by Patty Jansen
A word came to him. Pampas.
Horses. Cattle. Villages with low, spread-out houses. Another word, a name. “Argentina.”
“What?” Major Doric said. They had been driving in silence, only broken by the hum of the engine.
“Argentina. That’s a country on Earth.”
“I know that. What about it?”
“That’s where I grew up. My family had a farm.” He thought so, at least. It seemed important. Maybe he never had a farm and had never been to Argentina, but someone, somewhere wanted him to remember that he’d lived on a farm. Or something like that. Memories were insubstantial, inconsequential things with no proof whether they were real or had been modified, falsified or misappropriated or were simply outright lies.
She raised an eyebrow.
“Sorry,” he said. And then he said nothing for a long time while the truck crawled up the mountainside. He remembered something else.
He sat in a leather chair in an office and someone in uniform sat on the other side of the desk, a dark-haired man with a slab of medals and decorations on his chest and a whole firmament of stars on his epaulettes.
Admiral Sanchez of the International Space Force. His eyebrows were huge and bushy, a mixture of grey and black, and twirled into long points that stood from his head like horns.
“Don’t you dare stuff this up, too, Velazquez,” he said, putting his elbows on the desk and placing the fingertips of both hands against one another. “I’ve been involved with your project from the start, but it’s getting to the point where your actions have put us in a lot of trouble. I think you can thank your lucky stars that I believe that you’re speaking the truth, even if no one else does. But I cannot keep you in positions where you are vulnerable to outside influences, not even pretty female eyes, for fuck’s sake. I’m going to give you a quiet posting in a place where you can’t do any more harm than you already have. Keep your head down, Velazquez, and I might leave it on your shoulders.”
The expression in the black eyes was concerned like an uncle’s, not like a superior. The memory made him shiver. The memory contained nothing about a message for Doric.
Terrain became rough now that they were higher up the mountain. Major Doric’s hands went hand over hand on the steering wheel. The truck bumped and creaked. A panel rattled.
The black, tarry path zigzagged up the mountainside, from orange light to orange light. Fabio stared at the forward viewscreen, as if the grey sky would give him any clues. The huge red sliver of Jupiter, about a third full, hung above, giving off a sickly red-orange glow. Beyond its misty parameter, the sky faded from grey to black. There were stars, the glowing orb of a moon, almost full. Ganymede. He remembered that name. Another bright spot in the sky was Europa.
“Did my . . . my name appear on your Research Division spec sheet? Was that why you came into the med room back there?”
“The transport arrived. I figured you’d be on it. It’s not like we get new arrivals every day. What’s with all the questions?”
“I just want to know why you . . . needed me badly enough to come all this way.”
“Simple. We asked for a mining astronomer, so they sent us one.”
“Er—I suppose.” Very simple. Except he remembered nothing about doing any kind of job at all. A mining astronomer was someone who scoured the telescope outputs for comets and asteroids and identified their components and calculated what was needed to divert the asteroid’s orbit to one convenient for miners, like into the orbit of a planet, or even crashing into a planet—
—Mars.
That name kept coming up in his memories.
He shivered.
“Are you cold?”
“No. It’s just . . .” But he didn’t know what and he had no idea what to say to someone who obviously thought he was an expert.
Thalia
* * *
THE DOORS TO THE TRANSPORT craft had opened.
Thalia pulled her bag out of the locker under her chair. The other members of the delegation, Jun and Paul, had already left the craft, so she went with Sol, who had sat next to her and couldn’t get out until she did. They followed the other passengers through a wobbly access tube.
The air was dusty, with a slight metallic tang to it, and ice cold. The tube’s walls pulsed with the air pumped into it to keep the pressure up.
A nervous energy raged through her body. She had worked so hard to come here and couldn’t believe that she had finally succeeded.
That Base Commander Banparra was such an arse. First he wanted to be part of the Council Of Four, and then he wanted to be exempt from all its regulations.
He had managed to get the military-civilian quota waived—Io was a military settlement after all, and few civilians would seriously consider living here. But he wanted the benefits of being in the Council Of Four, so he would have to be subject to this, the most contentious of rules: obey the human rights laws of the system.
There was some sort of hold-up at the end of the tube, where all the passengers passed a scanner and had to stand still for a few seconds until the screen told them to continue. Thalia could not see what it was about, but the process seemed the same for everyone. The screen told them to stand on a line, and then a blue light would track across the person’s body. Then after a second or two, the screen would turn green and the text continue please would appear. It did not say what it was scanning, but nobody objected so it was clearly just part of the regular entry process.
When it was Thalia’s turn, she stood with her feet slightly apart on the line as directed, and the blue line tracked over her face. It was a very harsh, almost painful light, that went from the top of her head to her feet making a horizontal blue line over her clothes.
She waited.
It seemed to take little bit longer than with previous person.
And then the screen lit up red.
