The caustic smell of disinfectant clung to her clothes and skin. Jiya had been stationed at Lacroix for over five years , yet still she had not become accustomed to the acrid odor of the quarantine procedures - whatever good those were now.

She longed for a shower and a fresh set of clothes, but both would have to wait. Jiya tilted her head back just so, catching the downdraft from an air-conditioning vent. The cool air felt good, icing away the heat and the beads of sweat that clung to her disinfected self. It was a momentary reprieve, the briefest of pleasures. Then she shifted forward returning her attention to Administrator Meng and the few gathered officials of the colony.

All were still deep in discussion around the administrator's desk. Robert Luttman, head of security sat to Meng's right, his square jaw held stiff attempting to disguise the glee that sparkled in his eyes. He wanted a challenge. Right of Luttman sat Li Meilin, Chief of Medical. In her sixties and standing just under 1.5 meters in her prime, she now stood bowed by a growing stoop. Even so, she may have been the most intimidating of the bunch, possessing a self-assured, no-nonsense attitude. The Chief of Operations sat beside Meng on his left. Chet Hardison was a round ball of a man, with an even temperament and a keen business sense. His duty was to maintain the day-to-day functions of the facility, something in which he took great pride. Off to his left, Umesh Jindal paced back and forth, his nerves too wrecked to sit. The Chief Resource Officer, he oversaw not only finances, but also all necessary resources for the maintenance of Lacroix, working closely with Chief Hardison.

Also gathered were the chiefs of Communications, Human Resources, and Jiya's own boss, the Chief of Science and Research, Dr. Diwa Ocampo. Dr. Ocampo ran a tight ship and looked out at the gathered chiefs with clear agitation at having been called in for this meeting. She periodically glanced to the wall monitor and the clock ticking away the minutes then turned back to the gathering, drumming her fingers across Meng's desk.

At last, Administrator Meng lifted his gaze to Jiya.

"Thank you, Dr. Kapoor. Please pull up a seat."

Jiya rose from the bench by the door, and dragged a nearby chair up to the circle of chiefs. She felt as though she were a child called to the headmaster's office. As the metal chair legs scraped across the imported wood flooring (and how had Meng smuggled that past quarantine?), Jiya could feel the eyes of her superiors bearing down upon her. She averted her gaze, conscious of their stern authority and the subservient role in which they had relegated her in excluding her from the initial discussion.

As she eased the chair into position she settled down, her inclination to keep her eyes averted and yet forcing herself to meet Administrator Meng's gaze. She would not be cowed. The loss of her mother, the inability to speak to her in her dying days, weighed heavily on Jiya. For the past year so much had gone unsaid, not even a single opportunity to speak presenting itself. Today she would not be silenced.

Administrator Meng clasped his hands, templing his fingers. "First off," he began, "let me say that we are appreciative of you bringing this to our attention."

From tone alone, Jiya knew the verdict wasn't good, but she would wait and let the Administrator have his say. Protocol being as it were, she'd have a better shot if she didn't disrupt tradition.

"Obviously, with concerns being what they are here at the station," Administrator Meng continued, "and with our communications systems compromised, eyewitness reports like yours are critical, as we no longer always have a full reading of the skies and no advance notice for any Coalition intervention. That being said, yours is not the first report that this council has received, and it is the only report suggesting any of the capsules may have possibly landed with any hope of survivors."

Out of the corner of her vision, Jiya noticed the slightest of eye rolls from Luttman. Apparently not everyone was on board with the Administrator's assessment.

"And while we appreciate the humanitarian nature of your suggestion, we are afraid we cannot authorize a rescue mission." Meng paused at this point, his eyes looking down for just a moment. Was that hesitation Jiya saw? She couldn't be certain, but either way she had her assessment. Asshole, she thought. A complete and total asshole.

Administrator Meng looked up, resuming his verdict. "You must understand, without corroboration from additional testimony, we cannot risk the lives of our personnel. This far into the quarantine zone we have some relative safety, but with the current population surges towards the perimeter, a trek into the savanna could prove deadly."

He stopped. Jiya scanned the other faces waiting to see if anyone would speak up. Luttman had regained his composure, and Dr. Li showed not the slightest hint of emotion. Jindal had stopped pacing, but he still stood, his hands fidgeting nervously as usual. Hardison at least showed some emotion, unable to look anyone in the eye. Yet none of them would speak up.

At last, Dr. Ocampo broke the silence. "Is that it? Can I go now?"

Jiya wanted to scream. She wanted to shout and rage and pound her fists on the table. She wanted to insist a search party be sent immediately. More than anything, she wanted to smash a chair over Dr. Ocampo's head. Can she go now? Can she go?! That's her concern, she thought, and it rankled her deep into the marrow. As the anger boiled within her, Jiya forced it down, and visualized Lake Armstrong. She could see the calm ripples along its surface. She could feel the wet sand squishing between her toes and sand crabs skittering across her feet; and most of all, she could hear her mother's calm laughter, the suns shining down behind her casting her in a magical silhouette. Peace returned and Jiya spoke.