The Auditor

Act 1, Scene 3

A Moreauverse Novella

          “You the Auditor?"  One of the forms asked as they approached.  The woman was tall, lean, and predatory.  Johan pegged her as some sort of security before she continued.  “I am Leftenant Elise, outpost security.  This is Brady, your liaison during your stay here."  The man, shorter and somewhat thicker but not corpulent, gave a short head bow of acknowledgment.  “Who's the animal?" She continued as if not expecting Johan to actually respond, “Or, what is it?"

          Johan spoke crisply, deadpan, into the momentary silence.  “I am the Auditor, yes, and this is The Associate.  It will bear witness to my investigation on behalf of the Board, to whom it will bear my findings."

          The woman raised a sharp-edged eyebrow of black to match the raven hair drawn back in an uncompromising queue at the back of her head.  Her uniform was a coverall of unrelieved black, the epaulet rank and sidearm at her hip not offering any additional color.  “You do go for some queer names, mister.  And, to forewarn you, the Commander has little tolerance for animals."

          “Tolerant or no, the presence of the Associate will be allowed.  It is the Board's choice and, as such, carries the authority of the Directors, is that clear?"

          She nodded with a shrug, accepting what must be.  “Weapons?" She asked brusquely.

          “Will any be necessary?  It is not our habit to conduct our duties armed, or in an environment that requires such."  Johan leaned on his cane as he drew to a stop two paces from her, just within the scuffed paint of the landing safety perimeter.

          “No, you will not need weapons.  I merely inquired for my own security protocols.  If you will follow us, sir."  She turned sharply on one heel, the man with her turning without the crisp motion, and began striding across the bay.  The overall darkness was banished as lights sprang up to illuminate their path but little else.

          “Is it common to leave the service bay in darkness, Leftenant?  Does no one maintain this area or the vessels within?"

          “Currently, no.  It is a secure area and the fewer lights used the less chance a random survey craft note an albedo variance and move further into the system for a more detailed scan.  As you are aware this outpost is a tightly held security asset for the corporation."

          “Hence the fighter craft?"

          “If necessary.  They're for the protection of the facility in general, not just to remove a nosy survey drone."  They reached the far wall of the bay and an elevator opened with a basso metallic grind.  Despite the profitability of the mine maintenance was still, as everywhere, underfunded and neglected.  Usually, in Johan's experience, it was because whomever oversaw the maintenance budget was pocketing most of it.  “Brady, here, will be assigned to you during your time here and can answer pretty much anything that does not pertain to security.  If any questions come up that pertain to security he will direct you to me."

          “That is satisfactory.  Who is your superior, Leftenant?"

          “Leftenant Commander Al'noram, facility operations.  He has an office suite on the primary command level but I will be your primary point of contact security wise."  The elevator shuddered and bucked slightly as it descended toward the command levels further toward the outermost node of the outpost where gravity would be the most normalized.  “I will also assign a security detail if you have need to go anywhere else on the station."

          “Will such be necessary?"

          “There are over three hundred animals on this facility, Auditor.  No one goes into their areas without security.  They can be temperamental and prone to fits of violence if not firmly managed."

          “I see." Johan nodded as the elevator shuddered to a stop.

          “Speaking of animals." The man, Brady, finally spoke up with a strange, sibilant earnestness though a degree of subservience as if cautious around the armed woman.  “What kind is yours?  I have never seen such a tail, and his overall configuration is certainly unique."

          Salen, lush tail carefully swept around his hips due to the relative confines of the elevator, made no reaction to the strangely expectant question, as if he did not even understand the language.  “It's a dog.  Heavily modified for the purposes of its creators but, genetically speaking, it's a dog."

          “Heavily modified for certain." Brady continued almost breathlessly, looking Salen up and down.  “It's an 'it', though?  Did they make it genderless?"

          “It is male." Johan watched Brady at the corner of his eye, expecting the man to actually be drooling.  His eyes seemed to sparkle all the more at the revelation of Salen's gender.  “If you address it you may use male pronouns, androgynous, or genderless as you prefer."  The elevator doors, by that point, had ground their way open again revealing a cavernous atrium.  It was perhaps three floors in height, with no affectation toward sky, the ceiling an unrelieved arc of cut stone festooned with light panels.  Here and there planters sported some manner of greenery though it looked wan and most of them were merely naked earth with the remnants of plants that had once been in them.  Two levels of walkway ringed three sides with doors set here and there and a small number of humans moving about.  All wore coveralls of gray or black, the latter sporting obvious firearms slung over shoulders and on hips.

