★ General Moore ★

  The journey from low Earth orbit to the Europa Station lasted a total of forty-eight hours and nineteen minutes.

  Even with the advent of wormhole technology, which had made travel between two points nearly instantaneous, there was a limit to how much distance each leg of the trip could cover. Communications were a bit faster, but even those had a slight delay to them. This meant that leaving the Europa Station was an ordeal that required substantial planning, especially when paired with Space Corps’ affinity for layered bureaucracy. Requests for unscheduled leave had to be filed months in advance, and staff often relished the change of scenery during the few precious weeks they had off each year.

  Senior command seemed to be the lone exception. The Corps’ highest levels of leadership had long since developed a habit of working through nights, weekends, and holidays, often without breaks for extended periods of time, and nowhere was this better exemplified than General Moore’s office.

  While certain traits seemed nearly universal among the Europa Station’s inhabitants—namely a wandering spirit, a pursuit of wonder, and an inquisitive nature—General Moore possessed none of them. He was stationed there alongside hundreds of others, and his quarters were far more luxurious than most, but he held them in no higher regard than a common hotel room. To him, this was merely an assignment, and he was just passing through. When it was over, he’d move on. Subconsciously, though, he knew as well as anyone that there was nowhere else for him to go. This was the only career he’d ever known, and on top of that he’d never married, had no family to speak of, and was in his mid-forties—twice the age of some of those under his command—with hints of gray scattered throughout his dark hair. It was beginning to resemble the night sky, with pinpricks of light set against a jet-black field, but he wasn’t the sort to appreciate the comparison.

  Even though his job was deeply intertwined with his personal life, he seemed to have something of a disdain for it. His disregard for rules and order was legendary, as was the fact that he’d managed to climb his way up the ranks in spite of it. As director of the Space Corp’s Intelligence wing, many questioned what he’d done to get there, and anyone with half a modicum of sense knew better than to cross him.

  Unlike the newest generation of officers, he was a battle-hardened combat veteran who vividly remembered the horrors of war. As he'd aged, though, the turmoil of his youth had been followed by the crushing banality of desk work—a soul-sucking monster of its own unique variety—and he’d burned out years ago, as evidenced by his lack of attention to anything that wasn’t contained in a file on his desk. There weren't many people Moore held in high regard, and it was rare to find anything that made even so much as a crack in his apathetic demeanor. One of them, though, was the officer who was his direct superior.

  Chief Commander Harlow.

  The two had always been on good terms, despite the fact that Moore pushed the boundaries of his rank more than Harlow liked. Harlow was also a combat veteran—a bond they shared—and their working relationship went well beyond the usual professional formalities, although it stopped just shy of personal friendship. A well-placed rebuke from the Chief Commander was one of the few things Moore responded to, and likewise, a warning from General Moore was something Harlow took very seriously.

  Moore may not have respected his agency, his living space, or even himself, but he respected Harlow.

  ? ? ? ? ?

  A few days after the Horizon sent out its distress call, on what was otherwise a boring Monday morning in January of 2087, General Moore received a summons for a private meeting with the Chief Commander.

  It was marked as “highest priority,“ which meant he needed to report there immediately, but Moore didn't seem alarmed. Instead, he simply sighed, then leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee.

  The Europa Station was down to a skeleton crew, as this date fell solidly within their annual winter leave, but as usual, Moore had elected to stay. He'd been using the long stretches of uninterrupted time to catch up on his backlog of work, and he'd been making good progress so far. He was in no hurry to leave, so he remained there for a few minutes, then reluctantly drained the last few drops from his mug, took a deep breath, and stood up.

  The Chief Commander's suite was located on the Europa Station's Penthouse level, only a few floors above the Intelligence Department. Moore appeared perfectly relaxed during the short elevator ride, and remained that way as he stepped out and the crossed the foyer leading to Harlow’s office.

  There was an odd sound quality to this space. Something about it muffled ambient noises while giving voices a pronounced, almost velvet-like quality, right down to the carpet that swallowed Moore’s footsteps as he crossed the room.

