comment.”
The man however didn’t take offence, and continued to smile even though he fell silent. That just made her insides twist some more –– could he not have the courtesy to at least look hurt?
She bit back a sigh, and merely took a hold of her hat to bring it to her head.
“So long as we act in our professional roles, our duties take precedence. Personal wishes and preferences play no part. Thank you all for your time. Dismissed.”
Romanoff swiftly returned to quarters. As soon as the door closed behind her she tossed her hat on a hook and tugged her cape and collar off. She freed herself from the constricting leather dress, letting her shirt hang loose as she finally reached the shower. She turned the crank, cold water beginning to sputter out, and she unbuttoned her shirt slowly as she waited for it to become lukewarm. When she stepped in, she immediately shivered.
“Nnnrk,” she glanced up at the busted shower head. “When will they answer my blasted fixture request?”
In response, the pipes croaked and the water stopped, leaving her dripping in the cold. She slammed the back of her fist against it, and in a few tries she got the stream flowing again.
Back in the other room, the door closed behind him as Danton stepped in. What he found in the office and leading into the warden’s bedroom was a trail of clothes –– cap by the door, cape slung on the desk and the leather kirtle at the foot of the entrance. Beyond was darkness, and the sound of banging.
“Ah, lady Romanoff? Should I come another time?”
“What?” she called back, ears full of soap and the hissing downpour as she washed her hair. “I can’t hear you. Come into the bedroom!”
The man obliged, carefully pushing the door in and following the clothes trail. There was her shirt, and then a black lace bra on the bed and a matching pair of panties hanging on the en-suite door knob. Danton let out a chuckle.
“Somehow I always imagined you more orderly, Warden!”
She closed her eyes, and red flushed into her face as she realised what a mess she left behind, including her lingerie.
“D-don’t touch anything. I’ll clean it up when I’m finished!”
“I wasn’t proposing to clean up,” Danton laughed. “Though who knows, perhaps it could do you good if I played househusband for a few days.”
“Do you have to say such… distracting things?” She sighed, “your banter is wasted on me. Sheinberg is far better suited to it. She’s the playful character.”
“Heh, that wasn’t my impression when you snatched my glasses back there.”
Suddenly, a sliver of light shot up vertically as the bathroom door creaked open. Danton expected steam, but the water had been so pitifully heated that residual moist air was the only thing that crept out. Athena’s arm emerged.
“Hand me a towel.”
Danton did, and shortly after the door opened fully, Romanoff walking out with the cloth fastened just above her bust. Her damp hair was so dark as to be the colour of wine, and so heavy it looked like a waterfall spooled to the ground. The man swallowed. Even in the dark room, with the light illuminating her from behind, she seemed so clear. He didn’t want to look away, but it twinged inside to see her.
“Why did you decide to chase me down?” she asked in a cool whisper. “To Asphodel I mean. You knew who I was, you knew I was here. What did you hope to achieve?”
His reply was soft. “It really wasn’t that. I saw your name on a report just after I got my contract. I wasn’t sure it was the same Athena Romanoff until I saw your face.”
“At which point… what went through your mind?”
“I don’t entirely know,” he said managing a smile, “just every time I seem to get an understanding of you, you quickly withdraw. And that’s only driven me to want to get closer.”
“I see,” she bowed her head, “I knew it. Just like every man, you are the same.”
“That’s… a broad categorisation. What do you mean?”
“A need to conquer when you see resistance. It’s brutish in most men. For you it’s quite subtle. In women, I don’t see it at all. Except….” She closed her eyes. “Except when they have Vio.”
There was silence now in the dim bedroom, with only the bathroom light from one side. Danton watched her for those deaf moments, first with a widening glance, then with a deepening of his bow; and then a lowering of his head.
“I think you overestimate biology. Even Vio is just a chemical agent. Its reactions are physiological. Men and women react to lived circumstances. It’s the human element that explains behaviour.”
Athena brushed her hand over her face. Both were wet. Her throat was thickening and her head began to slightly spin. Once again her words had come out before her senses could censor them. Why was she so stupid?
“I’m… sorry. It is late, and I’m tired. We’ll talk in the morning. Y-you wanted to talk about materials and funding for the VA1s, right?”
“I wanted to talk about a few things…. It’s alright. It can wait until later. I can wait.”
He turned and approached the door back to the office. As his hand enclosed on the handle, he lingered.
“I will wait for you, Athena.”
Then he left, and she was alone, damp and in her towel. After a few minutes passed, she let out a long heavy breath, then bent down to pick up her scattered clothes.