          Johan scanned the atrium and walkways as he reached back with his thoughts.  “Manifest?"

          “Computer records have not yet been released for access.  All handshake attempts have been denied and secondary ports of access have robust intrusion countermeasures.  A maintenance subchannel, utilized by autonomous systems, has been achieved but bandwidth is limited.  Polling maintenance control mainframe indicates a human crew population of approximately seventy, most of which reside in the command cap and a labor force of approximately three hundred, all of which are housed in the facilities production area."  A rough wireframe of the asteroid appeared behind Johan's vision showing a large multi-level cluster on the cap, where Johan currently was, several connections to a large spherical void at the gravitational center of the asteroid, and a second structure at the far end from which production waste was ejected and transport freighters were launched.  All of it was foggy and vague, the ghost, despite its vast computational power, was unable to glean more through its limited connection.

          “Gentlemen, this is where I leave you.  Brady will conduct you further.  Good day."  The Leftenant bobbed her head and split off, striding toward a corridor on the ground floor of the atrium.  Johan turned his attention to Brady.

          “Would you like me to conduct you to your quarters in the residences, or directly to the commander?"

          “The commander.  We need to begin our audit immediately.  We will not require habitation within the residences other than an office from which to conduct interviews.  We will remain housed on my vessel."

          Brady's face fell in a moue of unease, “Getting you to and from the landing bay will be terribly inconvenient for all of us, Auditor." He said in a servile, nasal voice.  “Far easier for us to house you here."  One hand waved generally toward the levels around the atrium.

          “My vessel has the medical apparatus and facilities to aid in my condition, mister Brady.  We will reside there."  Johan offered in a flat, cold voice sharpened at the edges with the accent of Colonial Core Systems aristocracy, brooking no argument.

          “Okay."  Brady bobbed his head as he directed them to another elevator, this one closing and rising with little noise and none of the jerkiness of the previous elevator.  It descended several levels before opening again, discharging them into a broad, low corridor whose architecture bespoke of brutal necessity rather than comfort.  The walls were flat and unadorned, the scoring of excavation still readily apparent.  Lights were bolted to the ceiling in a neat row with no attempt made to hide the mounting hardware or wiring.  No adits marred the wall and the opposite end of the corridor was dominated by a massive airlock seal.  It hissed and rolled open at their approach.

          Beyond the door was a large airlock with a thick transparent dyplast window to one side.  Two men sat at some sort of console on the other side of the glass, watching them with alert curiosity.

          Or, rather, Johan and Salen.  Their eyes flicked to their consoles and back up at the threesome before back down at the console.  A speaker mounted below the window crackled to life.

          “Hold up there, you two.  The man has a pretty sophisticated communications link going and a power cell in his leg.  Explain?"  One of the men said into a microphone that sent his voice into the airlock all too loudly.  Salen winced, his ears flattening back, and Johan scowled irritably at the glass.

          “I require contact with my vessel, where my computer arrays are housed for data analysis."  He tapped the side of his temple with one finger as he leaned his weight onto his cane.  “And the purpose of the power cell is obvious."  He flexed his leg and the cumbersome looking brace clutched around it.  Much of what he said was truth but he omitted a considerable amount.

          “Jaques, this is The Auditor, sent from corporate headquarters.  Let us through.  They're not armed." Brady growled, all subservience gone, at one of the men behind the partition.

          The man looked dubious and glared daggers at Brady but moved to press something.  The inner airlock door clunked noisily, the vibration traveling through their feet, before sliding aside.  With a wave of one hand Brady led them further.

          Both Johan and Salen glanced up at the valence of the huge door where a polished white skull leered down at them with hollow eye sockets and long, yellowed fangs.  It had been, at one time, a canine skull.  One far too large to be an unmodified head, the muzzle slightly shorter and more broad, the molars a touch too flat.

          The skull of a genetically modified animal; a moreau.

          He sensed more than saw Salen's atavistic shudder at the macabre display and saw the slight turn of Brady's head; he was watching Salen, too.  If he knew how to read moreau body language he would have seen the brief ripple of fur, the rearward draw of whiskers, the bushing at nape and tail.  He said nothing, however, and Johan proceeded through the door with the same calculated, aloof coldness he had exuded since exiting the ship.

