Senate hearings were often dull. Matt found enough of them interesting enough to not regret his choice of public service, but one rarely sought election for the stimulating company. While he sat in his designated section on the senate’s hearing floor, a small light glowed silently on his desk.

Tonight. Our excellent friend will not be there.

Matt sent back his reply in the affirmative, only requesting that Rezkin fill in her other contact by telling them the basis. As a general rule, Matt disliked going into situations, especially ones that involved representatives of the stations. They held very little power to effect any real change themselves, and quite often they were little more than blustering bags of shit trying to spray enough in people’s eyes so they missed how uncompensated they were and got hired on into a real job with real paths forward.

Every so often, however, there was one or two that did what a representative was supposed to do. Those individuals were often competent and spoke little, and often put Martin on his back foot when arguing with them. He had always been one to listen, think, and then speak, and it was one of the features that helped him get elected.

So he had been told.

The meeting would either go very well, or very quickly.

One of the more dry and unengaging Senators, a man from the center rings, was dismounting the stage, and Matt absently spun the data card on his desk in a slow circle, a bill that he had helped draft.

Since, and only since, Rezkin had thus far had much more success with her two parties interested in St Angel and the goings on past the Martian fieldings than Matt had. So far he had been greeted with a stony expression, clearly an opportunity to bail out of the conversation gracefully, and outright rejection at the mere mention of any form of hostile organization. The only response that had been close was those who nervously asserted that though they were certain there wasn’t anything happening, because the military commands would surely have alerted us by now, but if there was then they would of course support a full scale military operation to, as they would say ‘clean up the matter’.

There might not have been clearly defined political parties in the cluster, but there were basically three lines of thought. The first, that humanity was quite obviously the only thing out here in the great expanse of space, and thus had the opportunity, right, and obligation to continue expanding and exploring, advancing and discovering, so as to form a mighty empire that was safe from all the threats that were clearly not out there.

The second was similar with one large difference. There were many who believed that though the advances humankind had made since leaving earth were great and impressive, we had still only reached the outside edge of our solar system comfortably, and that space was still far too vast and frightening to not hold some other kind of threat. It had taken the better part of a decade to solve something as simple as ‘how to we not get blasted apart by all the asteroids flying around in Jupiter’s gravity well’, and these people were concerned about everything else that might come out of the unknown parts of space.

The third line of thought held quite a majority of the Senate, and the other politicians, and even the citizens of the Cluster, and that was because a large portion of the population was old. Some of them were not even two or three generations removed from full settling here in Jupiter’s shadow, and there were still stories of Earth’s fate and the failed project around our own sun that had ended in such disaster. These thought that all technology, especially when it came to the manipulation of life, and a person's will, were highly dangerous, and should be subjected to the most rigorous and painstaking trials, and even then, possibly kept in laboratory setting on. This mindset was simple: we are here, and thriving. Best not push it.

It was easy for Matt to see where each of his answers had come from.

And, easy to see where each of them were coming from. Matt wasn’t entirely where he would stand if he hadn’t known about the threat for these years, if he didn’t have one brother saved by cybernetics and cousin in bleeding edge technological advancement.

Matt sighed at the thought, cursing Neerson for saddling him with this. It was his first term in office and the senior senators barely took him seriously on things that didn’t matter, much less something of this magnitude. It was one of the failings of the Senate, their overlooking of the younger incoming politicians. Some were receptive, seeking to mentor rather than curtail, but they were in the minority.

Another senator mounted the stage and began speaking passionately on the subject of genetic mapping and reconstruction, and the dangers of how it would take us to the same place that robotics had brought us: the edge of oblivion. She gripped the edges of the podium as she went on to mention everything from continued warp drive advancement to EMP application, micro synthetic plants and robotics, and EMPIRE class weapons systems.

Shifting a bit uncomfortably in his seat, covering the data card with his palm as she preached her piece. Excitable, some of the incoming incumbents were, but Martin tried to reign in that line of thought. Politics should be boring, but it was a generation a half step after his that saw the possibilities in front of them and either saw darkness or opportunity. One left unchecked would lead to the fear of the others, but there needed to be moderators as well.

Absently, Matt wondered who would rise up to take that place, and waited. The Senator finished with an enthusiastic call to pull back all resources to the Jupiter system and focus on stabilization and alacrity at home.

It sounded marvelous.

