“What all needs to get fixed?” Asked Kyanite;

“Just some routine maintenance, really. Looks like everything is more or less running smoothly, but the army likes to do a thorough check on everything at least once a year to make sure. You know how to do a full maintenance inspection, right?” Gifrag answered,

“Yes.”

“Good. You two do that, I'll be keeping an eye from the monitoring room. I've also got a software update to install.” Gifrag disappeared from the room, waving a flash drive between his thumb and forefinger.

“How does all of this work?” OC-1 asked, looking over the machinery in the room. It was a complicated apparatus consisting of several sets of gas tanks and two separate rectangular box-sort of things with a confused mess of coloured hoses running everywhere.

“Well, all over the base there are vents at floor level. They have filters in them that only allow carbon dioxide through—since CO2 is heavier than oxygen, it tends to sink low in a room. Fans suck the carbon dioxide through the vents and into here,” Kyanite pointed at some hoses that came out of a vent on the wall, “and it comes out here.” She pointed to a set of gas tanks near the vent. “These tanks hold the carbon dioxide until they're about three-quarters full, then the machine starts up automatically and sucks it through these hoses into the catalyst chamber.” Kyanite walked as she showed OC-1 the various parts of the atmospheric recycler until they came to some sort of box. “Inside here, carbon dioxide—CO2—is mixed with molecular hydrogen—H2. In the presence of a catalyst—usually nickel, ruthenium, or aluminum oxide—and under heat and pressure, carbon atoms bond with two hydrogen molecules to form methane—CH4—leaving behind O2, which also combines with hydrogen to form water vapour—H2O.”

“Oh, I see.” Nodded the cyborg, “So the water is converted into hydrogen and breathable oxygen?”

“Exactly. Methane and water are siphoned separately from the catalyst chamber. Filters are used in the hoses to keep the wrong gas from taking the wrong hose accidentally. The methane goes through those outflow hoses into the next room to feed the generator while water is sent through these hoses into the electrolysis chamber.” The two followed the hoses to the next box-like chamber, “When the catalyst chamber is done with the carbon dioxide, the electrodes light up in here to split the water. Hydrogen is looped back to the hydrogen holding tank over there, where it goes back into the catalyst chamber and oxygen is siphoned off into the oxygen holding tanks over here so it can be re-introduced into the atmosphere via those hoses connecting it to the ventilation system.”

OC-1 brightened; “I see! So efficient, these machines.” He gazed at the various parts of the recycler with a look of familiarity, as if he almost felt more kinship with it than he did with regular humans. “What happens to the methane?”

“I told you it goes into the generator room.” Kyanite pointed again at the hoses going through the wall, “The generator burns it to power the base. Burning it combines it with oxygen and produces carbon dioxide and water vapour, plus some traces of other gasses. Water gets siphoned off into the electrolysis chamber, carbon dioxide goes into the carbon dioxide holding tank over there, and the other gasses get put in their own holding tank. They're not much use, they usually get disposed of.”

“What other gasses?”

“Oh, some hydrogen oxides, carbon monoxide.” Kyanite paused only a moment before going on, “Everything runs automatically, but someone's always kept on hand to keep an eye on things.”

“So if this machine was 100% efficient, it would be totally self-sufficient!” Smiled the cyborg, “Machines are wonderful!”

“I think so too!” Kyanite beamed, “That's why I became a mechanic!”

As Kyanite was showing all of this to OC-1 they had to work around several civilians employed by the Unionist army to keep the whole recycling plant and ventilation system working—and under the watchful eyes of several stern-looking soldiers. Zene, with their stalk-eyes positioned above the heads of humans, were well-designed to be able to see everything happening around them, OC-1 mused, and from several angles (even from two different angles at once, if they wanted). Sabotage was something the Unionist military was always wary of, especially when humans were involved. Despite the Collective Union government's official position on the equality of humans and zene, it frequently didn't work that way in reality. The soldiers looked determined not to miss anything, even if that meant hovering irritatingly close, using their height advantage to see over the mechanics' shoulders.

