"Warning! Course objective proximity alert." Argos' synthesised voice woke her up. It was a sudden and unpleasant feeling, and it took her a moment to gather her thoughts.

"Arrival to Mars destination port in 60 minutes. Identity transmission required," the eidolon said again, boring a hole in her unconscious mind.

"Confirmed," Pax mumbled just loud enough for the computer to hear. Her body still ached after the explosion days in the past, her mind still turbulent. Instead of resting, she took the time to read on the creatures, the breath givers. She did some exercises, played catch with Argos, and lastly, ran over the homicide report holotapes again.

It kept her occupied for 11 hours; then, she laid down her stubborn self to bed. That's where she was, on the Prometheus. In space.

But, she didn't feel like herself; part of her mind was stuck in a cloud castle of memories from before she ran away from home. Delia would rustle around the kitchen, prepare food, water some plants in a poor attempt to keep them alive. She would always struggle with them, sometimes forgetting to drain the water for days, and then not remembering to add it at all. As much as she tried to keep it normal, Pax would always find ways to disrupt that calm. Maybe it was due to her rebellious nature when she started growing up. She was happy with Delia when she was a child. The warm seasons were wonderful, on the highland fields exploring what's behind a stone wall in the garden, and then what's behind another and another. In the winters, she enjoyed the snow, and how far it allowed her to see, to plan new adventures together. Till one spring when the snow thawed and the next stone wall wasn't enough anymore. She wasn't happy anymore. Not when she was a teenager when nothing was enough and she started asking questions Delia couldn't and didn't want to answer.

Pax was so selfish back then, her carelessness reopened many wounds. It only became apparent what damage she had caused and what was lost and destroyed probably forever when she was alone, scared, and defeated. Facing her own mortality, in adventures gone wrong, when everything turned against her.

"Incoming transmission from the planet," Argos woke up again.

Pax had to stop being sentimental; reality and work were calling. She would face her fears later when it's time.

"Patch through," she confirmed the voice command, and the communications panel lit up.

"Hello! This is ground control Tartarus One, we have you on an approach vector towards sector 3. Your computer has already transmitted the ship ID codes. Talk about an eager eidolon." The man on the other side sounded rough but polite enough. There was minor interference but nothing bad.

"Hello Tartarus One, this is Captain Inthem of the Prometheus. I am here on official business..."

"We know, Captain. Lucky for you, the orders came way before your arrival. Due to the explosion, we are having a bit of a situation here. Proceed to dock 7. There the security representative and our investigator will meet you to provide assistance. Tartarus out."

"Confirmed, thank you for the instructions. Prometheus out." Pax caught herself pondering for a moment. Let's get this started, shall we?

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Within less than an hour from the exchange, she was on the ground. Quite literally. The docking stations on Mars were old spaces located on the ground, compared to the rails she was used to. The place was old, dirty, and full of rust, and the red sand was everywhere. This powder would find its way into the most hermetically sealed parts of the complex.

From the outside, it looked worse. The explosion left a black stamp on the complex. She didn't know who and what they targeted, but it hit them hard. Pax was ready; her mind was sharp, her attitude was set: follow the evidence and move to the next point.

At the entrance, she was greeted by two men. Officially, she hadn't received any formal instructions on whom to expect, and no names were exchanged.

"Captain," the first, much older and rougher man approached her instantly. She assumed he was possibly the same man whom she talked to on the communications channel.

"Sir, I hope you are holding up well." She shook his hand formally. Her tone was firm but softer, less formal in the hope it might improve this brief relation. "Please, I'm just a detective today."

"Of course," he replied almost immediately. "I'm the head of security; you probably remember me from the comms?" She was correct. "The man behind me is our head engineer."

"I was expecting an investigator?" She asked, confused. Not that an engineer would be a problem; he would know a lot more about the damaged systems than anyone else.

"That's the situation problem we have."

"What does that mean?"

"Jason here, and I are the only senior staff left in the facility; the rest... Well, the explosion took them over the river."

"The site zero of the explosion was freshly refurbished, and a new mine entrance was being opened," Jason, the man who had been silent so far, finally spoke. His voice was very warm and soft, but he didn't speak like somebody who addresses a lot of visitors. "Needless to say, when the explosion happened, almost everyone was attending a little ceremony."

"What about yourselves?" She asked; the timeline of the events was troubling. The head of security made a gesture to follow him.

The layout of the complex was a mixture of corridors and halls built out of metal, concrete, and plastic. It was a shock to her system, as she was used to large spaces and almost a natural environment. This was cramped; the colours were artificial, and almost at every step, you had a warning to mind your head or feet, or both.

"You could imagine that myself and Jason should be leading this little ceremony, but at the time, we had a pressure loss in a mining corridor. It's all in the logs and on the feed if you need. The section is not far."

"Thank you for that, sir. I'm not throwing any suspicions until I see the scene."

"You mean what's left of it." They stopped, and in front of them was a wall that was blackened and deformed. Pieces of metal twisted out of place, floor missing. They were safe from the elements thanks to a force field that was raised to separate the destruction.

"When can we go in?" She asked, looking around trying to filter any details.

"Anytime. There is a room ready for you in the security sector if you need it, but I would prefer it if you slept on your ship. For safety reasons," the man said.

"Thank you, sir; I will choose my ship on this occasion. I have my analytic tools there. With no offence, of course. Is this something to do with your situation?"

The man gave away a dry laugh. "None taken. If I had a ship like that I'd prefer to sleep there too, but yes it does. Captain, as you know, this is a prison facility, and the prisoners here are required to work in the mines, which provides them with also a minimum income to sustain an optimal quality of life. We believe in retribution by hard work. Since the bombing, there is only me and what still remains of the security guard force left standing between an open rebellion, and we are trying to minimise any potential risks. Now, Jason here will accompany you and answer all the questions. My name is Anemo; please remember this for security purposes, call me if you need anything or find the bastard who's done this."

"Confirmed. I must mention that my primary mission is to investigate the bombing site and bring any Union soldiers back with me," Pax responded very formally, eager to have some space.

"Affirmative. I will communicate this to the personnel that's still left to get ready." Then the man turned to the engineer. "Make sure she is comfortable and all of her questions are answered."