Mars Ascendant Box Set: Books 1-4: Mars Ascendant

Chapter One

He regarded the dead body of the ship’s captain. He’d not executed anyone for some time and realized how much he missed it. 

Agent 324 didn’t plan to execute him on the bridge of his own vessel. He intended to space him along with the rest of the crew. Every aspect of this mission seemed to need his personal touch which he resented up to now. After pulling the trigger, he found he again enjoyed the rush of endorphins through his system. 

The ship rocked and an explosion reverberated through the hull. He unsuccessfully tried to use his cortical implant to call his lieutenant. Recalling the CI inhibitor they activated when they boarded, he turned on his vocal link.

What’s going on down there?

We’ve met with some armed resistance, sir, came the response in his earpiece.

What’s exploding? I don’t want any damage to the ship.

They are using heavy ordinance against us. Some of the ship’s Rangers are holed up in engineering.

Agent 324 frowned. He knew from the outset capturing the armed Terran military vessel would be a challenge. His plan went well until a few minutes ago. If the alarm hadn’t sounded, he could have disposed of the entire crew without firing a single shot. Fortunately, he anticipated a more vigorous resistance from the veteran Terran Rangers. While formidable warriors, their tactics proved predictable. They would make a final stand in the most critical section and prepare to destroy it rather than let it fall. It was a tactic from another time. While that war ended almost a decade before, the old ways were somehow always favoured.

Pull your team back past the nearest emergency bulkhead. He pushed the body off the console. Using his own sleeve, he wiped off enough blood so that he could use the interface.

We’ve pulled back to junction C8. We have wounded men to get out of there, said his lieutenant over the static filled comm link.

I’m taking care of them now. His hands played over the controls. He sealed off the engineering section, isolating the Rangers and his own wounded men. After a moment to double check the readouts, he pressed the button to evacuate the atmosphere. As the pumps churned, he regarded the body again.

He’d almost fooled the captain. They boarded in a stolen Terran transport with falsified clearance codes. After much discussion, he’d almost duped him that their orders were legitimate. Then the man recalled the admiral whose name was all over the orders was lying in hospital in a coma. At that point, the only recourse was to shoot him and go to plan ‘B’.

Flawed intelligence annoyed him. His own spies should have caught the error. He intended to clean house when this ended. He couldn’t afford any more screw ups. He’d lost the vessel that was his real target already and came along on this mission to ensure its success.

A red light lit up on the console indicating a complete vacuum in engineering. He pressed the sequence to pressurize it once more. The ship now under his control, he went to the communications interface. Within a few moments, the worried face of a young woman appeared on the screen.

How is everything going? she asked.

We experienced a minor glitch, but everything is back on schedule, Kiri.

She exhaled with visible relief. He thought her concern for him touching and wondered if it might not become annoying after too long.

Altius wants an update, she said.

Tell the freak all is proceeding according to plan. He needn’t worry himself, he said, not trying to hide his annoyance.

I tried. He isn’t buying anything I tell him since the Helios incident.

He scowled at the screen, weighing his response. Though he hated Felix Altius, the man held the ear of Regis Mundi, which made him dangerous.

Tell Altius I’ll report to Mundi on my return to Luna.

He won’t like it, but I’ll try. When will you be back?

These assholes damaged the ship, so we’ll need some time to limp back. A week, perhaps? See how long you can put it off. Any update on the personnel replacements we need?

Our agent believes he found an engineer, but not a medical specialist.

Find a way to inspire him. I need those people sooner than later.

She sighed. I’ll remind him. Hurry back.

Kiri signed off, leaving him unsettled. He wondered if he finally took on a job beyond his capabilities. Before he could become too engrossed in self-doubt, his lieutenant signalled him.

Engineering is secure. They managed some damage, but I think we can make it back to Luna for repairs with no problem. What do you want me to do with the survivors?

We don’t take prisoners. Space them along with any bodies. I don’t care if you kill them first or not.

Chapter Two

Requiem touched down with far more grace than I expected. Lunar gravity made the pilot’s job somewhat easier. That he was completely sober for the first time since forever made it seem easy. Though still surprised he had managed it, I remained quiet in my seat, keeping the thought to myself. At a time, not long ago I might have teased him about the landing, but not today. We weren’t exactly on friendly terms now.

Fair or not, most people aboard were pissed at me. We had all been on each other’s nerves more than usual for most of our two hundred and sixty-four days together. I thought we were lucky to arrive back at Armstrong without a murder committed. This crew, like those on most of the merchant freighters didn’t exactly attract people without sketchy pasts.

Even though my degrees from the Terran Academy of Medical Sciences all proclaimed that Melanie Corrine Destin had met all the requirements to graduate, Cum Laude, my presence aboard a ship with a bunch of miscreants was the true testament of my character. From my point of view, given my history, this was where I deserved to be.

As ship’s medical officer, my job entailed seeing to the wellbeing of everyone on the round trip from Luna to Mars. That amounted to fixing the boo-boos one expects to find on a ship this old where half of the real trick is to keep it from exploding. Over the previous five years, I’d made myself popular by being generous with the dispensation of alcohol, along with a selection of other pharmaceutical distractions requested to endure the boredom.

That was before Sato Corporation introduced prohibition. Now I’m just another grumpy crew member who knows how to stitch a wound. Isn’t it amazing what a first-rate education can do for your career prospects?

Of course, I couldn’t blame our new owners for being fun busters. Even I had to admit the steady decline in maintenance and safe operation of the ship was a cause for concern. It was a miracle we could complete a single planetary orbit without falling apart. This last run had been the first where I felt reasonably confident that I would return home. Despite everything else, Requiem’s crew knew how to do their jobs well when required. Our asshole of a captain forced them to rise to the challenge. He was an effective commander, though as a person he proved himself a dick.

