The Forgotten Outpost

by Gus Flory

  Pristina had not returned to her apartment. She and her brother had disappeared shortly after leaving Diego the night before.

  Teams of analysts on Earth were determining whether Diego should attempt to contact her and what the message should be. The seventy-nine-minute delay for a transmission to reach Titan from Earth made for long waits for guidance.

  Eventually, a message was approved. Diego was to send her a text.

  The message was: “Coffee?”

  After Diego sent the text, intelligence analysts on two planets and one moon waited for a response. Three hours passed and no response, then four hours, then five.

  “Coffee?” Helms asked. “A committee of morons came up with that one. You’d think they’d come up with something a little cleverer to bring her out. That’s not going to cut it.”

  “I think the colonel was right,” Diego said. “She knows she hooked the wrong fish. But she’ll be at the A.P.T. meeting two days from now. We can roll her up then with Pelagi and the rest of them. The interrogation team will find out what they know—whether they’re working for Robodan and where his safe house is. I told you this whole honeypot double cross was never going to work.”

  “If you would’ve listened to me, Zanger. We could’ve had her.”

  The next day passed and still no response from Pristina. The analysts debated whether Diego should send another message and what it should be. But in the end, with Colonel Butcher’s prompting, they decided another message might spook her, and the best course of action was to raid the A.P.T. meeting the following day.

  Diego lay in his bed in his room in the T-FORCE MAIN residential tower. The curtains were open revealing a view of Cassini City’s towers. Behind the towers, Saturn filled the orange and yellow sky. Diego’s guitar lay on the bed next to him. A documentary about the Battle of Ceres was playing on the flat screen, but Diego was zoning out, lost in thought, not paying attention. He hadn’t heard from Havana or the kids in three days.

  He felt better having this whole honeypot fiasco behind him. He wanted to reconnect with his wife and his kids and feel normal again, at least as normal as one can expect being 1.2 billion kilometers and three years apart. He debated with himself the message he would send her, maybe explaining how the loss of LT and Moxley has weighed heavy on his mind and how he hadn’t been himself. How he needed her. How he needed the kids.

  He picked up the guitar and plucked the strings absentmindedly as he lay on the bed. He remembered the time when he, Havana, Tegan and George had played at the brigade ball on Mars. He had been on the guitar, Havana on bass, Tegan on keyboards and George on drums. They played their own lazy, acoustic version of the Army Song. Diego sang the lyrics in his laid-back baritone as Havana sang back up, Tegan played the keyboards and George the drums, throwing in his own stylized military march drum beat. Everyone at the ball was in dress blues, and by that point most were inebriated. Diego had been worried about playing their version of the song, thinking maybe some would find it offensive, but the Zanger family had them all on their feet, arm in arm, singing along. Some in their drunkenness were in tears as they sang. The Zangers had been a huge hit and people talked about the performance for months.

  Diego smiled at the memory.

  His handheld vibrated. He opened the text thinking it was from Havana.

  “You know, I’ve had coffee with you twice now. Both times you let it go cold without taking a sip.”

  “How about a real drink then?”

  “You did the same with your club soda.”

  “Dinner?”

  “No.”

  “What then?”

  “Meet me at the Venusian Baths in an hour.”

  Diego immediately called Helms and filled him in.

  “The Venusian Baths? Hot dog. Now we’re talking. Our honeypot is back in the game. This is going to be a great show. Put on your game face, Zanger.”

  Diego reported to Fontaigne’s office. Helms and Fontaigne were waiting for him. They briefed him on what he was expected to do.

  “Don’t argue with her,” Helms said. “Be cool. Inscrutable. Mysterious. Give her that winning smile. Flex your pecs. Twitch your biceps.”

  “If you feel like she’s pumping you for information, tell her about the raid,” Fontaigne said. “Make sure to let her know you’re taking a huge risk by telling her about it, a career-ending risk that could put you in the brig.”

