Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Where. Were. You.”
Martin’s voice cut through the air like a knife. He stood in the doorway of the lab, once more immaculate, his pale eyes fixed on Alina with an intensity that made her skin crawl.
She straightened from where she’d been leaning against Cass’s desk, and gave him an icy look.
“We went through this yesterday. I got caught in the storm.” She kept her voice flat, professional. “Found shelter. Waited it out.”
Martin’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
“And what, exactly, drew you out into a dust storm in the first place? Your field authorization was for routine sample collection within a two-kilometer radius of the settlement. The beacon on your rover placed you nearly fifteen kilometers into the mountains.”
Damn.
She’d known the rover was tracked. She’d just hoped no one would be paying attention to the data during a major storm. Clearly, she’d underestimated Martin’s obsessive attention to her movements.
“I was following an anomalous reading.” The truth, carefully edited. “Something in the seismic data caught my attention. I wanted to investigate.”
“Without filing a deviation report. Without notifying anyone of your intentions. Without following any of the protocols that exist specifically to prevent situations like this.” Martin’s voice had gone silky, dangerous.
“Dr. Falkner, if I didn’t know better, I might think you were trying to hide something. ”
“What would I be hiding, Dr. Reece?”
The question hung in the air between them. Behind her, she heard Cass’s sharp intake of breath—a warning, or perhaps just surprise at her boldness.
Martin studied her for a long moment, his pale eyes flickering over her face as if searching for cracks in her composure. Then he smiled, and the expression made her stomach turn.
“That’s exactly what I intend to find out.
” He moved further into the room, circling around the small space like a predator assessing its prey.
“You see, Dr. Falkner, your little unauthorized excursion isn’t the only interesting development I’ve been monitoring.
GenCon has been tracking certain… irregularities in the planetary data for several months now. ”
Her blood went cold. “GenCon has no authority to monitor research data. Their operational mandate was restricted after the Congressional hearings—”
“Their official mandate was restricted.” Martin waved a dismissive hand.
“But GenCon understands something that idealistic researchers like yourself seem incapable of grasping. This planet holds secrets worth billions. Trillions, perhaps. And they’re not going to let bureaucratic limitations stand in the way of claiming what’s rightfully theirs. ”
“What’s rightfully—” She cut herself off, forcing her voice back under control. “Nothing on this planet belongs to GenCon. Mars is a protected research territory under the—”
“Mars is whatever GenCon decides it is.” Martin stopped his circling directly in front of her, close enough that his cologne burned her nostrils.
“Earth Government’s oversight only extends as far as their enforcement capabilities.
Out here, months away from any meaningful intervention, the rules are… flexible.”
He’s working with them. The realization settled into her gut like a stone. She’d suspected it before—the hints he’d dropped, the way he talked about corporate interests—but hearing him admit it so openly made it terrifyingly real.
“What do they know?” she asked, and immediately wished she could take the words back. Too eager. Too obvious.
His condescending smile widened. “Interested now, are we? I thought you had no patience for GenCon’s ‘unethical practices.’”
“I have no patience for watching someone hand over legitimate scientific discoveries to corporate exploitation.” She held his gaze, refusing to look away. “But if there’s data out there that affects my research, I have a right to know about it.”
“Your research.” Martin laughed bitterly. “Always so precious about your research, Alina. As if the readings from a third-rate geochemistry lab are going to change the world.”
The insult stung, but she’d heard worse from him. She waited.
“Fine.” He pulled a tablet from his coat pocket, scrolling through screens with sharp, impatient gestures.
“Since you’re so committed to scientific transparency.
GenCon’s monitoring satellites have detected unusual thermal signatures in the eastern mountains over the past six months.
Localized heat sources that shouldn’t exist, given what we know about Martian geology.
Atmospheric fluctuations that don’t match any established models.
And—” he paused dramatically, “—biochemical readings that suggest the presence of complex organic compounds.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs. They know. They don’t know what, exactly, but they know something is there.
“Organic compounds.” She forced her voice to remain steady. “Mars has always had organic compounds. The Viking landers detected them in the seventies—”
“Not like these.” Martin thrust the tablet towards her. “Look at the spectral analysis. These signatures indicate living organic processes. Active metabolism. Something down there is breathing, Dr. Falkner.”
She took the tablet, scanning the data while her mind raced. The readings were imprecise—satellite data always was—but they painted a picture that was uncomfortably close to the truth. If GenCon sent a team to investigate, if they found the lava tube, if they discovered the cavern…
Rhyx.
“Interesting,” she said, handing the tablet back. “But hardly conclusive. These signatures could be explained by any number of geological processes. Thermophilic bacteria in subsurface water, radiolytic decomposition of organic sediments—”
“Or?” Martin’s eyes glittered with barely contained excitement.