Under normal circumstances, the announcement that Demesne ships had been sighted barely a few astro-miles from the asteroid would have sent the prisoners into panic. At the very least, it was common knowledge that Kratia would never suffer a massive reserve of depholeum falling into enemy hands. They would sooner nuke the place and everyone on it. But that grim picture wasn’t on anyone’s minds, as any fear of invasion was completely trounced by the spectacular story of the Shtrafs’ defence.
“You gotta tell us, Zak.”
“Yeah, was it really a whole fleet?”
“Did you take down a ship on your own?”
A whole crowd of girls were pestering the small green-hair girl out in the yard, cutting her off from Patch, Leonore and Tomei and leaving her feeling quite cornered.
“I-I mean,” she mumbled, flushed, “it wasn’t that big of a target…. All five of us took down a cruiser and it was mostly Roxie….”
But that just wowed the girls even more and they pressed for increasing detail. By the sidelines Patch laughed, and gave her besieged friend a thumbs up. That was enough to restore Zak’s spirits.
Even Chione’s reputation had improved. There wasn’t exactly a way she could gauge this invisible metric ––but she had noticed the exorbitant prices they usually charged her at Commissary stalls had reduced. More than that, she could swear that a few girls were making eyes at her. At least one was forward about it: a petite girl catching her alone one day and straight up asking to be her girlfriend.
Long ago, there was a Chione who would have laughed in confusion; more recently, a Chione who would have looked down on this girl with utter disgust. Now she just shrugged her off, and walked along.
She wasn’t exactly beloved yet. Melissa and Rover had started to gather a small circle of impressionable devotees —including the girl who had stabbed Chione. She was certain they were being sent to tail her, and there was always a pair of eyes watching from somewhere when she was in public. Even without them, her high profile was doing her no good. People loved to mess with outcasts, and anyone seen as a big fish was a target as well — and Chione was both. Perhaps some thought they could garner some notoriety if they cut someone like her down to size.
One afternoon she passed through the balcony headed towards the Infirmary. Footsteps hastened behind her, and a shiver crawled up her spine. Resisting the urge to look, she just kept walking forward. But then the women behind her made a jeering hoot.
“Hey, look who it is. The famous ice girl.”
With a roll of her eyes, Chione turned around to face them. It was a pair of lean bois, one with a mohawk, the other with matte strands of hair over her eyes. Both had leering grins.
“What?” Chione said, curt and cold.
“We just wanted to see what the big deal was, big shot pilot!” The girl with the messy hair said in a dull snigger.
“Yeah,” the other girl said, cracking her knuckles one by one, “we heard you wreck shit in a giant metal suit. But seeing you now, you’re really quite small.”
The white haired girl narrowed her eyes. Slowly but surreptitiously she closed her fist. Really she just would like to turn away and ignore these idiots, but then they’d chase after her with more taunts. This was getting tiring. Why go through the charade when they could just get it over and done with. Even if she lost, Sister Ambrosia wasn’t too far.
“Well if it isn’t the princess. You making some friends?”
“Huh?”
Chione blinked and was quite thrown. She whirled around, finding Roxie had sneaked in unnoticed. The red head’s hands crept up on Chione’s back and she lay her head on her shoulder. Chione’s mouth parted but she couldn’t form a word. The other girls were also bemused, though quickly regained their grins.
“Yo Roxie,” said the mohawk girl. “Guess you know the Fridge, right. She as tough as she acts?”
“Mmm. Well I fucked her, of course. But she holds her own.”
“She… with you then?’
Roxie let out a small laugh, before leaning further in, forcing Chione to bear her weight. Her eyes were glazed and her smile was completely empty.
“I think she’s trash. Snotty little rich brat, but her reactions are priceless. So if you raise a hand against her then I’ll bring in my good friend Rigoletta. You think the two of you can hold your own against her?”
The air changed. Both girls wore grit teeth, gave a nervous glance at one another, and took an unconscious step back.
“Wh-why would you bring Rigoletta in?”
“Why not? She needs more punching bags. Should I go get––”
“There’s no need for that,” the other girl stammered, “we were just having a bit of fun.”
“And now I’m having a bit of fun! What’s that? You girls pissed yourself or something? Definitely smells like fear.”
The messy girl spat and turned around, “fuck this I’m out.”
“Hey get back here, don’t leave without me!”
The two ran so fast and far that they were gone in a blink. Chione, who had been two flummoxed to move, quickly recovered and threw Roxie off. Then she rounded on her.
