It was not Matt’s preference to entertain appointments in his professional office on Outside Citadel. He would have much rather made sure that Senators Lanset and the grizzled faced Senator who had expressed his misgivings about nanorobotics, Senator Durrang met him in the W. But, given that the recommendation had come from the Honorable Patricia, and given that recommendations from the sitting members of the Triumvirate were best not heeded as such, he had relented.

It was clear and obvious why. At least to him. As the two senators were shown into his office, however, it could not have been more clear that it was not so much to them. “Senators,” He gestured to the seats and refreshments he had made sure were available. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

“Ziggenbor,” Durrang said, extending a hand. “Good to see you.” He said, and sat. “I haven’t been to the Citadel since my retirement.”

“Navy, wasn’t it?” Martin said, keeping the illusion that he hadn’t spent the previous two evenings pouring over both he and Senator Lanset’s files. Since Durrang was former military, there was considerably more to read about him than Lanset.

“That’s right.” Durrang said proudly. “Nearly my whole career with the Ninth Fleet, before she became a shell of herself and got banished to some backwater station. Ended everything with the third.”

“An officer’s retirement assignment, it’s often said.”

“Charged with defending the Cluster at its heart.” Durrang said gravely, though he did not disagree.

“Senator Lanset,” Matt said, turning. “Thank you for coming.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Lanset said, though she cast a sidelong glance at Durrang. “I’m hoping that we can make some progress here.”

“I think that’s all our hopes.” Matt said with a smile at the senators together. “There’s much that I’m sure we can accomplish together.”

Durrang grunted and reached for one of the biscuits present. Lanset did not. Martin busied himself with his tablet, pulling up the reports that he wanted to go over as a pretense while he let the uncomfortable silence drag on, wondering which of the senators would crack first. When neither did, he replaced the tablet and his smile vanished.

“I’ll be clear on something. You’re both here because you took the time to read bill T5-973 E when you didn’t have to.”

“Wouldn’t say that.” Durrang, swallowing a mouthful of biscuit. “It’s every senator's duty to do their personal due diligence on any bill that comes across their desk, whatever class it is.”

“An admirable quality, Senator.” Lanset said.

“Thank you.” He returned the gesture. “I know a lot of the younger incomings think we’re all pompous and career minded, but they’re most of them wrong about some of us.” He took another bite, chewed, and swallowed before saying. “Not all of us are career minded.”

That actually drew a smile from Lanset. “Well said, Senator. I know that a lot of the older, crustier incumbents think that us newcomers are all nearsighted idealistic brats. But most of you get one of those wrong too.”

Durrang raised his eyebrows.

“Not all of us are nearsighted.”

The older senator wiped his beard and guffawed, gulping some water before racing to shake the younger woman’s hand. She obliged him, and then they both turned to Martin. “I suppose this is about Io, then, isn’t it?”

“Partially.” Matt said, picking up his tablet again. “You’ve voted no on several bills that would have seen resources directed to attempting to reactivate Ashwind that would have taken strain off of the battery stations.”

“Ashwind is a lost cause.” Durrang said in a way that a man recites something that he’s believed for a long time. “I’ve seen the reports myself, Senator Ziggenbor, there’s no way to expend the resources needed to extend the manpower and keep the battery stations going. It would put enough strain on the Cluster that the way of life for the vast population of… well, all of us would be severely compromised.”

“Your main concern is the well being of the citizens of the Cluster, then?”

“Certainly.” Durrang seemed to swell slightly. “It’s the only reason I still do this damned job, Ziggenbor. I’d much rather spend the vast majority of my time with my feet up while my grandchildren climb all over me and ask me stupid, impertinent questions. Better than politics, by a long way.”

Lanset blinked. “How many grandchildren do you have, sir?”

“Seven.” Durrang blew a hard breath through his whispers. “With another on the way. And please, don’t call me sir, I had enough of that in the navy.”

“What do your grandchildren call you?”

“They call me grandpapa.” He said in an imperious voice, which dropped back to it’s usual tone as he said. “Or Bampa. Easier for the younguns, you see.”

Lanset nodded, seeming to think before she said. “That’s very fortunate for them, Senator. I didn’t know either of my grandfathers.”

“Died early, did they?”

“One did.” She said with a sad smile. “The other died in the Old Compound.”

Durrang’s face fell. “I am so sorry.” He said. “I know the feeling of a family member being incarcerated. Not a pleasant thing.”

“It isn’t.” She said with a little huff. “But, I think Senator Ziggenbor has urgent matters to discuss with us.”

“Yes, Ziggenbor, why did you drag us all the way out here?” Durrang demanded in a not unpleasant tone.

Matt gestured to them both. “The matters at hand notwithstanding, if it ended here I don’t think its been a waste of time.”

“Getting to know each other is something we could have accomplished over coffee and tea.” Growled Durrang.

Matt smiled. “But would you have?”

The two other senators exchanged glances. “No. No I don’t suppose we would have.” Muttered Durrang.

“Senator Lanset, your findings?”

Lanset detailed the reports from Io, including the predictions that had been amended by Matt. As she spoke, Durrang’s face grew darker and darker. When she had finished, he took the tablet from her and scanned over the numbers for himself.

