Part II
Megalith Lunar Mining Station - Delta Base, Shackleton Crater, South Pole-Aitken Basin
Captain Revelin North, COO of Megalith Lunar Mining, was smiling to himself again. He had a morbid habit of reassuring himself with a self-satisfying smirk when facing a potential threat. This time it was the imminent arrival of the SEA transport ferrying the REEL Rangers observers, sent to interfere with his mining operations. Revelin would make them regret making this visit.
“Captain North, please prepare for cool down stage in 5-4-3-2-1...” chimed the alto-toned computer voice ---- the Earth-gravity exercise chamber. Drenched in rancid sweat and coughing up mucous, Revelin grasped the side rails of the hamster wheel treadmill as it slowed to a crawl. His muscles ached under the simulated Earth gravity of the chamber where he, like every other staff, spent an hour each day. Knowing full well that this mandatory exercise would not fully counteract the muscle atrophy of low gravity life on the Moon, he was resigned to it. In six months, if all goes well, he would return to Earth on permanent disability, but quite wealthy indeed.
Exiting the chamber in low gravity and pulling on the handrails, Revelin easily propelled himself through the tunnel corridor towards the Delta Base Observation Deck. Delta base was forged into the upper Western wall, near the rim of the immense Shackleton Crater in the South Pole-Aitken Basin. Partially shielded from meteor showers and direct sunlight, Delta Base was ideally situated to receive shipments from lunar orbit and monitor mining operations on the floor of the crater, four dark kilometers below.
In permanent shadow from the sun, Shackleton Crater was bathed in darkness, yet teemed with activity. Across its 21 kilometer span lay hundreds of cones spaced in a hexagon formation. Each right circular cone stood 30 to 40 meters high and operated a volatile mine. Each mine-cone contained a robotic “proboscis” coil snaking hundreds of meters below the surface in a logarithmic spiral burrowing for pockets and veins of specific volatiles. Like a voracious honey-bee feeding and sucking through its tongue for the more precious volatiles, hydrogen, argon, and principally, helium-3. During the past decade, Earth nurtured a voracious appetite for helium-3, the primary fuel for nuclear fusion reactors. Megalith Lunar Mining controlled the supply which spoon-fed Earth's cities and industries.
Easing himself into the spacious recliner-style command chair facing the holo-view holographic monitor spanning the width and height of the stark observation deck. Revelin paused at his reflection in window mode before powering up the holo-view. Focusing his eyes for a moment on his face, Revelin glared at his deep-set eyes darkened even more by lack of sleep. His widow's peak had turned a dingy gray in the past year while seeming to slope further down his steep forehead. What a torment to be relegated to this remote post where I can age so disgracefully.
On some days, the command chair offered psychological comfort as it often lulled him into a day-dream about his better days as a naval combat ship Chief Engineer. Today, however, was not one of those days.
Now to the matter at hand. Powering up the holo-view by voice command, he signaled the volatile harvesting vessel operating deep within the crater, “Bumblebee Harvester, this is Delta Base, report.”
“Bumblebee Harvester to Delta Base, Chief Engineer Dawes reporting.” Dawes appeared agitated as perspiration beaded on his pallid and bloated face. The dim ambient lighting in the control cabin gave Dawes a ghostly glimmer. “Captain North, mining zone integrity continues to deteriorate at an accelerating rate. Recovery and processing of volatiles from the regolith is at maximum, per your orders, sir. However, contamination from the REGEER reagent is increasing exponentially, further compromising the regolith, raising surface temperatures and threatening lunar ice reserves.”
“Copy that. Step up recovery and processing and inform me of any further developments. That will be all Chief Engineer Dawes.”
“Beg your pardon, Captain North. As I reported, we are already operating at maximum capacity, sir.”
“Damn you Dawes, we're about to interrupt operations in six hours when the Rangers arrive to inspect our operations. We'll fall way behind on quota and commission. While I figure out how to manage this... this quagmire, your job is to speed up production. Now dig deeper and dig harder, Dawes!”
“Roger that, Captain.”
Revelin scowled at the multi-view as Dawes’ image faded. “REGEER be damned,” he cursed to himself. Revelin was never in favor of using reagents to optimize recovery of precious minerals from the lunar surface. The risk was not worth the reward. Now, Megalith Mining was forcing his hand with this experimental Regolith Element Extraction Reagent, REGEER. His orders from the board of directors were to “deal with the Rangers and get back on schedule ASAP with shipments to Earth.”
