Denton Staxx snuck into his office and tossed his jacket on the white couch across from his desk. The door closed with a hiss behind him. He waited a few seconds, listening to see if anyone in his office heard him sneak back in. When there was no activity from the neighboring offices, he walked over to his desk.

"Maxwell, lock the door," he hissed to his artificial office assistant. "Reject all incoming calls. I'm not here." With a few quick steps, he reached the chair behind his desk.

"The Olympic Channel, please, Max." He sat down at the edge of his office chair. Mere inches away from him, the holographic 3D video feed assembled piece by piece mere inches above the desk surface, from the top down. His fingers tapped the desk while the image took shape. With a well-placed fist on the surface of the desk, the image cleared revealing two familiar commentators.

Was he too late? Had he missed the main event? He held his breath as he listened to the emerging conversation. To his relief, the commentators were in the middle of an animated discussion about which team was more likely to have an advantage this year. A smile spread across his face. It was the pre-race show. The race hadn't started yet.

He retrieved the wrapped sandwich he had left in his desk drawer earlier in the day. With a deep sigh, he leaned back in his chair, propped his feet up on the corner of his desk and took a big bite. He took a swig from a bottle of spring water imported from Earth and gritted his teeth as he swallowed the ice-cold water. A grin spread across his face while he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Refreshing and shocking, just the way he remembered it.

As the broadcasters switched gears from team analysis to celebrity interviews, he heard a familiar chirp in his ear. With his eyes glued to the discussion in front of him, he dismissed the notification from his comms implant with a tap to the area just behind his ear. Although the chirp meant a new case had been assigned to him, it could wait. No-one knew he was back in the office yet. That gave him time to focus on the Descent.

After the customary irrelevant commentary by the visiting VIP's, the broadcast shifted focus to an in-depth analysis of each Descent pod and their respective pilot. How were they different compared to prior years? Would one team have an advantage over another as they descended through the atmosphere? Had new regulations destroyed the sport in favor of safety? Who would find the inevitable loopholes in the regs and take advantage of them? Would the pilots from Earth, taking part for the first time, even stand a chance? The commentators seemed the cherish the idea of beating the visiting athletes with their home-field advantage.

A double-chirp interrupted a deep dive into the role of thermal shields and terminal velocity. Denton groaned, rolled his eyes and straightened up in his chair.

"Are you serious?" he muttered and shook his head in disgust. He took another drink of water and acknowledge the notification. The race would have to wait. The double-chirp meant his case was now a high priority. Drop everything else.

With a flick of a finger, he pushed the broadcast over to the side of his desk.

"Record the broadcast, Max," he said with resignation. So much for being prepared.

He collected the papers about the Descent strewn across his desk and shoved them into a drawer. Moments later, the case file hovered in front of him. Flicking through the folders, he skimmed through documents full of technical jargon, blueprints of circuit boards and 3D models of components. There was also an executable file.

Denton shook his head with frustration. Reading the case files often gave him an idea of the complexity of the case. An easy read often meant it was easier to wrap your head around the details of the case and solve it. This one was almost all gibberish. 

Instead of pushing through details he wouldn't understand, he opened the case brief, the document meant to summarize the case, hoping it would be easier to read. He had barely made it through the first paragraph when an incoming call interrupted his reading. The Captain's head appeared in front of him and pushed aside the case files.

"Have you read the brief yet?"

Denton resisted the urge to throw his hands in the air and roll his eyes. So predictable.

"Sir, I just opened the case brief–"

"Good. What's the plan?"

"The plan? I haven't read it yet."

The Captain's head appeared to lean forward. "Staxx, maybe you don't understand. This case is the highest priority. Drop everything else."

"I understand, sir, I'm on it."

"You better be, Staxx. I need results. Today. They're breathing down my neck for answers."

The Captain disconnected the call and his head vanished. The case files converged back in front of Denton as he rolled his eyes. One of these days, if he wasn't careful, he'd tell the Captain the way he really felt and be out of a job.

With a brief, longing glance at the minimized broadcast, Denton returned his attention to the case brief and continued to read. Something about a software patch over-the-air, autonomous updates. Servers and clients. A page with navigational data and coordinates. He grunted and skipped back to the first page, looking for the author's name.

Tanner. The IT analyst. Great.

Denton sighed and asked Max to connect him.

"Tanner," the analyst said as he took off his glasses, blew on each lens and wiped them off with a small piece of cloth. Denton forced a smile, leaned back and waited for Tanner to finish. Why he bothered with those ancient contraptions, he would never understand.

