six
ATOM RISES from bed with a creak of the mattress. The floor against the bottom of his feet is jarringly cold. He stands and walks to his dresser, pulling out a thick pair of synthetic wool socks and yanks them on.
His back protests with the motion. He takes a moment to stretch before making his way to the bathroom, retrieving his heavy fur robe from the hook on the door on his way.
After his morning piss, Atom makes his way to the kitchen. Snegurochka is already whining at the back door, waiting to be let out. Atom shoulders the heavy door open just wide enough for Snegurochka to slip through and run out into the snow.
His breath fogs on the small glass window by the door as he waits for her to finish her morning business. When she returns, Atom wipes her paws with the towel kept by the door and sets a pot of water on the stove to boil. Breakfast that morning consists of tea, sausage, eggs, and stale bread he bought at the market earlier last week. It's made more tolerable with a generous slathering of raspberry jam. Snegurochka gets a can of wet dog food plopped into her bowl.
The plan today is to go into town and use the phone at the mail center to call for a next-day transport pickup. On the way back he will drop off Snegurochka at his neighbor Valeri's house.
Valeri is an old man, and an ex-Keeper. He was discharged eighteen years ago when a particularly nasty ship crash lead to irreparable brain damage. His reflexes are slower now as a result of it, meaning he no longer qualifies to hold a sword or pilot a ship. But he enjoys taking care of Atom's chickens whenever Atom leaves on missions.
And Snegurochka loves him. Though, that could been due to the table scraps he feeds her. Valeri doesn't talk much, but Snegurochka always comes home a few pounds heavier than before.
After a quick shower Atom shaves and dresses in double layers. He tugs on his winter boots and the warmest coat he owns. A pair of goggles slide into place over his eyes, and a hat and scarf cover the rest of his face.
Snegurochka runs out past him when he opens the door. He whistles for her to stay near, and she doubles back to make laps around him, hopping like a rabbit in the deep snow.
It takes nearly an hour to trudge all the way to town. A few people mill about in the streets, briskly walking from store to store, all dressed just as heavily as him. He would probably recognize most of them without their faces obscured, but right now everyone is a stranger.
The clerk at the mail center recognizes Snegurochka, and calls out a greeting to Atom before hopping down from her chair to pepper Snegurochka in kisses and hugs. She'll be smelling like wet dog for the rest of her shift, but Anya swears she doesn't mind. She had once told him that the smell would keep her thinking about Snegurochka all day, and that in itself is a blessing.
Atom loosens his scarf and pulls his goggles up to his hat. "Good morning, Anya. Any mail?"
She gives Snegurochka one last kiss to the top of her head before straightening out and flittering to the mail cuby behind the counter. Most of the slots are empty. Not many people choose to stay here during this time of year. Not that it ever stops snowing, even in the summer. But it could be more than just a nuisance during the colder months.
"Something came in last night. But with the blizzard I didn't want to send one of my runners way out to your cabin. And you always come in on Sundays, so I figured it could wait and I could give it to you in person."
She hands him a gray envelope. Atom tosses one glove to the counter and breaks the seal. A single piece of paper slips out. White, thin enough to see the silhouette of his hand behind the block of black text.
Atom Belov, it reads. Your upcoming job has been cancelled. Instead I have a new mission to offer you. It's different from your usual work, but you're my first choice for the job. Details will promptly be discussed upon arrival. Signed, Solarius.
Atom slides the paper back into the envelope and hands it to Anya. She smiles at him and runs the envelope through the shredder on the back counter. Beside the front door is the town's only public telephone. Behind him, he hears the flick of Anya's lighter. Atom picks up the receiver and dials the worldwide transportation company. They route him to a local line. An old russian woman processes his advance payment, and asks if he wants to pay extra for a truck to be at his house that night. Atom declines, thanks the woman, and hangs up.
As soon as the call ends, the phone begins to ring. Atom looks over his shoulder at Anya. She picks up the phone on her end, cigarette in mouth, and nods at what she hears.
"It's for you." She says. Atom unhooks the phone beside him and presses it against his ear. Anya hangs up her end and leaves to the back room, closing the door behind her.
"Hello?"
"Unity Headquarters. State your name, please."
"Atom Belov."
"Voice recognition positive. Routing you to a secure line. Stand by."
A series of clicks sound in his ear. Then a familiar voice, distorted by the line, speaks to him.
"Did you get my message?"
"Just now, yes."
"Do you accept the job?"
Snegurochka bumps his leg with her nose. Atom looks down and idly rubs the top of her snout.
"Can I know anything about it first?"
"You must accept before I tell you anything. You know how this works."
"I know, but you said this will be different—"
"Do you accept?"
"Can I think about it? I'll be there by tomorrow night. Can I use that time to think about it?"
"Do you accept the job, Atom?"
Atom sighs through his nose and looks out the window. Ice coats the bottom half of the panes with intricate patterns.
"I'm going to ask one last time. Do you accept?"
"Yes."
"Very good. I will begin preparations."
"Now can you tell me anything—" The line goes dead before Atom finishes. He hangs the phone back on its hook and walks back to the counter to retrieve his glove. At the door he calls for Snegurochka to follow, but she ignores him. He sees her behind the counter, nose glued to the back door. He calls her name again and she lets out a low whine. She looks at him and barks, then stands on her hind legs and slams both paws against the door.
In a few heavy strides Atom is at the door, ear pressed against the material. He doesn't hear anything over Snegurochka's panicked whining. Atom knocks and tries the handle. It turns easily in his hand.
"Anya?" He calls out. "I'm coming in."
He steps into a wide room decorated by tables and plastic bins full of envelopes. A single naked lightbulb hangs from the ceiling. Snegurochka rushes past him to the next door. This one is already open, and Atom walks through the doorway and down the hall until he finds the breakroom, and Anya. Her body is in a blue plastic chair, neck hanging back, arms limp at her sides. Sticking out of the center of her chest is a large white knife. Atom's knife. Atom touches her neck and finds no pulse.
