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  "Let's just focus on trying to find her," Sutter replies. "She has to be here somewhere!"

  Realizing that they've started to look for me, I make my way through to the maintenance room. I'm not sure what they were talking about just now, but it's clear that they've got some kind of plan in operation, and there's no way I want to be implicated in whatever they're doing. Once I'm in the maintenance room, I access a terminal and run a quick scan that shows me they're both making their way to the main observation deck. I quickly plot a route that should help me avoid them, before heading through to the armory and grabbing a blaster. There's no way I want to actually use this damn thing, but Sutter and Tom are rebels and if I'm left with no choice, I have to fulfill my duty to Supreme Command.

  I'm not a rebel.

  Hurrying out of the armory, I make my way as quietly as possible along the corridor that leads to the main bay. I hate the idea of marooning Sutter and Tom down here on the surface, but it'll only be for a few weeks. They've got enough food to keep them going, and eventually Supreme Command's squadron will turn up to arrest them and take them back to Mars for trial. I'm not doing this because I want a commendation or a promotion; I'm doing it because it's the right thing, and because I'd never do anything to help the rebels.

  "They're closing," Sutter says suddenly, as if his voice is in my head. "We have to get out of here now or they're going to get us."

  I turn and look back along the corridor, but there's no sign of him. Stopping for a moment, I try to work out where that voice came from.

  "Correction," another voice says. "They're going to get me. The rest of you need to run, right now. This is part of the plan, remember?"

  Backing against the wall, I try to work out where I've heard that second voice before. It was female, and it seemed strangely familiar. For a moment, I try to convince myself that it must have been someone from the academy, or even someone from a film, but finally I remember where I've heard it before.

  It's me.

  It was my voice, but with more confidence and more determination.

  "Go!" the same voice shouts, and for a fraction of a second I feel as if I remember shouting the exact same thing. "I'll be okay! I'll see you both on the other side!"

  There's the sound of a distant explosion, coming from deep inside my mind, and when I close my eyes I realize I can see some kind of control room on what looks like a Martian sub-station. Thick smoke is filling the air, burning my throat as I try to get to a nearby terminal. Another explosion rocks the room and I brace myself as sparks arc from above. There are voice behind me, and thick red laser-guiding beams cut through the smoke, quickly picking me out. Turning, I see an entire unit of marines rushing toward me with their weapons raised.

  "Amanda Cole!" one of them shouts. "Drop your weapons now or we will shoot!"

  I raise my hands to show that they're empty.

  I smile.

  Opening my eyes, I find that I'm back in the rig on Io-5. It's as if some kind of fantasy took over my mind for a moment, bubbling up from my subconscious like a hidden memory. I take a deep breath as I try to keep myself calm, but I can't shake the feeling that those events really happened. I was me, but at the same time I wasn't me. Still, I feel different now, as if something has stirred somewhere in my soul. I turn to head toward the door, but for some reason I stop in my tracks. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the transponder from Tom's ship, and suddenly I'm no longer quite so sure about what I should do next.

  "Amanda Cole," the marine says, his voice echoing in the back of my mind, "you're under arrest for treason, murder and terrorist offenses. You are ordered to appear before the Prime Court, and we have been authorized to use lethal force if you try to resist."

  "Go ahead," my voice replies, sounding almost happy. "I can't wait."

  Stopping by the door, I try to think back to my training at the academy. We were told over and over again that rebels are able to use sophisticated techniques to spread their propaganda; I've never heard of anyone implanting false memories in a victim before, but now I can't help but wonder if Sutter might have found a way to brainwash me. After all, I was sick for a few days with Hidden Eye Syndrome, so he would have had plenty of chance to work on me. Those voices in my head feel so real, it's almost as if they're actual memories of things that happened.

  They can't be, though.

  My name is Crizz Arnold. I'm twenty-eight years old, I was born on Mars, and I lived a dull, boring life before I entered the academy.

  There's no doubt.