Sixty hours after leaving Earth, the Auriga V spacecraft docked with the Lunar Orbital Command in order to transport its passengers and equipment to the cargo-pod shuttle. Tree, Luis and Sophie strode slowly up the wide ramp to the cargo-pod gate fully encased in arctic white spacesuits.
“All aboard REEL Rangers. You may remove your helmets upon entering. There's air to breathe inside the vessel,” chimed an ambient female alto-toned voice. “I am Vera, your operating system, fully enhanced to service this special mission. Your equipment has already been transferred on board and your workstations have been installed as specified. Behold.” Suddenly, an ovoid door seemed to sketch itself in the wall ahead and just as quickly swished open to reveal a stark white chamber with numerous hexagon panels forming its interior in the semblance of a sphere. The focal point of the chamber was a hexagon platform supporting three workstations facing each other in a triangle with a holo-view at its center. The trio entered the chamber led by Tree.
Tree propelled himself through the portal, enjoying the light on his feet effect of low gravity. “Welcome lady and gent, welcome to our fabulous lunar quarters for the next five days,” he presented gliding his arm skyward and bowing forward like a circus master of ceremonies.
As if on cue, Sophie took one bouncing step past Tree eyes wide open and curious. “Oh yeah? Where's the head in this... Hey better yet, where's the damn pilot?”
“Ranger Sophie, I am a Class A cargo-pod pilot with over seventy hours of flight-time logged into my system,” chimed Vera.
“So you're the damn pilot! Should’ve known” Sophie laughed. “Luis what do we do if the system goes down?” Luis had silently found his way to his workstation and was already fiddling with the holographic system interface, mesmerized by the technology. “Luis, are you there or trippin' somwhere again?”
“I hear you loud and much too loud and clear, like always. And besides that Sophia, this ain't the type of system that could possibly crash. Check this out Tree. There are modules in this pod behind those wall panels for just about everything... chem lab, supplies, lavatory, showers, food dispensers, medical, emergency evacuation, whoa! Emergency E vac?” Luis felt his lungs spasm for air at the thought.
Tree alerted Sophie, “Hey get over here I think he's ...”
“OK. I'm OK. Just nervous about being out here” Luis said delicately.
“It's alright little Louie, Mama Sophie got your back” she offered with a glance and a giggle.
“Guys, it's time to get down to that crater mine so we can rattle their chains and get back to our real work. Vera you're in charge ‘til we dock at the station.” Tree declared.
“Roger that Deputy Chief. Strap in REEL Rangers. We're swooping down into deep dark Shackleton Crater at South Pole-Aitken Basin.”
The Rangers silently searched each other’s eyes for recognition of this bit of humor coming from Vera. No one found it funny. Especially not Tree, whose eyelids began to quiver. “Here we go. Somewhere down there is a threat to us,” Tree thought to himself.
Vera released the cargo-pod from its dock on the orbital station with no sound or apparent movement.
After several minutes had passed, Sophie chimed in. “So Vera, we're ready to launch anytime now, unless you need a co-pilot.”
“No need Ranger Sophie, we launched six minutes ago. You can watch our progress on the holo-view or experience our flight in virtual space mode. Which would you prefer?”
“Luis it's up to you. Ready for the really real, free-fall effect?” Sophie teased.
“I can always just close my eyes or maybe just vomit in zero gravity with puke floating all around us. Are you ready for that Sophia?” Luis retorted.
“For Francis' sake guys, let's behave like we work as a team, at least until our return trip. Vera let's go virtual mode please.” Tree ordered.
“Copy that Ranger Tree,” Vera responded. In an instant the interior of the pod faded to pitch blackness. Gradually ambient light appeared as the southern hemisphere of the moon phased into focus. The effect was dizzying and disorienting as the rugged cratered lunar landscape loomed closer from their near-side approach. Even Sophie tensely gripped her chair's harness straps having no sensation of being seating inside of the cargo-pod. Nothing inside the pod was visible, only the alien terrain edging ever closer in shifting shades of brown and gray craters within craters and a horizon of strangely green massif-like mountain ranges.
“Alright enough of this already.” Luis pivoted his chair to a rear view and could thankfully see the distant blue-white swirls and striations of a three-quarter sphere Earth, like a giant marble in the starry background of space. “Hey look at this view. Would love to click my heels right now and chant, “There's no place like home.”