  “Special Ops is already staging at the Venusian Baths,” Helms said. “They have overwatch. Give the signal if you feel you’re in danger and they’ll extract you.”

  “She’s still after you, Major. This is a big opportunity to get inside.”

  “Don’t screw this up, Zanger. Over a hundred of us in the intelligence community will be watching your performance. Major General Berkovic at S.S.F. Army Intelligence Command and his staff on Mars will be watching, as will SSIS Director Liang on Earth. No pressure, right?”

  Helms leaned forward on the table and looked Diego in the eyes.

  “Look, man. Don’t hold back. Give her your best game. Give her the Zang.”

  Diego left T-FORCE MAIN and boarded a subway car for the Europa District which bordered the Pioneer District. He exited Europa Station and walked down a concourse. The convex ceiling high above was clear to the twilight sky. The concourse was dimly lit. Guide lights glowed in green, blue and yellow along the concourse. This sector was a business district—office buildings, corporate headquarters and a few high-end restaurants and bars. The sector appeared more prosperous than the cramped and haphazard Pioneer District. Few pedestrians were out and about. An empty electric tram shot down the center of the concourse.

  The offices gave way to recreational facilities. A rock climbing center, meditation studio, jujitsu dojo, child care center. All were closed. The large windows of a fitness club looked down at the concourse. The treadmills and resistance machines were empty except for one woman sweating away on an elliptical trainer.

  Diego saw the lights for the Venusian Baths. He entered the facility and paid at the counter by scanning his iris into a biometric reader. He walked into the changing room, stripped down into shorts and secured his clothes and pistol in a locker.

  He stepped out into the baths.

  An expansive pool stretched before him. Clouds of steam rose from the blue water. Columns extended upward from the water, holding up the clear ceiling that revealed skyscrapers towering above, reaching upward into the orange haze toward Saturn.

  The pool was enormous. It branched into alcoves and channels. Deeper sections were cooler for the swimmers while shallower pools varied in temperature from icy cold to scalding hot.

  A swimmer swam laps in the swimming section. A couple sat alone in an alcove relaxing in the steamy heat. He searched the water for Pristina but caught no sight of her.

  He dove in and swam underwater through the clear blue. The water felt good on his bare skin. He walked waist deep, checking behind columns and in alcoves.

  He heard a splash and turned around. Someone was swimming underwater toward him.

  He stood waiting.

  She surfaced in front of him. She ran her hands through her black hair, slicking it back. She smiled.

  “Hello, Diego.”

  8. Methane rain

  Pristina was wearing a black bikini. Her body was submerged in the steamy water as she looked up at him.

  “Follow me,” she said.

  She turned and swam past columns, channels and alcoves. She swam into a small, secluded nook surrounded by columns that held up a domed ceiling. The water was hot. It bubbled, churned and steamed.

  She leaned back against the edge sitting on a ledge. Diego swam up and sat across from her. He stretched his arms on the ledge.

  “This beats coffee,” he said.

  She watched him, hair slicked back, eyes icy blue.

  “All it takes is a text and you come to me.”

  “You could’ve texted anyone in this city and they’d be here
in my place.”

  “I promised my brother I wouldn’t see you again. He doesn’t trust you. He thinks you’re a spy.”

  “Where is he? Hiding behind a column, watching us?”

  “No one knows I’m here.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I come here when I have things on my mind. I’ve been thinking too much. The water soothes me.”

  “Why did you ask me to come?”

  “Maybe I feel obligated to you. Maybe I just like your company.”

  Diego pushed off the wall and swam up to her. He stood in front of her, close to her, in the chest deep water.

  “Maybe my brother is right, and you’re a spy. Maybe I asked you here to find out for sure.”

  “I’m not a spy, Pristina. I’m just a soldier. A dumb soldier who’s been thinking too much, too.”

  He put his hands on the ledge, on both sides of her. Her legs were around his waist.

  “If you’re a spy, how would I know?”

  She slipped under his arms and swam away from him, turning around onto her back, watching him as she drifted out of the nook into the cooler waters.