The dismissal of Chambers, our old commanding officer, had been a personal tragedy for me. The new captain, Aaron Tanza, was not only a company man but a martinet. He all but directly accused me of stealing supplies and would have replaced me if there had been another qualified physician available before the last departure. He practically stalked me and took weekly inventory against the medical logs to ensure none of the medications went missing. My income for this trip took a drastic hit from his interference with my little side business.

Enjoy shore leave, Doctor Destin, beamed Tanza as I passed him at the airlock.

Thanks, I intend to. Up yours, Asshole. I was sure he ogled my ass as I walked past him.

The only positive note, if one could call it such, was that Tanza’s attitude towards me was far friendlier by the end of the run. He seemed somehow duped by my performance, which gave everyone double the reason to hate me as a turncoat and company stooge.

Schmaltz pinged my cortical implant to tell me he awaited me off the ship. I joined him at the door to the massive underground hangar. The ship’s engineering officer happened to be the only person onboard who still spoke to me.

Can you believe that putz? He fell into step with me and we strode down the corridor to the tram station.

He’s a company man, Schmaltzy. What were you expecting?

I hoped he’d lighten up at some point. He chewed on the ever-present unlit stogie between his teeth.

Two hundred and sixty-four bunk inspections. Two hundred and sixty-four mess inspections, engineering inspections, sanitation inspections. I’m surprised he didn’t count our bowel movements.

I smiled mischievously. Who’s to say he didn’t ask me to keep track?

Schmaltz jerked the cigar stub from his mouth. He did? No way!

I laughed uncontrollably.

You’re an asshole, Destin!

I know, but I couldn’t resist it. The look on your face is the most fun I’ve enjoyed in months. I wiped tears from my eyes.

You’re a regular comedienne. He tried to frown but ended up grinning at the joke. How about you buy me one of the two hundred and sixty-four drinks you still owe me, Doc?

Oh, that sounds like a hell of a good idea. Lead on.

I surveyed the hangar facility service terminal. The irregular schedule of the trams ensured a crowd of returning crews always waited for one. If possible, the place appeared more run down than the last time I’d been here. I wondered what the city council did with all the tax money they extorted from us.

Quite the shit hole, eh?

You expected them to update things while we were gone? This is Armstrong we’re talking about, I said.

It would be a pleasant surprise to come home and be able to, oh, I don’t know, take a shower more than twice a week. Am I asking too much?

Move to the poles where all the water is. C’mon, if we don’t hurry, we’ll be waiting another hour.

We ran to the crowded car and pushed our way past the herd hanging around the openings in the hope of exiting first when the tram arrived at the customs module. We elbowed a space for ourselves to stand in the centre of the car as the doors closed and the train jerked into motion. Dust caked wheels squealed in protest before settling into a quieter rhythmic thumping. The smell of unwashed bodies hung in the poor airflow of the hundred-year-old tram car. Most of the haulers didn’t carry enough water for showers. I tried not to think about how much my own body added to the ambience.

As we jostled along the track, we all fought to maintain our balance in the lunar gravity. It always took me a day or so to regain my moon-legs after such a long trip. Why many of the freighters insisted on running their ships at 0.9 Terran gravity remained a mystery to me. Almost all the crews were born and lived here, and everyone thought it a damned nuisance to readjust at the start and finish of every run.

A fine dust coated the outside of the windows, obscuring the view of the historic memorial commemorating humanity’s first steps here more than three hundred years before. The original lunar lander and flag long ago decayed under the relentless barrage of micro-meteorites. The present monument, the third one on the landing site, neared the end of its days.

When do you suppose the council is going to replace that old thing?

They’ve been debating it since I got to Luna. Five years now? Who knows how long before then? I replied.

They can keep talking if you ask me. Better they spend the money on a new water pipeline from Irwin or Artemis.

Like that will ever happen.

Having killed the conversation, I returned my attention to the interior of the car. The tram contained a motley bunch, as always. Some of the faces may have been familiar, though nobody acknowledged anyone else.

Schmaltz moved close to whisper in my ear.

Who do you suppose is working Customs today?

I smiled at him. Why? Is there something you don’t want them to ask you about? You’d better hope Toby is on. He’s the only one left who’ll consider your baksheesh anymore.

Hmph. He’s the only one who isn’t hoping to get promoted out of this hole. The rest of those toadies would rather bust a nun for smuggling rosaries than let anyone believe they got their palms greased.

I frowned at him and lowered my voice another level.

Don’t let the Morality Police hear you saying shit like that. We don’t need any attention.

Schmaltz bit down on his unlit cigar and nodded, reverting to silence for the remainder of the ride.

As things turned out, most of the customs agents were of the amicable variety and nobody got busted this time. I didn’t declare anything, so after a brief, routine interview, I linked my CI into the system and downloaded my declaration to the database. I didn’t worry it would flag anything. My installed implant hack always told them a nice story.

After they cleared me, I moved into the arrival terminal and waited for Schmaltz, who joined me after a couple of minutes.

That was relatively painless. He talked around the unlit stogie in his teeth.

No cavity searches today?

It was one time. Can’t you leave it alone, Destin? He marched ahead of me. I hurried to catch up and we boarded the monorail for the twenty-minute ride to the main city complex.

Line, ‘em up, Louie! I announced as we strode into O’Brien’s Pub. I scanned the dimly lit room in search of familiar faces. Spotting three of Requiem’s crew trying to ignore me like a group of offended schoolgirls, I added, And refill whatever they’re drinking.

Feeling rich today Mel? asked Schmaltz.

Hell no! This run cost me money, thanks to that asshole Tanza. I just don’t like everybody hating me. I nodded to Louie as he placed three shots of tequila in front of each of us. I looked back at my other crew mates and they waved their thanks for my generosity. Short memories are a necessity on a small vessel. I made a silent note to track down the remaining crew before shore leave ended.