He leaves the room and keeps walking until he exits the building. Outside, he readjusts his scarf and goggles until they cover his face once more and starts off in the direction of the local office for the ground division of Unity. He takes three steps and nearly trips over a log buried in the snow.
Except it isn't a log, because when he looks down he sees a brown coat, and a torn black scarf, and an exposed neck, deeply cut and bleeding slowly. Red snow crunches under his boots as he keeps moving. Five more bodies litter the streets between the mail center and the Unity office. He doesn't stop to identify them. The office door is open when he arrives. Snow blows across the rug at the foot of the entrance. A joyful heater greets him upon entry and does a great job of amplifying the smell of blood here, too. Three officers that Atom knew by name lay with their throats slit.
Atom walks behind the front desk and picks up the phone, entering his Unity ID number, hoping to get a call out to headquarters for immediate backup. But the phone is silent. Not even a dial tone comes through. Snegurochka whines in the doorway.
Next door is a small coffee shop. Atom ducks inside and sees it empty except for its dead owner, slumped behind the counter, the wall behind him sprayed by an arc of bright red. In the deli next to it, Atom finds two more people dead.
He stops looking and doubles back to the Unity office. He takes the keys off one of the bodies and unlocks a patrol car in the garage. He ushers Snegurochka into the passenger seat and starts driving, careful to avoid the bodies in the street but as the snowfall picks up it gets harder to see them under the fresh white layer building on the ground.
Atom leaves the town and starts up the hill toward Valeri's house. He leaves the truck running while he hops out and stumbles through the snow to Valeri's front door. A light shines through the window next to it, but the curtains are drawn. Atom knocks several times and receives no answer. Backing up, he starts trying to kick down the door. On the third try it bangs open.
Sand crunches under his feet as he enters the house. Atom reaches Valeri's bedroom and eases the wooden door open. Laying flat on his bed is Valeri. Dead like all the others. Pierced deep through his skull is Atom's sword. The blade is red, not white. The hilt drips rhythmically with blood, running down Valeri's face like tears.
He doesn't bother closing the front door on the way out, the hinges broke when he kicked it open.
The path back to his house will be impossible to take while driving, even with the large chained wheels of the patrol truck. Atom clips a leash to Snegurochka's collar and leads her on foot to his cabin. Once inside he starts a fire and begins to undress. As soon as the zipper on his coat opens a foul smell curls out into the air. The coat peels off with great difficulty. When he reaches for the hem of his sweater his hands touch a squishy wetness. They come away red.
Atom looks down and sees his body coated in thick blood. Sticky to the touch, and reeking. He takes it all off, stripping down to his skin, despite the cold, and stumbles to the bath. His skin is coated too. Dried cracked blood clings to him even after he lowers himself shivering into a steaming tub, before it's even halfway filled up.
The water turns dark but his body doesn't get any cleaner. Snegurochka whines on the other side of the door. The tile floor is slippery with dark footprints. The walls drip with steam. His skin burns from his vicious pointless scrubbing.
Whining progresses into full on howling and the walls pulsate with pure burning red. Unforgiving on his eyes. Snegurochka's howls grow louder and higher in pitch. A firm hand grips his arm and Atom twists--
And sees Robby. The proximity alert on the console fills the command center with a red glow every few seconds. Robby releases his arm and asks if Atom is okay.
"Da," He says distractedly and leans toward the radar screen, slapping the mute button on the alert and blinking sleep from his eyes. "How long has this thing been screaming?"
A few minutes. I tried to wake you but you wouldn't respond.
"Sorry." Atom mumbles, running his mind at a million miles per second. The proximity alert shows a small ship, closing in on them. It's too late to run. He will have to fight. Is there anything nearby that could help him? Only an asteroid belt. He would have to use it to his advantage. But how?
"Incoming wide range broadcast," says the computer. "Playing broadcast:
"Atom Belov. I have orders for your termination. You must know I will not be gentle.
"End of broadcast. Would you like to establish a direct channel?"
The deep cutting voice doesn't state a name, but it doesn't need to. Atom would know it anywhere. Dark Fury Vorona is the best in her profession. In fact she's the only one in her profession because no one does her job better than her. For thirteen years Vorona has ruled the galaxy as the sole exterminator of criminals too vile for the justice system. She is the condemner. The beheader. The death sentence none have ever escaped from.
She also happens to be an old friend. The two of them had trained in the same unit as Keeper Recruits, and remained at the top of their class together until they had graduated and each been assigned their own teams to lead.
When a new secret unit focused on hunting and extermination was proposed by the Commander, Atom was among the few chosen to apply for a position. During the assessment he and Vorona proved themselves yet again to the best of their peers. But Vorona worked better alone. And Atom, with his stoney face and calm demeanor, was instead tasked with a different kind of dirty work.
Work that involved lies. And the internal extermination of fellow Keepers, expertly executed to appear like accidents. Work that demanded total loyalty to the Commander Solarius. And no one knew about it, not even Vorona.
"I must say, I'm surprised. I always thought you were a good one. Almost like... a holy man, in your purity. What changed?"
Atom ignores the direct channel request and lets go of the controls. He releases himself from the pilot seat and snaps his helmet into place. His sword clicks into the holster at his hip, ready for use.
Vorona's voice continues to broadcast across all open channels in her near vicinity. "No, you never were much of a talker. It doesn't matter, anyway. You will die at my hands, Atom Belov. Failure does not know my name."
The ship jolts when Vorona leans into it, forcing a manual softdock with extreme precision. Robby's hands are on Atom's shoulders, bracing him. Framing him. Blocking his path. Atom looks at him, and touches his arms.
"I'm going to get on her ship." He says. "I need you to lock the door behind me, then steer us on a crash course towards the nearest, biggest asteroid. As soon as I undock, you get this ship under control and get away. Far away." He clips a small square device onto Robby's belt. "I'll radio when it's safe to come back for me."
Detaching from Robby, he moves to the airlock and crouches on the opposite wall. Robby keeps his thoughts to himself. But he floats to position at the airlock's operation panel and waits.
"Open it." Says Atom.
