Colonyside

by Michael Mammay

  “What was that about?” I asked Fader, when she came back to brief me.

  “Both the governor and the military sent welcome parties, sir. Sorry about the confusion.”

  “Don’t apologize. It isn’t your fault. You’d think they’d have coordinated.”

  “I got the feeling that they both knew the other would be there and couldn’t agree on the protocol.”

  That seemed . . . odd. “I assume from the captain’s reaction that you chose the governor?”

  “Yes, sir. They clearly had the better case.”

  I wanted to press her on that, but I didn’t see a way to do that without appearing to question her judgment. I’d have probably defaulted to the military. In the end, it didn’t matter. Even though we had all the authority in the galaxy behind us, we were guests, and I’m not much for causing problems over routine things—especially when I might need to push hard later. “Lead on.”

  Fader checked her device. “Sir, I have an updated arrival time for Ms. Ganos. She’ll be here in approximately eighteen hours.”

  I smiled. I hadn’t seen Ganos since my time on Talca 4, and I’d been happy when Serata messaged me confirming that she’d agreed to come. Part of me hadn’t been sure. I’d put her into a precarious spot on our last operation together, though I suppose Ganos would say that nobody put her anywhere she didn’t want to be. Either way, I needed her. She could do things with computers that I couldn’t—that most people couldn’t. I didn’t know yet how that would help on the mission, but it could never hurt. I hoped that she charged whoever was paying for this an exorbitant fee.

  The civilian woman introduced herself as Cora Davidson, the governor’s aide, and she led us to an electric cart. We rode a freight elevator up about six or eight stories and emerged into the light. It initially seemed like open air, but when I looked closely, I could make out the clear dome high overhead, but only because I expected it to be there. It didn’t feel like being inside—it wasn’t meant to. It helped psychologically over the long term to believe you weren’t confined. The illusion was limited, of course. From my studies and the files Fader had shared, I knew the entire dome measured barely two kilometers in diameter. Underground trams connected it to four smaller residential domes as well. Beyond those, around a hundred uninhabited domes served various purposes: Power generation, food production, and all the other functions a colony of thirty thousand needed to survive. People worked shifts at those but returned to the residential domes when they weren’t working.

  After my eyes adjusted, I realized that it was darker than it should be, given that we’d landed at about two in the afternoon and we’d seen no clouds on the way in. The dome, again. Fader had briefed me that it could filter light to the necessary level, and I’m sure there was some optimum formula for mental well-being measured against power preservation. People bustled around us, about half in military uniform, the other half in utilitarian civvies like me. The uniformed types were heavy on ground-force uniforms, light on air and space, but I was getting a limited sample from one small slice of the base. We passed a few other passenger carts and several larger work vehicles, but most of the traffic traveled on foot. I could have walked, but I didn’t mind having the ride.

  Our first stop was my quarters, and Mac insisted that he go in first. He almost had to sprint to get in front of Fader, who had had her own designs. I found them both ridiculous. Did they think someone was lurking in the VIP quarters waiting to murder me?

  “It’s all clear, sir,” said Mac. “You’re not going to believe this place.”

  “Why? What is it?” I asked.

  “Just check it out.”

  Fader led me into the most ostentatious room I’d ever seen on a military installation. Everything looked brand new, right down to the marble floor and polished wood table that could seat ten.

  Mac was right. I didn’t believe it.

  “There’s more,” said Mac. Again, he was right. Much more. Four full rooms, not overly large, owing to space constraints on the base, but way bigger than they needed to be. I had a bedroom; the large entry room, which doubled as a sitting room with several comfortable chairs and two sofas; a full kitchen and dining area; and an office.

  “This is ludicrous,” I said.

  “This is the governor’s guest quarters, reserved for visiting dignitaries,” said Davidson.

  Dignitary. Ha. Whatever they wanted to call me, I didn’t need this suite. I gestured around me at the opulence. “Is there anything . . . less?”

  “The governor was quite insistent,” said Davidson.

  I took her tone to mean that nobody wanted to question the governor, and I sighed. “Okay.”

  “He has a dinner scheduled for you tomorrow night,” continued Davidson. “He thought you might want to rest from your trip this evening.”

  “Very thoughtful. Can you set up a meeting with the base commander some time before the dinner?” I didn’t want to meet the civilian leaders without having a chance to talk to the military boss.

  “I’m afraid I can’t. I work out of the governor’s office. But I’ll make sure that Captain Fader has the right contact information.”

  That seemed a bit off. As a dignitary, I’d have expected her to help me, but from her tone, I took it that the two-reception-party issue might go a little deeper. But I simply said, “Thank you, Ms. Davidson,” and saw her to the door.

  After she left, Fader jumped into action and promised to arrange a meeting with the military commander and a half dozen other things she thought I needed to do and be back to brief me in two hours. She and Mac both had small rooms right near mine, probably designed for the staff of whoever belonged in this palace. I played the old-man card and told her that I needed some rest, which helped me negotiate her down to just sending me a schedule on my device and meeting me the next day before Ganos arrived.