  He swam after her. “You can trust me.”

  “If you were a spy, that means right now we’re being watched. People are listening, waiting for me to say something of value.”

  “I can prove to you I’m not a spy.”

  She stopped swimming and stood. She waded into a shallow section. She was now in waist-deep water. The pool lights reflected off the water and shimmered and danced off her smooth, wet skin.

  “Prove it.”

  He walked closer to her.

  “I’ll tell you something, but only if you promise never to tell anyone where you heard it.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I’ve been in planning meetings, seen the intelligence reports. I question them, but they’re convinced they’re right. I’ve been thinking about what you’ve told me, about Kyle and Tupo Pelagi. Maybe T-FORCE is wrong and they’re innocent.”

  “They are, Diego.”

  “I sat in on a planning meeting this morning. T-FORCE and the Titan Police are going to raid the A.P.T. meeting tomorrow. They’re going to arrest Tupo Pelagi and detain everyone present.”

  Pristina was silent looking at him, thinking. She bit her lip and turned and swam for the edge.

  “Pristina, come back.”

  He swam to her and caught her as she reached the edge. He grabbed her by the waist and turned her around.

  “I’ve told you too much. If this gets out, I’ll be detained. I’ll disappear. It’ll be the end of me.”

  “I’ve got to warn them.”

  “Please, Pristina. I’ll be ruined. Don’t let anyone know how you came by this information.”

  She pulled herself up out of the water and walked away quickly across the tiles.

  Diego showered and returned to T-FORCE MAIN. Fontaigne and Helms seemed happy with his performance, but as yet the outcome was uncertain.

  The next day Diego sat in the SSIS conference room with Mangal, Helms, Fontaigne and two intel analysts.

  They were watching several video feeds on the big screen at the front of the room. Several of the feeds were from cameras mounted on the helmets of T-FORCE soldiers and Titan Police.

  Armed soldiers and police in body armor were standing in front of a meeting hall in the Pioneer District. Detectives were inside the hall and others were in a hidden underground chamber connected to the main hall by a concealed passageway. Outside, news crews had gathered and were standing in front of police tape.

  A second screen depicted a breaking news broadcast. Judy Reza from Titan News stood in front of the police tape. Soldiers and police mulled around behind her in front of the entrance to the meeting hall.

  “Good morning, Jayden. I’m here in the Pioneer District where police and T-FORCE commandos have just raided the Pioneer District Community Center. Sources are telling me that detectives received a tip that Tupo Pelagi was scheduled to hold a meeting with Neo-Fascist leaders. However, when the police and commandos arrived, the hall was empty. My source is telling me that detectives believe someone tipped off Pelagi about the raid, allowing her and her comrades to escape.”

  Reza turned to a woman in uniform standing next to her.

  “I have here with me Cassini City Police Chief Arbona Halili. Chief, tell our viewers what occurred here this morning.”

  “Yes, Judy. Police, in conjunction with T-FORCE Special Operations Group, acquired credible intelligence that Tupo Pelagi was holding a planning meeting with known Neo-Fascist affiliates. However, when we raided the hall, it was empty. From what we can tell thus far, the meeting was canceled last minute. It appears we just missed Pelagi and her fellow travelers.”

  “I’m hearing reports that someone on the inside tipped her off about the raid. Is there any truth to that?”

  “I would hope not. But we’re fully investigating that possibility. If we do find that we have an informer in either the Titan Police or T-FORCE, that person will be found, arrested and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”

  “Thank you, Chief Halili.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “This is Judy Reza with the Titan News Network reporting from the Pioneer District in Cassini City. Back to you, Jayden.”

  “Perfect,” Fontaigne said. “Judy is a master.”

  “We went to the academy together,” Helms said. “I was in News Propaganda Operations with her briefly before I switched to collection management.”

  “You don’t have the look for News Ops,” Fontaigne said.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Forget it.”

