32.

Jaxon remained seated at the pilot's station and swiveled around to face his team. Stunned expressions covered most of their faces, save for Miles. His outward appearance remained his usual indifferent blankness.

"What makes you think that?" Camille asked.

"First off, both Director Howe and Assistant Director Evans mentioned the possibility of the mole. They had no conclusive evidence about the accusation, but too many coincidences have occurred lately; this last one certainly reinforces the argument. To be specific, our departure wasn't technically scheduled for another day, possibly two. But because of the attack at the compound, which also seems far too coincidental, our schedule was hastily escalated. The list of potential suspects is very limited-probably around eight to ten people-that the mole could be, present company included."

"If it were one of us," Francisco said, "do you think we'd still be on the ship if we were trying to blow it up?"

Jaxon nodded. "Valid question, Clay, but there's a lot that I don't know ... about all of you. And frankly, there's only one person on the ship that I trust," Jaxon said, glancing toward Camille, "and the other two need to earn it."

An awkward silence filled the room.

Oliver continued to monitor the sensor array, cautiously, but remained in the conversation. "So, are you going to tell us all what the hell is going on? he asked.

"First off, what have each of you been told about our mission or about myself?" Jaxon asked.

Camille began. "I was only told about a top-secret mission, which would involve the Guzman drug family, and that's about it. There was no indication about you, or the rest of the team for that matter."

"Clay?" Jaxon asked.

"Same as Camille. I've been in the loop about the drug family for a few months now, but back then, they only told me that the team lead was still being recruited."

Jaxon looked toward Oliver.

"Obviously, I've known about your situation longer," Oliver said. "I was read into your situation about four weeks ago, and I was shipped up to the moon base a few days before your arrival at Luna City."

Jaxon pursed his lips as he contemplated how much information to share. If he wanted to gain the trust of the entire team, he felt that full disclosure was probably the best course of action.

"I'll first start with my own status," Jaxon began. "I was an active agent for the GSA for the better part of nine years. Toward the end of my term, my partner and I both realized that our future with the company looked grim. We'd watched too many top-shelf agents either die in the line of duty or be forced into a less than desirable retirement, some having their minds erased due to concerns of divulgence. We decided at the time that we'd rather go out on our own terms. We organized our own assumed deaths." Jaxon paused to study each of the expressions on his team's faces. Oliver was blank, as usual. Clay showed surprise, and Camille's expression was the worst. She looked pained for having to endure the explanation again.

"That was eight years ago, and my partner Gillette and I were able to go our separate ways and live in secrecy until earlier this week. That's when a hit was taken out on my life. Out of the blue, a small army of assassins have been on my tail, trying to end me. Even now, it remains unknown who is behind the hit. According to the director, that is. The attacks on me began on Taloo Station and carried over into Luna City. The raid on the safe house is also in question. And now, I can only assume that the ambush just minutes ago is part of that same assault. Besides Miles here, I feel that the director has given you each a disservice for not explaining the entire situation before we left. For that, I apologize. Your lives have been put into certain peril until we can neutralize the kill order."

Camille's facial expression suddenly changed. It softened at hearing more of Jaxon's background. "Do you think it was someone at the company?" she asked.

Jaxon nodded. "That is certainly a possibility. It seems that our prototype stealth device wasn't as invisible as we were told. It's all too clear that our unique signature frequency has gotten into the hands of some very bad people. If that's not a clear indication of a mole in the company, then I don't know what is."

Oliver whistled softly as the implications of a traitor in their midst were fully realized. "Am I the only one not completely privy as to what our real mission is?" he asked.

"Okay, here's what I know. Pablo Guzman has developed a drug that has severe addictive qualities. Our directive is to track down the production facility located somewhere in the outer ring and cease its operations. Based on what I've seen of our ship and its capabilities, I think we take the easy way out. We locate the station where the drug is being produced, and we neutralize the operation from space. We blow it up."

Francisco gasped. "But what about all the innocent people that would be on that station? You'd be killing hundreds of people."