“Amen to that brother,” Tree tagged on.
“Attention REEL Rangers, five minutes to landing at Delta Base, Shackleton Crater. Upon docking this vessel will reconvert to fully functional working and sleeping quarters. You can see the mountain range above the crater coming over the horizon now.” Within minutes they could see the sunlit jagged-edged rim of Shackleton crater and the blackness below.
“Looks like a black sea. Hard to gauge the size of it from this perspective. How big is that crater anyway?” Tree asked to no one in particular.
“Twenty-one dark kilometers across and four klicks deep,” Luis answered gloomily. “And cold as ice from hell with a temperature approaching 90 degrees Kelvin, that approximately minus 180 degrees centigrade to you laymen.”
“Hey Sophie that's more like your native weather than ours. You should feel at right home down there,” Tree jested.
“Up yours Tree, no pun intended,” Sophie countered.
“Attention Rangers, please attach your helmets as protocol requires and prepare to dock at Delta Base.”
Revelin North strode down the long alabaster corridor towards the cargo dock accompanied by his two muscular and grisly-looking technicians, Hawthorne and Krasnov. Krasnov wore a shaved scalp and a dark shadow beard that could not detract from his Neanderthal-like facial features dominated by a bulbous nose. Hawthorne, a head taller than Krasnov, wore a high and tight blond haircut that accented his beak nose and deep-set hollow eyes. The trio was clad in the black thermal undergarments meant only to be worn under the miner work-suits. The undergarments had the look of sculpted and padded body armor. North's sole intent was to intimidate the arriving visitors as dramatically as possible upon their very first encounter.
As the airlock to the cargo-pod opened, Tree was the first to emerge unlatching his helmet as he walked down the short ramp to face North, eye to eye. Tree glared shamelessly into the hawkish eyes of Revelin North, ignoring the technicians altogether. Recognizing the attempt to intimidate, Tree thought to himself, “So this is it ... the source of my premonition!”
North standing erect with fists at his hips and yielding several inches to Tree, directed his angst towards the tall leader of the pack, “Welcome to Delta Base, Ranger Mays is it?”
“Deputy Chief Tremain Mays,” he corrected. “And these are my REEL Ranger associates, Dr. Sophie Lavoie, Aerospace Engineer and Dr. Luis Ramirez, Nuclear Physicist.”
“Welcome aboard. Now if you will follow us to the observation deck where you will conduct your investigation,” North commanded as he motioned to his technicians to lead the group down the corridor.
“Just a moment Captain North,” Tree interjected. “After flying the better part of 400,000 klicks, we're still 4 klicks short of our destination. Our orders from the SEA allow for on-site investigation of the mining zone. That means ...”
“I know what that means Deputy Chief,” North, intolerant and impatient under normal conditions, felt as exposed as if he were naked on the lunar surface. His survival instinct was not hinged on self-preservation but motivated by eradication of any threat to his survival. Now, coerced to relinquish his feigned hospitality for the safety of his own morbid mental comfort zone, North devised the way forward. “Indeed, you shall have access to the mining zone, but only you, Deputy Chief. The only way to dock with the volatile harvester is by surveyor-skiff. It only seats two, and we only have one available. I will pilot us down to Bumblebee. Your associates will monitor from the observation deck. Is that clear Deputy Chief.”
“Clear Captain North, clear as a tornado warning siren.” Tree’s answer was a coded message to his Ranger comrades to take extreme caution and prepare to improvise should a hazardous situation unfold.
Looking to Sophie at his left and Luis to his right, Tree appended his coded message, “You heard the Captain. You guys have a bird's eye view of the situation.” Code for watch like a hawk and be prepared to act swiftly.
“As ordered Deputy Chief,” Sophie mused, “I’ve been missing out on all the fun lately. No fair!”
“Actually, I had enough of an adventure just getting here, thank you very much.” Luis shot a warning glance at Sophie.
In the docking bay, Tree and North stood together at the pair of airlocks stationed just below their feet. Tree stared down through the transparent airlock to the compact rear cockpit of the surveyor-skiff, a back-to-back two-seat flying vehicle. The compartment appeared too small to accommodate Tree's large frame. Already, he regretted challenging North without any hesitation or forethought. But the man was unnerving to look at. Moreover, reasoning with North did not seem like an appealing option.