The ring of light around the door flashes white, and the door begins to rotate, opening from the center. Atom kicks off the wall and needles through the widening hole. As soon as his feet are clear he hears the door stutter to an abrupt stop, and the light on this side turns red as it reverses its progress and begins to shut. He keeps moving across the short bridge and enters Vorona's ship. He catches a glimpse of her down the hall, a dark mass hovering, watching him, as his hand finds the airlock panel and orders the door closed.
Vorona's airlock twists shut with a heavy metallic shudder. She drifts forward a few feet towards him, decked out in her custom made space gear; Heavy black metal armor steeped in sharp angles and swooping decorative plates, she edges down the hall without a weapon in sight. Her empty hands are wrapped in black razor tipped gauntlets, held out to either side. Invitingly.
"How nice of you to come to me." She says. "Are you giving up? It won't save your life."
"No. I'm going to claim your ship after I'm done with you."
She grunts a short chuckle. Her face is entirely hidden under a metal helm covered in spikes. A glossy V-shaped panel of glass sits in front of her eyes. Though that too is tinted in shadow. "Okay, Atom. Go ahead and try." She says, with a smile in her voice.
Atom makes a show of drawing his knife. "Will you tell me how you found me?"
"You leave a trail of cold bodies." She shrugs, rolling her massive spiked shoulder pieces. "Very ammature, it's like you were trying to get caught. I would have been here much sooner if I wasn't halfway across the galaxy finishing off a different target."
"Thank you for taking your time. I appreciate it."
Beyond the curved panels of Vorona's sharp black helmet Atom can see the wide front window of the ship. A moon-sized asteroid slides into view as the ship tanks towards it, sending its passengers slamming against the outer wall. Atom punches the emergency undock button next to the airlock and hears the massive bolts unlatch.
And then Vorona's spiked fist collides with the glass face of his helmet. He hits the wall behind him, hard, and swings his legs up to land a solid kick to Vorona's middle.
Without looking back he rockets himself down the hallway in the opposite direction. He has to buy time until the impact. He won't win against Vorona in zero-G, but he can outmaneuver her until they hit the asteroid. He's faster. Smaller. And has a better chance of fighting her on solid ground where he can use her weighted armor against her. She'll crush him to a pulp if he lets her get her hands on him in the narrow confines of her ship.
But Atom has always been better than her at swordplay. Metal leg be damned. He'd been getting used to walking on it. Now it's time to learn how to fight with it.
Atom knows that the ship's automatic safety measures will prevent a head-on collision with the asteroid. But as long as he keeps Vorona away from the console they have no choice but to crash land on the asteroid in a matter of minutes.
A hand catches his ankle and yanks. The joint disconnects with a pop. The pain momentarily blinds him. A hard punch digs into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. A second later her fist hammers into his ribs. Atom catches it, latching around the metal-encased hand, and twists. Vorona slams her free palm repeatedly against Atom's helmet until he lets go. But she doesn't let him escape. The knuckles of her gauntlet dig into the spaces between his ribs with each consecutive punch. Atom keeps one eye on the asteroid and counts the seconds until impact. Until he hears a crack in his chest.
On impulse his arm darts out to swipe at Vorona's chest. His knife slides off the chestplate with an ugly sound. It doesn't even leave a scratch. Vorona laughs. His chest flares in pain with each breath. Cold sweat covers his lip and neck and armpits. The light fixture over Vorona's shoulder burns his eyes.
The light. Atom grips the spikes protruding from Vorona's shoulders and spins them until his back collides with the light. Then he plunges his knife into the glass. The fixture bursts and the entire module goes dark.
In the momentary confusion Atom kicks off of Vorona's body and slips further down the hallway, breaking light fixtures as he goes. He doesn't look behind him. He has no way of knowing where Vorona is. His ribs scream in pain. He keeps going. In front of him a dark shape comes into view. An open doorway. He darts inside and takes long shallow breaths. Seconds later he hears her pass the door, blindly hunting for him. She would turn back soon enough, surely. And she would find him. And kill him.
But before she gets the chance, an alarm cuts through the ship. Five long seconds later, where Atom doesn't dare to breathe, the ship hits the asteroid.
Sudden gravity glues him to the floor. The impact sends him flying again, only to crash into the wall. The ship rolls. And his body tumbles with it. Rattling around in its hard metal belly. Until his head snaps back against something cold and dense and everything cuts to black.
Pain is his only sensation upon waking. Pain in his ribs and ankle and head. The ship is dark and quiet and still. Moments later a ringing in his ears hums into existence, and is followed by an alarming hiss of leaking fumes. The darkness pressing into him is worse than his own handiwork. Not even the emergency lights show any signs of stirring. Which means that the ship's entire power supply must've been destroyed in the crash. Among other things. Vorona won't be happy about the loss of her ship.
Gravity is a blanket of chains that threatens to keep him pinned to the floor for all of eternity. But after some struggle, Atom manages to roll to his feet. And doubles over in pain. But he keeps moving.
Staying low to the ground he exits the small room and follows the downward tilt of the floor back to the control room, keeping his breathing shallow and steady. Broken glass crunches under his feet. He picks up speed and sags with relief when the darkness is made a few shades lighter by dim light digging through the large cracked window at the front of the ship. Through it, he can see that the ship has been capsized, and not much else. Crouching, he climbs down to the shattered window and using his metal leg, kicks open a space large enough for him to safely jump though.
The landing rattles his already inflamed ankle. Atom grits his teeth and quickly surveys his surroundings. Vorona is nowhere in sight, indicating her location has to still be somewhere on the ship, which is looking like it could blow at any second. He inches away, limping, keeping his face to the ship. Searching for movement.
When he's made it 10 meters away the ship lets out a high pitched wail and bursts, expelling an inferno of white and purple flame into space. Atom stops and watches, transfixed. Moments later a single drop of darkness tumbles from the light.
Vorona stands, purple flames rolling in the reflections of her armor. Half of the spikes on her arms and shoulders have broken off. In one hand is a pure black sword. The other hand swings limply at her side as her long steps turn into a sprint in Atom's direction.
