★ The Council ★

  “Wonderful, Sir” General Novikov said in his thick Russian accent. “No problem here.”

  “Anything new?”

  “Always something new, but nothing new new, if you know what I mean. It’s always the same, but it never gets old. This week we got samples back from latest Kuiper missions. They’re in lab downstairs.”

  “Any signs of life?”

  “Nyet. Never.”

  Harlow sighed. “Once again, a dangerous, expensive venture with nothing but disappointment at its end. I’m sorry, Novikov—I don’t mean to be negative, but I’m always hoping for that news.”

  “Understand, Sir. It seems still, that God put no one but us in this universe.”

  Diaz glanced at him. “You can’t know that for certain.”

  “As certain as our labs can tell, is just us. Always.”

  She took a deep breath and looked away. “I guess I’m just hoping, too.”

  “We all are, Diaz,” Harlow said. “Thank you, Novikov; you’re doing a fantastic job. Now, what’s next on our list?” He nodded at the fiery-haired man sitting across from him. “Rankin, what’s the state of the security floor?”

  “Quiet. Other than that espionage case that came in last week, we’ve been bored. It’s been awhile since Moore sent me anyone for an interrogation.”

  “Working on it,” General Moore said, glancing up from where he slouched against the side of his chair.

  “Well, find that spy, Moore, and give them something to do. And that’s what I like to hear. A quiet security floor is exactly what we want. Tell me, though—is that espionage case anything to worry about? There’s certain charges I don’t like coming through our prison, and that’s one of them.”

  “I don’t think so. I’ve scoured that file. The high-profile targets in that case were taken into custody by the Consortium; they decided to handle it internally. The prisoner we’re holding downstairs was just the accomplice, and they dumped him here because they didn’t think he was important enough to waste their time.”

  “Well, if you’re not worried, I’m not either.”

  General Rankin nodded in reply.

  “And lest anyone forget that we’re actually a scientific organization first and foremost, let’s talk about staffing,” Harlow continued. “Miller, I know we have a few vacancies at some of the Martian research stations. Have we made any progress filling those roles?”

  General Miller took a deep, measured breath. “The outposts are fine. It’s Olympus Mons that’s seen the most turnover, and we're good on staffing for now. It’s been quiet out there lately, just like Rankin’s department. I’m afraid I don’t have much to report this week. The only concerning activity we’ve seen is near Titanium III, which is where Warner’s located.”

  Harlow inhaled sharply. “He really is a thorn in our side, isn’t he? We’re going to have to take decisive action, and soon. I was hoping to avoid direct confrontation—the colonists would be livid if we took one of their leaders into custody—but Warner’s turned down every single negotiation attempt we’ve made. We’ve got to do something, because he’s going to escalate.”

  “I don’t think there’s much risk of that—not in the short term, at least,” Moore interjected. “We’ve been monitoring his band of colonists for years, and I’m confident the situation’s under control.”

  Valencia nodded. “I have to concur. We’ve seen no evidence that Warner’s planning anything substantial. All of their attacks have been minor scuffles that seem designed to frustrate us, if nothing else. So far, all they’ve done is blow up an unmanned mining rover and fire a couple flares in our direction.”

  Harlow shrugged. “As much as I trust your judgment, there’s no such thing as ‘too careful.’ Warner’s demonstrated that he’s willing to resort to aggression, and he’ll strike with every bit of firepower at his disposal, even if it’s just a flare gun. That kind of threat shouldn’t be dismissed lightly. If he gets his hands on something better, he’ll use it.”

  Valencia leaned back in his chair. “Maybe, but I’d like to remind you that those settlements can barely be considered colonies; in reality, they’re just a loose association of dome-dwellers who are just as quick to fight each other as they are to fight us. Their firepower is limited to obsolete firearms and whatever rudimentary explosives they can cobble together themselves, and I doubt any of it would even scratch the paint on our shuttles. The threat they pose to us is minimal. I don’t know what more they can do that we haven’t already seen.”

  “Well, I’d prefer to stop them before we find out. There’s one critical element here that all of you seem far too quick to dismiss, and that’s Warner’s sense of determination.”

  Valencia raised his eyebrows. “With all due respect, determination can’t compensate for the firepower difference between a hunting rifle and an orbital laser.”

  Harlow gave him a sharp look. “Keep an eye on it. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Harlow responded with an affirmative nod and glanced around the table. “That applies to all of you. I want those of you who are already involved in Warner’s case to spend the next few weeks developing individual strategies to deal with him, and we’ll reconvene later and come up with a solid plan. We need to act before he does.”