“What’s your game, Zahattya?”
The girl shrugged, saying, “do you need a reason for everything you do? Don’t you ever just want to fuck around and see what happens? Anyway, it’d be bad karma to lose a teammate off the battlefield.”
“You didn’t seem to mind when it was Rigoletta.”
“You’re not very bright, are you,” Roxie smiled wryly, leaning in with a hand on her hip. “Back then you were just a nobody who needed a lesson. You were no use to me either way. That said, if Rig did want to rearrange your guts now….”
“What? You’d just watch again.”
“Would you like me to hold your hand when it happens?” Roxie spoke in a sickly sweet voice, “if you take it like a good girl, I pwomise it’ll be over quickly.”
Chione threw away her scowl, and marched off. Roxie burst into her usual laughter but called out before she left earshot:
“By the way my offer’s still on the table! For just a little kiss.”
That didn’t matter right now –– because for once, Chione had money. Her heart practically lifted when she got to the front of the Commissary queue, held her hand out for Nadia’s scanner and it went through. And she went all out. When the light of her cell switched on in the morning, she was out of bed and already by the small mirror, going through each of her new precious items in turn. Cleaner, exfoliant, moisturiser, toothpaste –– sure, all of it was in unbranded, dusty bottles but who could care about something like that? She felt like royalty just having something to slather on her face and soothe into her skin.
Even in the shower, she didn’t mind letting a few extra minutes pass and risking more people coming through –– again, hard to care when enough people had seen her naked now–– so she could rinse shampoo through her hair and scrape her scalp thoroughly clean.
It’s one small step, she decided. One day she would live in decent conditions again. Outside ––far outside Asphodel yes. But she could claw her way towards something bearable while she was here in the meantime.
Lady Romanoff was forced to run as she hurried through the steel and rock pathways of the upper facility. She was still trying to fix the waist of her outfit as she turned the corner, and then her hat as she finally reached the iron door to the Vio-integration chamber. She took in a sharp intake of breath.
“Damn the both of you,” she muttered, before pushing the door open.
Lit by that sickly blue glow, Sheinberg turned, already with a manic smile. Apart from the screens on the walls, the restraints in the centre, and a dark heap by her feet, the room was empty.
“My, you’re late?” She licked her hand with some relish in her eye, “that’s so unlike you, madame. You’ve missed all the fun.”
Tightening her lip, the warden stated, “I had pressing matters to attend to. And you only told me we had a new batch at the last moment.”
This was a lie. It was a pointless, unenviable task but signing off on successfully integrated prisoners and registering them was her responsibility —one she had never shirked before. And she had no other matters this morning. She had simply overslept. That was a first, but so was tossing and turning in bed, not getting any repose for hours. She brought her hand up to her face, under the pretence of pinching the bridge of her nose, but really just to rub some of the dust from her eye.
“Speaking of,” she sighed, “where are the prisoners? You didn’t send them on, did you?”
“We just cleared away the failures. You’ll be very happy, my lady, there was only one success.” Sheinberg looked down. “Why don’t you get up for our dear warden, you thing?”
Romanoff looked down too. The dark mass on the ground was actually a woman, collapsed to her knees. But the shadows were so deep and with the blue light pulsing it was impossible to make any features out. Just one more body to throw into Asphodel. The only thing that she could make out was that the prisoner was breathing raggedly, which was only to be expected after integration. But Sheinberg wasn’t giving any reprieve.
“Looks like she’s being resistant,” she said, shoving the girl across with her foot. She readied to prod her with her staff. “Get up or we’ll give you a second dose of pain.”
“It doesn’t matter, I have no intention of staying,” said Romanoff. “Just send her to the guard when she’s up.”
The guard in question turned out to be Zoe Dee again, who stood ––weapon in hand–– at the end of the tunnel which linked the integration chamber to the prison. When the door opened, she kicked her feet to attention, fully expecting Sheinberg with a prisoner. Instead, the new woman came out alone. Despite hulking over, and barely limping forward, the girl nearly drew up to Zoe’s full height. Though discipline kept her rooted to the spot, she felt herself recoil on the inside. Anyone who survived Vio was tough in her experience. But this was something more.
“… Prisoner?” she finally said. “Identify yourself. I will bring you to your cell and issue you your basic supplies.”
“I am…” the woman’s voice was dark, rich, yet at the same time distant. Chestnut eyes watched Zoe fixedly behind strands of charcoal black hair. “My name is Hestia. Hestia Tiflovitch Sorel.”