Futuristic Epsilon

[0stinato]

Tethys knew that she couldn't immediately answer Nika. She was grabbing onto a problem too big for Tethys, and too personal to understand. So she listened to Nika, really listened, and tried to force her words to make sense. Tethys had always known she was different to Nika, very different. For one thing, she wasn't as clever: Nika was her superior for a reason, and kept her emotions comfortably suppressed while on duty. But that was one of the reasons Tethys liked her so much: she knew how much Nika could offer her in the arena of self-improvement, how much she could learn about her responsibilities in this job, and how differently she could see the world when Nika was a lens she had access to.

But that meant the differences between them were often more like rifts.

"I don't doubt there are some lines you'd never cross, Nika, man, I can't see you, like, punting a child because it's being a little shit," she said, trying to bring some humour. "But I... I don't think I really necessarily agree with you... I mean, yeah, I guess I do this job for Epsilon... but I didn't get into it 'cause I wanted to defend Epsilon. I got into it 'cause there are people out there that can't defend themselves and they need someone to do it for them. I mean, you know, the other day... I think you kinda got my motivations wrong. How can I explain it..."

Tethys scratched her nose as she thought. Had to get the words straight in her head. Had to make Nika understand her this time.

"I weren't fighting Thorn to stop her from killing the guy. I a hundred percent get that there are proper melts out there that are better off not causing problems, you know, and I'm not gonna pretend like I wouldn't of shot him. I probably would of, but... that's not... the reason I didn't shoot him, or the reason I didn't let Thorn shoot him, was 'cause there was people all round us that didn't need to see all that. I mean, you take Moscur that we was out wiv, you know. He's smart, but he's a total squeamish baby sometimes. I could of popped the guy's head like a cork but I didn't 'cause Moscur would of been really fucked up by that... and I think that's where we're crossing our wires, Nika. I get that we're technically doing this for Epsilon but I signed up for this to protect the lives and rights of people like Moscur who can't fight for themselves. I mean, I didn't know Moscur very well at the time I signed up, but still, I knew people like him. I dunno... I don't think it's a good idea going around thinking you're doing something 'for Epsilon' or you might just start thinking your influence is too big or too small than it actually is. You know? But I felt what I did stopped a whole room full of young people from having to witness an execution, which I think is the right thing to do for me."

She paused, glanced at Nika.

She felt she had to qualify what she was saying. "Not that what Thorn wanted to do is bad. It just... weren't... didn't sit right with me. If she was to just spill brains on the dancefloor then who's gonna suffer? Not her, not the guy she would of killed, but all them people watching. That's the issue."

Whether Nika understood her or not mattered. It could mean the difference between working with Nika and working alone.

Then the topic changed. And it changed violently. Evidently, Nika had her thoughts on the woman Tethys had enjoyed breakfast with.

"Look, I think, the only thing that's gonna have any sway over me is how hot the male prossies are she offers. I'm not a druggie, I don't drink all that much, and as far as I know, she don't offer places to build motorbikes. Listen, you know me. What am I more likely to do? Be nose-deep in some substance or nose-deep in motor oil? Eh?" she nudged Nika with her elbow, hoping she could set off the woman's prying fears with caricatured humour. "I know my own heart, sweetie. It's in love with spurs and brake pads and the burning of a bike seat on my arse during a heatwave." And she laughed. Raucous, boisterous, rough around the edges, and genuine. It came right from the throat. "Now, as I was saying, my heart's got one more goal, and it's to be more aware of shit so we can maybe avoid more random attacks by idiots in bars. Then we'll both be happy. Who can I talk to to make that happen? Aside from you, of course."

 

[Mr_DC]

Nika opened her mouth to reply but... No words came out. She hesitated. The hesitation turned a pause into silence.

The wind blew softly, keeping her cool. It felt like a gentle caress on her fur. More comfortable than the harsh blizzards of her home. She preferred sitting on grass than on ice. No matter how hot she felt under the sun, she wouldn't trade it for the harsh emptiness of the frozen north.
Still, she would never admit it. She was a representative of her clan. She wore the proud Desh name and that carried certain expectations.

