The Cronian Incident (The Formist Book 1)

by Matthew Williams

  What was especially interesting were the two worlds Lee considered optimal for this pursuit.

  Callisto and Titan.

  Callisto, Lee reasoned, was the viable location for testing out the methods they hoped to use on Mars. A thin atmosphere, in desperate need of heating and a greenhouse effect. It was also rich in water ice and volatiles, which could be converted into oxygen and nitrogen gas. Best of all, unlike the other Jovians, Callisto wasn’t dominated by Jupiter’s powerful magnetic field.

  Titan, in contrast, would prove serviceable to the Cythereans, who faced their own challenges when it came to making their planet livable. For them, the methanogenic content of Titan’s atmosphere was similar to a primordial Earth, where a thick organic haze of hydrocarbons eventually gave rise to organic material on the surface. Over time, this material had resulted in the simple lifeforms themselves responsible for converting the carbon and sulfur-rich atmosphere of early Earth into an oxidizing one.

  While the time cycles involved were certainly not practical, according to Lee, this could be sped up by simply ensuring the proper elements were introduced at the right time. Simple lifeforms could be created by manipulating the prebiotic conditions on Titan, and genetically-altered cyanobacteria and other anaerobic organisms could be introduced, as well as enough carbon dioxide and sulfur dioxide to simulate conditions analogous to Venus.

  It all made for fascinating reading, but was also troubling.

  Was this what Lee was doing out here, ostensibly negotiating contracts for the Formists, but also considering terraforming concepts for both Callisto and Titan? The fact he was visiting the very worlds his study cited as prime real estate might certainly be coincidental. But clearly, Constance didn’t think so.

  What was as interesting, and perhaps as conspiratorial, was a paper Lee had published as an undergraduate. It seemed the idea of testing terraforming techniques off-world was something that had captured his imagination early on.

  Lessons Not Learned from the Climate Crisis

  Throughout the paper, Lee referenced efforts of scientists like Pinter Chandrasekhar, who was clearly a personal hero of his. Citing quotes the elder Formist had made during his time on Earth, and later on Mars, he claimed much of the effort to geo-engineer Earth and stave off the worst effects of increased temperatures, such as rising sea levels and radically changed weather patterns, had been misguided.

  The reason, Pinter claimed, was that the colonists of early Mars – and later, Venus – hadn’t used the opportunity to test them out in a risk-free environment. Whereas testing carbon sequestration, conversion, solar shades, and mirrors on these two worlds would endanger no one, doing so on Earth could and did lead to accidents, ones which resulted in losses both financial and mortal.

  Ward didn’t have to read further to know why things had happened this way. As any Martian student knew, the early colonization efforts were focused almost entirely on creating the necessary infrastructure to accommodate the waves of settlers which had begun to arrive by the late twenty-first century. By the time terraforming began to be discussed in earnest, there was opposition to it. Any drastic changes to the planet, it was acknowledged, might endanger the many communities now dotting the landscape. It was a debate which continued to this very day.

  Much the same was true of the Cytherean colonists. After constructing cities in the sky above the harsh landscape, the Cythereans saw little reason to change things. Why would they? Venus’ dense atmosphere ensured their cities remained afloat, its dense clouds of carbon dioxide and carbon monoxide were vital to Venus’ industry. These, they used to fabricate the many carbyne, diamond, and other supermaterials their economy depended on, and which the many Factions used to construct their orbital Habs.

  Ward saw the connection easily enough. Lee was arguing this failure was one his people might avoid in the present. If they tested out the techniques, get the bugs out in advance, the Martian and Cytherean Formist Factions would be able to sell their people on changing the faces of Mars and Venus, respectively. The debate raging for a century would finally be decided in the Formists’ favor.

  Shit, Ward thought, having read through it all. Clearly, Lee’s presence in the Outer Worlds had to do with more than procuring shipments of resources. Amaru’s involvement was something that still eluded him.

  Getting to the info Constance had pulled on Amaru, he had to admit it was less troubling, though it did come with its share of red flags. The first part of her pack included a rap sheet from her early days. Apparently, the younger Amaru had taken part in a few political protests during her short time on Luna. The local helium harvesters had been up in arms over the fact that Earth was negotiating with the Jovians for access to Jupiter’s abundant caches of helium-3, a move which the harvesters saw as cutting into their action.

  Amaru was one of several students and activists who had joined in the fun. Predictably, she had been arrested once the protest turned nasty and a crackdown began. No charges had been laid on the young girl. From the looks of it, a prominent Cytherean – most likely one of Amaru’s parents – had intervened on her behalf and convinced the Luna authorities not to press charges. But her arrest record had remained, tucked away in a corner of the Survey where Constance had unearthed it.

  This alone wasn’t surprising. Everything he had read about her in her dossier suggested she might be drawn to a little danger happening right underneath her nose. Usually, privileged children learned after their first brush with trouble. Not Amaru; this was merely the beginning.

  Before returning to Mars to complete her studies, she had visited Callisto, Ganymede, and Europa before venturing even further, taking in the Cronian moons, Triton, and even a quick jaunt through the Kuiper Belt. Clearly, the girl had wanderlust and wanted to see more and more, travelling to the very edge of human space.

