"...And that, in a nutshell, is how we wound up being taken off the Restored Commonwealth's Christmas card list," Dylan concluded, and took a sip of the sweet, violet beverage that had been served with dinner.

General Kellan gave an impressed nod. "Sounds like you've had a hell of a time of things while we've been out of circulation, Captain Hunt. I hope things start going better for you from here on out."

Harper snorted. "Well things certainly can't get much w---"He stopped short when the dark-haired goddess in the tight, brown uniform that left practically nothing to the imagination... Down boy, Seamus, he told himself, you don't want to drool on the nice General's tablecloth... touched his arm.

"Things can always get worse, Mr. Harper," she told him with a wry smile, "and from what I understand, the universe tends to get irritable when it's told what it can't do."

She touched me. And she remembered my name. And she's smiling at me. I must have her. He briefly contemplated seducing her right here on the dining table, on top of the Ansonian tuber pasta, but rejected the idea. That's probably the sort of 'diplomatic incident' Dylan was talking about... And besides, I'd get slapped into the middle of next week, and time travel makes my head hurt. So instead, he had another forkful of pasta, and tried to think of something witty to say.

"General, I believe you said you had a story to tell me in return?" Dylan asked, bringing the discussion back to the topic.

"Indeed, I did," Kellan replied, pouring himself another glass of the syrupy, violet liquid, which suggested that his tale would be a long one. "Perhaps I should begin at the beginning..."

ooooo

"The original mining colony on Lanvar Three was established about twelve years before the civil war broke out among the Commonwealth---or, the Old Commonwealth, is what we're calling it now?" Dylan nodded, and the General continued. "The colony was funded by a group of independent businessmen, who saw an opportunity to profit from the rare ores here, the uses of which in the hulls of starships had recently begun to be researched. The colony was peopled with refugees from other planets, following the investors' promises that they could make a better living for themselves and their families here than they could at home. And they did, until the war."

"The chaos of the rebellion meant a slackening of oversight on regulations concerning trade and labor, and when the Commonwealth fell, those restrictions disappeared completely. Whatever corners that could be cut to increase the investors' profit margin, were cut. Working conditions worsened. Accidents became more frequent. Wages dropped, while the price of food and other supplies imported to the planet by the colony's owners skyrocketed. And you've probably noticed the environmental conditions that persist outside of the domed cities on the planet below us?"

"I'll say," Harper interjected. "It looks like every factory in the quadrant threw up down there."

"Thank you for that mental image, Mr. Harper," remarked Dylan, noting as Rhade glanced at his food and very casually put down his fork.

"It's all right, Captain; he's right. The men who financed this colony wanted their ore extracted and refined by the cheapest and fastest means possible, the result of which was the steady poisoning of our planet. It was only when the pollution became so severe that people started to die that the investors ordered the construction of domes over our largest cities, and only then because doing so was cheaper than bringing in new labor every few years as their old workforce died out."

As the General spoke, Dylan glanced back at Harper, who had likewise put down his fork, and whose hands were tightening around his napkin. It seemed that Kellan's words were striking a chord with the young engineer.

"With the destruction of Lanvar Three's ecology, the investors' control over our people became even more complete, because the planet was incapable of producing food for its inhabitants. What they charged us for basic foodstuffs alone nearly matched what they paid us for the ores, locking our people into a cycle of dependency and debt that was tantamount to---"

"Slavery," Harper finished for him. His earlier levity had now vanished completely from his demeanor, and his eyes held a cold fire that Dylan recognized from the uprising on Earth against the Drago-Kazov over a year ago. The unsuccessful uprising, a failure for which he knew Harper felt deeply responsible.

General Kellan must have noticed the personal tone the discussion had suddenly taken for the younger man, because he didn't seem at all annoyed by the interruption. He nodded in affirmation. "Precisely, Mr. Harper. Several years ago, a number of us realized that if our world was to have any future at all, we had to get out from under the thumb of the people who claimed to own our planet. It started out slowly; strikes and work stoppages, which were of course met with force. Then we moved on to sabotage. Finally, about two years ago, when no ore had left the surface of this planet for over a year, our overlords packed up their toys and went home. Or so we thought.

"With the original administrative structure of the colony gone, we had to fill in the gaps. We were now in charge of not only running the planet, but shipping our ores to potential buyers and trading for the supplies we couldn't produce ourselves. So we patched together some secondhand cargo vessels, and started going to market. That's when they started hitting our ships. I suppose they figured that if they couldn't get our ore the old-fashioned way, they'd try piracy. But we haven't been making it easy for them lately, which is why, I imagine, they picked up their newest trick. Taking a page from the Resistance's old book, they resorted to sabotage. This, Captain, is where the problem I mentioned to you comes in."

Dylan leaned forward in his seat, noticing in his peripheral vision that Harper did likewise, intent on hearing what was to come next. Rhade didn't change his position at all, but that, Dylan suspected, was the weapons officer trying not to draw attention to himself. Rhade, characteristically, had not let his guard down all evening.