  They studied each other as Moore approached. Harlow didn’t rise to greet him; instead he remained at his desk, leaning back in his chair with his hands folded in front of him. His immaculately kept uniform and the overall formality of his office implied he was all business, but there was something casual to his posture, as if greeting an old friend. His face remained blank, as always, but Moore flashed a subtle, almost imperceptible smile as he stopped in front of the desk and gave a polite nod.

  Harlow motioned at the chairs directly in front of them. “Good morning, General Moore. Have a seat.”

  Moore did.

  Harlow always looked as if there was something weighing heavily on his mind, and today was no exception. “We’ve got important things to talk about,” he began, “but first, there’s something we need to address.”

  “Oh?” Moore leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs.

  “Your behavior lately.” Harlow stared at him. “What do you think you’re you doing?”

  “I don’t know what you’re—”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Why did your last secretary leave?”

  Moore shrugged. “Went on to greener pastures, I guess.”

  “Greener pastures? Or a less abusive work environment?”

  “I'm sure there are all kinds of rumors about me, and most are exaggerated.”

  “Are they?” Harlow's gaze pierced right through him. “You've gone through five secretaries within the past three years, and all but one put in the request for a transfer before their contract was up.”

  Moore shrugged again. “What can I say? That's just the quality of staff these days.”

  The expression on Harlow’s face spoke volumes. “I don’t want to hear excuses.” He leaned forward and stared at Moore intently. “I understand that younger officers can be frustrating to work with. They’ve never seen combat. They don’t understand what you and I went through, nor do I want them to. But I find it insulting that you expect me to believe that amongst our incredibly talented staff, you can’t even find one person to fill a vacancy in your office. I read the notes, and you know what I found? Every single one of them cited ’intolerable working conditions’ as part of their reason for leaving. Your office has the worst retention rate out of all of our general staff, and it's no secret why. So consider this a formal warning. Enough is enough. I’ve given you a lot of leeway, but this is low even for you.”

  ”I don't know what you want me to do.”

  ”Stop treating your staff like garbage. Seems simple enough.”

  Moore returned a disinterested shrug. ”Nobody wants to admit it, but the Corps has a major nepotism problem. These new officers are incompetent, but when I try to get rid them, I'm told that I can't because they're related to someone important. The only thing that works is to bully them until they leave voluntarily.”

  “I understand your frustration, but this is inappropriate, and I shouldn’t have to be the one to tell you that.”

  Moore smirked. “What are you going to do, fire me?”

  Harlow’s expression darkened. “Don’t tempt me.”

  Moore shifted in his seat. “You know as well as I do that neither one of us is ever leaving this place. Our retirement plan is to die in office.”

  With those words he reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it.

  Harlow inhaled sharply. “You have the audacity to smoke in here? After what I just said to you?”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Moore glanced around. “Why not? It’s not like we’re being spied on. Hell, I probably don’t even know about all the security measures you’ve got in here. No one’s going to find out.”

  Harlow leaned forward, snatched the cigarette from Moore’s hand, and dropped it in a half-empty coffee mug on his desk. “Enough of that. I’m not going to sit here for the next half hour smelling it.”

  Moore sighed as he watched it flicker out.

  “I know you like to push the limits and test how much you can get away with, but you’re trying my patience,” Harlow said. “There’s a reason I’ve called you here today, and I need you to take this seriously.”

  Moore studied his face for a moment, then nodded and looked away.

  “I shouldn’t have to treat the head of Intelligence like a misbehaving child,” Harlow continued. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but this isn’t the time or place.”

  Moore simply shrugged.

  “The reason you still have a job,” Harlow said, “is because you’re good at it—better than anyone else. I’d trust you with my life—hell, I’ve done it before. That speaks to your character, but it’s also the only reason I haven’t fired you.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Now, let’s get into the purpose of this meeting. I need to draw on your expertise for a moment.”

  “Is it about the Horizon?” Moore asked.

  “No—I mean, that’s a very pressing matter, but it’s not the reason you’re here.” Harlow took a deep breath. “Regarding the Horizon... I consulted General Novikov last night, and he’s optimistic about their situation. He thinks there’s a good chance we’ll find them alive. They’ve already dispatched drones to the area to search for them, and a scouting team is being assembled as we speak.” He exhaled slowly. “No, that’s not it. There’s something else—something far more concerning.”

  Moore frowned at this. Harlow wasn’t one to display emotion, but something in his eyes betrayed a hint of fear.

