The information about the "anomalous ice" and the "incidents" didn't leave me feeling reassured. It was the first concrete indication that the situation at 73P went beyond the usual corporate disputes. There was something scientifically unusual and deliberately suppressed. My writer's mind felt like a rookie detective in a complex noir novel, with only a couple of cryptic clues and a growing number of silent suspects. I needed more details, something to connect the dots between the ice, the incidents, and the elusive Dr. Hanson.
I decided to take a bit more of a risk. If I couldn't access the investigative level, perhaps I could find someone who had worked there recently or who had indirect access to the information. Maintenance technicians or security personnel on less-supervised shifts were sometimes unexpected sources of gossip or complaints. Plus, the constant presence of the burly man watching me added a layer of pressure; I needed to move before my "clueless writer" alibi became unconvincing.
I spent the afternoon hanging around the common areas during off-peak hours, listening to the conversations. It was a tedious exercise in patience and observation, interspersed with the farce of taking notes on the base's functional architecture or the workers' habits in their free time. Most of the chatter was harmless, but every now and then, I caught snatches that suggested a general discontent. Isolation, working conditions, lack of communication from management—these were common complaints in any remote location, but here, beneath the cloak of unrecorded incidents, they sounded different.
It was on one of these discreet walks that I saw him. Dr. Lena Hanson. She was in a small cafeteria within the administrative area, a place I had access to as a visitor. She wasn't alone; she was conversing quietly with a man wearing a different uniform from base security, with insignia I didn't immediately recognize. They seemed to be having a serious discussion; Dr. Hanson's gestures were tense, and the man had an expression of cold authority.
It was my chance. Or perhaps a reckless decision. The alibi or instinct. I opted for the latter. I headed toward a nearby table, making sure my route took me close to his, keeping my datapad and notebook in sight to reinforce my role. As I passed, I stumbled slightly, just enough for my notebook to fall to the floor near his table.
"My apologies," I said, bending down to pick it up. As I did, I quickly scanned the table. There were some technical documents spread out, with graphs and formulas I didn't understand, but which definitely seemed to relate to ice or some similar material.
Dr. Hanson looked at me in surprise, her sharp gray eyes quickly assessing me. The man she was with frowned, his expression instantly turning hostile.
"Be more careful," the man said in a deep voice with an accent I couldn't recognize. His tone didn't invite apology.
"Sorry, a little clumsy today," I replied, standing up and flashing my best writer's smile. I turned my gaze to Dr. Hanson. "You must be Dr. Hanson, right? I've heard about your important work here. I'm Jaxson Cole, visiting the base for my next novel." I extended my hand, waiting to see her reaction.
Lena Hanson hesitated for a moment, looking at my outstretched hand, then at the man beside her, and finally back at me. There was a mixture of wariness and maybe, just maybe, a hint of something more in her eyes. She decided to take a chance.
She shook my hand briefly. Her grip was firm, despite the apparent fragility of her fingers. "Yes, I'm Dr. Hanson. A writer, you say? It's rare to see one around here." Her voice was calm, controlled, but I sensed an underlying tension.
"Life in the outer reaches of the solar system is very inspiring," I said, keeping up my character. "Especially the cutting-edge scientific work. My contact in the administration mentioned your name to me as one of the key figures here." It was a small white lie, but a useful one.
The man interrupted, his patience clearly exhausted. "Lena, we have important matters to discuss. If Mr. Cole needs information, he should request it through the proper channels."
Dr. Hanson nodded, withdrawing her hand. "Excuse me, Mr. Cole. As my colleague says, I'm quite busy. Perhaps another time."
"I understand. Don't worry," I said, backing away politely. "I just wanted to introduce myself. I hope your work with the... ice is productive." I emphasized the word "ice" slightly, waiting for a reaction.
Dr. Hanson met my gaze again, and for a fleeting moment, I saw a spark of recognition or curiosity. The man beside her, however, simply gave me an icy stare that needed no words to convey a warning: "Stay back."
I left the cafeteria, my heart beating a little faster than usual. I hadn't gained much direct information, but the encounter had been invaluable. Dr. Hanson seemed to be under considerable pressure, and the man she was with wasn't a mere colleague. The insignia on his uniform... now that I thought about it, they seemed similar to those of certain "specialized corporate security" units that operated with considerable autonomy and, often, with unconventional methods. These weren't your average rank-and-file guards.
Furthermore, the young scientist's reaction, and now Dr. Hanson's, to the subject of the "ice" confirmed that it was at the heart of the mystery. Something about the nature of this anomalous ice was crucial, dangerous, and being actively covered up. My brief interaction with Hanson, however superficial, gave me the feeling that, despite her caution, she might be looking for help or a way to expose what she knew.
The base no longer felt just tense; it felt dangerous. There were powerful players moving in the shadows, ready to silence anyone who got too close to the truth. And I, Jaxson Cole, adventure writer, had just caught the attention of one of them. The chill of 73P wasn't just coming from outside; it was seeping into the base's corridors as well, a chill of fear and conspiracy. The icy intrigue grew thicker with every step, and I was determined to fight my way through it, no matter how slippery the terrain became.
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