Of all the meetings Matt had invested in, this next was the one he had been most apprehensive about. Angela Michael’s was either remarkably unwilling to being outnumbered or she had been made uneasy by Matt’s tactics prior. Either way she had flatly refused to meet unless it was with Matt one on one, and in the W. The latter suited Matt fine, but the former had given him several uneasy nights sleep leading up to the appointment. When it came, he laid out no refreshments, ensuring only that a chair was available across his desk, which he had also cleared of what meager clutter it had contained. When the Senator was shown in, it was in silence, and Matt rose.

Senator Michaels was dark skinned and dark haired, almost as tall as he was and looked every inch the stateswoman as she seated herself. She placed on the desk, a tablet, her comlink, two data cards and a silencing web. Without waiting for approval, she activated it. Then she turned her eyes on Matt.

“Why the cloning?” She asked without introduction.

“It was requested by the Admiral of the Ninth Fleet.” Matt replied. “On site testing only.”

“On site testing rarely remains so for long.” Michaels said, leaning back in her chair. “And Richard Neerson doesn’t make requests that don’t further his own personal agenda.”

Matt nodded to this, thinking to himself that very few people, in point of fact, made requests that didn’t further their own interests in one way or another. “This makes you uneasy?”

“No.” Michaels said. “The only reason I voted yes was because I know the Vulcan’s station number, the fleet assigned to its security, the commander who had just been transferred there, and the technology that is houses there.”

Matt blinked. “You’re not opposed to the cloning program then?”

Smiling, Michael’s shook her head. “I’ve always been curious in the application of the science, but after what happened to Senator Crenshaw, I kept my mouth shut until someone else stuck their neck out.”

Matt remembered the citation with clarity. It was a case study in Senators who pursued the more taboo sciences and sought to bring them into circulation and then were asked to quietly retire. “That was prudent of you.”

“I’m the youngest of four. I learned early to watch the mistakes of others, and not to repeat them.”

“As the eldest of three, I can say that you are most fortunate.” Matt grumbled. “Though the youngest still sometimes ends up learning a few things on their own, depending on their ability to use their often considerably hard head?”

“You’re referring to your brothers?”

“One in particular.” Matt sighed. “Neil would watch us, sure enough, but he always thought that there was a way that he could get one over on the old man better than we could.”

“Did it ever work?”

“Once. He ended up in an infirmary for a month.”

“Better question: did he ever learn?”

Matt thought for a moment. “He learned what to take a risk on. He learned who to take a risk on. More than anything though, I think he just got more flexible. Wriggling out of tight situations using nothing but honest common sense has always come as naturally to him as others in the family as wriggling out through intellect and tactical reasoning.”

“You’re referring to yourself?”

“Certainly not.” Matt said with a chuckle. “Martin. Commander Ziggenbor, now, always had the head for moving pieces in a way that ensures the outcome he wanted, regardless of the odds or situation.”

Michaels studied him for a moment. “What about you?”

What about me, indeed? Matt thought, mulling that over for a moment thinking about his office back on the Outside Citadel. “I had someone who always demanded the ability to think things through. He called it his rule number three. I learned early on to be proactive.”

“As opposed to the Commander?”

“Reactive. The situation happens, and he looks at what he can do to effect his own situation in response.”

“Which would make your youngest brother the same?”

Matt shook his head. “Neil likes to watch the fallout. Figure things out on the way down, our grandfather used to say, and when he gets there decide what he can do with the information he has to learn from it moving forward.” Matt sighed again. “Neil has bullhorns when it comes to a situation. Go through it, look back, go through the next one easier.”

“Sounds like a good way to get killed.”

“I’m sure it is, but no one’s told him in a way that he’ll listen to yet. I just hope he doesn’t bring anyone else into the grave with him when he leaps in headfirst. But my family not withstanding, or my brothers various ways of confronting trouble, we were here to talk about your stance on cloning.”

“Yes, but we never covered how you get out of trouble.” Michaels said.

“I open my eyes as wide as I can.” Matt said. “I see as much as I can, and I use what I see to not get in trouble in the first place. Cloning.”