  “Before we get started,” Harlow leaned backward and reached blindly for the shelf behind him, “I think we’ll need this.”

  Moore watched as he moved some heavy books out of the way and pulled a liquor bottle from where it was wedged behind them.

  “I’m about to give you an assignment that’s going to take precedence over all your other duties.” Harlow placed the bottle on the desk in front of them.

  “One of those, eh?” Moore replied. “It’s been a while.”

  “Yes, it has, and for that, I’m immensely grateful. But it seems our luck has run out.”

  “Couldn’t last forever, I guess,” Moore said quietly.

  Harlow shook his head as he opened a drawer and removed two glasses.

  “It’s been at least a decade since we’ve sat here with an open bottle between us,” Moore continued. “You’re not much of a drinker, so I know that’s for me, which means I’m about to hear something I’d rather not.” He paused. “I assume we’re not operating in an official capacity right now?”

  “No.” Harlow filled the glass closest to Moore. “This is personal. Everything we discuss today stays between you and me.”

  He finished filling the glass and slid it across the desk, and Moore picked it up, took a sip, and crossed his legs. “What is it, then?”

  Harlow leaned back in his chair and stared off at nothing. “I’ve heard some... rather distressing rumors lately. I don’t like the type of gossip that’s been floating around here, and if it’s made its way up to my office, there’s a good chance there’s something to it.”

  Moore frowned. “What sort of rumors?”

  “Talk of a possible coup.” Harlow studied him closely. “What do you know of this?”

  Moore traced his finger along the edge of the glass. “Not much.”

  “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

  “’Fraid so.”

  Harlow stared at him. “General Moore, you’re a man who prides himself on knowing everything, so my interpretation of this is that you’re either withholding information, or this has genuinely taken you by surprise, and I don’t like either of those options.”

  Moore shrugged. “The only thing that’s surprising is that it took you this long to contact me.”

  Harlow frowned. “If you knew, you should’ve said something. If not, that’s a serious security lapse.”

  Moore shifted in his seat. “You realize I have to do my due diligence, right? I can’t report every single rumor that flies through the halls.”

  “I understand that,” Harlow said as he took a sip from his glass. “I know you go above and beyond. You don’t just handle cases; you make it your business to know everything that happens within these walls. Hell, you can probably tell me what I had for lunch last Tuesday.”

  “You attended the diplomats’ banquet, didn’t you?” Moore said. “Knowing you, you probably left right after the opening speeches wrapped up, which means you only stayed for appetizers and a salad. Beverage of choice was probably orange juice to wash down those horrible headache pills of yours. You were offered ice water, but refused because you already had a migraine coming on, and that would’ve just made it worse.”

  Harlow smiled ever so slightly. “You’ve proven your worth, General Moore.” But then his smile faded, and he leaned forward and met Moore’s eyes. “So why wasn’t this brought to my attention sooner? Why did I have to call you in here for a private meeting and confront you? Why do your personal problems seem to be overshadowing your work? What impact do you think that has on my confidence in your abilities, or dare I say, even your loyalty?”

  “What is this, an interrogation?” Moore studied his glass as he turned it in his hand. “I launched an investigation the second I heard those rumors. If I knew anything, I’d have told you.” He looked away and lowered his voice. “I know what you think of my life choices, and I don’t particularly care, but my career is the only thing I take pride in. Even if I was inclined to betray the Corps—which I’m not—I’d never jeopardize my professional reputation.” He sighed. “I’ve been chasing this for weeks, and I still don’t know what to tell you. Whoever’s behind this knows exactly what they’re doing. If the rumors are true, they’ve done an excellent job of covering their tracks. If it’s false, they’ve done a sufficiently good job of stirring up discord within our ranks and feeding us bad info. I can’t find out who’s responsible despite my best efforts, and that frustrates me to no end. I was waiting for the day I could compile all of this into a preliminary report and have a list of names, sources, and leads ready for you to look at, but I’ve got nothing, and that was embarrassing, so I didn’t know what to do.”

  “So you sat on it.” Harlow stared at him again. “That’s it, then? That’s all you’ve got?”

  Moore nodded, and Harlow took a deep breath. “For the record, I believe you, but this just raises more questions than answers.”