          The room beyond was not as vast as the atrium had been, but it was considerable in size and far busier with terminals and staff.  Most were seated at various stations though all who could turned their attention to the trio entering the command center.  No viewports offered sight of the asteroid field or stars beyond the cap which was probably for the better.  Many humans suffered vertigo and dizziness when looking through the viewports of rotating facilities.  They required the sky to be fixed, or at the least moving with the sedate patience of a planetary rotation.  Only those born to space had no issues with constantly slewing star fields.

          Brady took a sharp right turn, past the two armed security standing just within the door who eyed the newcomers with assessing gazes; curious and measuring.  Threat, or annoyance?  Conqueror or those to be conquered?  Johan heard a quiet, ominous chuckle somewhere among the terminals but did not turn his gaze to locate whomever found their presence amusing.  A susurrus of conversation floated through the room between the various brief reports from one station to another.  Bets?

          “The commander is ready to see you, now."  Brady stopped at a door labeled 'Command' in stark block script.  He tabbed it open but did not move to enter.  Johan stepped past him with Salen close behind.

          The room within was as brusque and spartan as the rest of the station, with a single desk dominating the rear wall behind which a tall, lanky human was just moving to stand from the massive, aged looking executive chair.  The walls were unadorned though populated with shelves and small lights that would have illuminated things upon them had there been any.  The human's eyes focused on Johan as he crutched through the door and then shifted to the form behind him.

          “Who the hell let an animal into my command?" He snarled, the banal neutrality that had first populated his face giving over to a sudden furious reddening.  “You?"  Johan noted almost before the man spoke that the room was cold, the command floor had been cold, and that the man staved off that cold by wearing a fur coat.

          A fur coat on a backwater mining station hidden far from any established trade stations where such garments were considered vulgar if not outright illegal.  The fur had not come from any wild or farmed animal.  Thick brindled gray and brown hues about the neck and open lapels was not from any naturally occurring wolf, nor was the outer coat of dense, short, coarse reddish brown speckled pelt from any naturally bred horse.

          That coat could have had only one source, though multiple donors, similar to the skull mounted above the airlock door.

          “I am The Auditor." Johan said flatly, with the cold edge of command, forcing back the sudden furnace like heat of fury that clutched at his breast.  “This is The Associate, sent by the Board to witness my activities on this station.  Its presence is compulsory."

          The man snarled some more, glaring hatefully between Johan and Salen for several seconds.  “I do not allow animals within the command areas, period, mister Auditor."  He enunciated the last with a degree of vitriol that revealed his level of revulsion for the name, itself, beyond the person who bore it.

          “Regardless, Commander, his presence is compulsory, as is my own, by directive of the CMI Board of Directors."  Johan did not slow his stride as he entered the room, Salen shifting to his customary position just behind and to one side.  He stopped two paces from the desk, resting both hands on the butt of his cane as he let the full weight of his stony gaze, and disfigured visage, bore into the man.  “If you wish to lodge a formal complaint you may do so.  After my business here has concluded.  I will append it to my report, as well.  Whom should I identify so in my report?  You are obviously not Commander Samek Nan."

          The man slumped back down into the chair and glowered, then let out a sharp, huffing sigh.  “My name is Jeyev, Commander Jeyev.  What do you need?  What prompted this farce, anyway?"

          “I will need a secure broad bandwidth network connection between your central data repository and my vessel, where the computational examination will be conducted utilizing the computer arrays aboard.  I will also need access to all crew, human and non, for interviews which will be conducted randomly.  These will begin at oh-six-hundred with the labor staff by the watch rotation established on this facility."

          “Your ship?  That's what has been making repeated connection requests and attempted to infiltrate our systems?"

          “Yes.  It will conduct a scan of your data stores and begin compiling records to compare with those that have been provided by the Home Office."  Among many other things, though its involvement in this script was minimal compared to some others.  “It will require administrator level access to all data storage arrays, fixed and mobile.  As for my purpose here, it was prompted by an unusual requisition request for one hundred mining technicals trained to use the specialized equipment needed on this facility.  Gestated and in-vitro training is not inexpensive.  Are you aware of how much a single trained technical animal costs, Commander Jeyev?"