“Your attention, Deputy Chief. When I open your airlock, just plop yourself down into the seat. You’ll land softly in low gee. After that, allow the life support harness to gently attach and contour itself to your body. It’s a customizing feature that will fit you like a glove, head and torso,” North explained concisely. Tree perched on his tip-toes to lift himself up over the center of the opening hatch and softly landed buttocks first on the seat that seemed larger than it appeared from above. Stretching out his long legs seemed to activate the life support harness now snaking from behind the seat to gauge his dimensions. Crossing diagonally across his chest from lower left to upper right and lower right to upper left through a saucer-size red disk that served as a buckle and monitor, joining in symbiosis with his flight suit.
Just moments later, the two prepared for launch seated back-to-back in the narrow vessel with North in the forward facing pilot’s compartment. In total silence and without the sensation of motion, the skiff eased out from the ambient light of the dock near the rim of the cater wall. Tree shuddered watching the dock portal iris-out of sight. Peering skyward towards the jagged crater rim close above, Tree glimpsed an outline of sunlight brushing the uneven precipice above Delta Base, where sunshine bathed the cliffs surrounding Shackleton Crater. Under the observation deck's translucent dome, Sophie and Luis could feel daylight and see starlight, while he embarked into absolute blackness.
The skiff itself emitted no headlights whatsoever. The feeling of sensory deprivation was numbing. Tree could not even feel the self-awareness of normal breathing. Thoughts drifting, Tree imagined himself, fully grown within a womb still attached to an umbilical cord. But the womb was not that of his mother. Then just as the anxiety threatened to overwhelm him, the skiff abruptly spun 180 degrees, placing him in the forward, and accelerating into a nosedive. Then, impossibly, the landscape exploded with illumination. The skiff seemed to careen down the brightly lit crimson-red crater wall at a thirty degree slope into the crater abyss. The light emanated from the pocked and pitted surface as the skiff flitted scant meters from the crater wall, dodging sharp outcroppings randomly spread down the steep descent.
Instinctively, Tree reached up with both hands to grab hold of the upper straps of his harness to brace himself, not against gravity, but fear of impact. Somehow the skiff had pivoted placing him in the forward position heading downward. But, he had no control of the vehicle. He was flying into a red-hued wind streaking by in his peripheral vision. Abruptly, the skiff began spinning clockwise, along its long symmetry axis, spinning Tree to his right, head pressed to the cockpit window, further disorienting its unwelcome passenger.
Gradually, the skiff’s oriented itself with Tree in the rear-facing position as the nosedive decelerated perceptibly. As the declination eased, becoming less steep, the crimson-red surface shifted to a sunset orange landscape dotted with baseball to beach ball-sized impacts. Tree gazed out across the alien surface feeling isolated and exposed. Abruptly, the skiff stopped at the edge of a cliff overlooking a range of hills hundreds of meters across. An undulating band of aqua-blue light eerily adorned the hilltops, alternating to sea-green and back to aqua-blue, like ocean wind waves. Unaffected by the wavelike motion, the skiff eased forward towards the hilltops. At this moment, Tree attempted to gauge its height peering across the indigo blue chasm below. The bottom was not visible. Looking up into starlit space, Tree felt adrift in outer space.
Lurching downward, the skiff homed in on its unseen destination toward the crater floor. As the skiff descended, the cartoon-like landscape was diffuse with ambient indigo-purple light that negated any view of the myriad stars seen moments ago.
“Almost there, Deputy Chief. Gave you the scenic view. What do you think of our moonscape?”
“Thought I had died and gone to hell. The scenic view?”
“Thanks to navigation via holographic mapping mode. Holo-nav we call it. With no real daylight down here, we use our surveyor-skiff to continuously map the 400-plus square kilometers of Shackleton Crater. That means most every rock and nook and cranny. All in spectacularly color coded topography. It’s the only way we can operate in this abyss.”
“Well, Captain North, I am duly impressed and amazed. Cannot say that I enjoyed the ride, but I’m sure you enjoyed my distress along the way.”
North smiled to himself thinking, “Ooh, that was just a taste of what’s to come my Deputy Chief!”
“SS-1 to Bumblebee, we are approaching mine-cone 11, sector G for a close-up inspection before proceeding to your dock. Make room for two, Chief Engineer.”
