Orbital Station "Leviathan," Titan’s Orbit

  The office door slid aside, and a woman stepped in—a living embodiment of honed style and icy efficiency. Every step was measured to the millimeter, her heels clicking out a rhythm with mechanical precision, as if embedded sensors synchronized her movements with time itself. Her appearance was flawless, as though crafted from a pre-approved checklist: high cheekbones, sculpted features, not a single wasted motion. Long dark hair was swept into a sleek ponytail, accentuating the line of her neck. Her makeup was perfect—delicate highlights emphasizing eyes the color of liquid graphite.

  Her suit was almost provocative in its stern allure: a tailored jacket with a slightly raised waistline that hugged her figure, paired with a narrow skirt that revealed just enough leg to catch the eye without crossing boundaries. Thin, nearly invisible sensors on her cuffs and a discreet earpiece hinted that beneath this seductive exterior lay far more than mere looks.

  Graves chose only the best. Every companion, advisor, or assistant wasn’t just a professional—they were the gold standard in their field. This woman knew answers before questions were asked. Her memory was impeccable—a biological foundation enhanced by implants that recorded data faster than an ordinary human could form a thought. She operated flawlessly, always half a step ahead of every possible scenario.

  And, naturally, her biography was as spotless as her appearance. At least, that’s what everyone who crossed her path assumed. The truth, known only to Graves himself, ran deeper. Companion, advisor, last-line defender—chosen for one man, to serve him without question or fear.

  “Mr. Graves, we’ve hit a snag with IRIS. They’ve refused to sign the new protocol for sharing mission progress data through Erebus.”

  Graves turned his head slowly, his gaze as cold and calculating as ever. He didn’t like recurring problems. And IRIS was becoming exactly that.

  “Who, specifically?” His voice was quiet, but every note rang taut, like a plucked string.

  “Deputy Director of the Technical Department, one Kazuo Takahashi. It seems he believes IRIS retains enough autonomy to withhold full disclosure from investors. They’re citing scientific ethics and research independence.”

  Graves rose slowly, crossing to the massive panoramic viewport where the dead light of a distant star glinted. His fingers brushed the glass.

  “They still think science exists apart from business and politics?” A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Lagrange-Echo’s still their main base?”

  “Yes, sir. Stable orbit between Neptune and the Kuiper Belt. Mr. Takahashi arrived there just two months ago—he’s newly appointed. Clearly, he doesn’t fully grasp who he’s dealing with.”

  Graves turned. His eyes gleamed with icy resolve.

  “Prepare a full dossier on him. Everything—statements, publications, internal correspondence you can dig up. Use our sources on the platform if necessary.”

  She nodded.

  “Already in progress. One more thing, sir. Yesterday’s spectral analysis report on materials from the anomaly’s far side—IRIS sent it redacted again, withholding mineralogy data. They claim it’s due to ongoing primary sample verification.”

  “Likely a lie.” Graves didn’t raise his voice, but it dropped half a tone, almost a whisper. “They’ve found something bigger. Maybe traces of geochemical processes that shouldn’t exist. They’re afraid we’ll take over the mission if we find out.”

  She confirmed with a silent nod.

  “Good.” Leonard Graves turned back to the starry void beyond the glass. “Set up a closed conference with IRIS’s director and board. Separately, arrange a private channel with this Takahashi. I want to speak to him personally.”

  “It’ll be done, Mr. Graves.”

  She stood, awaiting further orders, her gaze—attentive, intrigued, almost probing—sliding over Graves’s face as if scanning his state and anticipating his next words.

  “See to it that a backup team of specialists is prepared—ready to replace IRIS leadership in case of… unforeseen circumstances. Their time playing reclusive scientists is over.”

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  She took a short step forward, tilting her head slightly—a gesture that, in her execution, was the equivalent of a formal report.

  “As for Doctor Braun, sir—all approvals are complete. Per your instructions, his candidacy is officially locked in as scientific lead for the Erebus expedition. The process was framed as a natural Council decision.” Her voice was soft yet precise, like a scalpel.

  Leonard didn’t turn, but a faint shadow of a satisfied smile crossed his face.

  “Go on.”

  “We’ve also secured him full freedom to assemble his science team. Naturally, the candidate list will be ‘suggested’ in advance, aligned with our interests.” Her tone was even, laced with a hint of pride in the operation. “Braun believes it’s his personal initiative, that the Council’s just indulging him to avoid friction.”

