Mars Time: 10:56, March 2, 2295

  Room 47, 4th floor, Prairie Commons, Eagle District, Xing Hong

  The morning light filtered through Sigrun's window in pale strips, casting her studio apartment in shades of rust and amber. She sat on the edge of her bed, still wearing the tank top she'd slept in, watching the holographic display from her Nucleus Watch project onto the wall.

  [Current Balance: $867,300 AD]

  [Economic class shuttle: Xing Hong → Himalia Port, Europa]

  [Current price: $1,699,900 / 1 adult]

  Eight hundred thousand short. Give or take.

  She'd made progress. The Zephyrium bounty, the Prefect's retainer for the Siege of Xing Hong, a handful of smaller jobs in the weeks since. Her savings had grown since she'd last obsessed over this number. At this rate, she'd reach her goal in...what? Four years? Five?

  Sigrun closed the display.

  Four years was too long. Ivar had already waited eleven.

  She rose from the bed and moved to the narrow closet, pulling out the suitcase wedged behind her spare boots. Snow white exterior, Nordling-made, the kind of thing her family might have given her as a graduation gift if she'd ever graduated from anything. The deep blue interior had faded in places from years of use, and the handle bore scuff marks where it had been dragged across too many spaceport floors. A small tear near the zipper had been patched with black tape sometime during her third year on Mars.

  Nothing fancy about it. Just a box with a handle that she pulled by hand, the way people had been pulling luggage for centuries.

  She laid it open on the bed and began to pack.

  Skuld went in first, collapsed into its brick configuration, wrapped in a soft cloth she'd kept for this purpose. The white composite gleamed even through the fabric. Then Járn, the Thermal Axe's Damascus blade cool to the touch, its golden filigree catching the morning light before she tucked it away.

  Her hand hesitated over Baldr.

  The Psytum Sword sat in its usual place on the shelf above her bed, the Echo Sapphire in its hilt dark blue and quiet. She hadn't brought it on any quest in years. Too many memories. Too much weight that had nothing to do with its actual mass.

  But the part of Venus they'd be going to was Imperium territory. Imperium meant power, meant lots of people that wore faces like Xin's but in no way behaved like him, meant threats that shotguns and Thermal Axes couldn't always answer.

  She picked up the sword. The silver cylindrical hilt felt familiar in her grip, warm despite the room's chill. For a moment she thought she could smell pine needles and snow, could hear Ivar's voice explaining the Echo Sapphire's resonance properties in that patient way he had showed her how wielding a Psytum Sword, the way he'd brandished Baldr in front of her on their first month of dating—

  The day when they'd run from Skarn together, him staying behind, bleeding to fight the Fenris Primarch so she could run away on that shuttle bound for Xing Hong, Mars—

  The memory fractured. Slipped away like water through fingers.

  Sigrun placed Baldr in the suitcase beside her other weapons.

  The rest of the packing went quickly. Her Programmable Hair Clip, Hamr, pulled out from a small velvet pouch. She hooked it to the back of her blonde hair. Two identical navy blue turtlenecks, folded with military precision. Underwear. Black military pants. A backup pair of long boots, though the ones she wore had served her well enough. Condoms and Medi-Vap vials went into a side pocket, habits too deeply ingrained to question even now. Generally she only packed what she couldn't live without, and the list was shorter than most people would expect.

  She checked her Nucleus Watch again, this time pulling up her PRIMAL stats:

  Name: Sigrun Fjeld

  PRIMAL Statistics:

  Power: 7

  Resilience: 5

  Intellect: 2

  Magnetism: 2

  Agility: 3

  Libido: 5

  Libido lowered by 1. Intellect 2, up from 1.

  A tiny improvement. Her mind still felt troubled most days, thoughts scattering when she tried to hold them, memories slipping away before she could pin them down. But something was coming back. Small pieces. Fragments of conversations she'd thought lost forever. The shape of her father's laugh. The color of Ivar's eyes in specific light.