  I slept okay for being in a new place, though my bladder thought it was in a different time zone, so I had to stumble through my mansion to find the bathroom three times during the night. It never got totally dark outside, as the dome glowed faintly at night, acting as a giant streetlight, but my apartment had blackout shades—hence the stumbling. I met Mac outside my door the next morning while Fader was off getting everything arranged for the day, and the two of us got an early breakfast at a facility that seated about two thousand. The Eccasis welcome packet on my device told me it was one of five dining halls on base. I asked another diner if anybody ate at home, and he told me that they could but that supplies were hard to come by for individuals, so most people used the communal facilities most days.

  As we walked to meet Ganos, I familiarized myself with the layout of the station. One half (the half where we’d had breakfast) mostly contained living space and the other half—the half with the hangar—workspace. A few pods in the workspace looked like senior official housing, mixed in with the office buildings so they’d be close to work. I’d always appreciated the perk of location.

  We linked up with Fader, who had secured a cart, and met Ganos as she reached the clean room after debarking her ship. Maria Ganos was a former soldier who had come to work with me back when I’d worked security at VPC, the corporation that employed me before they sold me out back on Talca 4. She’d helped me with my investigation into Omicron before they kidnapped me and tried to send me to my death. She was also a first-rate hacker.

  She bounced into the clean room like she owned it, her hair cut finger-length short, half dyed pink, the other half green. She wore a brown leather jacket over a white tank top. “Okay, I’m here. We can start now.”

  “It’s good to see you, Ganos,” I said.

  “I had them ship my stuff directly to my room,” she said, ignoring my greeting.

  “Where’s your room?”

  She waved in a random direction. “I don’t know. Not far. Maybe a third of a kilometer.”

  “We’ll get that fixed,” I said. “Get you moved over by us.”

  She snorted. “No
way. I negotiated my place when they contracted me to come out here.”

  “It might help with the work if we all stayed near each other,” I offered.

  She rolled her eyes. “Hey, sir, you remember that time where you got me chased by an interplanetary hit team? Yeah. Good times.” She said it as a joke, but her words had a bite to them. She was pissed about something. It might have just been a bad flight, but it seemed like more. I’d need to talk to her, but not here in front of the others.

  “We can see about getting you a room,” I said, trying one more time.

  “I’m good where I’m at, sir.”

  I hesitated briefly before speaking. I wanted her closer, but I didn’t want to further anger her. “If you’re sure.”

  “I am.”

  Fader stepped forward, physically putting herself into the conversation. “Sir, I can arrange—”

  “I didn’t ask you,” said Ganos.

  “I just think—”

  “I don’t really care,” Ganos said, cutting Fader off, but the captain wasn’t easily intimidated.

  “You’re not in charge here,” said Fader. “If the colonel wants you nearby, you’ll move.”

  Ganos smirked as she listened. “I understand that it disturbs the stick you have up your ass, but I’m not moving. I’m here to do a job, and that job has requirements that I negotiated ahead of time. I brought a lot of equipment, and I need space to set it up. More important, I need access to networks, and I put myself in the ideal spot to accommodate that.”

  Fader started to respond, but Ganos blew through her.

  “And before you ask, no, I’m not going to explain, partly because I’m the expert and you need to trust that, but also because I don’t want to. Call it plausible deniability, if that helps you swallow it.”

  Fader’s dark skin didn’t show a blush, but I’d have bet good money that she could feel the heat in her cheeks, even though the expression on her face barely changed. I should have stepped in, but I’d been at a loss for words. I needed bad blood between members of my team about as much as I needed a third foot. They were the only people on the planet I could trust. Too late, I tried to mend the fences a little. “I trust your judgment, Ganos.”

  Fader glared at me but quickly wiped the expression off her face.

  Ganos glared at me too, and that look lingered. Yep. Definitely pissed. I’d talk to her, but it would have to wait, since I had a ten-o’clock meeting with the military commander.

  “Just let us know if you need anything.”

  The two-story military building had only a single step up to the double doors of the first-floor entry. Wooden doors. There was a lot of wood everywhere on the base. It made sense. They’d had to clear a bunch of trees to build it, and all that wood had to go somewhere. A lieutenant met us at the door and escorted us down the hall to the corner office to meet Brigadier General Oxendine. I’d done my research on her. We’d served in some of the same places, though not at the same times. She’d done all the hard jobs and, as Serata told me, had a reputation as a straight shooter who didn’t cut corners and didn’t take any shit.

  “Colonel Butler, it’s good to meet you.” She stood and came out from behind her polished wood desk when I arrived. She had dark hair, bronze skin, and was a couple centimeters shorter than me.

  “Good to meet you, too, ma’am. Please, call me Carl.”

  “I will. Thanks, Carl. And since you’re a civilian now, feel free to call me Ox.” I couldn’t tell if she emphasized the word civilian, or if it was just my imagination. Perhaps she wanted to show me who was in charge. I let it slide.

  “Thanks, Ox.” It felt weird coming off my tongue. Something in me rebelled against calling a general by a nickname. “I guess you know why I’m here.”

  She shook my hand with a firm grip. “I do. Have a seat. Can I get you a coffee?”

