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  They both said nothing for a few moments although he could feel Althea working some controls on the back. Her breathing was slow and came in deep, heaving breaths as if she was trying to focus her mind on the present and away from the more horrific topic of ‘could have been.’

  “For what it’s worth, Althea. I’m glad you’ll be here with us,” said Viekko with as much sincerity as he could muster.

  “If it makes you feel any better, this device is made to be integrated with the EROS suit. It’s probably uncomfortable now, but when they get you fitted for that, you won’t even know it’s there,” Althea said, still working on the controls.

  “I know it’s been hard for you. Booted out of the medical consortium and all that. But, you know, their loss. Our gain.”

  Althea finished her calibrations and the device loosened enough for her to pull it off. “That’s all I need for now. That will establish some baseline conditions to help it regulate fluids, body temperature and blood chemistry and alert me to possible problems.”

  Viekko grabbed his shirt out of the air and put it back on. Great—he would have Althea monitoring his body every minute of every day. He thought back to the stash of triple-T still in his jacket pocket. He should be fine sneaking a dose when he needed it. Triple-T was hard to track and Althea would have other things on her mind. Plus, there could be worse things.

  Then, one of those worse things happened. Isra Jicarrio opened the hatch and floated into the medical bay. “Is Viekko up and ready yet? We have a meeting with Vince Laban…five minutes ago.”

  “And nice to see you, Isra,” said Viekko. “Out terrorizin’ the locals early today?”

  Isra glared. No one could drop the temperature in the room with a look alone quite like her. She was a small woman with short black hair, olive skin and dark, almond eyes. She wore the same Corporation blue jumpsuit as everyone else but, in contrast to Viekko, the clothing hung loose over her small, slender frame. At first glance, she was the quiet unassuming type; she could disappear into the crowd if it wasn’t for the fact that most of the crowd would be trying to keep their distance from her the minute she spoke. And there was something else about Isra that bothered Viekko.

  “What is wrong with him?” said Isra nodding her head at Viekko.

  “Nothing to speak of. Just a few anomalies coming out of hibernation,” said Althea, putting her equipment away.

  Isra examined every inch of Viekko from his hair to his toenails. “Anomalies? He is nervous. Is there something I need to know, Viekko?”

  Isra could read people like a book and she had a tendency to flip through the boring parts. Viekko wouldn’t go so far as to say she was psychic, but whatever innate skill or talent that psychics needed to convince people they were psychic, Isra had it. A lot of it.

  Lying didn’t typically work but deflection could if well-timed.

  “I need my guns,” said Viekko folding his arms.

  Isra looked him over again. “They are still in storage. We will ask Laban about them when we see him.”

  “I ain’t setting foot on that tsosni burkhuleer kuchigdsan baidag moon unarmed, Isra.”

  “Ugsiig khar,” Isra snapped back. That was the other unsettling thing about Isra, she had a gift with language. Most scholars who studied the Martian languages for years could never get the pronunciation right. Isra spent a week among them and talked like a native when she wanted to.

  Isra set her face into a carefully neutral expression. “You will be adequately supplied for this mission; however, I do not anticipate a scenario where violence will become necessary. Now please come with me.”

  Isra left through the same hatch she entered through and Viekko followed. That was the problem with both Althea and Isra. They were both products of Civilization, a system designed to minimize the amount of violence needed for a productive solution.

  Pushing himself after Isra, he passed by a large window. The small orange and blue moon, Titan, was getting closer.

  Civilization meant people could meet without violence. But when two civilizations meet, violence was almost a foregone conclusion.

  There was going to be blood.

  Whose blood and for what reason were still details that would be sorted out in time.

  CHAPTER TWO

  There are few human emotions as base, vile and creative as greed. It is a force that changed whole worlds beyond Earth. It is the drive that pulled people from their terrestrial Eden to far-flung colonies. It is also what ultimately stranded them.

  -from The Fall: The Decline and Failure of 21st Century Civilization by Martin Raffe.

  The tight corridors through C.R.T.S Innovation were like some sort of small animal habitat in a madman’s laboratory. It was a maze of cramped white plastic and aluminum that twisted and turned around each other so much that any sense of direction was jammed into the tumble drier. Just to make it extra exciting, every corridor and hallway was packed with people. Engineers, soldiers, scientists and crew members damn near had to crawl over each other in the zero-gravity. They all seemed to know where they were going and they were all in a terrible rush to get there.

  Viekko could barely make his way through it all. He found himself inching along the walls trying to escape the press of humanity.

  “We are late, Viekko,” said Isra, several meters ahead. “Some urgency if you please.”

  Isra took a ballistic approach to navigating the crowd. She moved with the assumption that people would get out of her way and, not surprising given her normal demeanor, most of them did.

  “Did you not hear me? We are late and Laban will use that to his advantage,” scolded Isra, nearly barreling into a worried-looking scientist.

  She was barely sociable at the best of times, but today she had all the good will and patience of a crocodile with a piece of driftwood crammed up its nethers.

  “Who we meetin’ again?” asked Viekko, narrowly dodging a couple Corporate executives coming the other way.