While I ordered a refill, Schmaltz stared in silence at his empty shot glass collection.

What’s up, Schmaltzy? You’re uncharacteristically morose. Don’t try to tell me it’s because of my restricted in-flight bar service. I know you keep a private stash in the engine room Tanza never found.

A sheepish smile spread across his ugly face. You knew about that?

Everybody knew about it.

He shook his head as Louie put more tequila in front of us.

They’re a good crew, Doc. They all watch out for each other. I’m gonna miss them.

What the hell are you talking about?

"I’ve been offered a position as chief engineer on the Polaris. They contacted me during the return. I went to school with the captain and..."

Hey, you don’t owe me any explanation. I’m happy for you. I lied. Schmaltz was the only real friend I had made since my arrival on Luna.

Really? Thanks, Mel. I didn’t know how you would take it. If the offer had come while Chambers was still skippering, I wouldn’t have taken it, but...

Yeah, I know. It’s not as much fun anymore without him.

We sat in silence for a minute, each digesting the situation.

Listen, I could put in a good word for you. You’re the best sawbones I know and a damned good friend.

Thanks, Schmaltzy. I appreciate the thought, but the truth is, once they do their digging, they’ll decide to search for someone else. Tanza only kept me because he was in a bind and couldn’t find a replacement who would work for what I do. In all honesty, I can’t afford to lose this gig.

Schmaltz placed a hand on my shoulder. I’ll put in a good word anyway. He burped, ruining the moment.

I smiled at him, downed my drink and ordered another round to celebrate Schmaltz’s good fortune. This was going to be a long night.

At some point during the evening, I realized I was drunk. It’s not that I hadn’t intended to end up inebriated; that was my single-minded purpose from the moment Requiem touched down. It annoyed me how little effort it required. Schmaltz fared no better and we both slouched next to each other in a booth at the back of the bar, engaged in a conversation that would not be recalled by either of us the next morning.

I sighed and tossed the last of my money on the table as a tip. Easy come, easy go. I’ll hustle up some more.

C’mon, Doc. I’ll see you safely home.

Naw. I’m in the next section. I’ll be fine.

Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you home? You don’t exactly live in the upper Tens. I don’t feel right about letting a lady wander home alone. Why are you still living down here?

My place has the luxury of being affordable. The neighbourhood can be a little edgy, I’ll admit, but nothing ever happens that I can’t handle. Go home to the little woman, Schmaltz. She’s probably been keeping your side of the bed warm.

He smiled stupidly as he reflected on my words. Okay, Doc. G’night. You go straight home.

I gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek and watched him stagger off to his anticipated booty call.

Nowhere else to go, I muttered to myself as I stumbled in the opposite direction.

My uncertain steps banged down the metal staircase to the apartment level. I tried without success to descend quietly and not wake those who needed to rise shortly for their fourteen-hour shifts. This was a working class neighbourhood for those with employment. For the majority who couldn’t find work, it was the least expensive place to crash before resorting to the charity shelter, or worse.

I wondered who I would find when I opened my door. Many of the apartments were leased by spacers like me who spent months away. They often arrived to discover squatters in their place. Generally, they were tolerated if they didn’t steal anything, and the place wasn’t trashed. Things rarely got ugly because most people played by the rules and moved on when the real tenant returned. A few occasionally made trouble, but I’d been lucky so far. I sometimes worried I might one day return to someone taking up permanent residence in my humble lodgings.

The corridor was dark, partly out of a poor effort to simulate a Terran night cycle, but mostly because the expired lighting panels didn’t get replaced. The dim red glow of the few still functioning fire and CO2 detectors cast enough light for me to pick my way over the occasional body of somebody sleeping one off.

I silently counted the doors from the stairwell as I felt my way along the wall. Most of the numbers were rubbed off, so I kept track of how many I passed. Though I tried to maintain my unit number on my door, it never remained in place. It disappeared regularly with whatever creative graffiti offended the landlords enough. The corporation could respond quickly enough if somebody slighted their name in writing but couldn’t seem to find the resources to put in some lights.

Confident of my count, I stopped at my apartment. The ancient panel lit up in anticipation of my manual entry code. The bastards who owned all this didn’t update for CI access. That was okay since most down here chose to deactivate their implants for various reasons.

Something stirred in the shadows and I jumped back, startled, as a figure emerged into the light. It moved between me and the door and I suddenly wished I had taken Schmaltz up on his offer to walk me home.

Chapter Three

Idropped my rucksack and backed away from the figure stepping out of the shadows. My heart beat a tattoo as I glanced back down the corridor, wondering if another assailant followed behind me.

Can I make a break for the stairs?

The adrenaline blasting through my system would carry me to them, but the chances were still good I would trip over any one of the derelicts sleeping things off.

Would anyone even wake up if I fell over them? Would they come to my rescue if I screamed?

The stench of spilled booze and urine in the hallway filled my nostrils and I realized I couldn’t expect help. Fights and screaming happened all the time down here. I was on my own.

Melanie!

How does he know my name?

The voice seemed vaguely familiar. The lousy lighting obscured his face.

Who are you?

I’m Charlie.

He stepped forward to allow the one functioning light in the corridor to shine fully on him. I stared at the Eurasian man, unable to place him.

Remember? From med school?

At those words his face forced its way into the recollections of my drunken brain.

Charlie Wong!

The man smiled. He presented an older version of the Charlie I remembered. He seemed stockier, though I couldn’t be sure because of the jacket he wore.

What the fuck are you doing creeping around my place? I said in a stage whisper, remembering the time and the thin doors and walls.

Taking my cue, he replied in kind, Looking for you. I learned you made port today and...