  Fontaigne turned to Diego. “Higher has approved your next message to Pristina Sage. I realize this is all happening very fast and I want you to know that your safety is our utmost priority.”

  “You know, Diego is not a spy, sir,” Mangal said. “We’re placing him at great risk.”

  “We’ll pull the plug and extract him as soon as we feel he is in jeopardy,” Helms said. “Zanger has the profile for this type of op. Trust me, I have an eye for these things.”

  “You can tell them no, Diego,” Mangal said.

  Diego played with his handheld, scrolling through old messages from his kids.

  “This is the biggest opportunity we’ve had in decades,” Fontaigne said. “We have the chance to infiltrate Robodan’s terror cell. This could be the endgame if we play our cards right.”

  Diego looked up from his handheld. “You’re under the assumption that Pristina is going to take the bait.”

  “She will,” Helms said. “I can feel it.”

  Following the meeting, Diego underwent briefings and an accelerated SSIS training course on terror cell infiltration. That night, per SSIS direction, he sent Pristina an encrypted text message.

  “Need to talk. Urgent.”

  A day passed with no response.

  “She may have already fled the city,” Helms said.

  “We’re going to have to take this to the next level,” Fontaigne said.

  That night, Judy Reza reported that Maj. Diego Zanger had gone missing and was being sought by Titan Police as the possible informer who tipped off Tupo Pelagi to the raid.

  “You met Major Zanger, didn’t you, Judy?” the anchor said.

  “Yes, he was a media escort during the Transfer of Authority ceremony for the 801st Dragon Brigade last month.”

  The screen showed Diego in uniform standing with Capt. Hsu at the ceremony.

  “He was very professional, helpful, charming. He’s a combat veteran having participated in the Mars and Callisto pacification campaigns. It’s impossible to say what could have caused him to allegedly assist possible terrorists in this way.”

  “If it turns out that he, in fact, was the informant, what will this mean for him?”

  “Well, Jayden, it won’t be good for him if that turns out to be the case. He’ll be tried for treason. If found guilt
y, he could face life in prison and possibly the death penalty. No doubt he understands the gravity of the situation and that’s why he’s gone into hiding.”

  Diego sat at the table in the conference room across from Helms and Fontaigne. The news now switched to a story about Titan’s biggest pop star, Moira, whose latest song was about healing and coming together after tragedy. All proceeds from the song were being donated to survivors of the Einstein Plaza Attack.

  “Send the message,” Fontaigne said.

  The text read: “Please, Pristina. I need your help.” Diego pushed send.

  He returned to his room. He lay down in his bed. He was unshaven. His unkempt look was supposed to add to the illusion that he was on the run.

  He scrolled through video streams up on the flat screen. He saw an icon for Alan James and opened it.

  James was sitting at his desk with the flag of the Martian Republic waving digitally behind him. He began a long rant about government attempts at mind control.

  “These terrorist attacks are just theater, folks. They’re done to illicit an emotional reaction from you—a visceral reaction that overrides your rational mind. They want to produce fear, hate, a lust for vengeance. They do this to get you to do what they want. It’s how they control your mind. Terrorism, debt, media control, war. It’s all the same system, folks. A system of control that they’ve been developing for centuries now. The Reptilian Oligarchy, folks. People think I’m crazy for saying it, but look around, look at what’s happening. The truth is the truth. I’m not going to stop talking about it. I call it the way I see it. That’s who I am. I’m the only one out there speaking truth to power. Everyone else is lying to you. That’s the honest truth, folks.”

  Diego’s handheld vibrated. He checked it knowing that hundreds of SSIS analysts and operatives on Titan, Mars and Earth were monitoring his every transmission. The message was from Havana.

  He opened it. She looked like she had been sleeping—bed-head hair, no make-up, but pretty as ever. It was the face he loved waking up to.

  “I haven’t been able to sleep, Dee. We haven’t heard from you in a while. We miss you. Drop us a line, will you? I hope everything is OK. We love you.”