  “No, thanks. I’ve got a dinner with the governor tonight and a lot to do before that. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

  She grunted. “The governor. Have fun with that.”

  “I take it you won’t be joining us?”

  “At the governor’s? Hah. Not likely. The only ceremony he’d invite me to is my own court-martial, if he could arrange it.”

  That settled it. The beef between the governor’s office and the military went right to the top. I decided to dig a little on that. “You two don’t get along?”

  “We . . . see the mission differently from one another.”

  “How so?” I wasn’t sure I approved of her attitude. As the military leader, it was her job to make it work. One could say the same for the governor, but I’d never been a governor, so I cut him more slack.

  “My job is to secure the facilities and the work teams to help them clear more ground as quickly and effectively as possible. Get more infrastructure in so we can continue to expand within the bounds of the new laws. Standard colony stuff. You understand.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “Governor Patinchak is a political appointee. No experience. Despite that, he revels in his role as the civilian oversight of the military. He likes to take every opportunity to remind us of our obligations while ignoring his own. Bluntly, he sees us as the bad guys, and looks to make everything difficult. Even routine things that should be non-confrontational.”

  “I suppose some of that’s my fault. I didn’t make the military exactly look like the good guys on Cappa.”

  She didn’t agree with me, but she didn’t disagree, either. “He’s slow. He takes his time with every decision, and he flip-flops depending on who has been in his ear most recently. One day he’s influenced by the ‘greenies’—the eco-protectionists—and drags his feet on approval for new sites. The next day the corporations have talked to him and he’s full speed ahead.”

  “You don’t agree with his politics?” I could sense her frustration, but it was probably only coming out now because she couldn’t share these opinions with her subordinates. That was one of the bad parts of command—nobody to vent to.

  “I don’t give a shit about his politics one way or the other,” she said. “I just want him to be predictable. I’ve got a job to do, and his inconsistency makes it harder. We don’t answer to the same people, but my boss isn’t keen on excuses.”

  “I see. That’s got to be tough.” It was never fun working with an incompetent, especially when they had authority. I tried to keep an open mind. A lot of people thought others had faults when both sides had their flaws. I believed Oxendine, but I needed to wait and see. Of course, I wasn’t telling her that. Oxendine accepting me as part of the military team could only help my mission. “Do you know anything about his aide, Davidson?”

  “She’s a snake. She’s more dangerous than the governor, because she’s competent. She’s definitely not a ‘greenie,’ though. If anything, she’s against them.”

  “That’s good info. Thanks. Anything else I should know about this place before I meet the governor?”

  “The eco-protectionists are a problem,” she said. “There’s a good chance that they have allies on the governor’s staff. That makes it hard to share information, because the governor’s office isn’t exactly strict with how they handle classified material.”

  “How much classified stuff is there? It’s a colony with no intelligent life.”

  “Quite a bit. For a community of thirty thousand, we’ve got an awful lot of people who aren’t on the same agenda. And I’m not just talking about politics. We’ve had attacks, bombings . . . a kidnapping of a key scientist in one case.”

  “They kidnapped someone?”

  “Murdered, really. We found the body outside the dome without a protective suit.”

  “Aren’t there cameras on all the exits?”

  “They hacked the cameras. The one guy we did find that was connected in any way to the event didn’t know anything—just a maintenance worker who took a bribe. Anyway, those are my problems. Let’s talk about why you’re here.�
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  I had more questions about the murder—after all, if someone could murder one scientist, they could murder another—but Oxendine had made it clear that she was finished with the topic, so I moved on. “Right,” I said. “Xyla Redstone, formerly Xyla Zentas. Changed her name to get out from the shadow of her father. Missing for about three months, presumed dead.”

  “She’s dead,” said Oxendine. “The report says missing because we haven’t recovered the body. We probably won’t. There’s a lot of jungle out there, and a lot of things that will dispose of a corpse.”

  “What kinds of things?” I had an idea from my briefing, but an expert on the ground always knew more.

  “Animals. Plants. Insects. Bacteria. Probably some other things that I don’t even know about or we haven’t discovered yet. If you can dream up something horrible, we’ve got it.”

  “I’m sure you debriefed everyone who was with her.”

  “You’ve seen the report. I’ve looked it over myself. It’s accurate. Five people disappeared with her—everybody on her team. Two other teams were in the area, but by the time they realized nobody was on the other end of the comm line . . . it was too late.” She spoke confidently. She knew the event, and she believed what she was telling me.

  Since she was being straight with me, I decided to reciprocate. “You know why I’m here. Why I’m really here.”

  “Political games?” She seemed more resigned than angry.

  “Of course. But you need to know specifically what game. Drake Zentas thinks that the military covered things up.”

  She stared at me for a few seconds, then laughed. “What the fuck would we even cover up? She went into the jungle and now nobody can find her or her team. We weren’t even there.”

  “I noticed that in the report. Why didn’t you secure the away team?” I kept my voice neutral. I didn’t want her to read my question as an accusation.

  “We secure them for government-approved missions, but the governor has allowed the development companies to make their own rules. They have their own agendas and their own security teams, and the governor basically abdicates any oversight. One of those little disagreements we have.”