The stairs up to the Company offices passed by a narrow shop crowded with different kinds of v-screens and senso-gear. Every screen was ablaze with a booming discordance of newscasters and chant videos. The landing stank of ozone and rotted meat. Gretchen's nose wrinkled for a moment, but she'd worked in worse. On Ugarit the excavation of a city midden six hundred feet deep had killed four of her workers in a methane pocket explosion. That was a truly foul smell.

The pilot thumbed open the door lock. Pausing, Gretchen raised an amused hand to touch the long list of companies residing at this address. There were six, and the Company was listed fourth.

"Greetings!" A very stocky human, not fat, but very round in features, limbs and body, rose from a chair. There was a table, too, surrounded by cheap office chairs. "I am Gossi. You would be Doctor Anderssen."

"Yes," Gretchen said, putting her bags by the nearest chair. She inclined her head politely to the two other people in the room. Parker was already pouring himself a cup of coffee from an ancient-looking silver pot on a side table. "There has been a change of plans?"

The Maltese nodded, his round face beaming. His dark hair was close-cut and flat across a high forehead, making him look like a doll. "Please sit. I will introduce you."

Gretchen sat, nodding to the human sitting on her right. He was short and muscular, in a nondescript patterned shirt and slacks. He had thick wrists and short, curly hair. Her immediate impression was of…very little. A man who sat back and watched, revealing nothing of himself.

"This is Dai Bandao, your gunner," Gossi said, inclining his head toward the man. Bandao smiled faintly and nodded back. He did not offer his hand, as Parker had done. "And this is Magdalena, your communications tech."

Magdalena looked something like a compact, sleek jagarundi with forward-canted shoulders. She seemed to be female. Gretchen smiled, but did not show any teeth. The Hesht was curled up in the chair, fat tail lapped around bare paws.

"Hello," Gretchen said, putting her fingertips to her forehead. The Hesht responded with the same gesture, her fingers covered with tightly napped fur. Glittering claw tips peeked out of the soft black pelt. "I am Gretchen, daughter of Jean, daughter of Elizabeth."

"Well met," purred the Hesht. "I am yyrroowwl-mrrrwerup. You should call me Magdalena, as these males do."

Gretchen lowered her hands. The Hesht smiled by showing the tip of a pink tongue. Her claws slid out of their muscle sheaths, digging into the nostain fabric of the chair. A sequence of cuts was already visible, revealing torn foam padding.

"Well then," Gossi said smoothly, sitting down, "let us to business. A situation involving valuable Company equipment has developed. I have been directed by the home office to see these materials are recovered in an efficient matter."

The round man pressed both thumbs against the sealing strip of a courier package. The packet unfolded, revealing a set of v- pads. "Here are briefing materials the Company has assembled for you. However, I will summarize."

Gossi smiled at all of them, a tight expression that did nothing to betray the essential smooth roundness of his face. Gretchen suddenly wondered if the man were human at all. There was a plastic quality to him – an android? Some species requiring a humanoid environment suit? Were all Maltese this slick?

"Recently, the Company acquired a contract from the Imperial government to explore and assess this planet, Ephesus Three." His hand brushed across a panel inset in the tabletop. There was a slight hum and a holo image appeared in the air before them. A dusky tan globe appeared, rotating slowly. There were large polar ice caps and scattered whorls of cloud. There was a great deal of desert and low mountain, interspersed with glittering salt pans. Gretchen nodded to herself – thin atmosphere, brutal working conditions, no ozone layer; filters, day-suits and goggles required if you stepped out of your shelter – then raised an eyebrow as the image continued to rotate, bringing a mountain range into view.

"An Imperial scout probe surveyed the system six years ago and eventually the data was processed and flagged for human review. This notable mountain range is called the Escarpment. It girdles the planet, running north to south at an angle. As you see, it has a sharper incline on the east than the west. Some of the peaks pierce the atmospheric envelope. The Escarpment divides the world."

"It's not natural," Gretchen said, her mind beginning to shake off the travel fatigue. Her migraine was coming back, too. She really needed to sleep or take a real bath rather than go through a mission briefing. "Unless crustal tectonics are completely awry on this world?"

Gossi continued to smile, nodding. "You are correct. It is not natural. Initial analysis indicated a possibility the world had been shaped. An expedition was approved, of course, to take a closer look at the situation."

"To muck about for First Sun artifacts, you mean." Parker slumped in the chair next to Gretchen, hands cradling his cup. Steam drifted up in the moist air. "Poke about looking for something portable, easy to carry, easy to sell -"

Gossi raised a hand. "A full scientific expedition was sent, with the Temple-class support ship Palenque as transport and orbital base. All this has been officially approved and registered, Parker-tzin. The Company has never had a great presence in this sector, and it was decided that – given the nature of the planet – a substantial effort was warranted."

"What happened?" Gretchen felt her patience fray. An exploration ship like the Palenque carried a crew of fifteen and a full expedition would be at least twenty people. This grimy little office couldn't provide the support a real dig needed. The Company was rushing things, as usual. If the initial expedition found something interesting, then Gossi would suddenly have a whole operation here on the station to run. More money, more status, someone to serve coffee for him – he had to like that prospect. He might be able to get rid of all those other name plaques on the door. "Parker here says he was rerouted from another mission. My last posting order said I was going to Kolob. Now I'm not… So, are they all dead?"

Gossi's round face crinkled up in disgust and Gretchen felt a spark of amusement. She was getting grumpy, which was not wise. "My pardon, Gossi-tzin, it's been a long day."

"Well." The Maltese visibly reboarded his train of thought, "Sixteen days ago a transmission was received from the Palenque with the usual weekly report. At that time, everything was fine. Unfortunately, we have not received any reports since then. When the second report failed to arrive, I informed the home office and efforts began to mount a relief effort."

Parker tilted his head to one side, thinking, then said: "How long does it take a courier drone to reach Ctesiphon from Ephesus? A week? You're saying they've been out of contact for as much as three weeks?"

"No…" Gossi tabbed through the briefing document, glancing sideways at Magdalena. "The Palenque is fitted with a new, experimental tachyon transmitter. It allows immediate communication between the station main relay and the ship. So, as I have said, sixteen days have passed since our last, ah, active communication."

The Hesht's ears flipped back and yellow eyes blinked as she came awake. "Why do you say active? Has there been some other message? A distress beacon?"

"Not as such…" Gossi seemed to struggle with the words. Gretchen leaned forward, interested. "I am told by the station technicians they have a t- lock on the Palenque, but the transmitter is not responding to requests for an open channel. I have been informed this means the transmitter is still nominally operating, but it is, ah, on standby."