  She still forgot things. Small things, usually. Where she'd put her keys. Whether she'd eaten breakfast. The name of a client from three months ago who'd tried to book her again.

  Thankfully nothing too costly had come from such lapses lately.

  She showered quickly, dressed in her working uniform—navy turtleneck, beige trench coat, black military pants, long boots—and checked herself in the bathroom mirror. The woman staring back looked harder than she remembered being at eighteen. The icy blue eyes that had once been called striking now carried something closer to warning.

  With one hand reaching to the back of her head, Hamr activated with a touch, pulling her rich blonde hair into the Valkyrie configuration: combat half-up ponytail, practical and familiar. The faint scent of lavender rose from her skin as the clip's pheromone modifier activated.

  Ready.

  She grabbed her suitcase by the handle and headed for the door.

  Thomas Mendoza was waiting in the lobby.

  He stood near the reception desk in full Alliance dress uniform, a duffel bag at his feet, his bionic arms gleaming silver in the artificial light. The cybernetic replacements moved with eerie smoothness as he turned to face her, the motion so practiced that newcomers sometimes didn't notice the metal until they looked closely.

  "Sigrun." He nodded in greeting.

  "Thomas." She stopped a few feet away, suitcase handle still gripped in her right hand. "Let me guess. Dante wants eyes on this mission."

  "He still prefers the term 'Alliance envoy.'" Thomas's beige face creased into a sarcastic smile. "But yeah. Eyes. Ears. Whatever else seems useful."

  "And you what, volunteered?"

  "I was asked." He shrugged, the motion making servos whir softly. "Didn't see much reason to refuse. Venus sounds more interesting than watching drunk miners stumble into the wrong apartments."

  Sigrun studied him for a moment. Thomas Mendoza had been head of security at Prairie Commons for three years now. He'd listened to her venting on bad nights, looked the other way when clients came and went, never once asked for anything in return except her trust. He was married. Happy, from what she could tell. His wife ran a small bakery in Eagle District that made passable bread and excellent coffee.

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  "You'll miss her," Sigrun said.

  Thomas blinked. "What?"

  "Your wife, Emily. You'll miss her while we're gone."

  "Yeah. I will." Thomas glanced down at his duffel. "She packed me extra socks. Said Venus is supposed to be hot but that's no excuse for neglecting foot hygiene."

  Sigrun felt a strange tightness in her chest. She tried to think of who she would miss, who might pack extra socks for her, who would notice if she didn't come back—

  Xin. H?kon.

  They were coming with her.

  "We should go," she said. "Need to pick them up."

  "Yep! Them." Thomas nodded and fell into step beside her as she headed for the door. Neither of them mentioned that he hadn't asked who "them" referred to. He already knew.

  Silver Orchid Quarters (銀蘭舍), Dragon District, Xing Hong

  The Silver Orchid Quarters were thirty minutes by autocab from Prairie Commons, deeper into the warren of budget housing that comprised most of Dragon District's residential space. The building's lobby smelled like recycled air and cheap disinfectant, the kind of place where landlords cut corners on everything to keep the rent low.

  From her left wrist, Sigrun's Nucleus Watch beeped just as she raised it, the hologram of Thomas manifested in the air, speaking. "I'll be waiting by the cab. Don't be too long, yeah? You know how impatient Dilinur can get."

  "I do. Thanks, Tom." Sigrun answered with a curt nod before Thomas's image dissipated. Lowering her watch, she stepped into the elevator.

  Xin's apartment was on the 11th floor. Room 886. Sigrun had memorized the number without meaning to.

  The elevator dinged, its door opening with a squeaking sound. She walked down the corridor.

  She knocked twice, then waited.

  The door slid open to reveal organized chaos.

  Xin stood in the center of his cramped living space, surrounded by piles of neatly sorted equipment. His rectangular glasses had slipped down his nose, and his jet-black hair stuck up at odd angles, as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. Behind him, a massive deep green suitcase lay open on the floor, its multiple layers unfolded like the petals of some mechanical flower.

  Sigrun blinked.