She shrugged, adopting her most professionally dismissive tone. “Or the planet is waking up.”
The words landed like a stone in still water. Martin blinked, his expression shifting from eagerness to confusion.
“I’m sorry?”
“Waking up.” She spread her hands, warming to the performance.
“Mars has been geologically dormant for millions of years, but we’ve always known that dormancy might not be permanent.
The core is still liquid. The volcanic systems are still technically active.
If something triggered a shift in the planetary dynamics—a change in solar output, a large impact event, even just the natural progression of internal thermal cycles—we might see exactly this kind of signature. A planet beginning to stir.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Then he laughed—loud, harsh, and utterly devoid of warmth.
“Oh, Alina.” He shook his head, his expression shifting to something between pity and contempt. “This is exactly why you’ll never be more than a footnote in someone else’s paper. You’re so desperate to find cosmic significance in everything that you miss what’s right in front of your face.”
The dismissal burned, but beneath the sting, she felt a flicker of relief. He wasn’t taking her seriously. Good. Let him think she was a naive idealist, seeing poetry where there was only profit.
“The readings suggest life, Dr. Falkner. Not geology. Not planetary rebirth. Life. Possibly intelligent life, given the complexity of the organic signatures.” Martin tucked the tablet back into his pocket. “And I intend to find it.”
“With GenCon’s help.”
“With GenCon’s resources.” He smiled thinly. “They’re providing equipment, personnel, and most importantly, the authority to conduct surveys without interference from Earth Government bureaucrats. By this time next month, we’ll have teams in those mountains, mapping every tunnel and cavern—”
“You can’t do that.” The words came out sharper than she intended. “The environmental protocols alone—”
“Don’t exist out here.” Martin stepped closer, close enough that she had to resist the urge to retreat.
“That’s what you fail to understand, Alina.
The rules you cling to, the principles you hide behind—they’re nothing but paper.
They have no weight. No power. The only thing that matters is results. ”
His hand came up, and for a horrifying moment she thought he was going to touch her face. But his fingers stopped inches from her cheek, hovering there like a threat.
“You could have been part of this,” he said softly.
“If you’d accepted my offer—dinner, collaboration, a place at my side—you could have shared in everything GenCon is building here.
Instead, you chose to play the moral crusader, and now…
” He lowered his hand with a theatrical sigh. “Now you’ll be left behind.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a statement of fact.” Martin turned towards the door, pausing with his hand on the frame. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow to meet with GenCon’s advance team. We have planning to do, logistics to arrange. I expect to be gone for at least a week.”
He glanced back over his shoulder, and something in his pale eyes made her blood run cold.
“I’d strongly recommend you use that time to reconsider your position, Dr. Falkner. GenCon has a long memory, and they don’t take kindly to researchers who interfere with their interests.” His smile was a razor’s edge. “I’d hate to see you become… collateral damage.”
He left without waiting for a response, the door hissing shut behind him. The silence that followed felt like the aftermath of a storm—heavy and charged with unspoken tension.
“Alina.” Cass’s voice came from behind her, quiet but urgent. “What the hell was that about?”
She didn’t answer immediately. She was too busy doing the math, calculating distances and timeframes, weighing risks against opportunities.
Martin would be gone for a week. GenCon’s survey teams wouldn’t arrive for at least a month. That meant she had a window—narrow and fragile, but real—to figure out what to do.
To warn Rhyx. To get him out. To find somewhere safe before everything fell apart.
“I have to go back,” she said finally.
“To the cavern? Alina, you just got here—”
“A week, Cass.” She turned to face her friend, and she knew her expression was desperate.
“I have a week before Martin comes back, and maybe a month before GenCon starts tearing that mountain apart looking for whatever is producing those readings. If I don’t get Rhyx out of there before that happens… ”
She couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t even let herself imagine what GenCon would do to him—this beautiful, impossible creature who trusted her to keep him safe.
Cass’s expression had gone serious, her earlier excitement about her own adventures with Zach replaced by the sharp focus of a problem that needed solving.
“Then we’d better figure out where to put him,” she said. “Because I don’t think your quarters are going to cut it.”
Despite everything—the fear, the urgency, the weight of impossible choices pressing down on her—Alina felt the corners of her mouth twitch.
“I was thinking somewhere a bit more… remote.”
“Define remote.”
Alina looked towards the window, towards the rust-colored landscape stretching endlessly towards the distant peaks of Olympus Mons. Somewhere out there, hidden in the ancient bones of the mountain, Rhyx was waiting for her. Trusting her. Believing that she would come back.
She wouldn’t let him down.
“As far from GenCon as we can get,” she said. “And I think I know just the place.”