I waved him silent and moved past him to key in the access code. The door slid open and I led him into the apartment. I keyed on the lights and made a quick inspection of the place to ensure I didn’t surprise any squatters in residence. The faint odour of something rotting in the kitchen told me whoever squatted here departed some time ago. At least they didn’t trash the place, keeping to the rules.

I lead Charlie into the cramped central room and cleared a tattered novelty throw pillow from the couch. He cautiously picked his way into the room, making as little contact with anything as possible. I invited him to take a seat, embarrassed about where my life brought me.

Can I offer you anything? Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t think I...

Charlie’s smile showed off perfect teeth. No thanks, I don’t need anything.

I perched self-consciously on the edge of a mismatched chair across from him and absently hugged the pillow. We sat in silence while Charlie examined my home. He made no comment, returning his gaze to me.

Sorry, the walls are pretty thin and my neighbours don’t like it when...

It’s okay. I understand.

Though we are the same age, he appeared far younger than his thirty-five years. He’d put on some serious muscle since I’d last seen him, and his face was filled out a bit. I fidgeted, ashamed for not recognizing him given the amount of time we spent together in those days.

As I said, I came here looking for you.

How did you find me?

Oh, you didn’t make it easy, I’ll tell you that.

I blushed and looked away. That should tell you something.

The silence awkwardly hung in the air. I was making a mess of this visit but had no idea how to make it better. I didn’t deal with people in Charlie’s social class anymore.

I don’t pretend to understand why you vanished like you did. I appreciate you have your reasons, but...

But what? I don’t owe you any kind of explanation for what I’ve done, where I’ve been or why.

Now Charlie struggled to find words. I don’t think he came prepared for my defensiveness. In all honesty, I didn’t realize why I became suddenly so chippy about things. It wasn’t like I had settled into domestic bliss here. My place was essentially a flophouse for me and anyone else when I wasn’t here. I only held the lease.

It was strange to see him struggle like this. He always filled the awkward moments with his razor wit and quick, glib replies. I decided to take him off the hook.

What do you want, Charlie?

He seemed relieved by the change of subject. I want to offer you a job.

I dropped the pillow and pushed myself back into the chair. I stared, dumbfounded, at him. Of all the answers I anticipated, that did not even come up for consideration.

What the fuck?

Don’t sound so surprised. You’re a damned fine physician.

Was, Charlie. That’s all ancient history.

Top of the class, as I recall. You even beat me, the Asian keener. He grinned in his self-depreciating way as if still embarrassed by his intelligence. True, my marks had been better than his, but I sweated blood for those grades, mostly so as not to disappoint my benefactor. Charlie goofed off a lot and made it look as simple as eating with chopsticks.

I plodded to the kitchen. The smell of the rotten food grew stronger and gave me something else to focus on. I stood with my back to him while thoughts raced through my head. This would be so much easier if I were sober. Right now, I was too emotional and couldn’t trust myself to speak without weighing every word. He hadn’t even asked why I’d left. At least, he remembered enough about me to not push that button.

Why are you on the moon trying to hire losers? You’re supposed to be running some big hospital now, aren’t you? Wasn’t that the family plan? I was ashamed for being a bitch. I kept my back to him. It was easier.

He sighed heavily. I did the whole follow-the-family-plan thing, Mel. It wasn’t for me. Truth is, I haven’t practiced medicine for years. I’m a businessman now.

I waited for him to grin with that ‘gotcha’ glint in his eye. His face was deadpan serious. Your daddy must be some pissed off with you. Did he cut you off?

Pop’s been dead for five years.

Charlie’s eyes betrayed no deceit. I could always tell, though why anyone would lie about such a thing was just weird to consider. It must have been the booze or something and I felt like the lowest form of life for entertaining the idea.

I’m so sorry.

Charlie waved away my apology. It’s okay. You couldn’t have known.

What happened?

It was a freak accident. His private shuttle broke up on re-entry on a return trip from Luna.

I sat on the couch beside him and placed a hand on his knee. I remember how much you admired him.

After Pop died, I just couldn’t find it in me to continue on in medicine. I took some time off and travelled; just tried to figure out my life, you know? When I got back home, some associates of his approached me with an offer that was hard to ignore. I work for Rego Corporation now, Mel. I succeeded Pop as Director of Acquisitions.

Wow, that’s quite the change. You despised your Dad’s employers.

Chalk that up to wide-eyed youthful naivety and idealism. I thought going into med school would put me as far away from Pop’s world as I could get. It wasn’t until he died that I understood I was doing it all to get his attention. After that, I had no way to make up for the hurt I’d caused...

I took Charlie’s hand and we sat in silence. A muffled alarm clock went off next door. Neither of us spoke until the spell was broken by somebody shutting it off.

I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. What job are you talking about?

Charlie smiled broadly. We are putting together an exciting recovery expedition. An amazing discovery has been made on Titan. Initial reports suggest it might have alien origins. We want to send a team in an outfitted ship to recover the artifact before our competitors can beat us to it. I had the entire group assembled, but then our physician backed out and I needed to replace him in a hurry. Your name came up and imagine my surprise when I realized you were the same Melanie Destin I went to school with.

I’m confused. How would my name have come up?

I forgot to mention that we are launching from a base on Luna. Believe it or not, there aren’t too many doctors with space-faring experience around here who are competent. You are well regarded by my sources. When I heard it was you, I had to find you and ask you to join.

I... I’m flattered, Charlie. Really. Especially after all this time. But I don’t think I am the person you want.

What are you talking about? We both know how good you are. Before you left Terra, you were on the fast track. And you loved it too.

That was before the attack.

Compassion crossed his face. You lost a lot. I never got a chance to say how sorry I was about Carlos.

I waved his comments away and fought to keep the tears from flowing. Seeing my distress, he changed the topic.

You can’t be getting much of a challenge patching up spacers on freighter runs. I know you aren’t paid what you are worth. Think about it, Mel. One expedition and we can pay you enough to get you out of here. He gestured to the apartment.

