"I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space, 
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth 
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light"

- 'Darkness', Lord Byron

I can see the triplet pillars of the City's space elevators lighting up the grim night sky, a dying planet's very own North Star, as our truck peels its way through the grey slush towards the meeting point.

Sidrovich claims it's just a simple excursion outside the City, nothing to worry about: hand over the goods, get the payment in return, head back. But that's what Sidrovich says with every job, and the fact that he's gone to the trouble of sending me along has our new friends worried. You don't come loaded for war unless you're expecting a fight, and you don't send me on a job unless you're anticipating it being far less than simple. I'm getting nervous looks as the truck's electric engine hums calmly along down the road. The local muscle Sidrovich has sent as backup, all vat-grown muscle implants and thick beards, are good for show, but there's no telling how useful they'll be if things go south. My partner Levi occasionally glances at them with amusement from the driving seat; two years we've been working together, and he still gets a kick out of the reaction I garner.

The truck's heating is cranked up as high as it can go, but even still I can feel the chill from outside pushing its way in. Doesn't matter how many layers of thermal clothing, body armour, and jackets you might be wrapped in—there's no escaping the cold in this day and age. We pass beneath the shadows of the towering, brutalist residential blocks, laid out in uniform rows like nails driven into the snow-clad ground and somehow looking even darker than the sky from this angle. No beauties even when they were built, the years of exposure to Earth's crippled environment have done little to improve their looks. Still, they offer a roof over the heads of workers and their families, walls to keep out the cold, even some protection against the background radiation, ever-present even this far away from the wreckage left by the war.

There are people in the Shanty City that would kill for such luxuries, and I'm not just employing poetic license.

Soon we're past the blocks and out towards the south gate checkpoint, patrol drones drifting overhead as City security step towards us. When Levi rolls down the window, the officer's expression makes it clear he wants to ask what the hell we're doing driving out towards a snowstorm; the card my partner flashes him stops him before he can open his mouth. With a brief nod, he waves us through, tapping at his arm-mounted AR rig to open the gates and allow us out beyond the City limits.

The end of civilisation's vestiges. The beginning of the wastelands.

Before long the wind is crashing against the truck and snowdrifts are surrounding us. Not often someone in my line of work will find themselves doing deals outside the City, but when we do we can be sure no-one will be snooping unless they have the means of staving off both the chill and the radiation. If you know what you're doing, the wastes make the ideal location for exchanging the kind of goods that City authorities might frown upon.

We sit in silence for a good half hour within the heated truck, the snowstorm kicking into full gear around us, until finally Levi tilts his head to regard me out of the corner of his eye. There's a certain curiosity to his gaze, and no small amount of amusement.

"Hey Koss, didn't you swear off jobs outside the City? Y'know, after the last clusterfuck we were in?" I resist the urge to groan, knowing full well where this conversation is going. Instead I shrug and turn my head towards the rear-view camera feeds, refusing to meet his eye.

"The money was good," I offer in response, but my partner just chuckles.

"Bullshit, bratan. You're like my Uncle Yusuf, the one who works the orbital station construction gigs. Keeps swearing he's never going back up there every time he's home. Too much radiation, he says, too many guys getting lost to the black, the pay's shit, blah blah blah." He turns his head to look over at me properly, flashing the sort of shit-eating grin only he can manage. "Then three months later, he's right back up there again. Just like you, hauling yourself out here to the frozen ass-end of nowhere. You just can't help yourself."

Again suppressing the urge to snarl, I manage to simply roll my eyes at Levi.

"Please, you're the one who begged me to come along. Someone's gotta babysit your ass, make sure you don't make a mess of things again." My eyes narrow. "Like that last gig." With a shrug and a chuckle, he turns his attention back to the wheel.

"Hey now, they shot first. I just retaliated."

A couple more hours of driving through the growing storm passes, until the windscreen's enhanced HUD brings the sight of our destination into view. The warehouse we're working out of today has, to put it mildly, seen better days. The roof has fallen in long ago. But it's shelter from the elements and a space to make the exchange. As Levi brings the vehicle to a halt I turn around in the passenger seat to speak to our companions.

"Here's the ground rules. No open carrying, keep your weapons out of sight unless you need to use them. No talking, that's Levi's job. Just follow my lead, make sure the exchange goes smooth, and we all go home richer. Ponimat?"

The two men share a glance between them, probably not used to having a wiry caucasian woman talking to them in this fashion. But they've been briefed; they know who I am and why I'm here. They nod curtly, almost in unison. "Good. You set, Levi?" In response my partner finishes sealing his face behind his helmet and reaches down to haul up a case from his right, tucking a heavy matte-black handgun into his shoulder holster as he does so.

"All set, bratan," he replies. "Let's go get paid."

The cold hisses in like a nest of angry hornets, doing its level best to pierce through my armour and reach my skin, as we push the doors open and step out into the open air. Grey snow crunches beneath my boots as I reach up to engage my helmet's sealing sequence. There's a hiss of air as the world briefly goes dark, and then the helmet's HUD blooms into life. In a blink my view of the warehouse goes from gloomy to saturated and high-contrast, a picture passed through a filter as the mask gets to work. Old military tech, a customised overlay pattern ready to highlight any sudden movements that step into view.

Levi falls into step next to me, thick padded coat rippling with the wind and the case containing our payload clutched tightly in one gauntlet-clad hand as our hired help trails behind us. I nod approvingly as both begin to follow the footprints left behind by myself and Levi—not complete amateurs, then. Out here in the open we've got absolutely no protection from the elements, so we need to move fast. Were it not for the helmet's HUD filters compensating for the deluge of powdery snow and ice being pulled from the drifts and kicked up around us, I would barely be able to see my hands. Another point in our favour: the only people out in conditions such as these are either the desperate, the suicidal, or the well prepared. As we stride towards the abandoned warehouse where our contacts wait, expectant, it is my hope that the four of us fall into the final category.

"Almost there," I rasp into the sub-vocal mic built into my neck seal, the tiny device picking up the vibrations of my vocal chords and processing them out onto our team's comms. "Sound off for mic check."

"Priyem," Levi rumbles back.

"Da," mutters the first of our hired help.

"Receiving," intones the second.

Holding up a thumb to confirm we're all good, I reach a hand into my jacket to grip the weight of the collapsed VIPER I have tucked at my side, coiled like a spring and ready to burst into action upon command.We all have our rituals. The things we do right before we walk into a situation we might not walk back out of.

At least mine is practical.