"I have a question," Denton said as Tanner put away the cloth.

"Obviously," Tanner said and put his glasses back on tip of his nose. "We wouldn't be talking otherwise, would we?"

"Did you write the brief for this case?"

"You have to be more specific than that, Staxx. I'm not psychic."

"The case number is on the file." Denton pushed the document to the center of their viewing area.

Tanner peered at Denton over the rim of his glasses, then looked at the file and nodded.

"Yes, yes, I remember that one. It's a software patch."

"Ok? What does that mean?"

"You do know what a software patch is, right?"

"Yes, I'm not stupid."

"No, of course not," Tanner said and glared across the rim of his glasses. "Look, someone wants to replace a piece of software with a new version. It's called an upgrade or a patch. It happens. It's not a big deal." 

Denton opened his mouth to say something hasty but bit his tongue.

"The Colonel disagrees. He wanted answers yesterday. If this upgrade is not a big deal, why not?"

Tanner shook his head, slowly. "As much as I'd like to help, Staxx, my assignment at the moment is–"

"I don't really care, Tanner," Denton snapped. "Do you think I want to be doing this right now? For the first time in years, I was all set to watch the whole Descent today, undisturbed. Any idea how long I've been trying to do that? Years!"

"The Descent?"

Denton rolled his eyes. "Don't you ever watch sports?" 

"Why should I? Sports is entertainment. It is pointless."

"Pointless?" Denton spit the word out, his eyes wide, his face flushed. "The Descent is an intense dive through the atmosphere in a pod barely large enough to fit the pilot. It takes skill and courage to do that, to survive. This year, they even brought racers from Earth for the event."

"Like I said, pointless. Tell me, why would a human being from Earth, of all places, bother coming to Proxima b for a sporting event unique to our planet? We'll win. Easy. For what? A pat on the back? Intragalactic bragging rights?" 

Denton shook his head and put his hands up. "Forget it, ok? There's no point discussing this with you."

"Finally, we agree. Was there anything else?"

"The case?" Denton swiped the case brief back into view. "I need to understand if this case is actually important or not. The brief doesn't help me. I need you to explain it so I can understand it."

Tanner shook his head and sighed. "Fine. Again, it's a software patch. The upgrade itself is not specific to any device I've seen before–"

"So the device is proprietary?"

"Yes," Tanner said and nodded. "It may be some sort of navigational system, based on the description of the core system that's affected. I mentioned all of this in Appendix 34. The update changes hard-coded navigational coordinates to a new set."

"I don't see the coordinates in here," Denton said as he flipped through the pages.

"Appendix 59, section A.4."

Denton took a deep breath and resisted the urge to lecture Tanner about how to organize data the right way in a case brief.

"Can you show me on a map?" he said instead and shot Tanner a glare.

"Sure."

A holo map of Proxima b appeared above Denton's desk, replacing Tanner's head. The three regions of the planet were distinctly visible. On the far side of the planet, frozen and deserted, the Shadowlands was hidden from the sun in eternal darkness. The temperate central part where most of the population lived was green and inviting, dotted with blue bodies of water and the occasional white-dusted peak of a mountain range. The region closest to the sun, known as the Wastelands, was the perfect example of a barren, desert landscape, full of jagged peaks and deep ravines. It was too hot for any life to exist.

Tanner engaged the automatic zoom function, and they watched in silence as the map brought them to the updated coordinates. When the map stopped moving, it revealed the Olympic Stadium. Denton leaned closer and frowned.

"Tanner, can you show me the location of the original coordinates?"

"If you insist." Tanner tapped a few controls and the map reset on the new location. The landscape changed to what appeared to be a random desert location. 

"The desert?" Denton leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't get it."

"For once, I agree with you," Tanner said and closed the map. "It doesn't look like much. There's nothing here. Maybe the update is just that, an old device that needed an update." He paused and took his glasses off his nose and locked eyes with Denton. "Look, I checked it out, now you have your answer. I need to get back to work. My backlog is piling up by the second."

"We're missing something," Denton whispered to himself as he ignored Tanner. The Colonel wouldn't all up in arms if this case was insignificant. Instinctively, he turned to the Olympic broadcast at the edge of his desk. A replay of the last year's Descent finale played on the secondary screen. A cloud of dust rose as the winning pod settled on its landing pad. The camera zoomed out to show the landing facility and the surrounding desert landscape. A chill ran down Denton's spine and he felt the color drain from his face.

"Tanner, I think I know what the coordinates are for."