I’d felt like a ping pong ball in a tornado since Charlie’s arrival on my doorstep, but that comment hit me like a kick in the guts.

What the hell do you think is wrong with my life? You think I want your money? That I’m not happy here?

Mel, I didn’t...

Maybe I choose to be here! Maybe I’m right where I belong! I didn’t ask you to find me and I don’t need or want to be rescued from my pathetic life, and you sure as hell aren’t my fairy god-mother.

I’m sorry. I simply meant...

You meant for me to feel ashamed of my life because I didn’t live up to your expectations.

Mel, I didn’t mean to imply any disrespect...

You didn’t mean to show disdain either, but I saw you gingerly pick your way across my floor. I noticed you look carefully at the couch before you sat. What’s wrong? Are you afraid you might catch something?

I stormed to the door.

I think you need to go now.

He slowly walked to the open door. The sound of crying children and arguing parents echoed down the corridor.

I didn’t mean to ...

Please leave, Charlie. Pretend you never found me.

Regret written on his face, he stepped outside, and the door shut behind him.

I stared at the door for a full minute before a tear ran down my cheek. I stumbled into the bedroom, fell onto the bed and cried myself to sleep.

Chapter Four

I was told you had everything under control.

Few people could intimidate him. Regis Mundi was one of those few. The head of the Corpus Rego, or Dominus, as he preferred to be called, did not take the news of failure well. Nearly eighty years old, he wore a toga palmata, richly embroidered and decorated with a palm leaf pattern along the hem. He sat straight-backed with the posture of a man half his age on a replica of a sella curulis. The low dais it rested on at the end of the large audience chamber gave Mundi enough of a presence to make people uncomfortable. Agent 324 understood that discomfort led to unintended disclosures, and he planned to avoid any such mistake.

At Mundi’s side hovered his personal servant, Felix Altius. While his appearance was that of a slight, effeminate man of indeterminate Mediterranean ancestry, his true origins were much more exotic. A synthetic human, grown in a vat somewhere in the vast complex, he appeared perfectly at home in the ankle long tunica his Dominus required him to wear. Agent 324 afforded the freak only a cursory inspection, preferring to maintain all his attention on Mundi. He could ill afford any distraction and he admonished himself for giving any thought to the servant.

Despite Mundi’s affectations to the forms of imperial Rome, falling on one’s sword for defeat had yet to become a custom. Not that he would have done so in any case. He prided himself on being a survivor, and from his perspective, the project was far from a failure.

Our agent met an unexpected end and could not complete his mission, Dominus. He addressed Mundi with eyes lowered, as expected of him. Though he spoke impeccable Latin, he felt insecure about delivering such a critical report in the dead language; another measure designed to keep people off balance. He ignored the itch of the simple wool tunic he was compelled to put on before entering the chamber, annoyed that a man of his position within the corpus needed to participate in Mundi’s historical fancy.

We believe he succeeded in directing the ship to the predetermined landing coordinates before he died.

You believe? Mundi raised one bushy eyebrow. Then why haven’t you retrieved it?

"Someone aboard the Helios managed to get a distress signal out. The entire inner system is swarming with Terran military."

All the more reason to expedite the recovery, is it not? It would be a shame to waste all the resources entrusted to you for this project if the Terrans locate their missing ship first.

They are looking in the wrong places, Dominus. We made sure of that.

Yes, and fortunately for you, I have been assured they will continue to do so for the time being. Still, it is only a matter of time before even those fools think to search the planet. Even my influence cannot defer that forever. Tell me of your current plan.

If the Dominus wanted to intimidate him, he failed. He was aware Mundi’s operatives lurked everywhere within all the planetary governments. Some of them were also his own double agents. He played a dangerous game, but history proved this as the only way to keep one’s head when dealing with Regis Mundi. That much the mistakes of his predecessor taught him.

Lucius Antonius was the nom de guerre of his predecessor, Agent 197. He’d settled on it as his final assumed identity, convinced the necessity of masquerading as anyone else firmly in the past. The fact he chose a Latin name to impress Mundi did not prevent his termination. Mundi never received failure well.

We have acquired another vessel. It is being prepped as we speak. We only have one more specialist to acquire and we will be ready for launch.

The older man frowned and 324 felt a smug sense of satisfaction in the knowledge that some things remained secret.

What sort of specialist?

We believe the released pathogen killed the crew. We need someone who can deal with the situation. More importantly, it must be someone we can... motivate.

That is a very specific prospectus, given your timeline. Is there no such person already in our employ?

"Unfortunately, the only such person perished on the Helios."

Such skills coupled with the required inclinations are difficult to cultivate.

I understand your concerns, Dominus. My operative has identified a promising individual who he believes can be recruited.

Very well, do as you will. Mundi waved his hand in dismissal and turned his attention to the pad held by his assistant.

Any agent should have been terrified at the double-edged approval just granted. 324 experienced exhilaration. He knew Mundi enjoyed little choice than to allow him to continue with what he started. Mundi’s grand plan would be set back years if this project failed. Success would be well rewarded, but there existed no more room for error. While he wouldn’t be falling on a sword, he would not survive to report the failure in person. He could live with that motivating risk.

With no further interest shown in his presence, Agent 324 marched out of the audience chamber. As he left, he couldn’t help but be impressed by the exacting craftsmanship Mundi employed to produce all the replica furnishings.

Mundi was certainly an oddball, but he was an obscenely wealthy oddball. His preoccupation with the ancient roman world was both amusing and disturbing. It amused because it was anachronistic and unique; it was always an education in history to visit Mundi. It disturbed because Mundi’s wealth allowed him to indulge his predilection and nobody dared to question the peculiarities of the business tycoon. No one knew where the fascination would end. 324 worried Mundi shared the ambitions of emperors he so admired.