But then it was Matt’s turn to take the podium, and as he did the room fell silent, not out of respect, but because some of the eldest senators had fallen asleep, others had engagements that had already been on their agenda when this session was called, and because others were scanning their messages waiting for the approval to go through to be excused from the session, which was already over on time.

Matt made a point not to take it personal. His last name did not lend itself to an attentive audience when it was his turn to speak. So he let his gaze fall over the senate floor, took note of those who were still giving him their ear, and launched into a detailed report on the energy levels of the battery stations of Io, and the importance of investing in a more stable infrastructure for the energy farming that went on there. Seamlessly, he went on to detail the social and economic details of Outside Citadel and thank various representatives for their contributions in his absence.

One by one, more of the Senators slipped away, leaving bored aids in their place until only five remained. It was honestly more than he expected, but was unsurprised by, since these five were some of the most obvious followers of the fourth line of thinking in the Cluster’s political structure. That was that they were happy to be in their position, content with how humanity was conducting itself, and took care of their business quietly so as to not draw attention to themselves. Boring and predictable.

They were the ones that made Matt most uncomfortable, since it was the same mindset that he put forward for all to see. But here they sat, each of them without an aide, without any intention of departing before he was done.

“It is for these reasons,” Matt said, lifting the data card and inserting it into a slot in the podium. “That I am bringing bill T5-973 E to the Senate for consideration. I would be more than happy to remain here while you read it over and make your votes.”

Before Matt had even finished speaking there had been a smattering of votes. Some were ‘no’ on principle, just because it was a young politician standing there, and young aides loved to vote as such on behalf of their senator, especially when the individual standing in front of them was standing where they wanted to be.

Some voted ‘yes’, though not for the same reason. Matt had managed to gain the respect of a few of the more reasonable politicians, if only cautiously. An E class bill was safe, though not as safe as some of the others. Within fifteen minutes, the bare minimum to give the bill’s footnotes some serious consideration, and the highest level of cursory glance for the rest of it, nearly all the votes were in. It passed, but Matt remained where he was, watching the last of the uncast votes.

The five remaining wouldn’t be able to see the passing status. To each of them, they could be the deciding vote, and each of the five senators, two old and three of the younger incumbents, had their heads down, reading every word. Matt stood there still, watching the minutes tick pass. When forty-five minutes were up, he was sure they were either reaching, or had already read the three lines that he had slipped in.

Resources directed from the maintenance of derelict stations 38513A, 00945R, 444041F and 620009A to the station 00001013S.

Surveillance and Reconnaissance detachments sent to the first feilding of the Martian Sector: observation status only. To be at command’s discretion.

Approval for nanorobotic in medical testing at expressed authorization of subject only. Approval for revocation of deactivated status of Project Double Vision, to be resumed in its previous iteration, site testing only.

One by one, each head came up to look at him, and his pulse quickened. It was not the first time that controversial amendments had been made to a bill, and it wouldn’t be the last, but it was the first time that Matt himself had done so. If they chose to make something of it, there would be hell to pay. The bill would go through, but for how long Matt didn’t know. Even if each one of them voted yes, if some bored Senator decided they were having trouble sleeping and opted for some light reading, there could be a repeal vote.

If that happened, the frightened majority would take the reigns, and Neerson was on his own.

If each voted yes, the bill would be tabled for one week, and then cataloged safely out of sight of anyone without withdrawal request and authorization. That process was one that Matt had never seen processed for an E class bill. He could remind them that as the amendments were of a information gathering class, redistribution of resources, and the reactivation of a previously approved project, they fell under the proper classification.

But that would make noise. And Matt enjoyed silence.

So still he waited, and as the last of the votes came in, he breathed a sigh of relief. Each of the last five voted yes.

“Remaining Senators, I would be honored to convene with you after the session is adjourned. I yield the floor.”

“Session adjourned.” The speaker said as quickly as she could, signaled the close of session, and all vanished from the room, no doubt as tired of the proceedings as the other Senators who had long since departed had gone.

Matt left the podium and collected his things and went to one of the rooms set into the chamber walls, seating himself at a table. A few minutes later, four of the Senators entered.

They seated themselves in silence, and when they had, the last entered. She did not seat herself, but stood in the doorway for a moment, and nodded. Matt recognized her, a Senator with less time in her seat than he had, Rebeca Lanset from one of the center rings. “I cannot stay, senator, but that was very well done.” She said. “You have my support.”

“Thank you.” Matt said. Then he turned to the others. “I take it you have questions.”

