Babushka: Echoes of Immortality (Book 1) - Chapter 3 - Vesna
Vesna awakens to a tense encounter with Dunya, unraveling secrets, fears, and a dangerous mission.
The faint creak of the foyer door jolted Vesna awake. She could barely tell if the sound was real or if it had lingered from a dream. Then it came again: footsteps. She’s never this quiet, even when she’s late.
Vesna slid her hand under her pillow, fingers flinching at the cool metal of her gun. She rose from her bed with the grace of a snow leopard, careful to lift the blankets without a whisper of sound. Then down the hallway she crept, gun held in a two-handed grip and peered around the corner into the living room.
Vesna’s pulse quickened at the sight of the hooded figure bent over hardware and papers. She raised her gun. “Freeze,” she ordered, voice steady despite the adrenaline.
The intruder whirled around, their hood slipping to reveal a shock of ginger hair. Vesna’s heart skipped a beat before plummeting. “What are you—? It’s late...” Her words trailed off as the gun grew heavy in her hand. And then a mix of worry and relief washed over her, tension fading into recognition. With a measured movement, she snapped the safety back on and carefully placed the firearm on the countertop.
Dunya’s expression was tight, her fatigue barely veiling the urgency in her eyes. “Got side-tracked. Had to dodge a trace.”
“I tried to reach you on both channels. You didn’t answer,” Vesna said.
“Drastic measures,” Dunya huffed. “Chat seeds. Compromised. Setting an air gap now.”
“What happened? Everything okay?”
Dunya eye’s fixed on the piece of paper she held, silently mouthing words to herself as if rehearsing them. “I had to bail before she woke up,” she finally said. “When I looped back to her last position, I saw they had the whole area on lockdown. It was clear they were tapping into our comms.” After a moment’s pause, she ignited a small flame with a lighter and burned the paper. The ash trailed delicately into the nearby AC vent, vanishing without a trace.
Vesna took a sharp breath in. “I knew those Syndicate contracts were dodgy.”
“They took Maria,” Dunya said. “I didn’t want to believe it, but they did.”
Maria? It took a moment, but Vesna managed to smooth out the crease she felt forming in her brow and softened her gaze before pulling Dunya into a hug. “Your partner? We’ll find her. I promise.”
“The mindgraft was a disaster. The sim...it was so much darker this time, like a nightmare.”
“Hey, don’t worry. I’m here now. We’ll get through this together.”
“It’s still screwing with me, that dream...like it’s part of the mess with the client. Keeps clawing back at me, and I got this gut-wrenching feeling that maybe I’m responsible.”
“It’s not your fault, don’t even go there,” Vesna cut in. “...Hold up, you never told me about a dream?”
“Last night. Darkness...everywhere. Then there’s this massive tree and...something sinister about it.” As Dunya spoke, her face seemed to pale, and Vesna picked up on a hint of embarrassment in her hesitation.
“One thing at a time. We can tackle the tree mystery later. Tell me more about your friend, Maria.”
“No, it’s fine. I need to get this off my chest. The client, she said…she was having nightmares before the dive. My nightmare, the sim—it’s like they were fighting for control of my head.”
“Your team, they didn’t know?”
“Unprofessional, I know… I didn’t want to freak them out. And when the mindgraft fired up, I told myself it was just some glitch. I should’ve bailed as soon as I saw that damn tree.”
“Professional is the last thing you need to worry about right now.” She thought to add, ‘As an ex-cop, I could’ve told you mindgrafts were no fun, sketchy as hell...’ but she stopped herself. She knew Dunya too well—chastising her now would just lead to another one of their arguments. “Did Maria log a recording?
“No, too risky. These ops don’t leave a trail. We planned to debrief tonight on a secure channel.” Dunya paused. She looked sick now. “In my dream, this...could have been a rogue...it blamed me for their deaths. It was playing mind games with me. We tried to get out, but it was already too late. It pulled the client further in. And inside, it wasn’t just her—it was scores of them, just like Anna, a crowd of junkies, elders, some of them even young. They all looked so afraid.”
“Listen, what you saw, it’s not on you. Mind games or not, you did everything you could. This—whatever this thing was—it’s Maria we need to focus on.”
Dunya slumped onto the couch. “You’re right. Syn will want answers. If they haven’t already quarantined her, they will soon enough. We’ve got to save her.”
“And we will, but the most important thing is that you got out when you did. If you hadn’t, Maria might not be so lucky. Look. No one traced you—that’s a win. Now, I’ll see what I can do. I’ve got a few contacts who owe me a few favors. Do you have an on-chain ID for Maria’s last known public address?”
Dunya nodded. “Yeah, I do.” She blinked, relaying the information to Vesna’s ocular HUD. A network diagram splayed out in front of Vesna before she saved the extract and cleared her field of view.
“Thanks,” said Vesna. “You look like you could use some rest.” She draped a blanket over Dunya’s shoulders, noting how her body seemed to sink further into the couch under the weight of her Skelet. I hate seeing her like this. The burdens she carries are heavier than any exoskeleton.
Vesna sat down and settled in next to her. She knew the value of silent solidarity, of simply being there—a port in the tempest that raged beyond their small apartment. Yet, a distant part of her mind wandered, and she thought, what am I missing here? Her cop’s instincts told her there were moves being made, pieces shifting in the play. She pushed the thought away, letting the rain outside lull her focus back to the here and now, to the silent oath of camaraderie she extended to her best friend.
It was Dunya who bridged the last inch between them, seeking Vesna’s embrace with an earnestness that pulled at her heart. She could sense the urgency in her touch, the quiet plea for reassurance in the way she stared right through her.
As Vesna ran her fingers through Dunya’s hair, she found herself saying, “We’ll sort this out. I’m here, and we’ll find her.” But even as she spoke those comforting words, Vesna could feel a disquieting sense of guilt that wouldn’t let go. She knew the promise to be empty, a necessary lie to give Dunya hope where there might be none.
“How? We’re outnumbered,” Dunya murmured.
The lie cemented itself. “We play it smart. We turn the city inside out if we have to. We don’t need numbers; we’ve got your brains, and my guts. We’ll find her. Just like one of our missions. Like always.” Her voice was steady, betraying none of the dread gnawing at her insides. Despite herself, Vesna hid the fear of a truth she was not yet ready to face.
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