Outside, a sentry in the traditional uniform of a Roman centurion approached him with his personal belongings he relinquished on arrival. The guard was armed with a simple gladius sheathed at his hip. A second, similarly dressed companion warily eyed him from the other side of the doorway. Both men understood their role as bodyguards to be nothing more than showmanship. The real security officers who watched unseen from another room trained remotely controlled particle weapons on 324 from the moment he entered the building.

Dressed in his own clothes once more, he exited the sprawling complex that served as the combined residence of Mundi and the corporate headquarters of the Rego Corporation. To his recollection, the constantly growing facility accounted for ten percent of the total size of Artemis. He suspected Mundi owned far more of the city than that.

Artemis had been Mundi’s pet project for the past forty years. Everything about the metropolis, from its strategic location over the Moon’s largest water ice source to its final adoption as the capital of the recently liberated Lunar Republic, was planned and orchestrated in detail by Regis Mundi, making him the invisible, unelected ruler of Luna.

Agent 324 sneered at the thought of the old man’s presumptions. He didn’t fancy himself a republican by any stretch of the imagination. He’d spent much effort to avoid military service, choosing to support the conflict with Terra in a more commercial capacity as an arms dealer in a previous life. He believed that rulers needed to be accountable to the people they governed, a belief he shared with the patriots who died in the rebellion. He wondered what their ghosts would think of the man who now effectively ruled as the secret emperor of the world they fought to liberate.

He strode out of the palace into the central pedestrian mall known as the Forum. He stopped and looked up through the massive, transparent dome at the blue jewel of the erstwhile home world hanging in the black sky. Moments like this, when Terra appeared high above, he couldn’t help but be awed at the engineering feat of Mundi’s Artemis. The unobstructed view through the dome always gave him the impression that he walked, unprotected, under the lunar skies.

His cortical implant alerted him to an incoming message. He smiled and signalled for the ground car to pick him up. By the time he’d exited the Forum, the requested vehicle with his personal assistant inside waited at the curb.

He sat across from Kiri Mason as the robot car pulled into traffic and proceeded toward the connecting tunnel grid.

You’re sure? he asked.

She frowned. I explained in the message that I wasn’t. But he’s the closest thing we could find on such short notice.

He relaxed into the plush cushions and smiled. You’re far too tense, Kiri.

She passed him a sealed envelope. He emptied the contents onto his lap. He picked up the passport and absorbed the details.

Hello, Erik Dunn. Nice to be you.

He returned the other items into the envelope and handed it back to her.

And the other arrangements?

She stared at him critically before replying, They’re complete. But they cost more than we thought. I’m not sure we paid enough for their silence.

After the launch, you can see to that.

She nodded, but her brow remained furrowed.

You worry too much, Kiri.

He’s not even a close match.

It will be fine.

She looked out the car window. The only things to be seen were the flashes of light from the passing cars in the tunnel.

Dunn leaned toward her. Kiri, I’ll be fine.

Lucius used to say that all the time. He, at least, took a Latin name. You practically flaunt your rebellion as if there were no consequences.

Would you feel better if I took a permanent identity, like Lucius, and operated from the sidelines? He died because his agents betrayed him. It’s best to handle things personally. You know this.

Dunn frowned and pushed himself back into the seat cushions. He crossed his arms and joined her in looking out the window. Kiri was right to worry. There was more at stake here than Lucius ever tried to put into play. He hoped his assurances were not empty.

Chapter Five

Iwoke with a pounding headache to the screams of little Ahmed, next door, protesting his nap time. The chronometer insisted the time was early afternoon and I’d slept the day away. With a groan, I rolled onto my back and stared at the filthy ceiling, wondering how big spiders grew on the moon as I contemplated the cobwebs in the corner. I wanted to lie still for a little longer, but the pressure on my bladder convinced me otherwise. I sat on the edge of the bed and the pain of an ice pick stabbed behind my eyes as I fought to keep whatever remained in my stomach down. Swallowing around the coarse grit sandpaper in my throat, my nose wrinkled at something stinking up the room. I fell back and sniffed the sheets. The fresh scent of cheap detergent told me of my ‘guests’ consideration, so the foul odour defaulted to be my contribution.

A trail of dirty clothes in my wake, I somehow located the toilet and gave my poor bladder some welcome relief. More comfortable, I stepped into the spotless shower stall. I marvelled at the cleanliness of the bathroom and resolved to learn who’d squatted here and invite them back.

The allocated water ration ran out far too soon, and I keyed in an expensive top up for another five minutes of hot water. After what happened with Charlie, I decided to indulge myself. The shower helped the headache somewhat, but I would need some pharmaceutical support to be functional with what remained of my day.

Wrapped in a fresh smelling towel, I padded into the tiny kitchen to find anything to eat. The odour of rotting food reminded me even the best of guests is not perfect. I located and disposed of the offending unidentifiable mouldy bio-matter. Aside from the one blemish on their record, my mystery squatters kept the kitchen in better shape than I did. Unfortunately, the cupboards were bare, and my belly protested.

Massaging my temples, I made my way back to the water closet. I stopped in front of the mirror to view the horror. The morning after the night before is never a good time for self-appraisal, but it seemed I didn’t want to treat myself all that nicely.

The person who stared back at me appeared worn out. If not for the generosity of the last few years of lunar gravity I shuddered to think how old I would appear. At least, there were no wrinkles or crow’s feet. My face seemed a bit puffy from the booze and the bloodshot whites of my eyes distracted from their pretty blue colour. I thought them to be pretty because they were the only feature my bitch mother ever complimented me on. I suspect she would have been disappointed to see them this morning.