“Cloning.” Michaels said with a nod. “And Admiral Neerson.”

“I was expecting a lengthy, drawn out debate on moral ethics and political misgivings about the subject, but if you’re not opposed to the subject this meeting would end up being shorter than anticipated.”

“We can talk moral ethics if you want, but there were two things that I did come here to talk to you about, Senator Ziggenbor.”

“Oh?”

“Maybe three, depending on how the first two go. The first,” Michael’s reached out and tapped the first datacard. “Is about the Vulcan. Do you know it?”

“I know of it, certainly.” Matt said. “It’s an old battery station that didn’t make the cut, so they converted it to a research station and shipped it out to Titan. Supposed to be the start of a couple new fields of study.”

“That’s the official story.”

“I’m guessing you’re here to talk to me about the unofficial one.” Matt said with a smile.

“It made the cut.” Michaels said. “Flying colors, actually, was supposed to be state of the art at the time. So much so that one of the Nine snapped it up and had it shipped off to Titan, but not to establish new fields of research, but to house the ones that no one wants to talk about.” She picked up the datacard now and tossed it to Matt, who caught it and placed it in front of him.

“And for what they have in there, they needed the power converting capabilities of the station, too. I read your bill, the same as the others, so you at least know the start of it.”

“Nanorobotics and a cloning facility.” Matt said, his tone light. “One of the last fully functional in the Cluster to my knowledge.”

“One of two, and there hasn't been one like this before. The facility was built for maximum efficiency in growing subjects and genetic replication. And like everything else in that place, there’s theoretical technology attached to it.”

“What field?”

“Neurological replication.”

Matt stiffened, and traced the outline of the data card with one finger. “They’re trying to grow subjects with memories?”

“They’re trying to grow subjects with perfect memories.” Michaels nodded.

“I see.” He nodded. “I take it those other two--”

Michael flipped the second data card to him and Matt placed it next to the first. “Same song, second verse. The nanotech they’re working on in that place goes way beyond the basic stuff they were able to work out in the standard RAE station.”

“That was the purpose of the bill.” Matt nodded. “Nanites in medical application.”

But Michaels shook her head. “There’s more than medical application happening under those microscopes, Senator. They’ve got the Cluster’s leading Artisan on the subject out there running the whole station. Do you know why she’s out there?”

He did, but Matt shook his head. “Enlighten me.”

“Because one of her experiments got out of containment about ten years ago. It was kept quiet, but the entire subject is all but outlawed in anything but study. No advancement except outside the Cluster. Maybe someone didn’t put two and two together when they sent her out there, but they wanted her gone. She’s been there ever since.”

Matt sighed. “I take it that last one there isn’t telling me of a petting zoo they’re developing where all the animals are perfect clones with nanites making them live forever?”

This data card Michaels handed to Matt, who looked at it, and placed it next to the other two. “That station is a house of horrors, Senator.” Her voice slowed, became more deliberate and measured. “And our hero Neerson has it all at his fingertips.”

Matt placed the last datacard next to the others and considered her words. “I take it that’s the second thing you wanted to talk with me about.”

“In a way.” She said.

“I thought you trusted the man.”

“I do. I trust him to stay true to his ideals to help safeguard humanity's existence through whatever means necessary. If you’re going to ally yourself with him, you need to make sure that you’re in it for the long haul. Willing to do whatever you need to. Because you won’t be able to back out once you’re in.”

Matt’s eyes snapped up, and his face went hard and cold. The small, knowing smile that had been playing across Michael’s face vanished. Reaching across the desk, Matt tapped the controls for the silencing web, and it deactivated. Then he reached under his desk and activated his own, the four corners of the room hissing very softly.

In silence, the two stared at each other. One was at the peak of cold anger, the other uncertainty. “Thank you for bringing these things to my attention.” Matt said, his voice taking on an icy chill. Then he swept the data cards from the table, sending them clattering to the floor. Michaels eyes watched them go, and when she looked back she leaned away from the desk. Matthias Ziggenbor hadn’t moved an inch, or exhibited any change in his demeanor except that his anger had seemed to somehow grow, directing itself at her.