Atom frees his sword and braces for impact. His arms scream with the force of the collision, and the merciless barrage that follows. She hacks away at him. His suit resists her horizontal swipes, but he'll surely be caked in bruises later.
Vorona's armor is even tougher. Atom's sword leaves long scratches in the surface but fails to cut any deeper. Ducking down, Atom side steps to Vorona's left side. Her limp arm glows like a target in Atom's mind. He aims the tip of his sword toward the flexible material at her armpit and leans all his weight into the thrust. Vorona drops to her knees and his sword arcs over her back, slicing through air. Off balance, Atom falls over her and under her when she rolls over and pins him. She lifts her sword high above them--
—and slams the end of her hilt into the center of Atom's visor. This time, it cracks.
She hits the same spot again and the damage grows, blooming in front of his face, slicing his vision into smaller and smaller sections and then the oxygen in his suit is swiftly being sucked out through the cracks.
The air rushing past his ears to escape sounds like death. Vorona steps back to watch him struggle.
He tries to grab after her and falls face first, muscles spasming without oxygen intake. His gloved hands can do nothing to seal the numerous holes in front of his eyes. Lungs burning he shoves his helmet into the ground, if only he could think clearly for a second. But his vision begins to stutter. In and out. Writhing, his lungs thrash, convulsing with violence. His eyes well up with tears and his heart goes cold, slowing, nearly stopping. Eyes frozen shut he coughs and coughs and his face is numb now. The world had gone dark now. Shadows splatter in front of him. His lungs are numb. Winter is coming, now. He can almost hear the snow, now.
Atom doesn't feel it when the first sip of oxygen slips past his lips and soaks into his system, resuscitating his functions one by one. Sound comes back to him overwhelmingly loud. His own hyperventilating nearly causes him to pass out again. But the pain and shock keep him rooted and propelling towards clarity at breakneck speed.
Heaving, he raises his head from the ground.
Asteroid dust remains stuck to his visor, filling every minor and major crack. But it isn't asteroid dust, Atom realizes. It's too dark, and too perfect, and definitely clinging to the inside of his helmet too. And it smells like sulfur. Smoke. And snow.
Vorona stares down at him.
"What is this?" She asks, and for the first time ever Atom hears her voice shake. "Atom, what is this? What have you become?"
Her glorious suit of armor towers over him. And just like the armor of ancient knights, it has its weak spots. In one swift motion, Atom rises, and plunges his sword up through the narrow crack between Vorona's chestplate and helm, piercing her neck and severing her brain stem.
Time stops.
"I—" He says.
The body falls, pulling the sword from his hands.
"I—"
The ship continues to burn, illuminating his deed. Raging. Tearing a path to the heavens, grasping at the tendrils of a rising spirit before it slips away forever.
But it's too late.
His knees find the ground and his body bends over her's. He clasps her cold metal hands.
"Vorona—" His throat is a column of ice. The words too large, too heavy. The flames cannot thaw his tongue from here.
Eventually, the fire burns through the last of its fuel. Then it too, fades out, and leaves him in darkness. On a desolate unnamed asteroid drifting through an unmapped corner of space. Only here, only now, is he able to give voice to the truth. With billions of stars as his witness his words will go forever unheard.
Riding the current of a single exhale he says, "Good friend, why didn't you win?"
The sound of his own breathing is his only answer.
Carefully, he pulls his stained sword from the body and latches it back to his hip. Vorona's sword lays next to her in pristine condition. Atom picks it up and stands at the head of the corpse. The blade slides with ease as he stabs it into the cracked stone above Vorona's head.
Here she will lay until the destruction of the galaxy.
Trying to picture his own body in her place, he sees only a faceless white spacesuit, and thinks of Robby. Shifting his hand to the small radio on his belt, he pulls it free and flips the power switch. His thumb hovers over the transmit button. It's possible that Robby is long gone, now. Taken the ship and sped off on a direct course to his home planet, never to return. But he had known that when he gave the other radio to Robby, and taken the risk anyway.
The button clicks when he presses down on it.
"This is Atom." His voice has gone back to normal. Flat. Cold. Gravely. "I'm alive. I... won."
As expected, Robby offers no response.
Laying down on the hard ground Atom settles to wait. He draws constellations in the stars with his eyes, working around the cracks in his helmet obscuring his view. He carves a constellation of Vorona and retraces it. Commits it to memory. Stares at it for so long that it remains pinned to the inside of his eyelids when they at last become too heavy to keep open.
-
ROBBY WELCOMES him back among the living when Atom opens his eyes. The blinding infirmary lights offer no place to hide from the truth of that fact.
Atom slaps at the chest straps keeping him anchored to the bed and sits up. Robby takes his arm gently and offers a wave of comfort across the contact. Atom clamps down against it, deafening the channel between them. Robby releases him.
Clipped to the wall beside the bed is Atom's suit. His helmet shows his reflection fractured across dozens of cracked sections of glass. Atom frees the helmet and holds it out to Robby.
"I coughed this stuff up. Any idea what it is?"
Robby gives him a blank look and says nothing. Atom remembers what he did and lowers his arms. Then he slides down the barrier in his mind.
"Sorry." He says.
Robby drifts close and takes off his gloves. Careful not to touch Atom, he takes the helmet and runs his fingers along the inside of the glass.
I don't understand. It's... me. This is my mol code.
Atom watches Robby's fingers curiously rub at the substance and recalls how those hands felt against his skin.
"How did it get inside me?" He asks. Robby looks up at him. His starry eyes glow softly through the clear glass of his own helmet. "Is it from when... we...?"
I don't know how that would be possible.
"You said the same thing when those stars started burning on your face. Something must've happened when we... did that. You got those eyes and I must've... retained some part of you. In me. Either way, it saved my life."
At the cost of another's, Atom thinks. He takes the helmet back from Robby.
"How are we on course? How many days left until we get there?"
Ten.
"Okay. Good. I think... I'm going to get some more sleep."
He lays back against the bed, cradling the cracked helmet against his chest. As soon as Robby leaves the room a scream rises from deep in his throat. He bites down on it. Swallows it, sends it reverberating back down through his body. Endlessly it echoes without another soul to hear it.
