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  Opening a comm-link channel back to the nearest base command location, I enter the necessary details before setting the message to voice-record mode.

  "This is Io-5," I say, trying to sound calm and organized. "My name is Crizz Arnold. In addition to my previous message, I wish to provide the following updates. Thomas Jefferson has been killed following an altercation down on the surface of the planet. His death was an act of self-defense, and I've already begun to file the necessary paperwork. The body is still in place." I pause for a moment. "Nicholas Sutter has been restrained on the station and awaits the arrival of the appropriate authorities to take him back to -"

  Before I can finish, a haze of static starts to wash over the system, and when I check the scanners I realize that some kind of high-energy signal is being directed at the station. I adjust several of the settings, but it's almost as if some kind of live feed is being relayed.

  "This is base station 51-Alpha," a voice says suddenly, sounding distorted and crackly over the long-range signal. "We are instituting an emergency direct live feed to your location, Io-5. Stand by."

  I open my mouth to reply, but after a moment I realize that I've been put on hold. Deep-space communication typically takes several days for a message to be relayed, and live comm-link sessions are only used for absolute emergencies. It's clear that base command has received my earlier message about Sutter and Tom, but I can't help feeling a little nervous, in case they consider that I've handled the situation badly. Stuck out here, I never expected to end up speaking directly to someone important.

  "Lieutenant Arnold," another voice says eventually, "this is 51-Alpha commanding officer O'Leary. We've received your report and we have already dispatched an emergency team to your location. Their estimated time of arrival is one week and seventeen hours from this moment. Can you confirm that the situation there is under control and that you'll be able to wait that long?"

  "Yes," I stammer. "That's much quicker than I was expecting. There's also -"

  "You're a rookie, right?"

  "Yes, Sir, but -"

  "I'm sure you're doing a fine job out there."

  "It's -"

  "An emergency relief crew will be arriving with the investigators," the voice continues, interrupting me yet again. "You're instructed to prepare yourself for a return journey to 51-Alpha and then on to Mars. Agents of Supreme Command and S.E.A.S. will be waiting to debrief you and to question you about the precise events that have taken place out there. Don't worry, Lieutenant Arnold, you're not in any trouble. Quite the opposite, in fact. We've been looking to break this smuggling ring for years. It's kind of hard to believe that you seem to have just stumbled onto them."

  "It was pure luck," I reply, feeling a rush of pride as I realize that my achievements have been recognized. "I mean, maybe not just luck, but they were using -"

  "Have you spotted any further sign of rebel activity in the area?" the voice asks, interrupting me again. "Our strategists are concerned that terrorist forces might intervene to recover the cargo ship and its methane-hydrozone stock. We're stepping up sweeps of the area, but so far we haven't detected anything."

  "No," I reply, "there's nothing, just..." I pause for a moment. "There's a signal of some sort coming from below the surface of the planet. It's nothing geological."

  I wait for a reply.

  "Are you sure it's not a distress call from the cargo ship?" the voice asks after a moment, clearly disturbed by what I just told him.

  "Pretty sure. It seems to be coming from about two and a half miles down. I can't make anything out, though. It just seems to be a cycling pulse containing three basic elements. It runs every hour. There's no way it's not artificial, and it wasn't there yesterday. I've been back through the older logs, and there's no mention of it. It's not like anything I've ever seen before."

  "Stand by," the voice replies.

  I wait, trying to stay calm even though I feel as if suddenly I'm being overwhelmed by crisis after crisis. I thought my time out here at Io-5 would be boring, and that I'd have plenty of time to learn the ropes; instead, I seem to have stumbled right into the middle of a vast smuggling ring. I can't help wondering if anyone has ever ended up so deep in the action when they've only been out of the academy for a few months.

  "Io-5," the voice continues after a moment, "this is 51-Alpha. I've consulted with specialists and we've determined that you are not to return to the surface of Io-5 under any circumstances. This is a class-1 order, so you can't disobey it, not even in a situation where lives are at risk. Do you understand what that means?"

  "I..."

  "In the event that a landing on the surface of Io-5 is your only means of survival," the voice continues, "you are not, I repeat not, to entertain that course of action. Do you understand?"

  "Yeah," I reply, struck by the fact that whatever's going on here, it must be something huge. "I won't... I can't go to the surface, no matter what happens. I get it."

  "You're ordered to disable your station's lander immediately, in order to ensure that there's no risk of anyone breaking this order. You must also cease any and all analysis of the pulse received from the surface of Io-5. You're also to ensure that your prisoner is kept alive. I know this is rather blunt, Lieutenant Arnold, but in the event that he becomes violent, it's still imperative that we get hold of him alive, even if the risk to your personal safety is increased beyond the point that you'd normally consider to be acceptable. Is that clear?"

  "Yes, but -"

  "You'll receive an update in approximately two days' time," the voice adds. "Until then, disable the lander, keep your prisoner secure, and hang tight. You've done an exceptional job, Lieutenant Arnold, and you will be honored for your service. This is a story that's going to go down in the record books. We're disabling the direct link now, but we'll be in touch again soon."