  “I agree,” Miller said. “The personnel at Olympus Mons have grown tired of dealing with Warner’s antics. We’re having serious retainment issues out there, and he’s a large part of the reason.”

  Valencia sighed. “I’ll bring it up at our next department meeting, and we’ll see if we can come up with something, for all the good it’ll do.”

  “Same,” Moore added. “I'll take a few of our top officers out for drinks and see if I can harness their creativity.”

  Harlow nodded. “Whatever it takes.” He glanced across the table. “Thomas.”

  “Yes?”

  “You’ll be participating.”

  “Yes, Sir.” General Thomas sank even lower in his chair.

  Harlow nodded again and resumed pacing. “Warner always seems to take up a disproportionate amount of our time, but now that that’s been addressed...” He motioned at the empty seat. “Normally we’d hear a report from General Vincent, but he’s absent this week, and you all know why.”

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  A heavy silence settled over the room, and Harlow let out a long, slow sigh. “Just so we’re all on the same page, on the morning of December 26th, we received a distress call from the Horizon, a long-range scouting vessel that had been deployed to search for potential jump sites. They were supposed to rendezvous with the Dawnrider three weeks later for resupply, but they never made it. The distress call implied some serious mechanical failures had occurred, and they feared they might become stranded. The Dawnrider dispatched a rescue vessel immediately, but on arrival at their last known coordinates, no trace of the Horizon could be found. Their message indicated they were about to deploy a lifeboat, but nothing was there—no beacons, no vessel, no debris, and no crew. Just empty space. The only evidence they’d been there at all was the probe they’d dropped two days prior, which was right where it should be. But that’s where the trail ended.”

  The room remained quiet, and several of them shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

  “Do we have their travel logs and onboard diagnostics?” Diaz finally asked. However, her tone indicated that she already knew the answer, and this was just an attempt at filling the silence.

  “We do,” Harlow answered, “and we've gone through most of them, but a large portion was unreadable. Whatever mechanical failure they encountered seems to have corrupted the ship's files.” He closed his eyes. “They reported electrical anomalies, so it’s not entirely unexpected. At any rate, whatever happened rendered the data wildly inaccurate. We’ve got one of our signal teams working to decrypt it, but...” He sighed and trailed off. “I know you were all hoping for better news, but unfortunately, I haven’t received any updates since the last briefing from Vincent's team.”

  “And there’s no indication of what went wrong?” Moore asked.

  “None at all, so for the time being, we’re treating this like a rescue operation. If the Horizon had been destroyed there would be a debris field, but there’s not. They simply vanished, and that’s why we’re dispatching crews out there." He paused. "We’ve never dealt with anything like this before. It’s unprecedented, and, quite frankly, a bit too weird for my liking.” He sighed again. “Since we can't rule out sabotage, Vincent thought this matter warranted a personal investigation from a Council member, and I agreed, so I assigned it to him. And that leads into our next topic."

  The silence persisted, and he took a deep breath. "Vincent's been looking into this matter closely, and he thinks this might've happened before. It may not be an isolated incident, and if that’s the case, the implications for scouting and logistics are very serious.”

  Valencia frowned. “There have been prior incidents?”

  “We have reason to believe so,” Harlow said. “Vincent took it upon himself to dig through old files—years of travel logs. Even did it on his own personal time. He and his staff have been identifying and analyzing similar cases, and they proposed a theory. He thinks these disappearances might’ve been happening for years, but they’ve been mislabeled or attributed to other causes because they were rare and mostly involved drones and probes—minor losses that could be overlooked—but this time, it finally happened to a manned mission.”

  He took a deep breath, and his tone was grave when he spoke again. “If he's correct, I can't help but think we should’ve noticed sooner. For now, the best we can do is put a hold on future scouting missions and recall all of our personnel from the outer regions until we figure out what’s going on.”

  General Diaz glanced at him. “Don’t blame yourself, Sir. You couldn’t possibly have known.”

  Harlow shrugged. “No, but that's no excuse. We're responsible for all of our missions, and now a crew’s gone missing.” He looked over at Minerva. “Not just any crew, either. Michael Gray was on board. Your cousin, if I recall.”

  “The enlisted one.” Kimura smiled.

  Minerva glanced at him. “What of it?”

  Kimura shrugged and looked away, but his expression remained smug.