His back protests with the motion. He takes a moment to stretch before making his way to the bathroom, retrieving his heavy fur robe from the hook on the door on his way.
After his morning piss, Atom makes his way to the kitchen. Snegurochka is already whining at the back door, waiting to be let out. Atom shoulders the heavy door open just wide enough for Snegurochka to slip through and run out into the snow.
His breath fogs on the small glass window by the door as he waits for her to finish her morning business. When she returns, Atom wipes her paws with the towel kept by the door and sets a pot of water on the stove to boil. Breakfast that morning consists of tea, sausage, eggs, and stale bread he bought at the market earlier last week. It's made more tolerable with a generous slathering of raspberry jam. Snegurochka gets a can of wet dog food plopped into her bowl.
The plan today is to go into town and use the phone at the mail center to call for a next-day transport pickup. On the way back he will drop off Snegurochka at his neighbor Valeri's house.
Valeri is an old man, and an ex-Keeper. He was discharged eighteen years ago when a particularly nasty ship crash lead to irreparable brain damage. His reflexes are slower now as a result of it, meaning he no longer qualifies to hold a sword or pilot a ship. But he enjoys taking care of Atom's chickens whenever Atom leaves on missions.
And Snegurochka loves him. Though, that could been due to the table scraps he feeds her. Valeri doesn't talk much, but Snegurochka always comes home a few pounds heavier than before.
After a quick shower Atom shaves and dresses in double layers. He tugs on his winter boots and the warmest coat he owns. A pair of goggles slide into place over his eyes, and a hat and scarf cover the rest of his face.
Snegurochka runs out past him when he opens the door. He whistles for her to stay near, and she doubles back to make laps around him, hopping like a rabbit in the deep snow.
It takes nearly an hour to trudge all the way to town. A few people mill about in the streets, briskly walking from store to store, all dressed just as heavily as him. He would probably recognize most of them without their faces obscured, but right now everyone is a stranger.
The clerk at the mail center recognizes Snegurochka, and calls out a greeting to Atom before hopping down from her chair to pepper Snegurochka in kisses and hugs. She'll be smelling like wet dog for the rest of her shift, but Anya swears she doesn't mind. She had once told him that the smell would keep her thinking about Snegurochka all day, and that in itself is a blessing.
Atom loosens his scarf and pulls his goggles up to his hat. "Good morning, Anya. Any mail?"
She gives Snegurochka one last kiss to the top of her head before straightening out and flittering to the mail cuby behind the counter. Most of the slots are empty. Not many people choose to stay here during this time of year. Not that it ever stops snowing, even in the summer. But it could be more than just a nuisance during the colder months.
"Something came in last night. But with the blizzard I didn't want to send one of my runners way out to your cabin. And you always come in on Sundays, so I figured it could wait and I could give it to you in person."
She hands him a gray envelope. Atom tosses one glove to the counter and breaks the seal. A single piece of paper slips out. White, thin enough to see the silhouette of his hand behind the block of black text.
Atom Belov, it reads. Your upcoming job has been cancelled. Instead I have a new mission to offer you. It's different from your usual work, but you're my first choice for the job. Details will promptly be discussed upon arrival. Signed, Solarius.
Atom slides the paper back into the envelope and hands it to Anya. She smiles at him and runs the envelope through the shredder on the back counter. Beside the front door is the town's only public telephone. Behind him, he hears the flick of Anya's lighter. Atom picks up the receiver and dials the worldwide transportation company. They route him to a local line. An old russian woman processes his advance payment, and asks if he wants to pay extra for a truck to be at his house that night. Atom declines, thanks the woman, and hangs up.
As soon as the call ends, the phone begins to ring. Atom looks over his shoulder at Anya. She picks up the phone on her end, cigarette in mouth, and nods at what she hears.
"It's for you." She says. Atom unhooks the phone beside him and presses it against his ear. Anya hangs up her end and leaves to the back room, closing the door behind her.
"Hello?"
"Unity Headquarters. State your name, please."
"Atom Belov."
"Voice recognition positive. Routing you to a secure line. Stand by."
A series of clicks sound in his ear. Then a familiar voice, distorted by the line, speaks to him.
"Did you get my message?"
"Just now, yes."
"Do you accept the job?"
Snegurochka bumps his leg with her nose. Atom looks down and idly rubs the top of her snout.
"Can I know anything about it first?"
"You must accept before I tell you anything. You know how this works."
"I know, but you said this will be different—"
"Do you accept?"
"Can I think about it? I'll be there by tomorrow night. Can I use that time to think about it?"
"Do you accept the job, Atom?"
Atom sighs through his nose and looks out the window. Ice coats the bottom half of the panes with intricate patterns.
"I'm going to ask one last time. Do you accept?"
"Yes."
"Very good. I will begin preparations."
"Now can you tell me anything—" The line goes dead before Atom finishes. He hangs the phone back on its hook and walks back to the counter to retrieve his glove. At the door he calls for Snegurochka to follow, but she ignores him. He sees her behind the counter, nose glued to the back door. He calls her name again and she lets out a low whine. She looks at him and barks, then stands on her hind legs and slams both paws against the door.
In a few heavy strides Atom is at the door, ear pressed against the material. He doesn't hear anything over Snegurochka's panicked whining. Atom knocks and tries the handle. It turns easily in his hand.
"Anya?" He calls out. "I'm coming in."
He steps into a wide room decorated by tables and plastic bins full of envelopes. A single naked lightbulb hangs from the ceiling. Snegurochka rushes past him to the next door. This one is already open, and Atom walks through the doorway and down the hall until he finds the breakroom, and Anya. Her body is in a blue plastic chair, neck hanging back, arms limp at her sides. Sticking out of the center of her chest is a large white knife. Atom's knife. Atom touches her neck and finds no pulse.
He leaves the room and keeps walking until he exits the building. Outside, he readjusts his scarf and goggles until they cover his face once more and starts off in the direction of the local office for the ground division of Unity. He takes three steps and nearly trips over a log buried in the snow.