"I was a kid when the Two Governments Period happened." Nika said, resting her head against the building behind her. Looking at the pale blue sky, she continued. "I was too young to understand what was going on but I picked up on what people felt. Indecision. There is no better way to describe it. They didn't know what side to support."

"I don't know how much they teach about it these days but it's probably a redacted version." She explained as she turned her head to look at Tethys while still keeping her head against the wall. "Commissioner Chas Linkovich." She said after a short pause to remember the name. "He was loved. Almost as much as Victor Black today. People just loved him. He was Epsilon's darling. The selfless shield against crime. So, when an uprising started with him on the head, you can imagine how difficult it was for people to decide where they stand."
She raised one hand. "Do they follow the person who brought them this far or..." She raised the other hand. "Do they follow the person who genuinely seems to have their best interests at heart."

Nika lowered her hands and looked ahead again. "My clan did their duty." She said in a tone much colder than before. "We stood by the Director. Too far to change anything but we couldn't be traitors." She took a deep breath and slowly released it. "Now Thorn runs the Law Enforcement. She stops crime but you can be sure no one would follow her."

Nika crossed her legs under her and turned to face Tethys. "I believe the Director cares for his people." She said slowly as if saying an unquestionable truth. "The Director put Thorn into position. Everything she does has to be... With our best interests in mind." She clenched her teeth. "I have to blindly ignore cruelty if I believe we are following a good path. A little pain now so it would hurt less later." More determined, she added. "I have to believe that people need to see something like that so they wouldn't get hurt themselves later. I have to believe we are defending them long term."

Nika was, however, satisfied with Tethys' rejection of Violet and her pomps. She knew the girl had a smart head on her shoulders and wouldn't be easily swayed but... Violet was someone different.
She smiled, nodded, and returned Tethys a laugh of her own. Deeper and shorter. "I'm still responsible for you so it's my duty to help you on your way up." She smiled. "What do you want to know?"

 

[0stinato]

Her contact hadn’t spoken during the first half of the phone call, but she had known he was listening. In two minutes, Bernadette had explained her predicament and in reply, after a second’s pause, came an address and a time. His voice was accented, monotone, and flat. No spikes in emotion, no excitement.

She had written down the address as he gave it, her ink pen curving out numbers and letters onto a thick-sheeted notepad.

“Thank you.”

And now, at 5:30 in the evening, formally dressed, with a light coat over her shoulders, her purse in one manicured hand, she stood in front of a small bookshop. There was a café on the second floor, and that was where she assumed she would meet her contact.

However, she was stopped as she walked past the History section. Stopped by that sudden sense that someone was looking at her. There was no tap on the shoulder, there were no words. There was just that uncanniness, that chill on the neck. Bernadette raised her chin, summoning courage, and turned.

From any other angle, her contact would be overlooked. He was small, brown-haired and plainly dressed. A baby blue shirt was tucked into a rather dull pair of trousers: he looked like any other government office worker she’d seen. His facial hair was a well-groomed goatee with an accentuated thin moustache over a small mouth.

But his eyes…

She moved to his left, sliding a small volume off the shelf. Its topic was the protests conducted on Earth against inter-planetary settling. It was a topic Bernadette was familiar with to a shallow degree, about enough to get through History classes at school.

“How deep would you like me to look?”

Bernadette turned a page. “Deeper than last time.”

“Any specifics?”

“Why he doesn’t act. I need answers. Despite the media climate he has predicted, the company is to do nothing. The upcoming climate will hurt us badly. I can’t accept his reasons for being static anymore.”

“I see. He is high-profile. This will be expensive for you.”

“I know. I can handle it.”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at her.

“Do you accept?”

“I can pick up where I left off last time, and since you paid for my expertise at that point, I will keep the price as manageable as I can afford to.”

He gathered two books together, put a third back on the shelf, and glanced at her long enough to get her blink of confirmation. Then off he went in the direction of the pay desk. She turned her eyes away and back to the book for a few moments, before slipping it back into its place on the shelf, shoulder-to-shoulder with other books about those protests.