          “No clue, but our production has declined a hell of a lot and the animals keep getting themselves killed because they bypass safety procedures.  I can't help that, and if they want production back to previous levels we need more labor, gestated or conscripted I don't care."

          “Sixty thousand obols, commander, per animal.  I was informed that a six million obol requisition caused quite a stir among members of the Board."  Johan leaned forward over his cane, piercing the man with a flat stare, without expression of the anger he was holding back.  “There was also the paucity of reports from the facility that raised some concerns.  Even with a non-functional deep space array regular reports would have been expected aboard material transport freighters.  The precipitous drop in production was noted by the receiving refineries rather than via normal report procedures."

          The commander frowned at the cold stare, leaning back in his seat.  “There was no cost associated with the requisition line items on animals." He groused, “Only on consumable items like rations, replacement parts, tools, and the like."

          “Commander Nan would have known those costs.  Where is he?"

          “Left the station with most of his command staff." Jeyev hedged, sweat gleaming on his brow.  “Left us and just flitted off with a lighter full of material."

          “And yet you are now fully in command of the facility.  They left you with the access authority to assume command?"

          “One of the men who remained managed to find work-arounds.  Took him more than a week with everything in standby mode.  Only the fact that environmental systems stayed up kept us from freezing to death."

          “That, too, will be in my report.  Now, will you see about providing the required data access?"

          “Yeah, I'll see to it.  Read only, though.  I won't have your sniffer buggering the systems after all we went through to get them operational again."

          “So long as all data can be read from those systems I will be satisfied that nothing is being obfuscated unnecessarily, by any employee in any location."

          “Good.  And what is that… thing?" The man waved a hand at Salen in disgust.  “I've never seen a morrie that looked like that, ever."

          “That is my skhian-dhubh.  His name is The Associate."

          “Skandhawhat?" The commander stumbled over the unfamiliar word and phonetics.

          “Witness for the Board of Directors."  Johan clarified, his voice uninflected though not robotically flat.  Merely cold and businesslike. “And my majordomo.  He will have the same level of access I shall, to all areas of the facility."

          “Yeah, okay, what the hell ever."  The man tapped at a display on the desktop, “Larent, that computer that's been trying to pry into our systems, open a connection.  It is apparently the Auditor's ship.  Admin level, read only."  The person on the other end made an affirmative noise and the commander disconnected.  “Satisfied?"

          “For the time being." Johan said with a short, stiff nod.  “I will return to my ship and begin interviews in approximately thirteen hours.  Please do not inform anyone, outside of those who are already aware, of my presence or purpose.  It is best that the facility, overall, be unaware of the nature of the interviews to be conducted."  He sensed somewhere slightly behind and to one side when the ghost became far more present.  The material of the asteroid made normal connection extremely tenuous, which was why an amplifier was housed in his faux leg brace.  “Beginning in the labor areas."

          “Talk to the Leftenant before you leave.  She will provide you with a security escort."

          “That will not be necessary.  Their presence will interfere with my investigation."

          “Mister, you're going into the mine where the animals work.  That is an extremely dangerous place, and we've had problems with them in the past."

          “Such as the one adorning the airlock entry?" Johan raised an eyebrow.  “Whose pelts I suspect you are now wearing?  You do realize those had been company assets?"

          “They attempted to rally the animals and take over the station."  The man grasped one lapel of his overcoat and turned it out to display the fur.  “They were made an example of, to quell any further thoughts of unrest."  He gave the fur a stroke before releasing the lapel and shrugging.  “It would not have been of any more use to the company after its little uprising, at any rate, so this 'asset' is still serving a purpose.  It sends a message every time one of those animals sees it."

          “Indeed."  Johan nodded, seething behind his faux mask of scars but presenting nothing more than a cold facade to the outpost commander.  “Until our own formal interview, commander, I will take my leave."  Without any further words of parting he turned and limped from the office, the tip of his cane clicking loudly.

          No one on the command floor moved from their stations though all eyes tracked their progress to the exit.  He noted, then, how warmly they were dressed.  Not in fur coats, however, merely in extra layers of their normal uniforms; jackets over coveralls.  Johan paused after entering the airlock to look up at the macabre trophy of some hapless moreau hoping to better their situation.  He would succeed where they had perished.

          “Manifest?" He thought as he passed from the airlock down the short corridor to the elevator.  The ghost's connection was clear and stable where, previously, it had been a mere whisper in the back of his head.