* * *

As soon as the train stopped, Rook was out. He took the time to light up a cigarette, then headed for a phone booth. The way things were looking, there was no time to lose. Ragnarok was still as tense as Rook had left it. There were even noticeably more police patrolling the streets than before and a troop train had arrived from Great Garden Mall—capital of the 1st Ring Cooperative—to bolster the garrison and ensure the continued neutrality of the Neutral Zone.

There was an array of public phones just outside the entrance to the train platform. Rook grabbed a haggard-looking phone book, looked up the head office of RHS and placed a call.

“Hello, Ragnarok Habitational Services head office customer support speaking, how may I help you?” A feminine voice asked,

“Hello, where can I make enquiries about mechanics who recently did a job?”

“Would you like to register a complaint?”

“I just want to know who did the job. My records appear to be incomplete for some reason.”

“I'll switch you over to our field department.”

Piano music played.

“Hello, Ragnarok Habitational Services head office field department speaking, how can I help you?” A masculine voice asked,

“Hello, I'd like to make an enquiry about a team that did some maintenance work in the tunnels recently.”

“What information are you looking for?”

“I represent Dirty Depths Mining, a mining company based out of Parallel Tracks with interests here in the Ragnarok area.” Rook shamelessly lied, “Two mechanics did some work for us the other day on the ventilation in one of our mines. We like to keep our books meticulously accurate, but it looks like our records are incomplete.”

“Well sir, I can look through our records on this end and see if I can find what you're looking for.”

“That'd be great.”

“Okay, please hold the line, this will take some time.”

Piano music played.

“Hello, sir?” The voice came back on the line,

“Yes?” Rook stood up straight; maybe now he'd finally find out something useful.

“I'm sorry, but I can't find any record of a field team being sent to do any work for a company called Dirty Depths Mining in the past week.”

“Are you sure? Double-check your records.”

“I already did sir, and triple-checked. No such transaction took place.”

“That's impossible. They were wearing RHS coveralls.”

“You must be mistaken. If they were our people, we'd have a record of the transaction. I suppose it's possible the record was misplaced. I can ask around at the other departments if you'd like.”

“Don't bother, thank you for your time.” Without waiting for the person on the other side to waste more of his time, Rook hung up.

So, incomplete records on one end and erased records on the other. someone in RHS was doing a little dirty dealing with the Red Wolves. I'm going to have to find out who... and I know just the place to look next.

On his way, Rook went over everything he knew about RHS and the 1RC in general.

The 1st Ring Cooperative was a staunchly capitalist, democratic federation made up of eight semi-autonomous stations, all of them on the 1st Ring Line which connected several major lines together. It intersected Line 1 twice. Utopia and Serenity were both on Line 1 where it met 1st Ring Line: Utopia north of Express Line 42, Serenity to the south. Although both the People's Republic and the Collective Union claimed Ragnarok as their capital, the de-facto centre of administration of the former was in Utopia and the latter was in Serenity.

Since the Cooperative had stayed neutral in the Second Line War and so had been spared its three years of destruction, it had more time and spare capital than their neighbours to devote to peaceful pursuits and so was able to maintain a technological edge, especially in manufacturing. Big corporations like RHS dominated the Cooperative both economically and politically. Their candidates always won the elections, and their policies were always the ones that got through congress and senate. No wonder, with the involvement of the innocuously-named Financial Advisory Board, a 'think-tank' which 'advised' the government on 'matters involving economic concerns.'

By the time the Second Line War was over and the People's Republic and Collective Union began to recover, they found the easiest way to rebuild (and keep up to their rival) was to invite investment from corporations based out of the Cooperative. Thus, while each tried to convince their people they were not selling their souls to corporatism, the corporations only grew bigger and wealthier. Special free trade agreements were made as part of the peace treaty, lowering tariffs and restriction of movement on goods being transported by corporations that were on the Financial Advisory Board. The few companies dealing in construction and life support based out of the Republic and Union were small and feeble compared to those in the Cooperative.