  While venturing around, she had encountered multiple Factions – the Formists, the Gyros, and the Dysonists, to name a few. She had also taken on several different jobs while travelling, clearly intending to pay her own way and not be dependent on her family connections. She had even opened a series of different accounts while moving abroad, rather than keeping her earnings in a single account registered to her home planet. Her credit history showed she had been responsible with her earnings, spending her money on little more than room, board, and travel to her next destination.

  Ward had already read how she had become involved in various causes while moving about, but her dossier didn’t specify quite what those were. To the untrained eye, the groups she had contributed to might have seemed innocent enough, but Ward recognized many of them from his days as an investigator.

  The Minoan Preservation Society.

  The MPS. On Europa, they were a name synonymous with agitation and rabble-rousing. While they had never done anything violent, they were famous for making trouble in the name of blocking the expansion of several of Europa’s undersea settlements. The preservation of the moon’s natural aquatic environment was their mantra, with the aim of ensuring humans limited their impact on the native species.

  They were basically a holdover from the earliest days of Europan settlement, back when the debate about local species and the effect of humans as an “invasive species” was still a going concern. To the local developers and politicians, their name was rarely spoken without some added expletives.

  During Amaru’s time among the Cronians, she had worked for an underground newsletter, the Sybilline Reader. In addition to tackling social issues and news stories from around the Solar System, the newsletter was famous for advocating the rights of immigrants and migrant workers, as well as being critical of the policies many Earth and Martian Factions were pursuing in the Outer Worlds.

  The rest of her journeys were similar. Wherever the young Amaru went, she seemed to be drawn to trouble like a moth to a flame.

  But then she had come back to Mars, completed her studies, and joined the Formists. The troublesome young woman indicated in these hidden d
ocuments, tucked away neatly into her past, had disappeared, at least ostensibly. Her work certainly appealed to the wanderlust she had demonstrated in her youth. But the need to rebel? Had that need been sated by her involvement in various counter-cultural activities? Or was she simply keeping it tucked away these days?

  He also began to wonder if the Chandrasekhars knew any of this. And if they did, did they also surmise it was purely a young woman trying to find herself before choosing to grow up and commit to a vocation? He had asked Constance to find out what she could about the young Amaru, but unlike Lee, he found the results inconclusive.

  Worse yet was trying to figure out was if Lee’s past and Amaru’s past had anything to do with each other. What was the convergence?

  By now, Titan’s mottled disc had grown to fill the entire cabin window. It wasn’t long before the pilot chimed him.

  “Mr. Ward, we’re entering orbit around Titan. We’re prepping for landing cycle now.”

  “On my way,” he replied, before draining the remainder of his cup and leaving it in the nearest dispenser. Returning to the lounge, he spotted Amaru, already seated in the acceleration couch and strapped in. Taking the seat next to her, Ward did the same, applying the restraints across his chest.

  She looked at him, her eyes narrowing. “You all right?”

  “Of course,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I don’t know. You look like you’ve been brooding. Are you nervous?”

  “Of course not,” he said, somewhat defensively. “I’ve done this many a time. I know exactly what to expect.”

  Amaru nodded, apparently accepting his statement of experience. “Bad dreams, then?”

  Ward frowned. The half-remembered images of broken bodies lying on cold ground, their accusing eyes looking back at him, suddenly it came back to him. He hadn’t remembered dreaming when he woke up, but knew at some point in his cryosleep, the unwanted visitors had dropped in again. “I suppose I did. How did you know?”

  “I have the same problem,” she said. “Every time I go into hibernation, I always have the worst dreams. I think it’s something in our biology telling us it’s unnatural.”

  “Huh,” was all Ward thought to say. He looked forward, waiting for the moment when the g’s of descent would cut in and force him down into the seat. Unfortunately, Amaru wasn’t done talking.

  “What do you dream about? When you go under?”

  Ward delayed long enough to think of a reply that would answer the question, but not go into any details.

  “Dead people,” he said. “How about you?”

  Amaru smiled and cocked her head. “The same.”

  Twenty-Three

  Another world, another enclosed city.

  Another meaningless time change.

  Ward had been awake only a few hours. But for the city of Huygens, it was late evening and most people had gone to sleep. Hence why the streets were all but deserted and he found himself feeling very much alone. But solitude was what Ward was seeking right now.

  Looking up at the vast skylight above, Ward felt a slight chill. It was an odd reaction to seeing the dull yellow haze of Titan’s sky, rather than a perfect simulation. He knew it wasn’t the view making him feel icy all the way to his bones.

  It was the lingering effects of repeated cryosleep. Months had passed since he had said goodbye to the Rock, though he was only able to account for a few days of it. Both mentally and physically, the process of going in and out of hibernation was taking its toll. Were it not for the regular intervention of the tiny machines in his bloodstream, he wouldn’t be standing upright. He was likely to have to set aside time for a full-body restoration once he eventually returned home.