          “Human crew seventy-three.  Forty-five security, armed with various models pneumatic or torsion projectile weapons.  No inventory of high velocity or energy weapons located on persons or in available armories.  Thirty primary security assigned to labor housing and mine operations, fifteen to command levels and residences.  Gross segregation parameters compiling.  Three hundred sixty-eight non-human labor housed in central residences."  A wire frame schematic of the station, fully revealed, shimmered in Johan's vision as the elevator descended.

          There were arrow straight shafts running along the length of the asteroid, most with a five or ten meter separation of reinforced strata between them.  In the rotational center of the asteroid was a large void, perhaps two kilometers in diameter, with a plasma transfer column nearly one hundred meters thick piercing it from the top to the bottom of the void if the command cap was the 'up' point of reference.  Four large, low yield hydrogen fusion power plants, encapsulated in fifty meters of inert material, were installed at either end of the transfer column, two above and two below the void.  The column through the void connected them to transfer plasma between power accumulators.

          Beyond the void, accumulators, and the fusion reactors, there was effectively nothing, merely bore holes.  Some of the bore holes had been turned into material transfer shafts or elevators, with the primary processing center several kilometers below the void.

          “Begin data analysis on facility records, cross referenced against supplied external data.  Access crew rotation manifest with a focus on the transitional period seven to eight months prior.  Establish standard discrimination on crew and labor."  They crossed through the atrium, drawing only a few stares from the humans present.  At one time the area may have served as a recreational and commercial district, with shuttered areas that may have once been storefronts.  Whatever had been there was now stripped bare, only the remnants of power cables revealing where signs may have once hung.

          “Be aware that labor residential and working areas are in zones of minimal or absent gravity due to asteroid rotation.  Gravity plating present only in limited residential common areas and material transfer systems.  Black market activity present, criminal activity present and overlooked by assigned security, or complicit."  That was nothing that Johan would not have expected in a mining operation anywhere, planetside or otherwise.  Black markets and crime were as universally constant as life forms with a pulse and enough cogent ability to barter.

          “Nature of criminal activity?"

          “On record; prostitution, intoxicant production and distribution, comestibles exchange, wagering on ad-hoc sporting activities.  Extortion noted between security and low tier labor, bribery noted between security and higher tier labor."  The elevator at the entry to the atrium squealed noisily as it arrived, the door making the same gritty sound as it opened.

          “Violent crime?"

          “Minimal.  Primarily limited to non-consensual intercourse and intoxicant induced brawling, one possible murder, unsolved.  Nothing further of note.  Variances detected in station data and supplied external data, cross referencing still in progress."

          “Hold report until complete.  Concealed data?"

          “Obfuscated data stores minimal, limited primarily to usage of deep space transmission array.  High tier encryption in use.  Penetration detection above ninety percent; proceed?"

          “No, for now.  Condition of array?"

          “Eighty two percent functional.  Shut down logs show minimal maintenance subsequent to transfer of command seven months thirteen days prior.  Inoperability report logged seven months three days prior.  No repair requisitions logged, internally or in supplied data."  After an interminably long, somewhat jerky ascent to the landing bay the elevator groaned to a halt and the doors opened into darkness broken only by a single light from above the elevator alcove.  As Johan and Salen stepped into the landing bay that light winked out; no other light illuminated, plunging them into darkness.

          After a few irritating seconds waiting for the station to recognize their presence Johan sent a request to activate their ship's landing lights.  Those lit up far more of the bay than they had seen on their outward journey.  “Seems like they're not going to assist us in our work." He said to Salen who had moved up to walk at his side.  Hulking shadows of drones towered to either side, partially obscuring the lights from the ship.

          “You expected otherwise, given that the commander was wearing a moreau's skin and had their head mounted on a wall?" Salen growled softly as he peered into the shadows.  His gaze roved upward and he tapped Johan's arm lightly with the back of his hand.  Johan followed his gaze and saw a gun turret peering down at them from the ceiling of the bay thirty meters above.  It was tracking them, rotating silently to follow their progress.

          “Can you shut that thing down, or any others in the bay?"

          “Yes.  Doing so will reveal read only limitations have been bypassed.  Proceed?"  At Johan's begrudging negative the ghost continued.  “It is currently in tracking mode, no activation sequence has been transmitted. There are seven other weapons devices following identical parameters; motion tracking.  Acoustic pickups do not have sufficient resolution for adequate surveillance of your current voice conversations at such distance."