  “Vince Laban. Mission commander and Energy Consortium executive.”

  That explained her mood. High ranking Corporate figures tended to be the immovable object to Isra’s unstoppable force.

  Viekko darted through a hole in the crowd, “So whatchu want me to do?”

  “Show up and look tough.”

  Viekko cursed and flung himself forward. It wasn’t that he minded that people viewed him as the embodiment of rage and muscle packed into human form, but he hated being used like he was nothing but a predictable chess piece to be moved around when and where they wanted. But he kept his mouth shut.

  And yet, somehow, without even looking back, Isra sensed his annoyance. She stopped and twisted around in the air. “Viekko, you are one of the finest extraterrestrial survival experts in the world as well as a fine military tactician. I am aware and, trust me, I intend to bank on both those skills when we are on Titan. But right now I need a show of force and you are the best visualization I can come up with on short notice.”

  Viekko grabbed a hand-hold to keep him from plowing into a couple of annoyed Corporation Marines and said, “You think you’re gonna needin’ a military tactician on Titan?”

  “I like to be ready for any number of scenarios, especially with the Corporation involved.”

  Without another word, Isra pushed back down the corridor and through the crowds. Viekko could only sigh and try to follow. Isra was nervous, and Isra didn’t get nervous. The prospects on Titan were getting bleaker by the second.

  She continued to lead the way through the white plastic maze until she came to a hatch. At first glance, it was indistinguishable from the dozens they passed between here and the medical bay. Except a small digital sign just above the door release that read, ‘Vince Laban: Mission Director’.

  Without the slightest hint of hesitation or trepidation, Isra pulled the door release, pushed the hatch open and pulled herself inside.

  Now, whoever Vince Laban was, he seemed
to be in some sort of denial when it came to space travel. He was a man who wasn’t going to let a little setback like zero-gravity keep him from having a well-ordered office. As Viekko pulled himself inside after Isra, he saw a desk complete with an ‘In’ and ‘Out’ box and some kind of spinning office knickknack. They were all, presumably, bolted to the top of the desk to keep them all from floating away. The desk, along with a few chairs and a filing cabinet, was bolted to the floor...or ceiling, depending on how one entered the room.

  Viekko pushed himself towards the desk and tried to move the spinning thing attached to it. It was one of those toys for those who found themselves creeping towards terminal boredom. It used magnets to spin faster and longer than most things were intended to. That was, as near as Viekko could figure, all it did.

  Viekko flicked the spinning part. “What sorta mind does this, you think?”

  Isra just surveyed the room with a sense of awe and said, “The kind that has never been told he cannot have something he wants. In other words, the worst kind.”

  A man entered from a hatch on the other side of the room. At least it was probably a man. Rats didn't normally grow that big or wear expensive black suits. He had a small scrunched face that radiated from a nose that was several sizes too big for his body. His jet-black hair was combed to mathematical precision and heavily caked with something that could stop a bullet. He plastered a wide amenable smile on his face and pulled himself down to the desk. Even his smile was the kind of fake, toothy grin that never precedes something honest or truthful. He situated himself in a grand, red cushioned chair and gestured to the smaller chairs in front of his desk.

  “Please. Have a seat,” he said.

  The way the man spoke made Viekko want to look behind his chair for an oil-slick.

  “How exactly do you expect…?” Viekko started to say. Then he noticed that every red antique chair was fitted with a lap belt.

  Once they were both seated and strapped in, Laban steepled his hands and said, “I apologize that we were not able to speak before the entire crew went into hibernation. Your addition to the roster was…. immediate.”

  He touched the top of his desk and a series of holographic documents appeared. He scrolled through a few pages acting as if he forgot he had people in his office to talk to him. Viekko felt a hot rise of anger but Isra’s expression remained perfectly still.

  After a few minutes he waved his hand and the documents disappeared. “While Ministry-Corporation treaties allow oversight committees aboard trans-planetary missions, you should inform your superiors that last second additions such as yours disrupt the entire flow of a mission. This has been in the planning stages for months and there was ample time for your people to request passage instead of forcing it on us hours before liftoff.”

  Isra took a moment and smoothed out some of the wrinkles in her jumpsuit. This was something Isra did to take control of the situation. There was complicated psychology involved, but it basically meant that the conversation would start when and how Isra wanted it to.

  “I apologize, but it could not be helped. And to be perfectly honest, we are not an oversight committee. Not exactly. I am here representing the Ministry’s Human Reconnection Project,” said Isra after a minute or so. “Are you familiar?”

  “I am,” said Laban. “I seem to recall you did some excellent work on Mars and some of the Jovian moons, yes? I understand you brought back some very…. entertaining specimens.” Laban flashed Viekko a smug smile.

  The Martian closed his eyes and imagined caving Laban’s skull in with the spinning knickknack. It brought some measure of peace.

  Isra brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Yes. We discover and study lost civilizations stranded on other planets after Earth fell. Which brings us to why we are here. Time is a factor and we could not wait to plan and execute a separate Ministry mission. Signing aboard Innovation as an oversight committee is what you might call a… loophole.”