  Ward adjusted his stance and looked towards another section of the sky. Out there, sitting barely beyond Saturn’s magnetosphere and hidden from detection, Adler and his mercenaries were watching and waiting. He imagined Adler sitting in front of a console, no doubt looking at a sensor layout of Huygens. And in that layout, in the middle of the downtown district, Ward was probably just a flashing dot.

  It was unnerving, knowing someone was tracking your every move, aware of your location at any given time. It was even worse when you knew very little about them, and what you did know made you all twitchy.

  Constance’s search on Adler had revealed little, except for what appeared to be a service record with the Terran Space Corps. It was a simple recruitment file, which happened to have his name, his likeness, and a census ID no longer in use. There was also the requisite DNA scan, useless to him since there was nothing to compare it to.

  As Constance had indicated in the package, there was nothing in Lovelock she could find on him. Beyond that one document, there was nothing anywhere in the Survey to even confirm the existence of one Michael Adler. There really was only one explanation for that.

  Ex-military.

  Only people in the service expected to have their past erased so thoroughly, especially when they were highly skilled. The fact someone like Emile Chandrasekhar would want such a man to head up Ward’s security wasn’t surprising in the least. The only people who wanted such men around were people who had use for their highly specific skillset. And what Emile was planning on doing with that was something Ward didn’t want to think about right now.

  But think about it, he did. In fact, there was little else he’d thought about since they had landed. It was why he had left Amaru at the hotel and was now walking the streets. He wanted some privacy to look over the list of contacts he’d been provided with. It was a veritable Who’s Who of Titan personalities. The information had taken all of five seconds to assimilate.

  Alas, it was time to check in with Adler.

  Calling up the special comlink frequency they had provided, Ward reached out.

  [Adler. Are you there?]

  The signal went out, and Ward waited for the few seconds it would take to get to the ship and back. Adler took no longer than he needed, replying promptly in Ward’s ear.

  “On station and receiving, Mr. Ward. I’ve got you on subvocal only. Is something wrong?”

  [Nothing. Just didn’t want to appear like I was standing here talking to myself. Most people here don’t have that option.]

  “Good thinking,” replied Adler. “Is the doctor with you?”

  [Aren’t you tracking her?]

  “We would be able to, if she still had her implants. But no, she’s not fitted with any trackers.”

  Ward reflected on this for a second. So, they were unable to track her movements? Was this a sign of trust, or a luxury they extended to their regular employees?

  [She’s back at the hotel. I’m not particularly tired, so I decided to take a walk. We’ll be meeting with the local Gendarmerie tomorrow to go over the details of the case.]

  “Excellent. You still in possession of all your kit?”

  Ward tapped at the Rutger underneath his coat. Again, its presence felt reassuring. The layer of tungsten armor next to his shirt didn’t hurt either.

  [Everything is where it should be. No worries on this end.]

  “Excellent,” said Adler. “Stay in contact and be sure to report anything out of the ordinary. We’re ready to move at a moment’s notice.”

  The link was terminated and Ward was left standing alone.

  He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, motionless and staring. But before long, he noticed the hazy sky was turning a deeper shade of brown. Slowly, the orbital mirror which ensured the planet simulated a diurnal cycle was beginning to drift to the far side of the moon, and the foot traffic on the street was beginning to respond. He decided to do the same.

  #

  Morning came too quickly. The few hours of forced sleep had helped, but not terribly. Once he’d returned to the hotel and found his bed, Ward had chosen to instruct the bioimplants in his head to initiate a sleep cycle, calling forth additional supplies of melatonin and serotonin. It had done the trick, and he had passed out sometime after zero-th
ree-hundred, but it was hardly a replacement for a good night’s sleep.

  Pulling himself from his bed, he worked quickly to get himself into working shape for the day. A brief birdbath in the hotel room sink, some vitamin-infused tea from the room’s breakfast dispenser, and a quick meal in the hotel dining room consisting of a protein omelet and some toast. Amaru joined him there, grabbing a cup of coffee and a small tray of croissants, butter and fruit spread.

  Ward noticed the same look of fogginess on her. It was a nice change of pace from her usual guardedness. He got the impulse to engage her in conversation.

  “Sleep all right?” he asked. She looked up at him with mild confusion, then shrugged the question off.

  “All right, I guess. Where did you go?”

  “Out for a walk,” he replied. “I needed a little exercise. Figured it would help me sleep.”

  She hummed approvingly, taking a long sip from her coffee. “Perhaps I should have joined you. I spent the better part of the night tossing and turning.”

  Ward nodded. He issued a command to his bioimplants to begin administering a dose of cortisol and epinephrine into his bloodstream. He wanted to be sharp for this. He also issued a command to reopen Amaru’s behavioral file and to begin recording again. He wanted to take advantage of the situation while she was still in a muddled state.

  “Dream at all?” Ward said as casually as he might.

  “Did I dream?” she replied. Ward nodded. “I suppose I did. Why?”

  Ward recalled their earlier conversation. His pitched his voice to be as conversational as possible. “You mentioned you dreamt about people dying before. I was wondering if that happened often, or only after cryo.”

  Amaru seemed to accept that explanation. Apparently, she only half remembered telling him that. Her next words sounded like clarification, almost apologetic. He was sure to note that.