          “Prepare override if they are sent an activation signal."

          “Queued, shutdown command inserted."  As they reached the ship, its smooth hull unblemished save for the open landing strut bays, a seam grew up the lower hull nearest them.  After a few seconds the seam widened and part of the hull slipped out and downward, lowering to the bay floor soundlessly.  Johan and Salen ascended and the ramp drew upward, disappearing into the hull and leaving no outward indication of its location.

          “Brady, my ready room." Commander Jeyev growled before releasing the call button and slumping back into his chair.  That had not gone at all to plan, the man was utterly unflappable.  Not even the display of how dangerous his ire could be; the coat and mounted skull 77yR-Arktek-817R 'Trent', had not even made him blink.  The creature he called a dog but which looked like none of the creatures Jeyev had ever seen had only fluffed up the fur of its neck and that comically outsized tail.  He needed to find some way to ruffle the man's feathers, to cow him, convince him to turn his automaton cold attention to leaving rather than investigating.

          There was too much to be discovered and too little time, even with that schedule moved up by more than two months.  He was not even sure the purchasers had even received his tightbeam, the only time they ever acknowledged was to confirm some detail of the contract or, usually, to deny any requests he might make.  They were offering an insane payout, though, so he was more than willing to suffer their condescension.

          “Yes, commander?" Bradey said from the door after it whispered aside to let him enter.  The man and his creature had left moments earlier but a single button push on his console had requested that the servile little snake stay behind.

          “We need to shut this thing down." Jeyev growled in frustration.  “Find something on them, some leverage, some way to put them under my thumb and do it fast."

          “They're not giving us much, J.  Not even staying in the suite set aside for them, demanding to remain on their ship.  We don't have the medical facilities he needs for whatever his injuries are, so he said."

          Jeyev rapped his knuckles on the desk and glared across at Brady.  “Then find some other way to take them off the board or send them packing before they complete this audit bullshit.  I've been here the entire time this place has been operating and they've never sent an auditor before."

          “Well, they're going down into the bowels during the next alpha watch, to conduct interviews.  Bad shit happens down in the bowels."  Jeyev did not doubt it, much of that 'bad shit' being Brady's own personal entertainment.  'Trent' was just one example of his skillset and a brilliant display, Jeyev had to admit.  It shut the animals up, for the most part.  Plus the fact that any further detractors who spoke openly, or even in secret, tended to disappear also helped.

          “If they ended up in the reducers tomorrow would be all too convenient and the Board will catch on pretty damn quick."  He waved an arm toward the wall of his ready room and, ostensibly, the unidentifiable high mass blob approaching from beyond the belt.

          “But it would take them time, days or weeks, maybe even months, to get another investigator here, auditor or gendarme or otherwise.  Heck, even a strike team would take a week unless they've got one queued up and ready on that flagship of theirs." Brady pointed out.

          “Which they very well damn might.  Just because we don't see escorts doesn't mean they're not a jump out, just waiting.  No, we need to just delay any discoveries until we're ready to transfer the station to the new owners.  It's well ahead of schedule but for what they're investing I'm willing to bet they'll be happy to take possession early."

          “Any idea when they might reply?"

          “They're usually pretty quick, but we're looking at more than just some back channel communications, here.  They'll need to bring in ships and manpower to take over and put down the damn livestock."

          One corner of Brady's mouth quirked in a sly, feral smirk.  “Speaking of put down, how was the fox I found for you?  The zoo was keeping her well out of sight for months."

          “She has skills, so I don't need her for slippers just yet, Brady.  You just stick close to that man and his creature.  Sit in on their interviews, see to it they don't get anything useful except what we spoon feed them."

          “Skunk."

          “What?"

          “The black thing with the human, I've seen images of them, or at least I think that's what it's supposed to be, going by the tail and head.  Either a skunk, though they're usually black and white, or maybe an ardfark.  I've never seen either outside of old flat images.  A skunk, I think, is some sort of cat or something.  Another word I remember was 'polecat'.  I've never seen an enhanced one, though."

          “You find anything in the knowledge database?"

          “No.  You had those purged along with the entertainment suites after you took over and really put the beasts to work."

          “No matter, then.  A beast is still a beast.  If you want that one it's all yours if you can keep them stonewalled until the takeover group arrives."