Except it isn't a log, because when he looks down he sees a brown coat, and a torn black scarf, and an exposed neck, deeply cut and bleeding slowly. Red snow crunches under his boots as he keeps moving. Five more bodies litter the streets between the mail center and the Unity office. He doesn't stop to identify them. The office door is open when he arrives. Snow blows across the rug at the foot of the entrance. A joyful heater greets him upon entry and does a great job of amplifying the smell of blood here, too. Three officers that Atom knew by name lay with their throats slit.
Atom walks behind the front desk and picks up the phone, entering his Unity ID number, hoping to get a call out to headquarters for immediate backup. But the phone is silent. Not even a dial tone comes through. Snegurochka whines in the doorway.
Next door is a small coffee shop. Atom ducks inside and sees it empty except for its dead owner, slumped behind the counter, the wall behind him sprayed by an arc of bright red. In the deli next to it, Atom finds two more people dead.
He stops looking and doubles back to the Unity office. He takes the keys off one of the bodies and unlocks a patrol car in the garage. He ushers Snegurochka into the passenger seat and starts driving, careful to avoid the bodies in the street but as the snowfall picks up it gets harder to see them under the fresh white layer building on the ground.
Atom leaves the town and starts up the hill toward Valeri's house. He leaves the truck running while he hops out and stumbles through the snow to Valeri's front door. A light shines through the window next to it, but the curtains are drawn. Atom knocks several times and receives no answer. Backing up, he starts trying to kick down the door. On the third try it bangs open.
Sand crunches under his feet as he enters the house. Atom reaches Valeri's bedroom and eases the wooden door open. Laying flat on his bed is Valeri. Dead like all the others. Pierced deep through his skull is Atom's sword. The blade is red, not white. The hilt drips rhythmically with blood, running down Valeri's face like tears.
He doesn't bother closing the front door on the way out, the hinges broke when he kicked it open.
The path back to his house will be impossible to take while driving, even with the large chained wheels of the patrol truck. Atom clips a leash to Snegurochka's collar and leads her on foot to his cabin. Once inside he starts a fire and begins to undress. As soon as the zipper on his coat opens a foul smell curls out into the air. The coat peels off with great difficulty. When he reaches for the hem of his sweater his hands touch a squishy wetness. They come away red.
Atom looks down and sees his body coated in thick blood. Sticky to the touch, and reeking. He takes it all off, stripping down to his skin, despite the cold, and stumbles to the bath. His skin is coated too. Dried cracked blood clings to him even after he lowers himself shivering into a steaming tub, before it's even halfway filled up.
The water turns dark but his body doesn't get any cleaner. Snegurochka whines on the other side of the door. The tile floor is slippery with dark footprints. The walls drip with steam. His skin burns from his vicious pointless scrubbing.
Whining progresses into full on howling and the walls pulsate with pure burning red. Unforgiving on his eyes. Snegurochka's howls grow louder and higher in pitch. A firm hand grips his arm and Atom twists--
And sees Robby. The proximity alert on the console fills the command center with a red glow every few seconds. Robby releases his arm and asks if Atom is okay.
"Da," He says distractedly and leans toward the radar screen, slapping the mute button on the alert and blinking sleep from his eyes. "How long has this thing been screaming?"
A few minutes. I tried to wake you but you wouldn't respond.
"Sorry." Atom mumbles, running his mind at a million miles per second. The proximity alert shows a small ship, closing in on them. It's too late to run. He will have to fight. Is there anything nearby that could help him? Only an asteroid belt. He would have to use it to his advantage. But how?
"Incoming wide range broadcast," says the computer. "Playing broadcast:
"Atom Belov. I have orders for your termination. You must know I will not be gentle.
"End of broadcast. Would you like to establish a direct channel?"
The deep cutting voice doesn't state a name, but it doesn't need to. Atom would know it anywhere. Dark Fury Vorona is the best in her profession. In fact she's the only one in her profession because no one does her job better than her. For thirteen years Vorona has ruled the galaxy as the sole exterminator of criminals too vile for the justice system. She is the condemner. The beheader. The death sentence none have ever escaped from.
She also happens to be an old friend. The two of them had trained in the same unit as Keeper Recruits, and remained at the top of their class together until they had graduated and each been assigned their own teams to lead.
When a new secret unit focused on hunting and extermination was proposed by the Commander, Atom was among the few chosen to apply for a position. During the assessment he and Vorona proved themselves yet again to the best of their peers. But Vorona worked better alone. And Atom, with his stoney face and calm demeanor, was instead tasked with a different kind of dirty work.
Work that involved lies. And the internal extermination of fellow Keepers, expertly executed to appear like accidents. Work that demanded total loyalty to the Commander Solarius. And no one knew about it, not even Vorona.
"I must say, I'm surprised. I always thought you were a good one. Almost like... a holy man, in your purity. What changed?"
Atom ignores the direct channel request and lets go of the controls. He releases himself from the pilot seat and snaps his helmet into place. His sword clicks into the holster at his hip, ready for use.
Vorona's voice continues to broadcast across all open channels in her near vicinity. "No, you never were much of a talker. It doesn't matter, anyway. You will die at my hands, Atom Belov. Failure does not know my name."
The ship jolts when Vorona leans into it, forcing a manual softdock with extreme precision. Robby's hands are on Atom's shoulders, bracing him. Framing him. Blocking his path. Atom looks at him, and touches his arms.
"I'm going to get on her ship." He says. "I need you to lock the door behind me, then steer us on a crash course towards the nearest, biggest asteroid. As soon as I undock, you get this ship under control and get away. Far away." He clips a small square device onto Robby's belt. "I'll radio when it's safe to come back for me."
Detaching from Robby, he moves to the airlock and crouches on the opposite wall. Robby keeps his thoughts to himself. But he floats to position at the airlock's operation panel and waits.
"Open it." Says Atom.