  He wasn't wearing his usual beige puffer jacket and green hoodie. Instead, he'd dressed in an olive tactical shirt with a stiff collar, the sleeves rolled to his forearms. Matching cargo pants. A black utility belt sat at his waist, pouches attached, his 10mm Magnum—Jade, he called it—holstered at his right hip.

  He looked like a proper field operative. Or at least someone trying very hard to look like one.

  "Sky Lady!" H?kon's chirp came from somewhere near Xin's feet. The tiny Diabolisk scrambled across the cluttered floor, his sapphire scales catching the light as he bounded toward her. "Sky Lady visit! Sky Lady here!"

  She crouched swiftly, letting him launch himself at her chest. He weighed almost nothing, his small body warm against her turtleneck. His scales shifted to a pale, contented azure as he nuzzled against her neck.

  "Hey, boy." Her voice came out softer than she'd intended. "You ready for an adventure?"

  "Ad-ven-chure!" H?kon repeated the word with evident delight, tiny jaw open. "New place! New things! HAW-koon draw new things!"

  "That's right." Sigrun straightened, cradling him against her shoulder. "You'll get lots of new things to draw."

  Xin had stopped packing to watch them. His expression held warmth, shyness, and something that made her want to look away. He'd told her he loved her the night of the Fenris attack, after their first sex. Things hadn't been quite the same since.

  "New outfit," she said, nodding toward him.

  "Oh." He glanced down at himself, as if he'd forgotten what he was wearing. "Yeah, I... did some Extranet research. Even after the Nucleus Event in early 22nd Century, Venus still has about two to three times Earth's atmospheric pressure, ambient temperature averaging forty-something Celsius in the settlements. My puffer jacket would've been—" He caught himself. "Sorry. Too much detail. Basically, Venus is hot. So I bought lighter gear."

  "Looks good on you."

  His cheeks flushed. "Really?"

  "Pappa look different!" H?kon announced from Sigrun's shoulder, his scales shifting to curious azure. "Pappa look like..." He searched for the word. "...Shiny Lady people!"

  "Blackcoats," Sigrun translated. "He thinks you look like a Blackcoat."

  "I'm not sure that's a compliment," Xin muttered, but he was smiling.

  "Got everything you need?"

  "So, I'm almost ready," he continued, turning back to his suitcase. "Just need to finish organizing the emergency supplies. And check the Zephyrium crystals. And make sure H?kon's snacks are accessible from the top layer—"

  "Xin."

  He stopped.

  "Breathe."

  He breathed. His shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch. "Right. Sorry. I've never been to Venus before. I've never been outside the Mars-Earth corridor before. So…trying to plan for every possibility and I know that's impossible, but there seems to be no end to it."

  "Show me what you've packed."

  The request seemed to calm him somehow. He gestured toward the open suitcase with a hint of pride. "It's a ZenFu DS model. Commercial grade. I bought it for about three thousand Atomic Dollars, then did some modifications myself. Make it less corporate and more…personal."

  Sigrun moved closer, H?kon still perched on her shoulder, and examined the contents.

  The suitcase was definitely larger than hers. Deep green exterior with expandable layers that folded out to reveal separate compartments for different categories of supplies. She could see cans of preserved food stacked neatly in one section, alongside an array of child-sized snacks that seemed specifically selected for H?kon's diet. His coloring book had been given new bindings, the pages protected by a clear cover, and a polished box of fresh crayons sat beside it.

  "You bought him new crayons?"

  "Yeah, the old ones were worn down to nubs." Xin's voice carried a defensive edge, as if he expected her to criticize. "He was having trouble gripping them. These ones are just the right size for his hands."

  Sigrun said nothing. She kept looking.

  Sets of clothes for Xin: deep olive shirt, black pants, beige puffer jacket. Next to it, a set that looked like pajamas. Full toiletries. His quantum laptop, the screen dark but humming faintly with standby power. And beside it, several subtly glowing crystals roughly the size of H?kon himself, cut into cylindrical shapes.