Four sets of eyes regarded him. One of the pairs looked as though Matt had lost his mine, two others seemed to echo Senator Lanset’s reaction. The last was unreadable.

This last was Senator Angela Michaels. She nodded once, but did not ask a question. “I never thought I would vote yes on a bill that reactivated a cloning program.” She said. “But here I am.”

“And I never thought that I would vote to put nanorobotics into a medical testing environment.” Said one of the grizzled Senators, his face grim. “And here I sat as well.”

Matt nodded, and folded his hands on the table, “Why did you both vote on the bill, then? If I might ask.”

The two senators who had spoken exchanged a glance. “The first part.” Lanset said. “About reconnaissance out past the first feilding.” She said. “The battery stations have been getting readings recently. I looked into it, and if I’m right, someone is trying to get Project Ashwind back online.”

Matt breathed a deep, long sigh of relief. He couldn’t help it, even there while he maintained the careful narrative he had long held in place. But it was begun, and now from where he sat, the task Neerson had set down for him seemed less impossible. Just a bit, but for him, where he sat, it was enough for a start.

—

Natalie lay in her bed, more miserable than she had felt in years. Even when she had heard of Neil and his injuries, it hadn’t been like this. There had been a purpose, there had been something well and truly there in front of her to worry about. But not now. In the past days, the journeymen she had been promoted with had all gotten their assignments and left the EMAR, while she remained behind with… nothing.

There was no morning roll call, no designated study hours for her. Technically she wasn’t even required to have a room, but for whatever reason they had not given her notice that she would be moved to temporary holding barracks while she awaited her assignment. She had packed what few personal belongings she had, backed up all of her research, and returned to laying on her bed.

Now there was just the empty wondering why she hadn’t been assigned anywhere yet. Her file might have gotten lost in processing, she had heard of that happening before. It could also be since there were so many researchers in her field that there was a temporary hold on her assignments while waiting for a position to open.

But, she thought with a sinking heart, she would have been informed if that had happened. If anything, the communication got a bit repetitive under normal situations, with daily updates sometimes being sent even if there was no change in status. But her messages were empty, nothing but the log of her refreshing the inbox.

And in these moments, when she had gone over everything that could have gone wrong and gotten to the end of the list, her thoughts turned back to Neil. The moment her anger had cooled she had opened the door to apologize, to tell him that even though she didn’t understand why he was leaving again that she would be there when he got back.

Only when she had opened the door, he was gone. The feeling of panic and shame that had gone through her was a thing that always welled up when she thought about that moment, and about how she had run through the station to the docking bay he had been scheduled to leave from. It had been empty, and she had returned to her room, not angry, but in shame. The next day she had packed, and the day after she had assumed the position she was in now.

Even listening to her grandmother’s audio files had lost some of its magic and charm, but that could have been credited to the man who had given them to her. It was illogical, but Natalie couldn’t help but feel like it was the admiral's fault for taking Neil, even though it had not been anyone’s choice but Neil’s alone. She couldn’t help but feel also that Neerson had taken Damien away to the cold depth of the Saturn system as well, even though the Admiral was not in charge of the research station there. What was an optics specialist going to be doing out there around Titan anyway? There couldn’t possibly be enough patients to warrant such a—

Natalie sat bolt upright, shock hammering through her. It would be against so many sanctions, but if there was a place to start experimenting with the field of anthropomorphic robotics in a non-human application setting… there was no way that he could be working on that though, not with what had happened on earth. The Senate, the Representative, would never allow such a thing to happen again. Ever, there had been an act signed for every law, there had been military law written into effect… it couldn’t be that.

Lowering herself onto her bed, Natalie forced herself to be calm. Likely it was just her mind reaching for reason and logic to connect the dots between why in the hell Damien would choose to willingly go to a place like titan to conduct his research, when in reality the reason was probably little more than the one he had given her.

Peace. Quiet. Calm. The absence, or leniency, of deadlines in the outlier stations was well known, but Damien had never been one to shirk from a deadline either. Gritting her teeth, she forced the line of thought out of her head. A mind at rest, she reflected, could be a terrible thing.

Her tablet pinged once.

Natalie snatched it up. There was a message notification there, addressed from the Office of Assignments and Postings.

Official orders that put her in orbit around Titan, but not assigned to any research station. She was assigned to the RDC Vigilance, intelligence and reconnaissance vessel of the Ninth Fleet, Detachment Cerberus.