The ring of light around the door flashes white, and the door begins to rotate, opening from the center. Atom kicks off the wall and needles through the widening hole. As soon as his feet are clear he hears the door stutter to an abrupt stop, and the light on this side turns red as it reverses its progress and begins to shut. He keeps moving across the short bridge and enters Vorona's ship. He catches a glimpse of her down the hall, a dark mass hovering, watching him, as his hand finds the airlock panel and orders the door closed.
Vorona's airlock twists shut with a heavy metallic shudder. She drifts forward a few feet towards him, decked out in her custom made space gear; Heavy black metal armor steeped in sharp angles and swooping decorative plates, she edges down the hall without a weapon in sight. Her empty hands are wrapped in black razor tipped gauntlets, held out to either side. Invitingly.
"How nice of you to come to me." She says. "Are you giving up? It won't save your life."
"No. I'm going to claim your ship after I'm done with you."
She grunts a short chuckle. Her face is entirely hidden under a metal helm covered in spikes. A glossy V-shaped panel of glass sits in front of her eyes. Though that too is tinted in shadow. "Okay, Atom. Go ahead and try." She says, with a smile in her voice.
Atom makes a show of drawing his knife. "Will you tell me how you found me?"
"You leave a trail of cold bodies." She shrugs, rolling her massive spiked shoulder pieces. "Very ammature, it's like you were trying to get caught. I would have been here much sooner if I wasn't halfway across the galaxy finishing off a different target."
"Thank you for taking your time. I appreciate it."
Beyond the curved panels of Vorona's sharp black helmet Atom can see the wide front window of the ship. A moon-sized asteroid slides into view as the ship tanks towards it, sending its passengers slamming against the outer wall. Atom punches the emergency undock button next to the airlock and hears the massive bolts unlatch.
And then Vorona's spiked fist collides with the glass face of his helmet. He hits the wall behind him, hard, and swings his legs up to land a solid kick to Vorona's middle.
Without looking back he rockets himself down the hallway in the opposite direction. He has to buy time until the impact. He won't win against Vorona in zero-G, but he can outmaneuver her until they hit the asteroid. He's faster. Smaller. And has a better chance of fighting her on solid ground where he can use her weighted armor against her. She'll crush him to a pulp if he lets her get her hands on him in the narrow confines of her ship.
But Atom has always been better than her at swordplay. Metal leg be damned. He'd been getting used to walking on it. Now it's time to learn how to fight with it.
Atom knows that the ship's automatic safety measures will prevent a head-on collision with the asteroid. But as long as he keeps Vorona away from the console they have no choice but to crash land on the asteroid in a matter of minutes.
A hand catches his ankle and yanks. The joint disconnects with a pop. The pain momentarily blinds him. A hard punch digs into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. A second later her fist hammers into his ribs. Atom catches it, latching around the metal-encased hand, and twists. Vorona slams her free palm repeatedly against Atom's helmet until he lets go. But she doesn't let him escape. The knuckles of her gauntlet dig into the spaces between his ribs with each consecutive punch. Atom keeps one eye on the asteroid and counts the seconds until impact. Until he hears a crack in his chest.
On impulse his arm darts out to swipe at Vorona's chest. His knife slides off the chestplate with an ugly sound. It doesn't even leave a scratch. Vorona laughs. His chest flares in pain with each breath. Cold sweat covers his lip and neck and armpits. The light fixture over Vorona's shoulder burns his eyes.
The light. Atom grips the spikes protruding from Vorona's shoulders and spins them until his back collides with the light. Then he plunges his knife into the glass. The fixture bursts and the entire module goes dark.
In the momentary confusion Atom kicks off of Vorona's body and slips further down the hallway, breaking light fixtures as he goes. He doesn't look behind him. He has no way of knowing where Vorona is. His ribs scream in pain. He keeps going. In front of him a dark shape comes into view. An open doorway. He darts inside and takes long shallow breaths. Seconds later he hears her pass the door, blindly hunting for him. She would turn back soon enough, surely. And she would find him. And kill him.
But before she gets the chance, an alarm cuts through the ship. Five long seconds later, where Atom doesn't dare to breathe, the ship hits the asteroid.
Sudden gravity glues him to the floor. The impact sends him flying again, only to crash into the wall. The ship rolls. And his body tumbles with it. Rattling around in its hard metal belly. Until his head snaps back against something cold and dense and everything cuts to black.
Pain is his only sensation upon waking. Pain in his ribs and ankle and head. The ship is dark and quiet and still. Moments later a ringing in his ears hums into existence, and is followed by an alarming hiss of leaking fumes. The darkness pressing into him is worse than his own handiwork. Not even the emergency lights show any signs of stirring. Which means that the ship's entire power supply must've been destroyed in the crash. Among other things. Vorona won't be happy about the loss of her ship.
Gravity is a blanket of chains that threatens to keep him pinned to the floor for all of eternity. But after some struggle, Atom manages to roll to his feet. And doubles over in pain. But he keeps moving.
Staying low to the ground he exits the small room and follows the downward tilt of the floor back to the control room, keeping his breathing shallow and steady. Broken glass crunches under his feet. He picks up speed and sags with relief when the darkness is made a few shades lighter by dim light digging through the large cracked window at the front of the ship. Through it, he can see that the ship has been capsized, and not much else. Crouching, he climbs down to the shattered window and using his metal leg, kicks open a space large enough for him to safely jump though.
The landing rattles his already inflamed ankle. Atom grits his teeth and quickly surveys his surroundings. Vorona is nowhere in sight, indicating her location has to still be somewhere on the ship, which is looking like it could blow at any second. He inches away, limping, keeping his face to the ship. Searching for movement.
When he's made it 10 meters away the ship lets out a high pitched wail and bursts, expelling an inferno of white and purple flame into space. Atom stops and watches, transfixed. Moments later a single drop of darkness tumbles from the light.
Vorona stands, purple flames rolling in the reflections of her armor. Half of the spikes on her arms and shoulders have broken off. In one hand is a pure black sword. The other hand swings limply at her side as her long steps turn into a sprint in Atom's direction.
Atom frees his sword and braces for impact. His arms scream with the force of the collision, and the merciless barrage that follows. She hacks away at him. His suit resists her horizontal swipes, but he'll surely be caked in bruises later.