  "If you -"

  Before I can finish, the signal goes dead and I realize that the conversation is over. I shut down the comm-link channel and turn to the nearest monitor, where the onboard computer is still working to analyze the pulse from the planet's surface. For a moment, I'm tempted to let the calculations continue, just in case anything is detected, but finally I realize that I have to obey my orders. Reluctantly, I shut down the system and switch it to idle mode.

  One week.

  I have to survive here for one week.

  Turning and heading across the control room, I figure I need to obey my orders and disable the lander. After all, a class-1 order has to be carried out immediately, and it's forbidden to even question whether the decision is correct. All I can do is trust that Supreme Command understands the nature of the situation, and that their approach is appropriate. We were told at the academy, over and over, that it's a waste of time to question Supreme Command; they know what's best for us all, and even if their methods seem a little extreme at first, eventually we'll understand why they make certain decisions.

  "They'll kill you," Sutter calls out suddenly.

  I stop and look over at the hatch that leads into his room.

  "Whatever's down there," he continue, "they'll kill you to protect it. They were always going to kill me anyway, but at least I thought I'll get the benefit of a trial. I guarantee you that when they arrive, they'll board this station, kill you, and then take me away for interrogation."

  "They can't kill me," I reply, even though I know I shouldn't respond to him. "The rules -"

  "The rules are for people like you and me," he replies. "They'll send S.E.A.S. agents to do the dirty work. They're above the rules."

  Figuring that he's just trying to chip away at my loyalty to Supreme Command, I climb through the hatch that leads into the main bay. The next week is going to be hell if he continues to offer his unsolicited opinions, but I tell myself that I'm strong enough to resist his dumb games. There's no way that Supreme Command would send a death squad out here. They clearly have no idea what the signal from the planet means, and they're simply being cautious, which
is the most appropriate course of action. Sutter's a maniac, and he's got his own agenda.

  I trust Supreme Command with my life, and they've never let me down yet.

  Chapter Four

  Sutter

  It's pathetically easy to break free from the handcuffs. All I have to do is wait until I hear Crizz heading into the main docking bay, before reaching under the bunk and pulling out the spare ion decoupler that I hid here for precisely this purpose. Deborah and I had plenty of time to consider every possible scenario, and while we both felt it was unlikely that Crizz would react like this, we knew we had to be prepared for the worst. In fact, it was Deborah in particular who forced me to keep an ion decoupler here, just in case.

  "Thanks," I mutter under my breath as I slip free and make my way over to the hatch.

  Leaning through to the control room, I see as expected that there's no sign of Crizz. Like the good little girl that she is, she's made her way down into the docking bay to dutifully disable the lander. I'd hurry through and stop her if I thought there was genuinely any chance that she could cause too much damage, but the lander was another target that Deborah and I considered way in advance. Right now, Crizz probably thinks she's disabling the flight computer, but all she's doing is cutting a few random decoy wires that Deborah inserted into the system a few months ago. Again, we had to Crizz-proof the place, and now our preparations are starting to pay off.

  "It's hard to believe this is all going to work out," Deborah said once, a long time ago, when we were running through the plans. "I wish I could be there to see."

  After switching the monitor to silent, I start bringing up the records of these strange pulses that Crizz has been detecting from below the surface of Io-5. I kind of expect them to be nothing more than solar reflection, but as soon as I see the wave patterns, I realize that this is something far more deliberate. As Crizz told the 51-Alpha commander on the comm-link, the signal is clearly artificial, and it's coming from a little over two miles beneath the surface. I switch to a schematic view of the entire rig, hoping to find something buried deep beneath the surface that might explain the signal, but I'm not surprised when I see that there's nothing. Sure, a few automated drilling machines have gone that far, further even, but none of them are remotely equipped to do anything like this.

  A lesser mind would immediately assume that we've found aliens. Hell, surveys from Mars show that up to 90% of humans believe that alien life is out here somewhere. Conspiracy theorists would have a field-day if they knew about this unexplained pulse.

  The answer, however, has to be something more mundane. I cycle through various additional scans, convinced that sooner or later I'm going to find something that makes sense. In all the years I've been on this station, I've never picked up any kind of signal, so it seems like a hell of a coincidence if this is starting to happen just as things with Crizz reach such a critical point. Finally, I realize that there's only one plausible explanation: when Tom arrived with his cargo ship, he must have had some accomplices with him. Sure, I scanned the ship as it headed down to the planet's surface, but I guess he found a way to keep his friends hidden. Once they were down there, the extra passengers hid; one of them attacked me and ended up getting gassed, but there might be at least one more down there, in which case the signal might be a call for help.

  This definitely wasn't part of the plan.