My bobbed hairstyle didn’t help my appearance at the moment, but I preferred to keep it short, so it didn’t get in the way during space travel. It needed a trim, blow dry, and a brushing, but no grey lurked among the auburn tresses and that appealed to my vanity. I knew I presented better under normal circumstances, so I decided to give any further critical assessment a pass for the time being.

A faded twenty-year-old travel poster advertising the Martian cloud city, Olympia, hung in a frame over the toilet. The fresh start that everyone dreams of, but nobody gets. I wistfully regarded the picture and my thoughts wandered to a new life in the sky that surveyed the landscape being terraformed. I couldn’t remember how long it served as my idea of heaven, but I kept it as a reminder to continue dreaming. Olympia remained the reason I stuck out the lousy job. I would be much closer today if Chambers hadn’t gotten himself replaced.

I removed the poster to reveal a high end safe. I put my hand on the identification pad and endured the discomfort of holding my eye wide open long enough for the iris scanner to confirm my identity.

Access code 468-987-whiskey-cocaine. The anachronistic voice recognition security steps caught most unprepared thieves off guard, or so my associates assured me. The expensive, state of the art vault itself was a difficult item to procure. Its installation in these humble lodgings would have raised a few eyebrows if I’d acquired it via the normal commercial channels. Fortunately, there are people who can be discreet; for a price, of course.

I stared into the safe at my depleted supply and sighed heavily. The latest trip did nothing to help me restock. I selected a potent pain killer and popped two pills. Back in the bedroom, I took off the towel and fell naked on my back onto the bed, eyes closed, and waited for the medication to act. The cooling air caressed my freshly scrubbed skin. For the first time in months I enjoyed the freedom of being alone and I lay still, thinking of nothing. After a time, my mind tired of fighting the emptiness and I indulged myself with daydreams of a future life in the clouds over Mars.

Every credit I could earn, hustle, and con over the past eight years went towards the dream. If Tanza hadn’t been such pain in the ass, the last trip would have given me almost enough to finance a Martian citizenship. One more run after that would have provided for the requisite apartment on Olympia and the funds to support me.

The noises of the surrounding apartments invited me back to the present. At least my head no longer pounded. My growling stomach suggested the need to find some food. I got up and dressed in the cleanest dirty clothing in my rucksack.

After one last survey of the face in the mirror I headed to the door. The poor thing needed a touch of makeup and some new clothes but was presentable enough to forage for something to eat and think about her next move.

I wanted to indulge in a traditional, multi-course, welcome home feast at Chianti’s in the central hub, but I was far too hungry to go anywhere but the main commissary in the residence complex. The fast service offset the basic quality of the food. Being inexpensive also helped make the meal taste better, but only marginally. This late in the day the cafeteria teamed with people coming off shift and going to work. I spotted a familiar face and sat down beside a sullen Vijay Zaoui.

Hello Vijay. How is Devika making out?

He made a great effort to smile at me. Oh, hello Doc. Thanks for asking, but not so good.

Do you need another refill? I still have some, but I’m afraid the price is higher than last time.

He tried to maintain the goofy grin he always sported, but it vanished under the weight of his trouble. His words spilled out in a rush that his Indian accent made hard for me to understand. No, I’m told we are beyond what the medicine can do for her. She is in the hospital and they say she will die soon.

What happened? She responded so well to the meds.

Yes, she did. But while you were away, she developed complications with her liver. They say it is a side effect of the medicines.

My food turned into a lump of lead in my stomach. Two years ago, doctors diagnosed Devika with Carson-Epburg disease, a degenerative condition of the skeletal connective tissues common to those who live in low gravity environments. It is prevalent among residents born and raised on Luna. Most of the time a simple genetic treatment administered at birth prevents it from developing. Devika’s family, like many of the working poor, could not afford the injections and so played biological roulette in the hope that she would not develop the disease.

When they diagnosed her, she did not qualify to receive the expensive drugs that could offset the advance of Carson-Epburg because her family didn’t treat her at infancy. Even when Vijay offered to pay for the treatment out of his own pocket the Lunar Medical Authority refused to sell him the drug. With nowhere else to turn, he sought me out through the black net, and I became his supplier. At the time I was delighted since the drugs he needed, while relatively easy for me to acquire, commanded an obscene price and netted me a tidy profit.

Why can’t they just clone her a new liver? I suspected I knew the answer but hoped I was wrong.

For the same reason they would not give her treatment for the C-E, tears flowed from Vijay’s eyes. And I have not enough for it. He broke down and wept openly.

I held the grief-stricken man as he sobbed into my shoulder. A husband and three beautiful children were soon to lose a wife and mother, and I was now overwhelmed with the realization that it was all because of me. Selling black market drugs to the rich and powerful is one thing. They can well afford to deal with the consequences of their decisions. But people like Vijay and Devika? What chance did they have when vultures like me preyed upon their circumstances? I felt sick to my stomach.

Giving it only a few seconds of consideration, I resolved to right the situation. Perhaps we could still save her, and in the process redeem a portion of my own soul. I accessed one of my bank accounts with my CI. Before I could change my mind, I transferred every credit Vijay had ever paid me back into his account.

He thanked me repeatedly, promising to repay everything, but I refused to hear of it and told him it was a gift. I took some satisfaction from the joy on his face as he rushed away to tell his family.

Watching him, I briefly felt proud of myself for the first time in forever. Then, with growing panic, I gradually appreciated the consequences of my generosity. Not only had Vijay been a regular, desperate customer, willing to pay whatever it took to save his wife, he was also one of my best cash cows and my spontaneous act of kindness had just cost me significantly.

The untouched meal on my tray no longer appealed to me and I pushed it away. Now I had to work that much harder to get out of this hell hole. Of course, there was Charlie’s offer to consider. Even though I had summarily dismissed him in a pique of anger, what he was offering was worth even more now that I was apparently the Mother Theresa of Armstrong. Perhaps I could crawl back to him and apologize; ask for another shot at the job.