With a roll of her neck to loosen the tension his gaze had put into her, she moved a couple of shelves over to the Gardening section. She needed a few tips on keeping a kitchen herb garden.

 

[0stinato]

Ah.

The sky was blue. Unfamiliar birds warbled away their little lives. Clouds bonded and broke off from one another in their sparse population. Time span and the world span and perfume was in the air, everywhere, all around, or was it perfume or sweat or panic or merriment, or was it a concoction of all of them, a chemical dose of humanity existing in a blink before collapsing to entropy and destiny? And if it was destiny, what was the destination, other than that hole in the ground or decorative jar on the mantelpiece? Comfort and homeliness, or maybe a drunken dance in a club, and people decided to just stop thinking.

The hands of guards were solid. They were concrete gloves that moved so slowly but yet with haste. Claws gripped arms and pushed backs. Gentle voices repeated the words, "We hope you've had a good time, and journey home safe." Alert eyes scanned for ill faces, shamed faces, guilty faces, and if someone collapsed Lull didn't hear them because they fell into the arms of a purple-shirted guard with their arms out ready. Some people questioned the short time they'd spent in the tent, while others had lost all scope of time.

What was time anyway? How did it flow one way and not the other? Every second Lull stood and breathed he realised was a second that had fallen away. He was getting older; he could feel it. Age resided in his throat and tore at those vocal chords again.

"Shit, shit... keys..."

The sweater vest guy. He was fumbling in his pockets, shaking his head while a sheen of sweat gripped his face. He seemed stable enough. But still, he surely shouldn't drive under the influence right? No one should - that would get someone killed. And wouldn't that be a shame? What if he swerved in his high state and hit a group of schoolkids? Would the coke launch not be held responsible? Was that the direction the law flowed in?

"Hey, are you sure you want to drive? I did warn you, it's pretty strong stuff."

"Huh? Oh... well I don't have an option do I?"

"Sure, there are Reversers in the tent. Take care of yourself. Get a servant to get you one. Surely they won't want you getting in a wreck and killing yourself?"

The sweater vest man sighed and turned to look at Lull. His pupils were dilated. That was one of the effects right? Unless this guy was just attracted to him which, Lull knew, was a universal sin. A crime against nature and God. They taught it at All Faiths. Thou Must Never Be Attracted To The Man Known As Lull. It was a sin that bore 666 years of burning in Hell, if one believed it.

"I was hoping to just enjoy the high but you're probably right. You had a Reverser right? Can you still feel the coke?"

"Yeah. I'm fucked."

"Ah," the man said, grinning, "good good."

"Hey, no, wait," Lull grabbed him by the arm as he headed back towards the tent. Those innocent eyes rested on him again. "Don't fucking drive high, don't risk it man. Take two, come on. Be smart. It's better than being dead."

The man sighed, rolled his eyes, and relented. "Yeah. I'm sure Ecstasy will have it on the market soon enough... damn. I just wanted to let go this week... Things've been tough... Well, if there's another launch I hope to see you there. You're alright."

Lull blinked.

Was he?

"Be safe," he said as the man approached a servant. He put his hands in his pockets and walked with the crowd that was slowly dispersing into private cars or hired group pods. The sweater vest guy was just talking about the future. If there's another coke launch in the future. He'd probably not live to see his own front door again, let alone see another coke launch. Two benzos would melt him. Destroy him. Cause some sort of cardiac problem maybe. Or a seizure. Either way, with two benzos inside him, chance of survival was pretty much zero.

Lull found himself staring at a group of people among whom the word 'afterparty' was frequent. Everyone was erratic and excited for it, all filing into group pods or expensive cars. A tall red-haired man stood out among them purely for the fact his mouth was closed. He had an attractive face for sure, and his eyes were just as fierce as everyone else's. Although, when he looked at Lull, who was just gazing at him lucidly at this point, they didn't look like the eyes of someone with a nostril previously whitewashed with cocaine.