  "Zephyrium?" she asked.

  "Backup batteries." Xin adjusted his glasses. "If I need additional computation power, or if someone has heat or energy-based weapons that need charging. They're also useful for—" He caught himself, remembering something. "Sorry, I realize these Rigger and engineering stuffs probably aren't interesting to you?"

  "It's alright. I can tell they mean a lot to you." She waved it off.

  "Oh yeah, very useful, too. For lots of things."

  There were other gadgets in the suitcase that Sigrun couldn't identify. Small devices with blinking lights. Coils of wire. Something that looked like a modified scanner. Xin noticed her looking and waved a hand vaguely.

  "Important gear from my Rigger days. Probably won't need most of it. But..."

  "Better to have and not need."

  "Exactly."

  He really was planning for every possibility. Sigrun looked at her own white suitcase, sitting just inside the doorway, and felt suddenly underprepared. She had weapons and clothes. He had an entire portable workshop.

  "Okay, here's something I've worked on this week." Xin took a deep breath and pulled out a small controller from his pocket. "Watch this."

  A few clicks, and the massive suitcase began to fold itself. Layers retracted, compartments collapsed, the whole thing compressing with soft mechanical whirs until it had transformed into a sturdy box shape. The wheels on its base extended, and the box began to roll toward Xin of its own accord.

  "Programmed a simple A.I. that responds to my commands," he explained, a hint of genuine excitement breaking through his anxiety. "Follow mode, defensive mode, retrieval mode. It'll track my Nucleus Watch signal and maintain a one-point-five-meter distance unless I tell it otherwise."

  H?kon made a delighted chirp and launched himself from Sigrun's shoulder. He landed on top of the transformed suitcase with a soft thump, his tiny claws resting on the textured surface.

  "Pappa's magic box!" he announced, his scales shifting to amused azure. "HAW-koon ride Pappa's magic box."

  Xin's face softened in that way it only did when he looked at H?kon. "Yeah, buddy. It's yours to ride."

  Sigrun watched them for a moment—the scrawny Rigger with his robot suitcase, the tiny Diabolisk perched on top like a conquering hero. Something warm uncurled in her chest.

  "Oh, wait. N-n-need help with yours?" Xin asked, nodding toward her white suitcase. "I mean, I could probably program a follower drone, or at least rig up a—"

  She touched his arm lightly with one hand, keeping hold of her suitcase handle with the other. His words died.

  "I'm fine," she said.

  The contact lasted only a second. But his cheeks flushed pink, and his eyes darted away, and Sigrun found herself fighting down a smile.

  The knock at the door came twenty minutes later, just as Xin finished his final equipment check. He moved to press a button by the door. "I'll get it."

  Seneschal Kenji Tsudo stood in the hallway, flanked by three Constables in their black composite armor. Kenji's bald head gleamed under the corridor's harsh lighting, and his dark eyes swept the room.

  "Mr. Wu. Miss Fjeld." He inclined his head to each of them in turn. "The Prefect asked me to confirm security arrangements for your residences during the mission."

  Xin blinked. "The one you messaged us about last night?"

  "Correct. Your apartment here, and Miss Fjeld's at Prairie Commons." Kenji produced a data pad from inside his coat. "Both will be monitored by rotating Constable patrols. All personal effects inventoried and secured. Landlords have been notified and compensated for the duration of your absence. Rent payments are suspended until you return."

  Sigrun watched the exchange. There was something like respect in the way Kenji had spoken.

  "Thank you," she said. "Seneschal."

  Kenji met her eyes briefly. "Safe travels, Miss Fjeld. Venus is...demanding."

  He turned and left without further ceremony, the Constables falling into step behind him.

  Xin stared at the closed door for a long moment. "Did that just happen? Did the Seneschal of Xing Hong just personally guarantee our apartment security?"

  "Pappa important," H?kon observed from his perch atop the suitcase. "Sky Lady important. HAW-koon important too?"

  Sigrun reached over and gently stroked his tiny back. "Very important, boy."