I shook my head and gulped down the cold coffee. No, some bridges needed to be burned and people like me just didn’t deserve to be redeemed once, let alone a second time. Cinderella’s ball had ended long ago and there were no more chances of living in the castle.

Other resources remained to me. It would take some time, but I would rebuild my cash reserve and get to Mars on my own, even if it took another year or two.

The Tank, as the locals called it, was part of the oldest infrastructure of Armstrong, all built underground. There were no apartments, only shallow niches carved into the rotting concrete of the warren of abandoned tunnels. The unfortunates who found themselves here enjoyed no plumbing, only a bucket in the corner of their hovels. The well-off ones owned a separate one to wash in. For heat and communal cooking, discarded fuel barrels burned whatever refuse that could not be put to another purpose. My eyes stung from the smoke and the stench of sewage.

Of late this place had seen an influx of immigrants from some of the bigger cities, like Artemis. The socio-political mandate for the newly independent Luna boasted of the elimination of poverty, much of that accomplished by other cities flushing the human refuse into places like this when their waste bins became full.

If the Tank served as hell’s waiting room, then Oskar Vostok held the position of Satan’s receptionist. He ruled supreme over everything and to cross him meant expulsion. Few crossed Oskar Vostok.

I’d been referred to him as a good source for medicines that his people needed. We did business semi-regularly, and while I didn’t make a huge profit, I got some feel good points for helping.

That, of course, led to another initiative, initiated by me. I offered him a partnership opportunity to transport some popular recreational drugs via his network to the most affluent assholes on the surface. Today I intended to collect from him on that deal.

I found him holding court in his office, as he called it. It consisted of a raised platform that overlooked the large central cavern where everyone could observe their king dispense justice. Instead of a throne, he sat on a high-backed chair behind an ornate antique desk. Standing to either side of him, awaiting his whims, were two of his lieutenants. They, like Vostok, were ex-Lunar militia, loyal soldiers whose meagre military pensions could not support the habits they’d acquired while serving their homeland.

On seeing my approach, a broad smile broke out on his face and he came around his desk to greet me with a bear hug.

Doctor Melanie. So good of you to come and visit me again.

He smelled of expensive cologne and wore a dark warm looking wool coat. The rings on his fingers flashed gold in the flickering light of the fires below as he vigorously shook both my hands. His closely cropped, oiled beard shone jet black as did his full head of slicked back hair. He reminded me of the bear that frightened me the one time I’d been to a Terran zoo as a young child.

Oskar, you are looking well, I said as I took a seat across from him at the desk. I sank down into the soft cushion and craned my head to look up at him.

What can I say? Business has been good. You see? Now I have this most excellent desk, once owned by a tsar in old Russia. You are familiar with Russia? On Terra?

Yes, I am.

He beamed at me.

Few people learn of their heritage. It is important to understand from where we come, no? Otherwise, we just become cavemen, throwing rocks at each other, no?

Oskar obliquely referred to his rumoured military career during the war of independence. The word was that Luna ran a special operations force tasked with redirecting asteroids towards Terra. Luna always officially denied the allegations, but two major strikes on Terran cities did a lot to end hostilities.

Do you know of your heritage, Doctor Melanie?

I’m afraid not. I’m a war orphan. My standard lie.

Oh, a pity. But you have emerged stronger, no? A doctor who helps people. See the people you have helped? You are a hero, here. He beamed broadly and extended his arms to indicate his little fiefdom.

I blushed and squirmed in the uncomfortable chair. I was anything but a hero, and he knew it.

But you did not come to me to glory in the fruit of your good works, did you?

No, Oskar, I’m here about our other arrangement.

He smiled beneath his moustache and looked down on me like a judge about to pass sentence.

What arrangement might that be? His eyes glinted, but I couldn’t tell if from mischief or malice.

The transportation arrangement? You moved some commodities for me?

I recall no such arrangement, Doctor Melanie. I recall you donating some items for us to sell for the good of the people. Again, his large hands extended toward the cavern behind me.

Maybe it was the chair, or the stench of the place, or simply my desperation; whatever the reason, I did something I told myself I wouldn’t let happen.

Damn it, Oskar. You owe me one hundred thousand credits. I regretted those words the moment they came out of me.

He glared at me. Then the snarl beneath the moustache curled upward into a toothy grin that showed off his gold-capped front tooth, though his eyes did not join in. He put both arms on the desk, leaned forward, and spoke so softly I strained to hear.

Let me be clear. You are owed nothing. The drugs are mine and you have your life and may leave unharmed. You understand, yes?

I sank into the ridiculous chair and sighed quietly.

I understand, yes.

He sat back and his eyes regained their playful glint.

Vasily will escort you safely out. The large man on his right stepped around the desk and stood beside me.

Doctor Melanie, it is a very dangerous place here. It is not advisable for you to return uninvited. I could not guarantee your safety and would hate to tell the people that something unfortunate happened to their patron saint. You understand me, yes?

I understand you, yes.

Vasily, not too gently, helped me to my feet.

I think we will not meet again, Doctor Melanie. I wish you well.

I held my tongue and allowed Vasily to show me the way out. I had just danced with the devil’s doorman and was grateful I still lived to tell about it.

Chapter Six

Iadmired the foxy woman who looked back at me from the mirror. I spun a quick turn and liked what I saw. I enjoyed the same svelte figure I owned in my twenties, including the firm boobs and killer ass. Lunar gravity helped that way; less wear and tear on all the potentially saggy parts. I had to admit that I cleaned up well. It took a couple of hours, but after a spa treatment that cost a small ransom and some expensive makeup, I hardly recognized myself. I presented as a sexy woman instead of a space rat.

Where have you been hiding, Sugar? I queried the vixen who gazed back at me. She winked but I doubted