Jovian Orbital, Executive Levels

Marmeduke stepped out of the lift pod, narrowing her eyes against the blizzard of imagery that greeted her. The corridors on the higher levels of the orbital were panelled with small screens advertising a million different products. The manufacturers certainly knew who to target: the executives who frequented these levels certainly did not lack money, and most could afford anything that tickled their fancy. On the other hand, it did not take long for most executives to become inured against the constant bombardment; either that or they were driven insane.

Their first meeting had gone surprisingly well. Dixon had put up little resistance. His curiosity had got the better of him, as Tuomas had told her it would. Her superior would also be pleased to know that she’d managed to speak to him on his own, without the presence of Mistral, another suggestion of his.

Her instructions had been clear: bring Dixon into the fold, using any and all methods at her disposal. Barbara was no fool: she knew exactly what that meant. However, the way their first meeting had gone it didn’t look like anything of the sort would be necessary, which was convenient as she wasn’t sure it would work: the relationship between Dixon and Mistral was far from clear, and even Tuomas had been unable to shed light on the situation. Besides, she had no desire to seduce him. She was an executive, not an escort, and not pretty by any standard she knew; if she couldn’t win him over with reason, then her looks were hardly going to decide the matter. She wondered briefly why Tuomas had been so adamant about it. A masculine failing, she decided, this overestimation of her charms. They’d never met face-to-face. All the same, she was surprised that her usually cogent, coldly reasoning superior would rely on something so subjective and unquantifiable. Reaching the room assigned to her use, she drew a card from her wallet and ran it through the scanner unit, then waited as the retinal scanner identified her and the entry light flashed green.

The man sitting motionless against one wall looked up at her as she entered, then glanced away, getting to his feet in one smooth motion and slipping past her out of the door. The Saturn Association still preferred to rely on the human above all else for security purposes: the room had little protection aside from the man with the massive rifle. Marmeduke didn’t know his name and was sure he didn’t know hers, but knew that he was one of the best in his business and could be trusted absolutely. All the same, she avoided looking into his eyes. Only there could the effects of the drugs he took be seen, a vicious cocktail that enabled him to live without sleep and remain immobile for hours with all faculties on full alert. He would die before he was thirty, but by that time he would be no more use as a hardliner in any case. She touched a button, and the door slid shut. As it closed she caught a glimpse of the security man standing stock still in the corridor, rifle raised and ready.

The room was now empty apart from a large attaché case, which Marmeduke unlocked. Inside was a small, square white box, completely featureless, and a jar of tablets. As instructed, she unscrewed the lid of the jar and placed one of the tablets on her tongue while clasping the box firmly in one hand. Closing her mouth, she rested the tablet on her tongue, brushing it lightly against the roof of her mouth. The tablet’s sterile, metallic taste disgusted her. She didn’t understand the technology, nor why they couldn’t use an ordinary communication line – for an organisation such as the Saturn Association, privacy was easily bought – but she’d obey her superior without fail until the day he made the wrong decision and their roles were reversed or worse.

As usual, a cold, tingling numbness spread upwards into her skull. She waited until it reached her eyes before speaking.

“This is Barbara Marmeduke. I would like to speak to Tuomas Wheelwright,” she said slowly and clearly.

“And you will speak to no one else,” returned her superior’s laconic voice immediately, seeming to originate in her own ears. “For no one else in this galaxy can intercept this link, as you well know.”

The man irritated her, Marmeduke had to admit to herself. “If someone else had a tablet...?” she ventured.

Tuomas laughed lightly. “Those tablets are made for you. The effect they have upon you cannot be reproduced in anyone else.”

She should have known. “I have spoken to Dixon. Although it may take some time, it should not prove too difficult to win him over. As you suspected, his main concern was for his own safety should he return to the races.”

“A non-issue,” Tuomas replied calmly. “He does not know it, but our overture to him has already put him in considerable danger. We will of course watch over him, but it is best that he remain unaware of this. Although we know the choice he will make,” he paused uncharacteristically, “I would prefer him to believe that he made it of his own accord.”

Her superior’s lucid reason at once impressed and disgusted Marmeduke. “Of course,” she replied deferentially. “When should I make my next approach?”

“When he comes looking for you,” Tuomas answered. “My time is short. Have you any other questions?”

“No, sir,” she heard herself saying meekly.

“Good,” said Tuomas crisply. “Link terminated.” Silence suddenly reigned in her head.

Marmeduke slumped onto the floor of the small cell, irked and drained. Using the white box always exhausted her, and she knew she would sleep for hours while her hardliner watched over the room’s door like a benevolent gargoyle. Tuomas infuriated her, and the demands he made upon her were more than any normal executive of her rank would tolerate, but he had a hold over her that no one else could begin to imagine.

If she performed well in this task, he had told her, he would give her back her past.