"We don't know that for certain, Clay. If my intuition is correct, the production facility won't be on any normal station. I don't think Pablo would be nave enough to mix business with pleasure to that degree. I might be wrong here, but I think the information that has been given to us is only half true. I think the list of possible space station candidates is part of a ruse to keep us preoccupied long enough for a lucky assassin to carry out the hit on my life. Personally, I like living, and I'm not about to give them the satisfaction. It's my intention to shoot first and ask questions later. The sooner we get on with this mission and finish it, the sooner we can all get back to our normal lives. Any questions?" Jaxon asked.

Francisco raised his hand, as if a nervous school boy.

"Go ahead, Clay. We're not very formal here," Jaxon said.

"Well, it appears that I have a different agenda than you, which has also come down from the director himself. I'm supposed to get eyes on the factory and obtain their manufacturing procedures of the drug. If possible, I'm also supposed to round up as many samples of the drug as I can before leaving the station."

Jaxon contemplated Francisco's words. "If Evans or Howe has given you a separate agenda, then so be it. My mission is clear, and it is to stop the production of the drug by any means necessary. At the end of the day, the manufacturing facility will be destroyed, and all I can say is that you best be on the ship when the last explosion ignites, if you want a ride back."

Francisco's face showed shock, Oliver simply nodded, and Camille now read indifferently in her expression.

"Miles, how long until we get to our first outer ring space station?" Jaxon asked.

Oliver turned to his console and brought up the navigation computer. He entered in a few keystrokes, and the ETA displayed on the screen. "A little less than thirty-six hours, boss," he said. "But didn't you just say that we wouldn't find the factory on any of the listed stations?"

"Yes, that's right. But we need to start somewhere. We'll need to get onto a station or two and ask some questions. We don't want to rock the boat too much, but right now we're flying blind and we need to get intel on Guzman's operation."

The flight deck drew quiet as the team individually pondered what they'd just learned. Once it was clear that no more questions were being put forth, Jaxon stood and headed for the door. Before stepping out, he paused and turned to look at his team.

"I'll be in my quarters if any of you have any further questions. I suggest we get some rest and be ready when we get to station number one."

With that, Jaxon turned and walked down the ramp, disappearing from view.

33.

Having frequented many of the outer ring space stations through the years, Jaxon knew what to expect when in the region. Through conversations with the rest of his team, it became clear that he was the only one that had that exposure.

Camille Parker, despite having been an active agent in the past, had never had the opportunity to step foot on a spaceship, let alone journey into the outer ring. Her region was earth based.

Clay Francisco was the youngest of their group and had the least amount of experience, having only been trained through simulation. Jaxon was very concerned about his role in the operation, as so much of what they did was improvisational. Francisco was a chemist, and his lack of field experience could very well put the entire team at risk.

Miles Oliver, despite his propensity for silence, possessed the greatest advantage of anyone else on the team. Besides Jaxon himself, that is. Oliver had been active for many years, but Jaxon still had his reservations. Mostly due to his dossier. The majority of Oliver's final year as an agent had been redacted. In the hours before their arrival at the first station, Jaxon tried to broach the subject with him but was stonewalled with yet more silence. Regardless, Jaxon's gut instinct said he needn't worry about Oliver, but also to keep a watchful eye on him.

As Oliver docked the ship, Jaxon readied the team to disembark. "The first thing they're going to do is do a weapons check," Jaxon said, looking at each of the team members as he spoke. "Now is not the time to try and guess exactly where you could hide a knife or a pistol and have it get through their detectors. Despite the corruption that runs rampant in the outer ring, most of the stations are virtually weapon free, save for the security personnel throughout each station, who are typically armed to the hilt. We're just here for a bit of entertainment, right?"

Everyone nodded, while Jaxon held Oliver's eyes a moment longer. Satisfied that he'd made his point, he proceeded.