Stations inside the 1st Ring Line not affiliated with any of the above three groups had made a military pact called the 2/3 Alliance (named for the intersection of Lines 2 and 3). The situation there was even worse. Without a central government to protect local interests, the stations were almost completely under the sway of the Cooperative economically—and, to a large degree, politically as well.

The Ragnarok Archives were in a large building made of the same dirty yellow bricks as everything else. Under most of the window sills were troughs with flower pots inside, supported by sunlamps. A flower garden grew in front of the building and along the walkway leading up to it.

Rook ignored all of this, going straight in. Its plutocratic elitism notwithstanding, there was one thing you could say for the Cooperative that wasn't true of the Republic or the Union: although they're not laid out in the open, the documents about who has links to what, and who has shares in which companies, are there for those who look for them.

RHS was a conglomerate formed by the merging of three corporations: one specialising in the design and production of hydroponic equipment, one specialising in the design and production of atmospheric recycling and ventilation equipment, and one specialising in installing and repairing both. Each had already cornered its part of the market before the merger: after the merger, RHS dominated life-support equipment inside the 1st Ring. Serious competition was virtually unknown. Like many such corporations, they had contracts with the armies of both the Republic and the Union.

That was what Rook found at a cursory glance. The RHS section, however, was almost big enough to fill a small library by itself. Digging up any significant details—especially anything that could link them to the Red Wolves, or at least establish a motive for wanting to start a Third Line War—could take a while.

* * *

It took a few hours, but the mechanics were soon on their way. At each outpost the guards were hesitant, at best, to let OC-1 inside, but Gifrag's suave mannerisms saw him in every time. In fact, Gifrag had even charmed Kyanite, who was now a firm believer in the integrity and sincerity of Gifrag as the leader of this little mechanics' expedition. Sure, it was unfortunate he seemed to like RHS products so much, but the fact that he was willing to put himself on the line for a man/machine he didn't even know spoke volumes of his character.

They were finishing up at the third outpost of the day. More outposts still had to be done, but that was tomorrow's problem. Kyanite and OC-1 were in the monitoring room checking on something when Amber appeared at the door between two Unionist soldiers, one of whom was holding her by the upper arm.

“We caught your driver snooping around the back of the command centre.” He said in a stern monotone, looking at Gifrag,

“I was bored.” Amber stated with a shrug and a roll of her eyes. Gifrag just chuckled:

“Did you have fun snooping?”

“Yes!” Smiled Amber,

“This is not a joke.” interjected the soldier holding the driver,

“Hey, lighten up. It's not like she was planting a bomb or anything—you can check our cargo if you like, you won't find anything but ventilation and atmospheric recycling equipment in there.” Gifrag attempted to smooth the situation,

“Oh, we already have. And we already questioned your driver. Believe me, if we found anything suspicious, we'd have arrested you bone-heads already. Keep her from wandering around where she shouldn't.” The soldier finished by shoving Amber toward Gifrag before leaving.

“That was rather stupid.” OC-1 told Amber,

“Excuse me?!” Replied the driver, clearly highly offended,

“Don't you realise these soldiers are already on high alert due to the recent bombing, as well as by my mere presence here? Why endanger us all by wandering around without permission?”

“It's deathly boring sitting in that empty train by myself.” Huffed Amber, crossing her arms, “I needed to stretch my legs.”

“You could've gotten us all arrested and thrown in prison!”

Still unrepentant, Amber thudded her back against a wall with a recalcitrant “Hmph!”

Work continued and, without any further interruptions, was soon finished. Although it was too late to start work on the next outpost, it wasn't time for bed yet and the local soldiers seemed unwilling to let them sleep in this base anyway, so it was decided to push on to the next outpost and start work again in the morning.

Once again, the train was rushing down a pitch-black tunnel—the only light came from the train itself. Inside the cabin, the lights had been turned down and Kyanite was sitting next to the door, slowly drifting off to sleep when the sound of smashing glass jolted her awake: canisters crashed through the windows, landed on the floor, and began belching tear gas.