“Command module online,” one of the techs said as he consulted a chart, “all suit systems are fully functional. You’re good to go, colonel.”
“Thank you.” Gabriel replied, stepping out of the frame and leaving the armoury.
The squad of operators was still engrossed in their silly weightlifting competition by the time Gabriel got back. They were wasting time.
“Wrap it up,” Gabriel ordered them gruffly as he approached, “we’re dropping down to Loki in fifteen minutes, so I want everyone ready to go well before that.”
The operators looked surprised and more than a little disappointed; but the killjoy was in charge, and they duly obeyed. The barbell was replaced on its rack and the operators began checking and double-checking their armour, ensuring that each piece was locked and sealed in place before readying their weapons. Gabriel checked his own weapon before using the vehicle-bay controls to lower one of the Wolverine APCs to the floor.
The Wolverine had quite a sleek chassis for such a large vehicle, with a v-shaped underside, and a rounded nose. It resembled a bullet with wheels; six monster-sized wheels with knobbles and grooves for off-road travel. Its skin had been treated to a fresh paint-job with a grey camouflage pattern, made somewhat redundant by the emblem on the underside of the nose featuring a stylised image of its snarling namesake. The top of the cockpit was also crowned with a multi-barrelled gun turret for fire support.
“Mount up, everyone!” Gabriel ordered.
* * *
The director-general put on a pair of VR glasses, and inserted the attached earpieces. As she activated the glasses, a two-way link was initiated, projecting an image of a dozen other individuals seated around a virtual conference table. They were scattered across the city using similar set ups, but they all saw the same simulated conference room, complete with surround-sound and holographic images of each participant.
Those seated at the table included the great and the good of the city: representatives from various industrial lobbies, departments of the civilian bureaucracy as well as members of the elected governing council. As per protocol, the mayor was chairing the meeting, but it was clear they had all been waiting for the director-general to join them. Even in hologram-form they looked apprehensive; as well they should be, given the situation.
“Well, now that our illustrious spymistress has joined us, perhaps we should call this meeting to order.” The mayor announced.
The ghost of a wry smile flickered at the corners of Red-eye’s mouth. ‘Spymaster’ would have been acceptable to her; no doubt he was trying to be polite.
“Can you tell us more about what happened on Loki?” the mayor asked.
“The Directorate is still investigating.” Red-eye replied coolly.
“Does that mean you don’t know, or you don’t think we ought to know?” the Interplanetary Shipping Consortium representative asked suspiciously.
“It means that we do not yet know, but will keep each of you appraised according to your respective concerns.” Red-eye answered.
“So what do you know about the situation?” the Justice Ministry’s vice-minister demanded, “or, at least, what do you know that you can tell us.”
“Jupiter Engineering Co. was operating an unregistered research facility on Loki with which they recently lost contact, whether due to a communications failure or something more serious is unknown at this stage.” Red-eye answered with the tone of a newsreader, “However, given that the facility was unregistered, it must have been engaged in illegal research.”
“Xenotechnology research?”
“Almost certainly, although we have yet to confirm that.” Red-eye replied, “More importantly, there is no alien threat to Asgard or to the wider system. This appears to be purely an incident of corporate malfeasance.”
“What assets have you deployed to investigate this?” asked the economy minister.
“The details of ongoing operations are classified.” Red-eye rebuffed him.
“It’s a simple, fleeking question–” the economy minister pressed in exasperation.
“An answer to which you are not entitled to receive.” Red-eye coolly cut him off.
“But if reports come out in the news–” he began to splutter.
“Nothing will appear in the news as long as there are no leaks to the news.” Red-eye shot back, the volume of her voice rising ever so slightly.
Although Red-eye’s words were directed at the economy minster personally, they carried a subtle but stern warning for everyone listening. They all understood the importance of information and its concealment – or its selective disclosure – so if they really wanted to keep this under wraps, all they had to do was keep their own mouths shut.
“Beyond that, I have nothing to add.” Red-eye concluded politely.
“Then, I suppose that concludes your contribution to this meeting.” The mayor said, “We trust you’ll keep us appraised of the situation as it develops?”
“Of course.” With that said, Red-eye deactivated the VR link.
* * *
The image faded to black and Red-eye removed the headset, placing it back on the table. She noticed two pending communication requests on the screen and opened a three-way conference link with both callers. The video images of two senior agents appeared on the screen, a man and a woman, each vid-linking from their respective wrist-top computers.
“Director,” the female agent spoke first, “we’ve finished interrogating the staff at J.E. Co.’s headquarters. They all appear to be clean.”
“Jezebel Thorn’s company offices and records have all been searched.” The male agent reported, “Nothing of her records mentions J.E. Co. at all. PBA-assisted interrogations of her staff also turned up nothing.”
“J.E. Co.’s records are still being searched.” The female agent said, “But anything sensitive will have been moved to an offsite server that we can’t reach.”
“No matter, then,” the director-general reminded her subordinates, “our only concern is xenotechnology, not the data potentially derived from it. Forward your findings to our Civil Liaison Office, they can pass on whatever is relevant to the Justice Ministry.”
“Understood.” The male agent acknowledged, “But I recommend we sic a surveillance team on Jezebel Thorn until the situation on Loki is resolved.”
“Permission granted.” The director-general said, “Make the arrangements.”
The male agent nodded and deactivated his comm. link.
“All other tasks and preparations at J.E. Co. were completed.” The female agent said.
“Good,” Red-eye said, “in the meantime, consider the researchers to be active leads. We still don’t know how much they knew about the facility on Loki, or if there was any corporate espionage going on.”
“But I just got done interrogating them.”
“A calm liar with a high degree of self-control can fool the analysis,” Red-eye replied coolly, “and the best moles, by definition, can and will pass most attempts to detect them.”
“Understood,” the agent acknowledged, “what about Dr Aster Thorn?”
“What about her?”
“Her PBA score was 91%, barely a passing mark.” The agent explained, “But she threatened to call her husband during questioning, and she believed the Loki facility only had a few hundred staff. Should we be concerned about her?”
“Keep an eye on her along with the others,” Red-eye instructed, “but unless something new comes to light, she’s just another active lead.”
“Understood.” With that said, the video link was terminated.