  Moore took another drink. “That’s putting it mildly.” There was a long pause, and he set his glass down. “Trust me when I say I’ve done my due diligence. I’ve chased after every single lead that made sense, and even a few that didn’t. It’s just been dead end after dead end.”

  “What's your opinion, then? Do you think those rumors have any basis in reality?” Harlow asked.

  Moore leaned back in his chair and studied the glass again. “All lies contain an element of truth. The question is simply how much.”

  They were both silent.

  “I don’t know which parts to believe, be that all of it, some of it, or practically none,” Moore finally said, “but I think it’s safe to assume that someone dislikes our leadership enough to spread rumors of a plot to overthrow it. And we both know that last time, it was more than just a rumor.”

  Harlow stared down at the desk, and after a long pause, he exhaled slowly. “You have my permission to use any means necessary in this investigation. I don’t care how you do it. Just find out who’s responsible and stop them.”

  Moore looked at him. “Are you sure you’re comfortable giving me that kind of permission? Allowing me to take this as far as it needs to go? We’ve been down that road before, and you know where it ends.”

  Harlow nodded. “Yes, I do.”

  Moore looked away and sighed. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “So do I, but this reeks of external meddling, so we can’t handle it by traditional means.”

  “Meddling by whom? I've got my own theories, but I'm interested in hearing yours.”

  Harlow shrugged. “We've got no shortage of enemies. Could be anyone from the Consortium to a disgruntled group of colonists. Regardless of the level of sophistication they’re operating with, it’s clear that some of our personnel have taken bribes. Our staff is compromised, and if they’ve evaded you with this degree of success, they’ve probably got outside help. They’re not playing by the rules, so neither can we.”

  “That was my first thought,” Moore said as he took another sip from his glass. “Nobody in my department is above suspicion, but if that’s all it was—just a disgruntled officer—I would’ve found them. They’ve got contacts on the inside, for sure, but I don’t think that’s the full extent of it.” He shrugged. “This has echoes of General Lin written all over it.”

  “Yes and no,” Harlow said. “Lin demanded allegiance through fear, and he had enough wealth and political clout to give those threats some teeth. Those in his orbit were loyal because they were terrified of the consequences if they refused. But this?” He shrugged. “Something about it just feels different. Someone within our ranks—an ordinary person—is willing to risk prison for whatever this is. They believe in it so much, they’re willing to turn traitor. I fear this may be a form of loyalty we’re not prepared to deal with. If they truly believe in whatever cause they’re fighting for—”

  “They don’t.” Moore cut him off. “No one does this for anything but money. I’ve been here a long time, and I’ve rooted out everyone from common thugs to professional spies. It’s always about money, every single time.”

  “I recall a certain rogue general who didn’t give a shit about money,” Harlow said. “Lin had more wealth than he could ever spend in a lifetime, and none of it meant anything to him. It was just a means to an end—a tool to facilitate far worse things.” He shrugged. “You rooted him out too, and it could’ve ended a hell of a lot more than your career. But you did it anyway because he needed to be taken down, money be damned.”

  Moore exhaled slowly and looked away.

  “Just in case I’m right,” Harlow continued, “let’s make extra sure. I don’t want to take any chances or operate with the standard assumptions, only to be proven catastrophically wrong. This feels different, and we should behave accordingly.”

  Moore studied him closely. “It’s that intuition of yours, isn’t it?”

  Harlow shrugged. “Hasn’t failed me yet.”

  Moore took a deep breath and set the glass down. “Trust me, no one wants to solve this as much as I do.”

  “I’ve got full faith in your abilities,” Harlow said. “Now go prove that it's not misplaced.”

  They were silent again, until Harlow finally sat up straighter. “I swore I’d never see another war, and I meant it. Not while I live, and not while I occupy this office. I may occasionally disagree with your ethics, General Moore, but I think we agree on that point.”

  Moore nodded.

  “Do what you need to do.” Harlow glanced at the clock. “That’s all. You’ve got your assignment. I’ll walk you out.”

  He stood abruptly, but Moore remained seated for a moment longer. He seemed to be lost in thought, but finally he sighed, finished his drink, and followed Harlow’s lead.

  “I won’t let you down,” he said as he made his way to the door.