  That's who I am.

  Realizing that only Sutter can help me right now, I turn and look back the way I came. He's a rebel, and I'm worried he'd rather kill me than let me hold him back. At the same time, there are these new feelings starting to rise through my mind, and I can't shake the sense that Sutter isn't an enemy. In fact, he feels more like a friend. After double-checking that the blaster is fully charged and ready to fire, I start making my way back toward the rig's control room. If I maroon Sutter and Tom here until Supreme Command arrives, I'll never have a chance to ask them any questions. Before I head to the lander, I need to find Sutter and make him tell me what the hell he's been doing to my mind.

  Chapter Six

  Sutter

  "She's dead," Tom says firmly. "You have to face it. Maybe this was a good plan, maybe it wasn't, but either way, it's failed. Amanda Cole is dead and gone. She's not lurking in the back of Crizz's head like some kind of ghoul."

  "We just have to be more patient," I tell him as I bring up the main gas reserve tank on the terminal's screen. "I can't force her old memories to come back. They have to emerge when they're ready. It's taking a lot longer than we anticipated, but it's going to happen."

  "You're deluded," he replies. "The worst thing is, people are going to die just because they think it's worth waiting for you to deliver. They seriously believe that some day soon, you're going to bring Amanda back to them. It's cruel, Nick. We need to move on. Don't make me force you."

  "And how are you going to do that?" I ask. "Shoot her in the back of the head to get rid of her once and for all?"

  I wait for a reply, but finally I turn to him and see the look in his eyes.

  "I won't let you do that," I say firmly.

  "Relax," he replies. "I'm not a murderer. Let her live a long and happy life as a puppet of Supreme Command, if that's what she wants. Just stop trying to bring back her old personality. It's never going to happen and you're just wasting time. Our entire fleet is sitting around, waiting for you to pull off some kind of miracle. We don't even need her anymore. Let her go, and we can start planning a major assault that could launch within weeks."

  "Wait and see," I tell him as I type in the code to seal the reserve hatch and open the chamber door. "Amanda's our leader. She inspires millions, and we can only overthrow Supreme Command if she's with us."

  "It's starting to sound like this is a personality cult," he says darkly.

  "I don't have time to argue with you," I tell him. "Right now, I've got more pressing things on my mind."

  "What are you doing?" he asks.

  "Sealing the entire bay beneath the rig," I reply. "Whoever the hell attacked me, they're still down there, and there's no way I'm going to let them put this mission at risk. Their intentions might very well be noble, but they're interfering in something they don't understand." I adjust the valve output levels, and finally I hit the button that opens the chamber's main door. "There," I add, watching the screen as the level of methane-hydrozone gas increases throughout the lower sections of the rig. "Problem solved. Or at least it will be, in thirty seconds at most. That's how long it'll take the stuff to get all the way into the bastard's lungs."

  "That gas is lethal," he points out. "If there's really someone down there, they'll die!"

  "A necessary sacrifice for the greater good," I tell him as I bring up a scan of the rig's main section. "Looks like Crizz is back from wherever she went. I was starting to worry she might have
tried to steal the lander. From now on, we need to be a lot more careful. After all, before she gets her original mind back, she might veer a little too far the other way and she might become a significant threat. It was always a risk taking this approach to her recuperation, but it's a necessary step."

  "You're deluded," Tom says, before turning back to the screen. "You're also a murderer. If there really was someone down there near the reserve hatch, you just killed them in cold blood. Didn't it occur to you that maybe you could've tried to make contact first?"

  "Sorry," I mutter, limping toward the door. "I have this bad habit of killing people who already tried to kill me. I guess I'm just not very good at forgiving and forgetting."

  "You really think a human being did that to your leg?" he asks.

  "I admit it's unlikely," I continue as I make my way to the rig's control room, "but at least human beings exist. Unlike aliens, monsters, fairies or anything else you care to mention. For that reason alone, I'm putting them at the top of my list."