“Roger that SS-1. Making ready accommodations for two,” replied Chief Engineer Dawes. Two additional crew would strain the environmental systems of Bumblebee at a crucial time. “Why did the Captain allow this untimely visit?” Dawes wondered.
“Alright Deputy Chief, from here on out pay close attention. I’m providing you with a crash course in volatile mining, and there will be a pop quiz afterwards.”
The skiff drifted in a slow, steady descent to the surface illuminated by indigo to deep purple hues emanating from the uneven rocky desert of regolith. Tree refocused his eyes, adjusting to the nearly monochrome terrain. He knew that the canopy cover was transparent, but it helped him to relax by imagining that he was looking through a tinted glass windshield. Upon closer inspection, the regolith surface just below the skiff began to shimmer a soft translucent silver-white. The skiff continued so close to the ground that it could have been rolling on tank treads. His view orientation flashed to a new scene sharing the same forward real-time view as North. In the near distance, sparkling copper cone-shaped structure appeared as their destination.
The cone stood several stories high with a circumference as wide as a large grain silo at its base. Hovering atop the mine-cone, loomed the volatile harvester, Bumblebee. True to its namesake, the vessel consisted of a brilliant metallic yellow exoskeleton with dark brown contours separating the head, thorax and abdomen. As wide as a wide-body aircraft, but modeled on bumblebee anatomy, the wingless harvester hovered sustained by three pairs of “legs” that functioned as thrusters, enabling its bee-like mobility. Bumblebee suctioned volatiles by extending its long proboscis-like tongue appendage through an orifice at the apex of the mine-cone structure. The skiff approached and circled the wide base of the mine-cone that vibrated with earth tremor force while emitting a steady low-pitched humming sound.
“I can hear it. How is that Captain? Does sound travels in this near vacuum?”
“Not so much. It’s not your hearing, Deputy Chief. You are feeling surface vibrations from the mine. The mine-cone uses a drilling coil to forage deep into the regolith in a logarithmic spiral. That spiraling coil extends outward and downward for hundreds of meters. It does this by heating and grinding the rocky regolith voraciously, while sending precious volatiles back through interior tubes to the mine-cone on the surface. The harvester then extracts the volatiles through a proboscis tube and transfers the volatiles to the processing area in the abdomen of Bumblebee. A fascinating operation, and we’re damn proud of our work down here!”
“Okay Captain, sounds amazing, so why I am I here? To pat you on the butt or what?”
“You are here, unfortunately, to observe the effects of our mining operation on the crater floor. I’m sure you noted the silvery glow on the surface. That glow is a sign of heat generated by all the activity underground. If there are any water ice pockets down there, I’m certain they have all succumbed to the heat and pressure by now. But that’s the price of progress, Deputy Chief. Please extend our apologies to the Space Exploration Administration.”
“You know Captain North, if you were running an operation like this back home, I’d shut you down in a heartbeat. Now can we get on board that overgrown flying insect? I want to find out exactly what I'm going to report back to SEA.”
“Well, well, well, you are living up to your stellar reputation Deputy Chief. SS-1 to Bumblebee, prepare Dock A for boarding.”
“Aye, Captain,” Dawes answered.
On the Delta Base observation deck, the scene resembled a late-night poker game. Sophie, Hawthorne, Luis and Krasnov sat stoically around the holo-view table staring intensely at the surveyor-skiff’s flight progress projected in color-coded topography. The skiff transmitted all on-board communications as a matter of protocol. The foursome heard every word spoken, every breath taken. The tension among the four observers escalated as they winced at each excruciating exchange between Tree and North. Hawthorne and Krasnov shared a sneaky grin at North’s last barb before docking with Bumblebee. Luis and Sophie glared ominously at each other, acknowledging the deteriorating situation.
“Sophie, take a closer look at that silvery glow North described as heat from friction generated by drilling below the surface,” Luis prompted. “It actually behaves more like radiating heat from a chemical reaction.”
“Could very well be,” Sophie agreed, “but how are we going to confirm anything while we’re stuck way up here?”
“Stuck way up here?” Luis echoed. The thought of leaving this cozy setting was out of the question.
“As Captain North indicated, the drilling process generates enormous friction,” Hawthorne quickly chimed in.
Just as quickly, alarm bells started ringing in Luis’ head. “Hawthorne, I’m curious about the volatile refining process. How exactly are the chemical elements and compounds separated?”