But it said continue please.
What was that about?
She looked around, but nobody seemed to be attending this machine, and nobody seemed to care that her scan was different.
She had no idea why it should be different either. She had completed all the tests and had taken all the medication that they had instructed her to take.
Sol, joining her from behind after finishing his scan, flicked his eyebrows.
“Did it do the same thing to you with the red scan?” Thalia asked in a low voice.
“Nope.”
Ah well, best not to worry about it. If it was important, she was sure she’d hear about it soon enough.
At the end of the tube, passengers fanned out into a military-grey hall with hard military-style benches, where the only attractive feature was a large viewscreen on the opposite wall.
It showed a landscape outside: a few gold-coloured domes set in a sickly grey-yellow plain. Caterpillar wheel tracks in the dust showed the frequent passage of vehicles. In fact, one was coming in the direction of the camera now.
The sky was dark grey, and behind the base, a mountain range formed a jagged horizon.
“This sure is one hellhole of a place,” said Paul, looking up at the screen, a sneer on his face. “Why do people even live here?”
Thalia jammed her hands in her pockets. Even if he just complained about something general, he annoyed her, with his exquisitely quaffed shock of blond hair, with his whiny voice, with his living tattoos that were nothing but a monumental waste of bio-resources that could have been used for medical purpose. Like, to save someone’s life. Or something.
Trying to look tough, but having no idea how. He was all air and no substance. Never did as was agreed. The question was not: what are these people doing here, but what was he doing here? Never mind that he had married one of her childhood friends, she could think of few people she’d been less keen to have as company on a mission. And the worst thing? He didn’t even realise that he acted like a spoilt whining brat.
So now she was going to be stuck here for days with this moron, becau
se that craft that had brought them in was the only way out again, and it wouldn’t be back for days.
Thank the heavens for Sol and Jun whose presence would help take the edge off his annoying remarks, or who could serve as alternate pissing posts when she was tired of listening to Paul.
Don’t get yourself riled up, Sol would say. He’s just doing it to get a rise out of you.
Jun, being the youngest member in the team and only there because he’d won the spot through an article he had written, didn’t have much to say at all.
They waited in the hall, slightly apart, but brought together by the fact that none of them wore military uniforms.
All the passengers had now come out of the craft. Most remained standing and milled around near the screen and the entrance to a tube access point on the other side of the hall. There was very little talk amongst the group. Everyone except the four of them were in military uniform of some description, and the group got some strange looks. Civilians didn’t come here. Civilians had never come here.
That was why she had been so keen to get involved with the COF human rights movement—because they were said to be able to send a mission to the secretive military bases on Io under the human rights agreements. And under these agreements, she could ask questions, and she could ask to see prisoners without raising any questions. And she would not only report on living conditions to COF, but to others, including a Human Rights committee of which Admiral Sanchez was a member. He didn’t like the poor name his forces had in the Outer System. He didn’t want Banparra taking the decisions in his own hand in order to circumvent inspection.
Some noises came from outside: clanging of metal against metal. A light above the access tube door flashed and a moment later the door opened into yet another tube.
This one gave access to the vehicle that had been visible on the screen a moment ago.
Thalia followed Sol and sat down next to him in the bus-like arrangement.
Not too much later, the vehicle bumped across the grey-yellow plain on its way to the base.
Meanwhile, an electronic voice made safety announcements. Arriving passengers were to present their bags for checking for a long list of prohibited items which included weapons and food. Passengers were to report to their units upon arrival and if they had no unit, were to report to the quarantine officer.
“I hope none of this is going to take too long,” Sol said. “I’m tired and hungry.”
“Me, too,” Thalia said. “But sadly, I don’t hold much hope that we can just walk in.”
She had a letter from Base Commander Banparra that should answer questions, but again, coming here had been one string of frustrations and she had no illusion that the base command wanted them here .
The vehicle stopped and a moment later, the side door opened. Passengers got up and filed out of the door row by row.
Jun and Paul were first and Thalia and Sol followed them, down a ramp, into another tube and finally into the base. A queue formed when the passengers had to wait to clear a checkpoint.
Cold air filtered into the tube from the hall, where several large vehicles were visible through the entrance of the tunnel.
Jun and Paul arrived at the front of the queue. The officer asked them for their ID, and then looked at Thalia. “You’re with them?” He had a clean-shaven military face and a hard expression. If she hadn’t seen him smile at the previous group, she would never have thought that he could.
“We’re part of the same group.”
“The human rights activists, is that correct?”
“We’re representatives of the Council Of Four.” Thalia would not let the word activists pass her lips. It was a good thing to fight for the rights of all people. Wherever so-called activists turned their backs, there were always people who behaved like animals to each other. Worse than animals, because animals did not maliciously harm their rivals and continue to harm them when they were down and vulnerable. Here was another reason why she hated ISF so much. Shortsighted, entrenched tunnel vision, endemic discrimination against anything and anyone that didn’t conform to their vision.