  "What about ghosts?"

  Stopping, I turn to him.

  "For someone who doesn't believe in things he can't see in front of him," Tom continues, "you sure put a lot of faith in ghosts. You seem to think the ghosts of Amanda Cole is lurking in Crizz's head, waiting to be revived."

  "That's not a ghost," I point out. "It's an entire personality. Hell, it's her real personality, the one she had before those barbarians shoved it aside and turned her into someone else. This is science, not spiritualism, and if Supreme Command can push her old personality out of the way and replace it with this new one, then I can sure as hell reverse the process. Ghosts aren't real, Tom, but people are."

  "How do you know they pushed her old personality aside?" he asks. "How do you know they didn't erase it completely? That's what they're aiming for. They think they can completely wipe a person's mind and rebuild it in whatever form they prefer."

  "Because that's not how things work," I tell him, even though I'm aware that I probably sound a little desperate. "I've read the literature, okay? I know the process they used, I've studied it... I can get her old memories back. They haven't given her a whole new personality like some kind of organ transplant, Tom. That'd be impossible. All they've done is suppressed her old memories and replaced them with new ones. That's all a personality is, really; it's an accumulation of lessons learned over time, mixing with certain biological constants that vary from person to person. She still has the same body, and when I bring back her old memories she'll get her old personality back."

  "She'll stop being a scared little girl and go back to being the rebel leader we knew all those years ago?"

  "Absolutely," I reply. "I don't have any doubt whatsoever. It's just going to take time to tease those memories out, that's all." I wait for him to reply, but he just seems to be staring at me. "It doesn't matter what I say to you," I add finally. "I don't have to convince you, Tom. In the grand scheme of things, your opinion doesn't really matter a great deal."

  "No," he replies, with a hint of sadness in his voice, "but I think maybe you have to convince her."

  "Yeah, well..." Before I can finish, I suddenly realize that he's not looking directly at me; instead, he's looking past me. Turning, I see to my shock that Crizz is standing at the far end of the corridor, aiming a blaster straight at me.

  "I think," Tom says after a moment, "we can safely assume that she heard pretty much everything you just said."

  "Crizz," I say, taking a step forward. "We -"

  "Stop," she says firmly.

  "There's -"

  "Stop!" she shouts, and the end of the blaster starts to glow red as it builds up to maximum charge.

  Stopping, I can't help but recognize the look of pure anger in her eyes. In the old days, that look was reserved for our common enemies: the politicians and military commanders of Supreme Command; the scheming technocrats of S.E.A.S.; and most of all, the sneering apologists who tried to guide public opinion. Right now, however, she's looking at me as if I'm the only person she truly hates.

  "We need to talk," I say after a moment. "I'm sure you've got -"

  "A squadron from S.E.A.S. should be here within three weeks," she says coldly. "They'll know what to do with both of you. Until then, I'm assuming full command of this rig and the station in orbit above us. Regulation 17b of the Statutory Code authorizes me to use lethal force against traitors if necessary, and I assure you.." She pauses for a moment, with tears in her eyes. "I assure you... that I will not hesitate to kill either one of you, or both, if you even try to escape. Is that understood?"

  Staring at her, I finally realize that their brainwashing technique might have been too strong for me to crack.

  "Understood," I say calmly. "Loud and clear."

  Chapter Seven

  Crizz

  "I've disabled your ship," I tell Tom, training the blaster on him for a moment before turning it back to Sutter. "I'm also going to take the lander back solo. The pair of you can stay down here on the rig for a few weeks until Supreme Command can pick you up. Stay inside and you won't have any trouble with prolonged UV exposure. The entire facility is designed to be safe for human life. It might not be much fun, but you'll survive."

  "That might be difficult," Sutter replies. "The emergency food supplies are all in the lower section of the rig and as of about five minutes ago, that part of the facility was filled with gas. It'll be weeks before anyone can get down there to find food or water."