“It’s all there,” He said, holding his free hand out, palm up as though he were indicating something very obvious. “But it’s all there? Why hasn’t this hit the senate floor?”

“It has.”

“Not like this.” Durrang said at once, passing the tablet back. “Certainly not like this. If it had it would have been a unanimous vote.”

“Would it?” Matt said. “Senator, the representatives of the stations have the same pitfalls and short comings as the incumbents of the Senate, and their term cycles are longer. There’s enough of them that would vote to keep something like this down as much out of fear of shaking things up too much, than--”

“Shake things up too much?” Durrang spluttered. “Its,” he slapped a hand on his knee. “All,” He did again. “There!” and he clapped his hands together, and spread them, looking to both the senators.

“Trust me, you don’t need to convince us.” Lanset said with a bitter smile. “The only reason I’m planning to go for a reconsideration for election is to keep trying to get people to listen to all this before it’s too late.”

As though he could not contain himself, Durrang sprang to his feet and paced to the window of Matt’s office, then back, then to the window again where he peered out.

“Even the most hardened, and stone cold stalwart fool would ignore raw data like this, surely.” Durrang said. “I mean… if there was another way, I could see it.”

“They’re all convinced that Io is inexhaustible.” Lanset said. “They’re dead wrong.”

“Most of them will be dead before it matters.” Durrang bristled. “I know I will be.” He looked out the window again, lapsing into silence with his thoughts. Lanset looked at Matt, who shook his head and pointed. Just barely, they could see Durrang’s lips moving in the reflection of the window.

Eight words, over and over again.

Names.

When Durrang turned back his jaw was set and his face was slightly more white than it had been before. “How can I help you, Senator Lanset?”

“In ways you can’t even begin to imagine.” Lanset said, a wide, genuine smile gracing her face for the first time since entering Matt’s office.

--

The armor classified under project heading 188-HH was locked away in a dusty old locked safe that Carga led Natalie and Damien to after they had eaten, and had time to converse with each other far away from the robot. Though they had both agreed they didn’t like the situation, they also both agreed that the situation was largely of their own making, and that neither of them had any logical way out of said situation. So they had asked to see the project, and Carga had obliged. As they had walked, Natalie had noted the synthetic material that Carga’s face was made of, like fluid plastic, but solid to the touch. If she had been human Natalie would have said she had a heart-shaped face and soft features. But no matter how humanoid the features or how they had blended the color of the iris, the eyes were where everything stopped for Natalie. If anything it looked like the most time had been spent on them to make them look warm and inviting, disarming.

It was a disastrous failure.

Every time Natalie looked into the eyes, all she saw was lights and clockwork.

Computer, she told herself as they walked down the sporadically lit hallway. Just a very smart computer.

Then they were at the dusty safe, and Carga opened the large, heavy doors with ease, stepping back for the Journeymen to be able to see inside. “This?” Damien said, turning to the robot. “This is the project?”

“This is the armor classified 188-HH, codenamed: Hellhound, project classified under codename: Black Shuck” The robot said. “It is your assignment.”

“What assignment?” Damien said, looking at the bits of body armor hanging in the safe, from greaves to gloves and gauntlets to the formidable looking helmet on the safe’s top shelf.

“Stage one of your assignment is to study the armor classified 188-HH, codenamed: Hellhound, project classified under codename: Black Shuck and detail all findings.” Carga said, stepping aside further. “Stage two of your assignment is to attempt to get the armor classified--”

“The armor,” Natalie said quickly. “You can call it the armor, the project, and the like.”

Carga stared at her for a moment before nodding once. “Stage two of your assignment is to attempt to get the armor into working order, even in preliminary stages. This will require analysis and diagnostic testing.”

“How are we supposed to test this shit?” Damien said, picking up a glove and weighing it in his hands. “How are we supposed to know if it will fit us? Is it supposed to fit us?”

“No, Journeymen, the armor is intended to be fitted for the subject matters of Project Black Shuck.”

“Who are the subject matters?” Natalie asked, taking the glove from Damien and turning it over in her hands.

“Sergeant First Class Jackson Valentine. Sergeant First Class Neil Ziggenbor. Sergeant Liliana Rivers.” Carga said.

Natalie’s hand tightened on the glove, pieces clicking together in her head as she thought about all the moving parts that had brought her to be standing right there. “Carga, what’s the objective of this project?”

“The objective of Project Black Shuck is to achieve hitherto untapped potential in soldiers, primarily those with a history of reconstruction, genetic alteration, cloning, nanotechnological augmentation, or superior aptitude.”

“And the objective of the armor?”

“The objective of the armor, codenamed: Hellhound is to keep the subjects of Project Black Shuck alive during encounters, engagements, scenarios, or circumstances that would otherwise render them fatally wounded, immobile, or otherwise incapable of completing their mission.” Carga paused for a moment. “It is to keep them alive.”

Damien nodded. “But what did they want us here for?”

Handing the glove back to Damien, Natalie reached up and took the helmet down. It was solid, heavy, but she could fix that. She rolled it in her hands and looked inside, seeing the visor and the places where it looked like chips had been ripped out by their wires. “I think we’re meant to do what we’ve always studied to do, Drake.” She said. “Maybe just from a different angle than we’re used to. After all,” she said with a small smile. “Isn’t that what Journeymen do?”