Vorona's armor is even tougher. Atom's sword leaves long scratches in the surface but fails to cut any deeper. Ducking down, Atom side steps to Vorona's left side. Her limp arm glows like a target in Atom's mind. He aims the tip of his sword toward the flexible material at her armpit and leans all his weight into the thrust. Vorona drops to her knees and his sword arcs over her back, slicing through air. Off balance, Atom falls over her and under her when she rolls over and pins him. She lifts her sword high above them--
—and slams the end of her hilt into the center of Atom's visor. This time, it cracks.
She hits the same spot again and the damage grows, blooming in front of his face, slicing his vision into smaller and smaller sections and then the oxygen in his suit is swiftly being sucked out through the cracks.
The air rushing past his ears to escape sounds like death. Vorona steps back to watch him struggle.
He tries to grab after her and falls face first, muscles spasming without oxygen intake. His gloved hands can do nothing to seal the numerous holes in front of his eyes. Lungs burning he shoves his helmet into the ground, if only he could think clearly for a second. But his vision begins to stutter. In and out. Writhing, his lungs thrash, convulsing with violence. His eyes well up with tears and his heart goes cold, slowing, nearly stopping. Eyes frozen shut he coughs and coughs and his face is numb now. The world had gone dark now. Shadows splatter in front of him. His lungs are numb. Winter is coming, now. He can almost hear the snow, now.
Atom doesn't feel it when the first sip of oxygen slips past his lips and soaks into his system, resuscitating his functions one by one. Sound comes back to him overwhelmingly loud. His own hyperventilating nearly causes him to pass out again. But the pain and shock keep him rooted and propelling towards clarity at breakneck speed.
Heaving, he raises his head from the ground.
Asteroid dust remains stuck to his visor, filling every minor and major crack. But it isn't asteroid dust, Atom realizes. It's too dark, and too perfect, and definitely clinging to the inside of his helmet too. And it smells like sulfur. Smoke. And snow.
Vorona stares down at him.
"What is this?" She asks, and for the first time ever Atom hears her voice shake. "Atom, what is this? What have you become?"
Her glorious suit of armor towers over him. And just like the armor of ancient knights, it has its weak spots. In one swift motion, Atom rises, and plunges his sword up through the narrow crack between Vorona's chestplate and helm, piercing her neck and severing her brain stem.
Time stops.
"I—" He says.
The body falls, pulling the sword from his hands.
"I—"
The ship continues to burn, illuminating his deed. Raging. Tearing a path to the heavens, grasping at the tendrils of a rising spirit before it slips away forever.
But it's too late.
His knees find the ground and his body bends over her's. He clasps her cold metal hands.
"Vorona—" His throat is a column of ice. The words too large, too heavy. The flames cannot thaw his tongue from here.
Eventually, the fire burns through the last of its fuel. Then it too, fades out, and leaves him in darkness. On a desolate unnamed asteroid drifting through an unmapped corner of space. Only here, only now, is he able to give voice to the truth. With billions of stars as his witness his words will go forever unheard.
Riding the current of a single exhale he says, "Good friend, why didn't you win?"
The sound of his own breathing is his only answer.
Carefully, he pulls his stained sword from the body and latches it back to his hip. Vorona's sword lays next to her in pristine condition. Atom picks it up and stands at the head of the corpse. The blade slides with ease as he stabs it into the cracked stone above Vorona's head.
Here she will lay until the destruction of the galaxy.
Trying to picture his own body in her place, he sees only a faceless white spacesuit, and thinks of Robby. Shifting his hand to the small radio on his belt, he pulls it free and flips the power switch. His thumb hovers over the transmit button. It's possible that Robby is long gone, now. Taken the ship and sped off on a direct course to his home planet, never to return. But he had known that when he gave the other radio to Robby, and taken the risk anyway.
The button clicks when he presses down on it.
"This is Atom." His voice has gone back to normal. Flat. Cold. Gravely. "I'm alive. I... won."
As expected, Robby offers no response.
Laying down on the hard ground Atom settles to wait. He draws constellations in the stars with his eyes, working around the cracks in his helmet obscuring his view. He carves a constellation of Vorona and retraces it. Commits it to memory. Stares at it for so long that it remains pinned to the inside of his eyelids when they at last become too heavy to keep open.
-
ROBBY WELCOMES him back among the living when Atom opens his eyes. The blinding infirmary lights offer no place to hide from the truth of that fact.
Atom slaps at the chest straps keeping him anchored to the bed and sits up. Robby takes his arm gently and offers a wave of comfort across the contact. Atom clamps down against it, deafening the channel between them. Robby releases him.
Clipped to the wall beside the bed is Atom's suit. His helmet shows his reflection fractured across dozens of cracked sections of glass. Atom frees the helmet and holds it out to Robby.
"I coughed this stuff up. Any idea what it is?"
Robby gives him a blank look and says nothing. Atom remembers what he did and lowers his arms. Then he slides down the barrier in his mind.
"Sorry." He says.
Robby drifts close and takes off his gloves. Careful not to touch Atom, he takes the helmet and runs his fingers along the inside of the glass.
I don't understand. It's... me. This is my mol code.
Atom watches Robby's fingers curiously rub at the substance and recalls how those hands felt against his skin.
"How did it get inside me?" He asks. Robby looks up at him. His starry eyes glow softly through the clear glass of his own helmet. "Is it from when... we...?"
I don't know how that would be possible.
"You said the same thing when those stars started burning on your face. Something must've happened when we... did that. You got those eyes and I must've... retained some part of you. In me. Either way, it saved my life."
At the cost of another's, Atom thinks. He takes the helmet back from Robby.
"How are we on course? How many days left until we get there?"
Ten.
"Okay. Good. I think... I'm going to get some more sleep."
He lays back against the bed, cradling the cracked helmet against his chest. As soon as Robby leaves the room a scream rises from deep in his throat. He bites down on it. Swallows it, sends it reverberating back down through his body. Endlessly it echoes without another soul to hear it.