  Laban’s smile grew wider as if being irritated was a pleasant state of mind for the man. “A loophole? Ms. Jicarrio I don’t know what game you and the Ministry are playing, but several Ministry officers signed off on the mission specifics and…”

  Isra interrupted, “Tell me, Mr. Laban, are you aware of any evidence that Titan might harbor a civilization?”

  Viekko couldn’t help but look at Isra on that one. It wasn’t unusual for her to set people up for a lie, but she was typically a lot more subtle than that. She might as well have opened a bear trap inches from Laban’s face.

  Laban’s expression melted into something resembling concern. “I see. I suppose I should offer my deepest apologies.”

  “It just so happens,” Isra started automatically, “I have documents that prove…wait, what did you say?”

  “Yeah, whatchu you say?” asked Viekko.

  Laban laid his hands flat down on the table, “Ms. Jicarrio, your reputation within the Ministry is impeccable. Furthermore, delaying a Corporation mission so that you could make it on board is not a minor feat. The Corporation runs on a schedule, I’m sure you know this, and the schedule waits for no one. Which tells me that you have found something. Something I was not aware of, to be sure. This mission was planned in good faith and for the betterment of all humankind. But clearly there has been a… miscalculation. And for that I am sorry.”

  Incredible, thought Viekko, the man managed a completely sincere apology while accepting exactly zero responsibility. For him or anyone else. Truly the sign of a born leader, at least by Corporation standards.

  “I have documents,” said Isra unwilling to let a good offensive go to waste, “leaked from Corporate files about the hydrocarbon supply on Titan. May I upload a copy to your SET-path?

  The surface of the desk glowed faint blue and a series of icons appeared just above the surface. Laban touched a few. “Please. Go ahead.”

  Isra touched the screen attached to her forearm. A few seconds later, numbers scrolled above the surface of the desk. Laban watched for a few moments and said, “Ah, yes. This is the hydrocarbon exploration analysis. It lists coordinates on the moon and the level of hydrocarbon deposits that might be available.”

  “Not might,” said Isra folding her arms, “These figures are far too precise to be scanned from orbit. These numbers came from the ground. Pulled from some kind of surface installation settled before the Fall. That means there is still working technology on Titan which proves that someone’s there to tend to it. Furthermore, the Corporation knows this.”

  The numbers disappeared and Laban leaned forward and put his hands together as if pleading. “Like I said. I offer my deepest apologies. I had no idea where those numbers came from. All I knew is that they were good enough to fund a mission.”

  “You had no idea?” said Isra.

  “Miss Jicarrio. I know you view the Corporation as a group of power-hungry sociopaths that would sell their own grandmothers to an organ dealer for a promotion in the Corporate ranks, and your assumption is more accurate than even you know. When our technicians found this information, I will bet their first instinct was to keep its source a secret. But protecting our investment is hardly a crime.”

  “It is when you withhold information regarding the violation of a Ministry treaty.”

  “Only if such a violation is known but, as I’ve tried to explain, Ms. Jicarrio, I had no knowledge regarding the source of the data.”

  Isra smiled but there wasn’t an ounce of friendliness contained in it. It was the smile of a predator who just found its prey cornered, “Ignorance is not a defense. You are in charge of this mission, which means that any and all activity—”

  “—Is the responsibility of the managing personnel,” interrupted Laban, “Fair enough. How about a show of good faith then? What can I do for the Human Reconnection Project?”

  “First of all, your landing zone between the Ligeia Mare and the Kraken Mare has got to change. I have reason to believe that there is a
population at that location and the last thing I need is for you to drop landers right on top of them.”

  Laban took a deep breath and Isra braced herself for a fight. It was a confrontation that was expected and necessary. There was no way that Laban would give up his landing zone, but it would give Isra a starting point to compromise.

  “Very well. We have a backup landing zone on a peninsula approximately sixty kilometers to the East. We will begin operations there if that is your wish.”

  Or there was the possibility that he would just roll over and give Isra whatever she wanted. It was not a contingency that Viekko had anticipated and, from the look on Isra’s face, neither had she.

  “Wait…you are willing to move the landing zone?” said Isra.

  “As a show of good faith,” said Laban spreading his hands, “I can move it farther east if you would like, but if I go much farther away it will be harder for you to get to that population. You are going to visit them while you are there, yes?”

  “Uh… yes, of course,” said Isra.

  “Then I will arrange a crawler for you and your team. I can also arrange a military escort if you would like.”

  “No,” said Isra dropping the word like a steel weight. “I do not want anyone Corporate anywhere near that city. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Crystal,” said Laban again spreading his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I will see to it personally that no member of my team gets within twenty-five kilometers of the city.”

  Isra leaned back again confused. It was like getting into a boxing match with a waterfall.

  “Is there anything else me or my team can do for you?” said Laban.

  Isra sat and stared for a moment. Every part of Laban’s face practically radiated sincere helpfulness. Viekko wondered if Isra saw anything else. If she did, she didn’t say anything.