  Leonard nodded, as if hearing what he already knew.

  “He’s always believed in the illusion of academic freedom,” he remarked. “It makes him predictable.”

  She tilted her head slightly in agreement.

  “We’ve intercepted several queries from his assistants. He’s already reviewing personnel files for potential candidates. So far, he’s flagged a few ex-IRIS staff and a couple of young specialists from Mars.”

  “Excellent. Let him play with that toy—let him feel in control. It’ll only deepen his sense of importance. Just ensure he picks our people without realizing it.”

  “It’s already arranged,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion—just fact. “Additional candidate filtering through our analytics channels has begun. Anyone unsuitable will be quietly removed from the pool.”

  Graves paced along the window, arms crossed behind his back.

  “Remind me—who’s overseeing this on the ground?”

  “An ops team led by Alex Fong. They’ve embedded an agent in IRIS’s HR division and are controlling the resume flow. If needed, we can slip Braun a couple of ‘brilliant finds’ who just happen to be ours.”

  Leonard’s smile widened slightly.

  “Soft hands, hidden needles,” he said quietly. “That’s how real wars are won.”

  He stopped, turned to her, and met her eyes directly.

  “And if our old friend starts doubting again?”

  “Then we have records to remind him how much funding his lab’s received over the past five years—and who provided it.” Her smile was an almost perfect mirror of his own.

  She stood still again, exactly where she’d started. Her gaze held absolute focus—and a faint glimmer of curiosity about her master’s next move. Leonard took slow steps toward the desk, trailing his fingers along its cold metal surface. He didn’t rush to speak, as if arranging his thoughts into a perfect chain of words.

  “One more thing,” his voice softer than usual, “there’s a candidate I want on the expedition. And I think Braun won’t just agree—he’ll champion it himself.”

  She raised an eyebrow slightly, waiting.

  “Victoria Holland,” he said, and the name hung in the air like a long-forgotten ghost summoned back.

  She instantly pulled up the dossier on her internal display.

  “Victoria Holland. Age: 32. Lead engineer at the Advanced Energy Systems Lab on Lagrange-Echo. Specialist in adaptive energy circuits and deep-autonomy systems. Works under Adrian Braun.” Her fingers barely brushed an invisible keyboard, but the data aligned seamlessly. “Recommended for the expedition’s engineering team. Top ratings across the board contributed to the Prometheus station reactor calibration. Spotless resume.”

  Leonard nodded.

  “She’s more than a talented engineer. She’s Arthur Holland’s daughter. And Braun’s known her since she was a kid.”

  “Personal attachment,” she noted. “That could cut both ways.”

  “In our favor,” Graves said firmly. “To him, Victoria’s a tie to the past—a time when things still felt simple and honest. He watched her grow, learn, and follow in her father’s footsteps. With her nearby, he’ll find it harder to back out. She’ll anchor him—keep him in the game, even when the real trouble starts.”

  She made a mental note, though she’d clearly already memorized it all.

  “Prepare an invitation for her?”

  “Yes,” Graves turned back to the window, “but keep it subtle. An official recommendation from IRIS’s HR Council. Position: chief expedition engineer. It’s logical, natural. Above all, it shouldn’t look like my direct push.”

  “Understood. She’ll be approved in the second round,” she nodded slightly. “Braun will sign off on her appointment himself.”

  Leonard’s lips curved into a faint smile.

  “Perfect.”

  He gazed at the stars beyond the glass. In the reflection, he saw her—her poised stance, her flawless profile.

  “When Victoria’s on board, keep her under soft surveillance. No pressure, no heavy hands. I want her to feel free, but at the right moment, I need to know her every step, her every thought.”

  “Of course, sir,” her voice almost caressed. “One more thing, Mr. Graves.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Unofficial channels are buzzing—rumors that Victoria’s not keen on joining the expedition. Seems she has personal reasons to stay in-system.”

  Graves held his breath for a second.

  “Personal reasons…” He nearly chuckled. “Then we’ll make staying impossible.”

  “We’re already on it, sir.”

  He said nothing, just lowered his eyelids slightly. In his mind, the chain of moves had long been set—laid out before the first ship even charted a course for Erebus.

  Victoria Holland would cross the wormhole—even if she didn’t know it yet.