Kellan continued. "Not long after the Resistance gained power and the interim government was assembled, it was concluded that Lanvar Three's biggest weakness was its complete ecological devastation. Not only does this lead to a complete dependence on offworld supplies for basic necessities like food, but it has led to massive overcrowding in the few domed cities on the planet. There wasn't enough room in the cities to house the planet's entire population when the domes were built, and despite deaths resulting from disease and fire due to cramped living conditions, as well as pandemic levels of homelessness, poverty, and starvation, there are still far too many people to fit comfortably under our domes. We recognized that the key to our future survival lay in reclaiming the Outside. Already our working refineries have converted to cleaner-running systems, but our most ambitious project is to reverse the damage that has already been done.

"To that end, we built an air processing station in the hills several miles outside the capital city. It's the first of several stations that will, hopefully, purify the air Outside to the point where imported trees will be able to survive and continue the process. From there, we plan to move on to the groundwater, the soil, and ultimately the oceans. These developments will take decades to implement and centuries before they reach full effect, but this processing station is the first step, the flagship of this administration."

The man sounds like he knows what he's doing, thought Dylan. However, there's a 'but' coming up, and it's going to be our job to take care of it.

"As I said before, the men whose ancestors made their money off of our ancestors' backs aren't willing to give up this planet without a fight. We believe their ultimate plan is to take Lanvar three back the same way that we won it away from them; through the will of its people. They have already sent agitators into the cities to convince people that the air processing plants, and thus our entire environmental restoration program, are doomed to failure; a prediction they plan to make true through the sabotage of the processing facility."

There's the 'but.' "And you'd like for us to help you stop this sabotage, General?"

General Kellan met Dylan's gaze, a haze of regret clouding his features. "Actually, Captain Hunt, we were hoping you might be able to help us reverse it."

"So the sabotage has already occurred," confirmed Dylan. The General nodded. "What is the nature of the damage?"

The dark-haired woman sitting beside Harper picked up a flexi from a nearby side table and handed it to Kellan, who glanced down at it before speaking. "A computer virus, or series of viruses, embedded in the facility's systems, making them impossible even to access remotely. Many of our personnel are fairly adept at various kinds of tech-related operations, but from what we've been able to observe about the problem from here, this virus is completely over the heads of anybody we have on staff. I know it's a lot to hope for, but if you have anyone in your crew who you think might be able to even put a dent into this thing," he gestured with the flexi, "the planet of Lanvar Three would owe you a great debt."

Dylan spared another glance at Harper, who looked about ready to jump out of his seat and volunteer himself. Instead, the younger man met Dylan's eyes, his expression expectant. Dylan cleared his throat. "I believe the man you're in need of, then, is our Mr. Harper here. And unless I'm sorely mistaken, he's more than willing to volunteer his services in this matter."

The General turned to Harper. "Is that true, Mr. Harper? Are you willing to help us?"

This time, Harper did rise from his seat. "Absolutely."

General Kellan rose as well and offered Harper his hand to shake. "Then you have my gratitude as well. Here's the information we've been able to gather about the virus problem thus far." He passed the flexi to the engineer.

Rhade chose this moment to make his presence felt again. "Excuse me for speaking out of turn, General, but what exactly will this assistance entail?"

Kellan turned to the Nietzschean with an approving half-nod; evidently, he appreciated a man who understood and took seriously matters of security. "Since we cannot access the facility's computer systems remotely, we will have to send Mr. Harper directly to the processing plant itself. The journey will be made on foot, since we have yet to develop a land or air vehicle that doesn't encounter problems with either visibility or ventilation in all that smog."

"Couldn't we simply bring a spacecraft directly down to the facility?" Rhade asked. "The Andromeda is equipped with a full complement of slipfighters." Dylan noted wryly that the Weapons Officer had learned not to volunteer the Maru for anything without asking Beka first.

The General arched an eyebrow. "Theoretically, Mr. Rhade, you could, but you'd be flying blind. As I said, visuals from inside a vehicle of any kind are practically nonexistent, and some of the isotopes in the atmosphere, produced by the ore refining process, have a tendency to play havoc with most kinds of external sensors. In all likelihood, you wouldn't find the ground until it found you."

Harper nodded. "He's right. Rommie mentioned before we left that Andromeda's sensors were having a hard time scanning the planet's surface through the atmosphere." His voice was now flat, empty of all the young man's characteristic cheerfulness, and Dylan thought regretfully that he'd gotten his wish for Harper to show some professionalism.

Rhade seemed satisfied, so General Kellan continued. "We do, however, have equipment that will make foot travel through the Outside possible. Travel should take no longer than three or four days. Leading the expedition will be one of my staff, who is both familiar with navigating the terrain Outside and fully capable in combat, should you be attacked en route. Lieutenant Xavier, can you be ready to start out tomorrow morning?"

The dark-haired woman blinked, but recovered herself quickly. Evidently she had not known about the assignment beforehand. "Of course, General."

"Very good. Of course, you may feel free to assign any additional security personnel to the team that you feel necessary, as it is entirely possible that our saboteurs will have operatives positioned to ensure that we don't get anyone into the facility to make repairs. However, it is best to keep the team as small as possible, as a larger group is more likely to attract attention." Both Dylan and Rhade nodded their agreement, and Kellan addressed them both. "If that course of action meets with your approval, then Lieutenant Xavier will be ready for your team at 0800 tomorrow morning."

"That sounds fine, General." Dylan extended his hand, and General Kellan shook it warmly.

"In that case," the General announced, reclaiming his chair, "let's have dessert."