  "The genius decided to kill whoever or whatever attacked him," Tom adds. "I told him it was a bad idea."

  "Then you'll have to survive on the rations in the cargo ship," I point out.

  "Not a chance," Tom says. "I've got a small amount of food, but I was planning to pick up more water bricks while I was here. Unfortunately, Sutter's little stunt with the gas has put paid to all that."

  "If you leave us down here," Sutter continues, "we'll die."

  Staring at him, I realize that he's right. At the same time, there's no way I can allow the pair of them to come up to the station with me. They'd overpower sooner or later, and I have a duty to ensure that their illegal activities are stopped immediately. Regulation 20a of the Statutory Code requires that I detain suspected traitors in any manner I deem appropriate, but regulation 20b makes it clear that in an extreme situation, I have authority to incapacitate or even kill."

  "So that's what it comes down to?" Sutter asks. "Regulations instead of your own decision?"

  "I've got an idea," Tom says, stepping past Sutter while holds his hands up, as if to prove that he's harmless. "Nick thinks you've got some hidden instincts, Crizz. Maybe even an entire hidden personality. If that's the case, I'm not certain you can really pull that trigger." He pauses. "I guess you heard what we were talking about a moment ago."

  "You're both insane," I tell him.

  "True, but in very different ways."

  "My name is Crizz Arnold," I say firmly. "I was born on Mars. My parents were Elizabeth and Ralyon Arnold, a teacher and an engineer, from -" Before I can finish, I feel a flash of recognition pass through my mind, and suddenly my memories of my parents seem much less complete. "Elizabeth and Ralyon Arnold," I say again, stuttering a little this time, "of Diodian City, Mars..."

  "They never existed," Sutter says. "They're just shadow memories, placed in your mind during an operation."

  "I think I'd remember having an operation," I point out.

  "What about the time you fell from that horse?" he asks. "Do you really think that's what happened? And that friend of yours at the academy, Sarah Dempsey... Don't you get it, Crizz? She was your minder. She was put there to keep an eye on you and make sure you never questioned things too closely. She wasn't a friend -"

  "Shut up!" I shout, turning the gun toward him. I swear to God, for a moment I genuinely consider pulling the trigger. "My mother used to take me into the center of the city every Saturday," I tell him, determined to reassert my memories. "We'd go to the shops, and t
hen the cinema, and then we'd end up at the park. Sometimes she'd take me to the local farm, where I'd have horse-riding lessons. We did it every Saturday for years, with fail until..."

  "They're false memories," Sutter continues, "implanted in your mind during the reconditioning process. Rail against me all you like, shoot me if it makes you feel better, but I'm telling the truth. I think you're starting to realize that, though, aren't you? Those memories are beginning to feel frayed around the edges, as if maybe they're not quite so secure. Aren't you wondering what's behind them?"

  "I attended the Diodian Pre-Academy," I tell him, determined to keep hold of my memories. "My best friend there was Steena Bellorian -"

  "Another false memory," Sutter replies calmly, "designed by perceptual engineers at a facility on Mars and inserted into your head along with everything else you think you remember from your days before the academy. None of it's real."

  "Shut up!" I shout again, as the end of the blaster glows red, poised to fire. "One more word out of you, and I'll blow a hole through your face! If you think I'm some kind of naive little puppy fresh out of the academy, then maybe you should test your theory. Come on, try me. See if I'm lying."

  "According to the official records," he continues, ignoring my threat, "your parents were killed in a transport accident when you were fifteen years old, and your best friend - your only friend - died a year later from a disease of the nervous system. In other words, anyone who could connect you to your old life is conveniently no longer around. It's as if you didn't even exist before you entered the academy. Doesn't that make you a little suspicious?"

  I take a deep breath, but deep down I'm already starting to think that I don't have what it takes to kill either of them in cold blood. Even though the regulations would exonerate me of any wrongdoing, I'm not sure I could live with myself.

  "Your real memories are still in there," Sutter continues. "You just have to find them."