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They cycled through an airlock, stepping into a room considerably colder than the one they had just been in. Lyta took a Thermaskin parka from the rack. "You might want this."

He took it and shrugged into it. "Why is the floor tilted?"

"When they built this base, they melted the surface ice and sank it. From space, it looks like a meteor strike. Even to radar it might be just one of a thousand metal bearing plumes from volcanic vents. The complex is built in modules, each capable of being self-sustaining, and of floating, should the ice melt again, say from a thermonuclear burst on the surface. When we got here, the base commander had started a self-destruct sequence designed to separate the modules and sink them another kilometer or so. I stopped him and shunted the sequence, but not before a few of the preliminary charges went off. The ice around this module thawed just enough to cant it a bit. Come on."

They came to another lock, but when this one cycled, they were staring at a tunnel cut through ice.

"The next module came loose and drifted about ten meters. We cut through."

"It's cold!"

"Yes. We can't warm it enough for the ice to melt. But it isn't far."

It wasn't, but the next module was also cold when they entered it, a point made most clear by the six rock-solid bodies in Psi Corps uniform lying in various positions on the floor.

"I like what you've done with the place."

"We didn't do this. This is Psi Corps sacrificing its own."

"No need to get defensive," Garibaldi said.

"You have a knack for making one feel defensive, Michael."

"Nice to know the feeling's mutual."

"This was the archive annex. It's all here - the experiments they carried out on their own people, assassinations, the - shall we say 'rewiring'? - of
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