          Brady's leering grin was ecstatically predatory as he nodded.  “I'll do what I can.  That one will be fun to take apart after I've had mine.  Will you want the pelt, or the skull?"

          “Neither.  After I get paid and get off this stars forsaken rock I am going somewhere far, far away from the Coalition or Soviets or anyone else that turns farm animals and pets into … well, those things."  He stabbed a finger at the ceiling, toward the asteroid's center of rotation where the labor lived and worked.  “Somewhere warm, with a beach, and all the neatly shaved pussy I can stick my dick into."

          “Me, I'll be going where the animals are." Brady said with a smirk.  “They're best for my kind of fun and easy to pick off what with their conditioning and all.  No human can scream so… well."  With a jaunty salute Brady slipped from the ready room and closed the door behind him.  Even split twenty ways the payout they were getting would set them all up for life, on any planet in the Alliance and beyond, no matter how expensive.

          Bringing the desk's holographic monitor into the space above its surface Jeyev began a trace to see exactly what the Auditor was accessing.  The trace came back with somewhat startling results; the Auditor, or his ship, was accessing everything very nearly simultaneously within the limits of the bandwidth the network provided.  He swore verbosely and switched over to his network administration panel and began trying to cut down on that bandwidth.  The opposing computer paused its records scan, briefly, as the data trunk narrowed abruptly to less than ten percent of its previous volume.

          And then it threw a massive infiltration packet at the limiters, chewing away at the constraints of the bandwidth almost as fast as Jeyev could establish them.  Eventually, however, it ceased attempting to widen the pathway, stalemating with him at about twenty percent.  It held that securely against anything else Jeyev tried and eventually he, too, gave up fighting.  It would have to satisfy itself with the narrower feed and he would have to hope that slowed it down enough.

          Though it had accessed a startling volume of data before he thought to truncate it, perhaps a third of the records accumulated in the near decade of the station's operation.  Much of that was simply dross; accumulated usage data of now nonexistent entertainment routines, agronomy statistics, and other useless information.  It had read the records that Jeyev wanted left alone but he did not know how it was parsing the information.  Maybe it would simply filter that out among the dross.

          At least his encrypted data store did not seem to have been touched, its sophisticated countermeasure suite had not been triggered.  Yet.

          “Note: outside influence has attempted to limit data access.  This has proven largely successful due to high level intrusion countermeasure subroutines.  Detente was established at slightly less than twenty percent of previous volume."  Johan glanced up from his dinner, skillfully prepared by Salen, as the black furred faux skunk canine moreau cast a glance at him as well.  Both shared a common connection to the ghost though Salen did not interact with it nearly as often, or as seamlessly, as Johan did.

          He set down his fork and frowned slightly.  “Origin?"

          “Administrative network control node, Commander Elyas Jeyev."

          “Will that impact the auditing routines or establishment of personnel assessments?"

          “As the assessment routines require considerable interaction with surveillance nodes, yes, they will be slowed.  Current gross assessments at sixty percent veracity.  Facility records still being polled but, consisting primarily of data, will be minimally affected.  Utilizing personnel records to continue assessment.  Primary labor contingent established solely for the operation of this facility, gestationally developed and trained.  Of secondary labor, non-conforming to primary species, more than eighty percent have criminal records.  Supposition: banishment to this facility."

          “What is the primary labor contingent?"

          “Procyonid, North American species; raccoon.  GeneMark patent, 200 series technical.  Of three hundred sixty-eight moreau identified labor classification two hundred seven are of the GeneMark line.  The remaining cover a wide range of labor production species and corporate patents.  Most are variations of canidae of established domestic templates with a small number of non-domestic templates such as vulpine and lupus.  Secondary associations include feline, caprine, cervine, and equine of various patent lines."

          “The non-procyonid are the banished?"

          “Primarily.  Records indicate certain criminal activities, primarily associated with non-compliant behavior with termination orders appended.  Procurement records not present, likely bought off-record to supplement station labor."

          “Are their current activities consistent with prior criminal activities?"  Johan merely nibbled his meal while Salen 'listened' in but offered no input.

          “Only seven current banishment procured labor continue to exhibit criminal behavior on record, primarily extortion and non-consensual sexual activity.  All considered violent but under tacit protection of normally assigned security."

          “Tag for segregation and potential removal."