  Spotting Crizz's blaster on the nearby counter, I grab it and remove the charge-pack. With the weapon deactivated, I put it back before hurrying to the armory and grabbing the only weapon we have onboard. There's no way I'm going to use it on Crizz, of course, but I need to make sure that she doesn't use it on me. In her current state, with some of her old memories starting to come through, she seems to be retreating into her training and trying desperately to reassert all the bullshit that was drilled into her at the academy. I have no doubt that she'd kill me if she felt it was necessary, but she completely misunderstands the situation; she thinks Supreme Command is sending a team to arrest me and reward her, when the truth is that they're going to kill her.

  Hell, they'll probably just pin the blame on me and claim that I got her out of the way in an attempt to cover up my involvement in the smuggling ring. After all, they won't want any witnesses. They'll be desperate to cover up the situation with the cargo ship, and Crizz is an embarrassment they don't need and don't want. The propaganda units won't have any trouble coming up with some kind of cover story to explain the death of a rookie crew-member out here in deep space, and that's if they even bother; most likely, the whole thing will be blanked out on the assumption that no members of the general public will even be aware that Io-5 exists. Unfortunately, by the time Crizz realizes what they're going to do to her, it'll be too late for anyone to save her, which is why I've had to call in the cavalry.

  Taking the transponder from my pocket, I check the read-out and see that there's an orange light flashing, which means my message from earlier has been received. Sure, Supreme Command is sending people to Io-5, but there are some other people on the way, and I'm pretty sure my guys are going to get here first. We've got incoming traffic due in the next twenty-four hours, and Crizz is going to have to face the truth about her real identity.

  Chapter Five

  Crizz

  Once I've cut the final wire, I close the casing that surrounds the lander's flight computer and wriggle back down onto the floor. I have to admit, it's a little scary to realize that there's now no easy way to get off the station; it'd take a couple of hours to fix the lander and make it operational again, so we're effectively trapped up here. Then again, I have to obey the class-1 order.

  I have to obey every order.

  "When did people become so scared to think for themselves?" a voice asks.

  Turning, I realize that there's no-one here. Besides, I swear that was my voice, almost as if some long-suppressed memory is starting to break through.

  "That's the problem with humanity these days," my voice continues, echoing in my head. "Everyone's so scared, they allow themselves to be guided by fear. Supreme Command has persuaded every poor bastard on Mars to follow the rules and regulations without question, like something awful's gonna happen if they step out of line. Over time, it becomes habit-forming, and now look at them. They're just sheep."

  "Don't you think you're being kind of harsh?" another female voice asks.

  "We need a change," my voice replies. "We need to separate the crowd into two groups: those who'll stand and fight for their freedom, and those who are too scared to even hope for anything better. And then we need to go and face Caleb de Montemelo and haul him out of power."

  "Careful," the other voice says. "You'll be up on sedition charges if someone hears you talking like this."

  As the voices fade, I get to my feet. Lately, I've been experiencing more and more of these auditory hallucinations. First, they seemed to come only when I was sleeping, but over the past couple of days they've been intruding into my waking life as well. Although they usually only last for a few seconds, they seem so real, it's almost as if they once happened. Taking a deep breath, I take a step back and stare at the lander, and for a moment - just a brief moment - I can't help wondering if I made the right choice.

  "You have to get over your hatred of these people," the woman's voice says suddenly. "I thought they were the people you were trying to liberate?"

  "It's hard when they seem so happy with the way things are," my voice replies. "It's as if they can't even imagine any other way to live. They let Supreme Command set all the rules, and it never seems to occur to them that so many people have to suffer just to keep a happy few living in luxury. I used to think they were secretly hoping to be rescued, but now I've started to realize that they actually like being kept down. They don't have to think for themselves. All they have to do is serve their masters."

  "Then why do this? Why risk your life, and the lives of others, to free people who don't want to be free? Is it just because you think you k
now better, Amanda? Do you want to force them to be free? If that's how you feel, you're no better than Caleb de Montemelo and his jack-booted S.E.A.S. militia."

  "They've been conditioned," my voice continues. "They don't know what they really want. If they just experienced true freedom -"

  "They'd know that you were right all along?"

  "They'd know that there's more to life than being crushed under the heel of a madman!"

  Grabbing my toolbox, I hurry over to the far side of the docking bay. The voices seem to be flooding into my mind with increasing strength, and now I'm even starting to remember specific sights and places. I have a strong image of some kind of ship on the surface of a rocky planet, and moments later I can see myself standing on the ship's bridge, with people all around me. One of the people turns around, and I see that it's Deborah Martinez. She looks nervous, as if she's scared about what we're doing but she's powerless to change the plan.

  "I hope you're sure about this," a male voice says nearby.

  Turning, I see a face smiling at me. It takes me a moment, but finally I realize that it's Tom Jefferson; he looks quite a lot younger than the last time I saw him, and there's a hint of concern in his eyes.

  "These people are depending on you," he continues. "We're right behind you, Amanda, but we need to know that you're sure. The sacrifices you're asking of everyone are massive."

  "I'm sure," my voice replies. "This is the only way to stop them. We have to get inside and destroy them before they even know we've arrived."