“I will now bring a few to yours.” His voice was hardly above a whisper. “Neerson is not my hero. That role was filled long ago. You have told me exactly one very small detail of a thing that I did not know, and nothing more. Consider the conversation of my brothers in regards to me, and consider it well before you bring leverage against me again. Any,” He said, cutting her off as her mouth opened. “Kind of leverage, for good or ill. I am aware of Fleet Admiral Neerson’s motives far better than you, as I have been allied with him far longer than either you, or your sister. Yes, Senator.” Matt nodded, as her eyes went wide. “I know that too. And if you ever presume that I am unaware of what it means to ally with Richard Neerson, I would consider your position very, very carefully. Because I am in this for the long haul, and I always have been. I am willing to do what needs to be done, and always will be. And I can assure you with everything that I am,” Now he placed his hands on the desk. “I don’t say these things to exercise power over you, or indicate leverage of my own. I see you as an ally, Senator. But I tell you this to make something abundantly clear. I have no intention of backing out. No matter the cost.”

Those last four words hung in the air, a pure and true statement of fact. Matt reached under the desk and the corners of his office hissed again.

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me today, Senator Michaels.” Matt said as he stood, the icy, ringing voice gone, replaced again by his casually business ready tone. He extended a hand. “I think that this meeting was productive, and I do believe that I’ve gained a much better understanding of you and your position.” He smiled warmly.

Michaels stood and shook his hand once, releasing her grip at once.

“Should you wish to conclude our current arrangement, please send a message to Senator Rezkin. Otherwise, please feel free to contact me for an appointment, to be arranged at my convenience.” Matthias Ziggenbor inclined his head, and sat.

Angela Michael collected her things, and left.

--

“Just call him, damnit.” Damien hissed through his teeth. “Considering he told us to get in contact with him if we needed anything.” Damien swore loudly and gently placed the delicate pieces he was working on to the surface of the table. Then he backed away, picked up a bucket of spare tools, and flung them as hard as he could down the length of the work stations.

Carga looked at him for a long moment, and Natalie pictured the robot sighing as she went off to retrieve the tools.

“Somehow I don’t think ‘worried cousin’ is what Admiral Neerson had in mind when he said that.”

“Well make something up then. Tell him that you need more strategy books.” Damien said, clenching and unclenching his hands.

“But I wouldn’t be making that up.”

“I know. You’ve been skimming through the files too quick on any of them for it to be your first time through the material.”

“Yeah, well I don’t think he’ll much want to be bothered by that either.”

“Well, ask Captain Benson the next time he comes down to talk about… what did he tell us to call it?”

“The term you have both been using in my presence is his ‘very special problem’.”

“Yeah,” Benson said, coming through the door. “But then I realized that makes it sound like there’s something wrong with my pecker. I think I’m going to change its codename classification to the very, very, very large pain in my asshole.”

“Good morning Captain Benson.” Carga said, turning to face the man. “You are here three hours and forty seven minutes prior to your scheduled appointment time. Is there something wrong?”

“If there is, then it’s no concern of a gearbox, no matter how chatty.” Benson wiggled his eyebrows and made a shooing motion towards Carga’s storage and maintenance station. For a moment it looked like she might not move.

“Don’t make me say it.” Benson said with a heavy sigh.

Carga seemed satisfied with that. She went to her chair and powered down, Benson taking the key from the socket before her eyes had even finished dimming. Then he turned to the journeymen. “Anyway, was there something I should be aware of?”

Natalie flounder, but Damien nodded. “Nat wants to see Neil to check up on his arm, but she's too chickenshit to get in contact with the Admiral about it.”

“Fuck me, I was going to say something to him about that, sorry kid. No shame, though, there’s turkeyshit that too scared to get in contact with the admiral too.”

“You’ll talk to him for me?” Natalie said, her eyes brightening.

Benson thought about that for a moment before shaking his head. “No, I’m not going to. He told you to contact him with anything you needed, yeah?”