“The refinery on board the harvester handles that process, which entails separating the volatiles,” Hawthorne answered. “Technically, it’s not a refinery, we only pre-process the chemicals for shipping back to Earth.”
“So, can you tell me exactly how the volatiles are separated?” Luis rephrased.
“No we cannot,” Krasnov blurted out. “That’s proprietary information beyond our authority to divulge to anyone. The two of you need to understand, we do not entertain visitors here on Delta Base, and therefore ...”
“I understand completely, Krasnov,” assured Sophie, while making friendly eye contact as she reached out to lightly touch the top of his right hand with her left. “Our intrusion must be quite annoying to you all. Please accept my apology, won’t you?” Still maintaining her penetrating azure-blue beckoning gaze, Sophie perceived an opportunity to engage her conversational hypnosis with Krasnov. “Better yet, now that the surveyor-skiff has docked with Bumblebee, wouldn’t this be a good time to test a sample of the volatiles stored on Delta Base?”
Suddenly disarmed from his earlier defensive posture, Krasnov spoke in a more conciliatory tone. “Well, yes and of course, it’s just down … uh, please, just follow me, Sophie.” Krasnov stood up smiling gently at Sophie and walked towards the exit, without a word to Hawthorne or Luis.
“That was fast. Never seen him go all sweet and nice like that,” Hawthorne observed. “Then again, if I had the chance to entertain her for a while,” he added jokingly.
“Sophie has a particular way of diffusing a tense situation, except for when she’s really pissed off. Then she rips off the gloves.” Luis realized that Sophie decided to employ her special talent which Tree now referred to as her talk, touch and eye-taser technique. Getting Krasnov off the observation deck would allow Luis to more freely investigate the heat source in the crater.
“Looks like North has gone offline upon docking. We’ll hear from them again once they get settled on the bridge,” Hawthorne informed Luis.
“Perfect. Those two definitely do not need to be alone together a second longer,” Luis pointed out. “Now, according to the Captain’s log, Bumblebee is extracting six to eight metric tons of regolith per day with a yield of less than 50 kilograms in precious volatiles. How does it sift through all that dirt?”
Hawthorne stared blankly for a moment before responding. “Well, there is a kind of reagent we use called REGEER, an acronym for Regolith Element Extraction Reagent . It can separate out helium-3, hydrogen, titanium, and other elements in a matter of minutes.”
“You guys are doing some fascinating work,” Luis asserted. “Do you think you can show me a holographic of how the REGEER works?”
Sophie and Krasnov stood in the quality control lab perched across from each other over a small round table covered with a transparent dome. Under the dome, a silver-orange cloud of helium-3 dust circulated in a random ebb and flow motion. The two continued their conversation as Sophie maintained periodic eye contact to keep Krasnov focused on her intent. Gently placing her hands on either side of the dome, she hoped to sense some vibration or heat from the contents. She felt nothing at all, but was not deterred.
“Krasnov, I can feel that dust flying around in there. Hey, did it just change color? Looks more reddish now.” Sophie leaned her head down for a closer look. Curiously, Krasnov also leaned closer to the table. As if on cue, Sophie let her arms lift to lay her fingertips on Krasnov's temples. Instead of pulling away reflexively, he joined in eye-contact, transfixed on Sophie's coral blue eye's. Fully engaging Kranov's consciousness, she proceeded with her interrogation.
“So, Krasnov, please tell me what’s the big hush-hush about what goes on down there? I still don’t get why we were sent all the way here when there are clearly other ways to observe.”
“The thing is, Sophie, Captain North is taking heat from corporate to increase production quotas before we have to pull out of here.”
“Pull out? Why would you need to abandon a profitable mining operation,” Sophie inquired.
“It’s the REGEER. It’s not just used aboard Bumblebee. It’s used in the mine-cones and it’s out of control.”
“Out of control? How so Krasnov?”
“The REGEER … We call it a reagent but it’s really nanotechnology, self-regenerating. And it’s contaminating the regolith somehow.”
“Contaminating?” Sophie exclaimed nearly disengaging her conversational hypnotic control. “Tree will go berserk when he finds out.”
“Tree probably won’t find out cause North has other plans for him. An accident or something.” Sophie nearly lost her composure with that revelation. Time to wrap this up, she thought.
“Krasnov, you’ve had very long day today. You look totally exhausted. Just rest here for a while. Take a nap if you can. I’ll head back to the observation deck