  “We’re doing our best to find them," Harlow continued, "and I assure you, if there’s any news, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” Minerva said.

  “We’d probably know more if the Consortium was willing to help,” Valencia interrupted with a glance in Kimura’s direction. “I know they’re bound to have operatives out there. Their intelligence-gathering capabilities are second to none, and for all we know, they were aware of the disappearance before we were. It would be nice if we could request a joint investigation.”

  “Not a chance,” Kimura said. “They’ll never agree to it. I’ve already tried.”

  “You discussed this matter with them?” Harlow asked.

  “Briefly. It’s not classified, so I didn’t see the harm. I figured I’d gauge their reaction. Valencia's right—they already knew. Whether it was from their own sources or ours, they didn’t say, but they were aware of the incident.”

  “And you’re certain they’re unwilling to share their findings?” Moore asked.

  Kimura nodded. “I never formally requested anything from them because it’s pointless. Each time we’ve tried, they’ve refused.”

  “That’s a nice way of putting it,” General Miller said. “We were laughed out of the room.”

  “You’re certain there’s no chance of collaboration?” Harlow asked, ignoring her.

  “None. We’re lucky they’re even willing to sit down and talk to us.”

  Harlow sighed. “Unfortunately, you’re probably right. Thanks for trying, I guess. I don’t know what you said to them, but you’ve made more headway than most.”

  Kimura merely shrugged, and Harlow took a deep breath. “Just keep doing what you’re doing, and keep that channel of communication open.”

  Kimura nodded. “I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

  Harlow nodded back and began pacing again. “Vincent’s oversight of this investigation requires him to be on site, so that means all of his communications will be delayed, which is expected given the distances involved. As a result, I’ll be delivering reports on his behalf for the time being.”

  There was a brief pause, and the uncomfortable silence crept back in.

  “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation,” Diaz finally said.

  “So am I, but I’m enough of a skeptic to skip the usual bureaucratic nonsense and sending a general from the start. No more escalating up the chain of command and fielding endless requests for more resources or personnel. I sent Vincent, and he’s getting it done.” He took a deep breath as he paced around the table. “And lastly, I wish I had better news to wrap things up, but I’m afraid I don’t. General Gray,” he nodded at Minerva, “it’s your turn. But since you’ve only held command for a matter of days, you've got nothing to report. However, there’s a matter we need to address.”

  He stopped pacing and scrutinized the Council. “General Gray and I discussed this matter in private, and we were initially planning to keep it a secret, but I’ve decided to make it public, with her permission, in an effort to get it resolved.”

  Minerva nodded at these words, and Harlow stared at them intently. “General Gray has received numerous messages of congratulations following her promotion, but unfortunately, not all of them were kind. This past weekend, mere hours after her promotion party concluded, she received an anonymous letter—a death threat. It was brief and we couldn't trace the source, but the crux of it is that the sender is demanding her immediate resignation. We’ve launched an investigation, and I’d like to believe that the responsible party is not sitting in this room, but given the Council’s history, this needs to be said. You should all be well aware of why it’s in your best interests to come forward if you have any relevant information. I don’t know if this was a legitimate threat or just an intimidation tactic, but we’re going to resolve this, and I don’t want to find out it was one of you.”

  He paused and took a deep breath. “General Gray, you’ll receive your formal assignment next week. I’d normally tell you to take this time to get settled in, set up your office, and get your staff in order, but it seems as if someone here has given you a less than warm welcome. I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” she said quietly.

  He nodded. “Now, on that note, I’m drawing this meeting to a close. You’ve all spoken, for better and for worse. Thank you to those of you who had something meaningful to contribute, and to those who didn’t, I’d like you to go about your week in a far more professional manner than was demonstrated today.” His gaze lingered on General Howard. “Thank you all for your input, and let’s be better, shall we?”

  A few of them nodded, but he didn’t wait for a reply. Instead he turned around, walked out, and vanished into the hall, with Victor standing abruptly and following close behind.

  The Council sat there staring at each other for a few more seconds, until the first of them stood up to leave.

  It was General Diaz, and her expression was just as disappointed as Harlow’s had been. Moore was next; he simply appeared bored. Then another member of the Council rose, and another, until several others had followed suit.

  Minerva was the last to go. She remained in her seat long after the others had left, staring at the table as if lost deep in thought. But eventually she, too, stood up and followed them out.

  And so the meeting was adjourned, and the room sat empty once more, with silent walls holding all of their secrets.