The road down#6
The procedure for scanning for nanites and Al infections began, after which an officer of the Alliance of Classified Space Programs came to us and invited to go to the VIP zone of the modular ship. As it later turned out, the ship belonged to the Board of Directors of the Interplanetary Corporate Conglomerate, the so-called ICC, to which the Russian sector was included. I was asked if I speak English.
In the VIP zone, in comfortable seats, there were 5-6 people, mostly Alliance security officers. It was clear from their uniforms and stripes. Nobody acquainted anyone. I was told that at the Lunar Operations Center, where we are heading now, I will be introduced to the Head of the mission. He was already waiting for us and on Mars we will go together with him and with people from ICC.
Upon arrival at the Center, I was introduced to an elegantly dressed man of the same age as me, who had the posture of a staff officer. He was half a head taller than me, and his suit would be envied even by sophisticated Walt Street mods. It was Harry Farrell, the executive director of Project M. His assistant, a beautiful middle-aged woman, spoke Russian and the soft timbre of her voice immediately charmed the interlocutor. She turned to Martha and asked to take a seat beside her.
"Mr. Morva, the Russians have already told me for the hundredth time that they have acquired in your face a unique psychologist whose work is equally interesting to both sides. I was told about your progress in Antarctica, after troubled contacts with representatives of the Alliance of Spheres. You just saved our reputation before our partners. I take this opportunity to thank you personally and offer you a drink for acquaintance my favorite cognac".
"Mr. Farrell, I'm also pleased to meet you, but it seemed to me that Americans still prefer whiskey."
"I, dear Alex, was born and raised in Canada, in the French canton, and there people understand the difference in drinks," - laughed the director.
"I think we will become friends" - he added and sipped the drink.
In the transparent panels of the ship's cladding, the blue of the Earth flared up and, judging from the rapid removal of the Mmoon, the panels were expected to close. We flew to Mars.
"Mr. Morva," - a man of indeterminate age, still sitting quietly in a deep armchair, addressed me - "we appreciate good specialists. I will introduce you to our contractors from the Alliance of Spheres on Mars. They are representatives of the civilization of reptilians. They are very reliable partners. I will ask you to listen to their recommendations. "
"I'm sorry, I did not introduce you. This is the Head of the Security service of Secret Space Programs of the Alliance, General Gonzales. My assistant, Lieutenant Colonel Nina Armeeva, you already know. "
I noted for myself the difficult relationship between Farred and Gonzales and realized that the pretty Nina would watch Martha from the side of Russian security service.
For a start, the picture was clear. And there we will see.
We were approaching the distant orbit of Mars. The ship's hulls opened, but the "red" planet looked surprisingly greenish-blue. A smart glass screen with a detailed map of the objects located on the planet was opened. I counted up to ten "flags" in the north and slightly less in the south. Mr. Gonzalez warned me about one peculiarity of southerners. These are residents of the first colonies who do not contact the northerners and participate in the experiment, as a result of which they must be adapted to the information that destructive natural cataclysms have occurred on their native planet.
"We think that your mission will be extremely useful now in the south," - Farrell told me farewell.
To be continued...
Pic credit google pictures
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