Shoshone Station: The Galactic Consortium season 2

Episode 8: The Sting #15

Fox slept poorly. He messaged his office first thing when he woke.

"They left before first watch," a bored nightshift officer told him. "Six forty your time."

Fox nodded and thanked the man. He showered quickly and found a cup of coffee. He promised Grandma he'd find something to eat on the way to work.

"You're taking it too hard," she scolded. "You can't save the whole world."

"I know," he admitted. "One more case, a big one. It's time anyway. With the new treaty, we'll be able to share what we did with departments on the surface, help them run similar operations with Consortium help. I can't save the world myself, but it doesn't mean I can't be part of the saving."

She ruffled his hair and smiled at him. "Like your father. And grandfather. I'm proud of you, you know that?"

He blushed and nodded. "Thanks."

Dawn was spreading across their court. It had grown to a small village now, an interesting mix of mostly college-educated Natives from around the country. They were vocal on Native issues and on the collective's independence. They were the main reason Shannon was being forced to take an increasingly sharp stance on American/Consortium issues. But they were also doing a lot of good, Fox thought, here and on the surface.

Marty Greywolf had retired from a lucrative career running a casino in Nevada and dedicated the lion's share of his wealth to buying water purification units, solar panels, and commissioning Consortium engineers to help rebuild the entire Apache reservation with a self-contained modern infrastructure. His cousin, who went by his Apache name, Alchesay, was a lawyer. He was studying the Consortium concept of shared resources and applying it to contested mining rights on the same Apache reservation and elsewhere.

Currently, however, they and the others were mostly sleeping or drinking their first cup of coffee on their verandas as they waited for the day to start. Fox waved to a couple as he made his way to the entrance of the court and the station proper.

It always felt more like going inside than going from one room to the next, such was the openness of the court. On the far side, the passage was mostly empty. Down the corridor, a light flickered on, and two workers in hotel smocks went by, talking.

As he approached the passage where he'd seen the workers turn, the sounds of the distant court came to him. The court was on his route toward Lannister's office and then his own on the mid-level security center. His stomach churned and felt sour. He stopped, watching the workers, mostly young Americans who worked on the lower levels, as they prepared for their day. He bought a small roll filled with some fragrant filling, hoping it would calm his stomach.

There, in the midst of the other workers, was one of the first women they had saved. She looked no different than the others, until you looked in her eyes, saw the conditioned fear there. In time, perhaps, even that would fade and she'd have a good life here. That steadied him, galvanized his heart.

Oksana and her sister. He couldn't save them all, but he could save two more before he was done.

During the morning briefing, Lannister commented that Fox seemed distant. "Sorry, sir," he said. "I guess I am."

"She'll come back," Lannister said.

"Yes, sir. And then we'll end this operation. I promise. You can have your interview and maybe salvage some of your reputation with the media."

Lannister gave a wan smile. "Doing this was more important than my, or anyone's, reputation. We did some good, you and me. Still, you're right; it's time to end this."

But Oksana did not show up that day. Fox pestered the Information Bureau, who was tracking her with surveillance, but this particular officer wasn't willing to share much. "You will see it all soon enough, Officer Fox," she snapped. "And you are cleared to seize them at first opportunity. I promise enough evidence to satisfy legal."

That last comment caused his anxiety to spike, but there was little recourse with the Information Bureau. Intellectually, he knew that was a good thing, that the bureau provided a check-and-balance with security, prevented them from invading civilians' privacy. But right now, it was cold comfort.

"It will take as long as it takes," Kellii told him over a lunch that Fox barely picked at. "Worrying won't make it shorter."

Mid-afternoon, Shannon called him. "We've had contact from the men. About that space," she told him. "They say they will be looking at it tomorrow. They are anxious to begin working." She scowled. "I went along, let them think they can start the day after, if they bring the girls for testing tomorrow."

"Thank you," Fox gushed.

"Don't thank me, just put the bastards away," she said and signed off.

"Tomorrow," he repeated to himself. It became his litany. Tomorrow. Another night that the men could get suspicious, another night that Oksana could slip up. He tried to tell himself she knew what she was doing, what she had gotten herself into.

He ate supper at Grandma's food stand on Bottom Court. Emma and Tanner sat with him. Ray was behind the stand, helping Grandma serve. He'd been approved for this summer's space camp in Antarctica and talked excitedly about the prospect. Fox drifted in and out of the conversation, trying to keep himself distracted. Even a message from Nara did little to pull him out of himself. He left early and braced himself for another night of poor sleep.