“Put your bags on the table please.”
The four of them went where he indicated and placed their bags on the bench. Another officer, wearing gloves, opened the clips and slides so that he could look inside.
Thalia watched while he searched through Jun’s bag.
“What’s this?” He held up a parcel.
“That’s my medicine,” Jun said.
The man studied his screen. “The entry log says nothing about medicine on your person. Can I see the active ingredient list?”
“Sure, but the documentation is in my luggage. I can show you as soon as I have it.”
“In that case we’re going to have to retain this.” He put the box aside.
“Hey, I need those,” Jun said.
Thalia wasn’t aware of his medical condition, but truth was that most people in Council Of Four settlements did have a medical condition that required long-term medication to manage. Moreover, she wasn’t aware that they would need to provide proof of the identity of every tablet.
“It’s an unidentified substance, and those are prohibited inside any buildings of the base.”
“I told you that I have the documentation in my luggage.”
“You should have kept that with the substance at all times.”
Thalia pushed her way to the front. “Can you give him his luggage so that he can get it out for you?”
The officer turned a withering gaze on her.
A man in the queue behind her said, “Come on, we don’t have all day.”
The officer glared at her. “Ma’am, please wait for your turn.”
“We’re travelling together.” He knew this, of course, the dick. And also, of course, he was picking on the youngest and most inexperienced-looking member of the group, and deliberately stopping the others stepping in to help.
“It’s his bag and his medication. Every officer in this base—”
“He’s not an officer and you know who we are,” said Sol. “It’s not like you get hundreds of civilian visitors through here every day.”
Paul shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back again, his hands jammed deep inside his pockets. He had already put his bag on the table for searching, as if he wanted to be processed and leave Jun here.
“We have strict protocols to adhere to,” the officer said. Not a skerrick of friendliness crossed his face. “I can’t accept this unidentified material in our base—”
“Fuck it, man, just let him get his fucking bag and show it to you!” Paul burst out.
The officer gave him a wide-eyed look.
“You said—what, sir?”
Thalia bumped his arm. “Paul, keep calm please.”
She would rather have belted him over the head. What was wrong with this idiot? He always did this—hold tirades against people who could really stuff up their work if they became too annoyed.
“Let go of me.” He pulled his arm out of her grip.
“Paul . . .” The idiot. He was not going to make a scene here?
The quarantine officer waved his hand. “Mister, please step away while we process your colleague’s details.”
“He is in my group. And he’s right.” Paul jerked his head at Sol. “You know who we are, no need to put on this façade. Give him his fucking bag so he can show you the documentation.”
“Mister, I told you—”
“Paul, keep quiet!” Thalia said. He was going to ruin everything.
Another officer came to the assistance of the first one. He pushed himself between the first officer and Paul, who threatened to jump over the table. He pushed Paul back into the line.
“Keep your hands off me!” Paul called out.
And he did ruin everything, because the first officer had pressed an alarm and a group of armed guards came running from another part of the hall.
Within moments, the four of them wer
e isolated and their arms held behind their backs. There were far too many of them to fight, or even to run if they managed to escape.
But Paul was fighting anyway, with all his pent-up anger. Why had the Council Of Four agreed to let him come on the mission? The man was a walking disaster zone.
The four of them were frogmarched to another part of the big hall and pushed into the back of a truck.
In the darkness of the cabin, Thalia glared at Paul, and Sol tried to comfort Jun, who seemed to feel that it was all his fault.
“It’s not,” Thalia said. “The guidelines said nothing about having to identify medicines on the spot. I think they’re looking for a way to keep us talking to the staff.”
“We’re fucked,” Paul said.
It was one of the rare occasions that Thalia agreed with him.
“It’s because of me,” Jun said.
“No,” Sol said. “If they hadn’t stopped you, they would have stopped me. I have medicines in my pocket.”
And Thalia somehow returned a red body scan.
The message was clear. They had wanted a reason to refuse them access.
A soldier came to shut the back door of the truck and lock it from the outside. The cabin walls were thick and when the door had shut, it became pitch dark inside.
“I wonder where we’re going?” Sol asked.
Nobody knew, but it was a long way away, and it was not in the main base.
Chapter 3
* * *
WHEN THE TRUCK finally reached the top of the meandering track, they came to a flat area in which the only habitable structure was a low and featureless building made of yellowish concrete. It looked like a field station bunker, and one that had been there for a long time at that.
Beyond, on the flat mountaintop, was an installation consisting of many tall rods, pointing at the sky like a bed of nails. These nails were incredibly tall, reaching almost out of sight and casting long shadows over the surrounding landscape in the weak sunlight. They were arranged in bundles set three by three in frames each about twenty metres across. There was a walkway around each frame at a few metres above ground level. Fabio counted nine such pads.