"All right. As we discussed, we'll work in pairs. It'll be Cam and I covering the bars and clubs while you two head to the pavilion," Jaxon said. "Just find out what you can, and keep an eye out for prostitutes, boys. Those women are trained professionals." Jaxon winked. "They'll easily remove you from your money and not think twice about it."

Jaxon resisted laughing out loud as the blood drained from Francisco's face. He looked petrified, but pairing him with Oliver was probably the safest bet. Or so he thought.

The airlock opened, and they stepped through the docking ring and into the space station. Jaxon led them aboard, handing his falsified travel documents to the attendant at the security line.

The man was dressed in a charcoal-colored jumpsuit with an orange insignia embroidered on his sleeves. After only a few moments of scrutinizing the documents, he handed them back to Jaxon.

"Next," the attendant said, dismissing Jaxon.

Jaxon hesitated briefly, but when it was clear that they expected him to continue on into the station before Camille could step forward, he reluctantly left her behind.

Jaxon wandered to the edge of the moderately sized atrium just beyond the security checkpoint. He looked up and saw three levels of casinos, bars, and restaurants, all located above the shopping district that meandered around the main level. It was all quite similar to the promenade on his own Taloo Station. Moments later, Camille joined Jaxon, having passed through security without protest.

"Listen, I didn't say anything earlier, but as long as you're paired with me, we'll have to be more alert because of the potential of another assassination attempt," Jaxon said.

Camille leaned on the rail, the warmth of her arm touching Jaxon's. "That goes without saying," she said. "If I had a problem with it, I would've asked to be paired up with Miles."

Jaxon breathed a sigh of relief, not knowing exactly what to expect from her. In the brief time that they'd been around each other, her emotions had been quite scattered, and he couldn't blame her. He could only imagine the emotional roller coaster that she'd been on recently.

"Wow. This is ... not quite what I was expecting," Camille said, looking up at the many levels of flashing neon lights and scores of people living on the edge. "I assumed from all of the cautionary tales that both you and the director mentioned that the outer ring would be a dingy and dangerous place. This looks ... quite fun."

"Yeah, it does have a certain fascinating feel to it. The ambiance certainly is welcoming, and the sounds from the casino of all the winning slot machines definitely promote frivolity. But it's all just smoke and mirrors," Jaxon said. "It's all just a guise to loosen your grip from your hard-earned money. There's more crime and corruption per square meter of this place than there is back on earth, all the states of the US combined."

"Huh," Camille muttered. "You'd never guess it."

After a few more moments of gazing up at the scenery, Jaxon said, "Shall we proceed?"

"But shouldn't we wait for the boys?"

"Meh, they're grown men. They know the plan, and Miles will no doubt be familiar with a place like this."

"Okay then. I guess I'll follow you."

Jaxon led Camille through the crowd of the shopping district, where they found a stairway leading up a level to the bars. Walking past several recognizable establishments, they crossed into an entirely different atmosphere. It was like walking from a world of safety and innocence into another, laced with danger and corruption, as they turned down a side street.

"Well? Do you have a preference?" Jaxon asked, motioning to the dozens of themed strip clubs along the walkway.

"One is as good as the next, right?" Camille asked, clearly out of her element.

Jaxon nodded and walked toward the entrance of the nearest club. The sign above the entrance flashed Diamond Bell Emporium in blue neon lights.

After paying a small cover charge, they walked into a dark, smoky hallway that opened up into a room lit with black lights on nearly every surface.

Once inside, there were two bars-one straight ahead, on the far side of the club, and one tucked into the left, just near the exit. It was no doubt to tempt the departing customers into having one last drink before they hit the road.

There were four dance tables arranged in a diamond shape throughout the club. Besides the immediate seating at those stages, there were a dozen or so smaller cocktail tables interspersed.

More neon lights decorated the walls for accent while several colored spotlights drew attention to the individual dancers. Music bumped throughout the club, giving the dancers something to gyrate too.

Jaxon led Camille to a small table just away from the immediate crowd. It was situated near a curtained-off doorway, most likely leading to the private entertainment facilities.