“Sure, but I didn’t think--”

“Take it from someone who did a long time as a Lieutenant,” Benson cut across her, not unkindly. “And take officers at their word. Either they meant what they said or they should have thought about what they were saying just a little bit longer.”

Natalie blinked at him. “He’s an Admiral.”

“Yes,” Benson nodded. “He is a very intimidating, very high ranking, very powerful, very dashing Admiral. And half the time I talk to him I’m shaking in my boots, but I promise if you can learn how to talk to him, you won’t be scared of talking to anyone else. Now,” He held up a hand, palm out to forestall any more protests. Then he pointed at Drake. “I am going to need you to come with me at some point today. Whenever you’re at a convenient stopping point with your work.”

Damien smiled at that. Even Natalie couldn’t help the small laugh that came out. Looking between them, Benson scowled. “I tell you both that there’s an alien spacecraft docked at this station and I don’t get so much as a blink, but I tell you to take a break and I get giggles?”

“It wasn’t the break, sir.” Damien said. “But we’re journeymen. There’s never a convenient time to stop our work.”

“Right.” Benson sighed. “Thank christ I washed out. C’mon, then, now.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to look at this goddamn antigravity well, or whatever it is.” Benson said, his face growing more serious.

“Think you found a way to turn it on, sir?”

Benson smiled, but there was worry in his eyes. “I don’t think we have to worry about that, to be honest.”

“Why not, sir?”

“Because I unhooked the thing from its docking rack and… well, you’ll see. Sanderson,” Benson said as Damien collected up his bag. “Good luck.” As he went, he plugged the key back into Carga’s station and reactivated the robot.

A minute later, Natalie was alone, and the robot was busying herself once again with Damien’s scattered tools. Feeling as though she were walking a mile, Natalie crossed the room to the holographic messaging station and stared down at the address log. There was only one there, addressed: Onslaught Command.

Benson had a logical point, she knew that. But it didn’t change the fact that her hands were having a lot of trouble doing what her brain was directing them to. Three times she lifted her hand to the call button, but lowered it each time, her heart rate mounting.

“Just one of those things.” She finally muttered to herself, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Then she punched the button before her nerve could fail her again.

A shapeless holo-projection shimmered in front of her as a soft, pulsing alert told her that she was being connected. After a few moments, Admiral Neerson’s bust manifested itself out of the shapeless haze. “Journeyman Sanderson.” He said in his cool voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this unscheduled call?”

“I--” Natalie said, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, sir, I should have scheduled something with one of your aids. But yours is the only contact, and you told us to contact you if we needed anything.”

Neerson nodded. “Indeed I did. What is your need, Journeyman?”

Taking another deep breath, Natalie said, “I had a question about Sergeant First Class Ziggenbor, sir.”

Neerson paused and looked at something outside her field of view. “Acting First Sergeant, as we must now refer to him, but yes, Journeyman. What is your question?”

“He told Captain Benson that he was still having some trouble with one of his cybernetic prosthetics.” She said at a bit of a rush. “I was wondering if I could get him in to have a look at it, make sure that everything was operating the way it's supposed to be.”

Neerson looked down for a moment. Natalie heard tapping. Then the admiral looked back up to her. “I’ve transmitted your request to First Sergeant Ziggenbor. He will report to you at his earliest convenience.”

Blinking in surprise, Natalie nodded. “Um, thank you, Admiral. Sir. Thank you, sir.”

For a moment Neerson stared down at her. “Is there anything else that I can help you with today, Journeyman Sanderson?”

“No sir.”

“Do not hesitate if that changes. Good day.” And his bust shimmered away, just like that.

Natalie swayed on the spot for a moment before a cold hand touched her shoulder. Carga stood to her side with a chair, and helped her to it. “That wasn’t too much of a trial, was it, Journeyman?” Carga asked.

“Speak for yourself.” Natalie said, her hands shaking. “My brain is programmed a little differently than yours.”

Carga remained staring at her and nodded. “I suppose you might be right about that.”