Our prisoner is dead. 04:04 this morning. He never regained consciousness.
It initially looked like a natural result of the head-trauma that Simon accidentally inflicted on him, but autopsy proved something more disturbing: Cause of death was a massive brain hemorrhage triggered by what looks like an implanted micro-explosive, something invisible to our initial exams, and MAI detected a weak incoming signal at time-of-death. Someone executed him by remote-control.
My initial thought: Why did it take this long? Did his masters think he was already dead? (Why not just be sure when he didn’t get out?) Or did it take this long for them to get a trigger within range?
I expect the timing is the answer: Maybe this is a subtle reply to our GPR foray. Or maybe the ETE’s prisoners made it home with my message. (And why weren’t they remotely terminated when they were captured?)
Once MAI makes us a good mapping of Shinkyo Colony (or what it’s become in the last half-century), we refine our GPR methods (for increased safety and decreased intimidation) and do a similar run at the City of Industry.
The maps float on the Ops holoscreens by lunchtime. We sit around the briefing table and no one says a word.
Shinkyo is by far the more impressive of the two: dug down at least five levels and almost fifty meters under the surface, the new “colony” is almost twice the size of the original. Heat and carbon emissions that leak to the surface hint at small-scale manufacturing, which the sonar mapping confirms spaces and shapes for (about where the original above-ground fabs were, only more extensive now). It explains the gear their Shinobi had, and possibly also their structural expansion—the Shinkyo Corporate Conglomerate had been working on pure nano-manufacturing, projects designed to use nanobots to “grow” everything from raw materials to entire buildings. They were also working on production of engineered nutritive supplements to ease the devastating impact their over-crowded home nation had been putting on local fishing—these prototype labs now look like indoor farms on the GPR map. The Shinkyo are apparently both well-fed and well-supplied in cutting-edge nano-materials. And the now-visible living spaces and life support plants could comfortably support a few thousand souls.
The City of Industry isn’t nearly as cheery a story. Where Shinkyo is elegantly ordered and efficient in its design, Industry looks more like an ant’s nest. A vast system of tunnels spreads like a twisted root system from the foundations of the original colony domes. This likely gives Janeway’s snipers their ability to surface in strategic ground all around the ruin. Janeway’s “ant tunnels” would also provide many highly defensible fall-back positions should any part of the network—or even the colony itself—be taken or destroyed.
The new colony “center” consists of a number of larger chambers dug out under the ruin proper. Most use some of the original structural foundations as part of their construction, but some are purely independent. The overall design appears hap-hazard, or more likely an adaptation to the geology. Life-support equipment is spread throughout the catacombs (again, it looks like they wanted to be sure they could hold against even a severe enemy incursion, or if large sections of their installation were destroyed).
But the set-up doesn’t look purely military. It reminds me of what this base looked like during the years it became a makeshift refugee camp. MAI agrees: The City of Industry—once a model super-corporate biotech pharmaceutical manufacturer, a shining example of the Martian tech-boom of the 2050’s—is now likely a patchwork slum, a barrio of survivors (or the grandchildren of survivors). I wonder if Janeway’s PK are defenders or oppressors.
“Incoming signal, Colonel,” Kastl lets me know. Rios shimmers onto the screens—he’s inside an ASV cockpit, and he’s grinning ear-to-ear.
“We found it, Colonel!” he announces. “GPR thump just gave us Melas Three, and she’s in one piece!”