Jaxon took a seat and motioned for Camille to sit to his left. Their backs were against the wall, and as soon as Jaxon could, he caught the attention of a waitress to bring them some drinks.

"You think it wise that we drink something being mixed out of our sight?" Camille asked. "I've heard stories about bartenders in places like this spiking the drinks with something, then the guy wakes up several hours later with empty pockets and an open fly, and no idea what happened."

Jaxon smiled and winked. "That's why we only order bottled beer. But you certainly paint a vivid picture."

As if on cue, a scantily clad waitress came by and took their drink order before disappearing to the back bar.

Camille leaned over to Jaxon to speak more discreetly. "So, how do we do this? Do we just ask the next person that comes by where we can buy us some drugs?"

Jaxon shook his head. "Unfortunately, it's not that easy. My bet is the real information will come from one of the strippers. They're most likely strung out as it is, and they'll be more likely to bleed the information out if we ply them with a handful of credits."

"So, what? Do we just go up there and ... give them money?"

"That's usually how strip clubs work. If we play it right, they'll come to us. The glory of the side table is that you can make eye contact with just about any one of the girls, and as soon as their set is over, they'll pay us a visit. If they're interested, that is."

Camille sat back up and looked across the club at the women dancing. She had a frown on her face. Not quite of disgust, but out of curiosity.

"What are you thinking?" Jaxon asked.

"I don't know. It's just ... how is it that these women become strippers in the first place? How is it that they're okay with selling their bodies to drunk, arrogant men?"

"I don't think these dancers are actually selling their bodies," Jaxon said in defense.

"Oh? These are dancers?" Camille asked sarcastically.

"Yes, they are, but not the kind of dancers at your ballet. These are dancers for hire, I guess. They're just selling an image of their body but not the body itself."

"So that makes it okay with you? To give these women money to show you their naughty parts?"

"Hey, don't blame me. Strip clubs have been around for hundreds of years, and I bet these women make more money than you or I did last year. Besides, it's a young woman's profession. After a certain age ..." Jaxon stopped, thinking about the path of the conversation, and decided to curtail it before he said the wrong thing.

Camille looked at him quizzically. "And? What happens when they hit that age limit?"

Before Jaxon had a chance to respond, the waitress returned with their beers and Jaxon paid her, giving her a handsome tip. She winked at him before continuing on to her next customer. Jaxon tipped his bottle back, drawing a cool stream of beer into his mouth.

After several moments of silence between them, Camille leaned over again and spoke. "So, tell me, Jax. Which of these ladies is your type these days?"

Jaxon surveyed the four dancers up on stage for several minutes. "I guess I don't really have a type. But if I had to choose, I guess I would opt for a woman that was fit, not too tall, but not too short. Perhaps with brunette hair, down just past her shoulders, and blue eyes if possible." Jaxon had just described Camille, almost to a T. "But then again, beggars can't be choosers in this market." He winked.

Camille continued to eye the various dancers, either electing to ignore Jaxon's description of herself, or simply scrutinizing the various women types in the club. "They certainly do come in all shapes and sizes," she said, resting her arm against his. "And ages," she continued. "Jesus, is she even thirteen?"

Jaxon followed Camille's gaze and found a very young girl on the far table. She had already dropped her top and was moving rhythmically to the music. Her breasts were clearly not fully developed, and it pained him to see the spectacle. As he continued to watch, his eyes rose up to her face, and he was startled at the similarities to that of his own daughter. Granted, to the picture of his daughter that was loaded on his commPad. It was clear that the girl wasn't his daughter, but what frightened him most was the fact that it very well could have been Celeste.

Suddenly, walking across the club, Jaxon saw another young girl. She was around sixteen or seventeen-about the same age as Celeste-who had more striking similarities to her as well. Jaxon leaned forward slightly, until he got a better look at her face. "My, God. It can't be," he said, his face white as a ghost.

34.