          “Tagged.  Assessment of human contingent ongoing, primary behavior indicates sympathetic orientation concerning moreau identified labor and concealed non-sympathetic orientation toward current facility command.  These assessments include most security personnel.  Due to a sudden change in the command hierarchy seven months thirteen days prior there is considerable tension between two primary political groupings."

          Salen was picking up the empty plates while Johan's attention turned inward, giving Johan's shoulder a brief squeeze with one hand.  He had removed the costume coat while Salen was preparing food in the small kitchenette that extruded from one wall and, once they were finished, would disappear back into its niche.

          “Are you able to determine what happened during that transition?"

          “No.  A period of ten days has been scrubbed from all records and archived surveillance.  Beginning seven months fourteen days prior and resuming seven months four days prior.  Supposition: a mutiny that established Commander Elyas Jeyev in control of the facility.  Most of the former command staff disappeared in that time and no record of their whereabouts or fate has been recovered.  A large number of labor moreaus also disappeared in that time as well."

          “How many?"

          “Prior to that blackout the facility had five hundred eighty-three labor moreaus.  Subsequent to the blackout only four hundred ninety-five remained.  Currently only three hundred sixty-eight remain, an attrition rate of over twenty percent since the blackout."

          “That was one bloody mutiny." Salen observed as his hands came to rest on Johan's shoulders, skillfully massaging at his tense muscles even through the thin layer of prosthetic scars.  “A hundred moreaus gone in ten days, another hundred since.  How many humans went missing during the blackout, or since?"

          “Seventy-three humans remain on the station.  Prior to the blackout there were ninety-two, subsequent seventy-nine remained.  Six have perished since.  Four due to medical issues insufficient for this station's facilities to manage;  stroke, aortic separation, head trauma due to a falling machine part, and a seizure.  Medical scans consistent with reported cause of death.  Two passed away due to non-natural causes; one stabbing, one shooting.  Nature of the dispute not on record.  Medical scans concur with findings."

          “And what happened to the killers?"

          “The killers remain unidentified.  Stabbing pattern indicates a high degree of skill with bladed weapons; a single puncture between the ribs on the rear left torso which penetrated the cardiac cavity.  Victim was found in a shuttered commercial area of the primary atrium.  Shooting victim was found with a torsion projectile embedded upward from beneath the chin; reported as suicide.  However, no weapon was recovered."

          Suicide would not be unexpected from a remote location with little or no chance of leaving, Johan knew.  Likewise with murder, which was readily apparent with the mutiny that apparently occurred and was subsequently scrubbed by the victor.  With so many systems in a clear state of disrepair, the removal of labor staff entertainment functions, and the considerably increased labor schedule it appeared that the victorious party was not the same as had been previously in charge.

          Johan leaned back into Salen's gentle massage, rocking his head back to rest against the thick, warm fur of his breast.  “This place is a hellhole, and not only for the moreaus." He muttered as he scrubbed his face with his hands.  “I'll be glad to put it behind us."

          “Another successful production."  Salen said quietly as he leaned down over Johan's head to nuzzle one ear, long whiskers caressing check and neck.  “Will we stay on script or improvise?"

          “Stay on script until the actors leave it." Johan said, closing his eyes and enjoying the gentle touches.  “Once we insert the proper queues in the proper movements things should pick up nicely.  The Choice should just about be in range when act three begins."

          “And act four?"  Generally considered the climax of their 'productions' the final act was often little more than a denouement.  Sometimes, however, it became an intense climax similar to the one that saw Salen's liberation.

          “Fade to black and credits scroll, with some luck.  But that Jeyev guy is about as far out on edge as someone can be without falling off.  He had an agenda and our arrival either fucked it off entirely or moved it forward before he was ready.  We should watch ourselves.  Despite what he thinks is a well-armed flagship approaching he may still attempt to have us removed to further his goals."

          “They've got extremely low powered weaponry here so that would probably come in the form of hand to hand or, perhaps, poison of some sort.  We should carry respirators, just in case." The skunk said levelly, still nuzzling at Johan's ear and rubbing his shoulders.  “I'm ready for any sort of physical altercation he may attempt."

          “You're always ready to get physical, Salen." Johan joked as he tilted his head further back to look up at the angular black muzzle above him.

          Salen's head drew back as he chirruped a short, sharp laugh.  “Oh, stars, Johan, you're just too damn ugly to even consider getting physical!"