He wasn't just seeing. He was observing. Looking.

Lull blinked hard and sniggered to himself, the coke still keeping him elated enough for his brain to skew this potentially dangerous situation into something funny. He looked back at the tall man. "Sorry. Just sort of... zoned out."

The man didn't immediately answer. He just kept looking, as if he was digesting Lull's voice mentally. When he did speak, it was in a low growl, "Are you with this lot?"

"Me? No. Far too old for afterparties. I'm, what, 40? Should be dead by now."

The man didn't even attempt to continue the conversation. He just looked away. Lull didn't want to leave it there. He was still aching to talk to someone and forget everything again. Forget why he was here, what he was doing and what he just was doing. Though, in the back of his mind, in the area protected by the Reverser, the words 'clear off' were shimmering. Get away from the scene of your crimes, you'll be safe if you do, just go home, just go fucking home.

"What a waste of time."

The tall man swept past Lull with a hiss of disdain, having pushed through the group with his shoulders. Lull instinctively muttered, "Relax," but the man was already gone by the time he turned, joining another crowd to get to a pod. Ah - so that's where they were parked was it? Lined up along the kerb. Like big white mice. Lull followed the man, wondering why he was so angry. Was it because people were dying? Wait - were people making that assumption? He shouldn't say that. If he mentioned people were dying then others might work out that he must be involved: why else would he know that people are dying?

"Pretty shit business, right?"

Damn his mouth opening before he was ready!

The tall man whipped his head round, his hair - which was jaw-length on one side and shaved on the other - flipping with him. "Are you following me?"

"Uh? No? I just want a cab."

"Then... don't talk to me."

Lull snorted. "Chill. I just want a cab. Is friendly conversation out of the question?"

The man glared over his shoulder, but there was something unstable in his eyebrows. And in his eyes. His eyes were wide, but it wasn't the expression of someone who was furious. It was the expression of fear clumsily moulded into fury. "For me," he said, with a voice that lacked stable breath, "yes."

The tall man pushed forward and out of Lull's immediate range. It was only 15 seconds until he got into a pod and was swept smoothly away from the scene.

 

[Mr_DC]

Millie stood in the middle of the exposition area, her hands limp by her sides. The medical teams on site were trying to help the overdosed individuals. The staff were assisting the best they could. The security locked down all entrances and exits. And Millie just stood, feeling powerless. There was nothing she could do. No way to help the situation. It wasn't a combat situation with a clear enemy she could focus on. It just seemed like an unfortunate situation she was ill-equipped to resolve.

Then Violet reentered the scene and Millie stiffened. Not out of readiness to assist her mistress but out of unease. Fear even. If Millie ever had to describe Violet's gaze, she would say it was soft as silk. Yet, after seeing the aftermath, Violet looked with eyes Millie didn't recognize. Her eyes were as hard as a diamond and Millie couldn't hope to meet her gaze. Her eyes only tracked the cautious yet firm feet of her mistress.

Millie almost winced when Violet walked up to her and stopped. "They are dead." Violet said after being silent for a minute and just examining the scene. "They will have to do autopsies to determine the exact cause."
"Seems like something is wrong with the product." Millie commented but regretted it as soon as she felt Violet's touch on her back.
"The product is fine." Violet said strictly. "It was tested extensively. I sampled it prior to the reveal."
"I'm sorry." Millie said as quietly as possible, raising her gaze to Violet's stomach but still not finding the strength to make eye contact.

"I gave Mr Berba my instructions. Since very important people died here, it's impossible to cover it up. We will call it an attack. Media conglomerates will be offered as much as we can afford to take a sympathetic view." Violet's hand moved from Millie's back to her chin, lifting the Zima's gaze. She could see the unease in the girl's eyes. "I need you to hear what's the word on the streets. Whoever did this might brag."
"Me? They'll know who I am, though. And... You're certain it's an attack?" Millie asked, now not daring to take her eyes off the purple supernova of her mistress' eyes.
"Ecstasy product is flawless. Always. It's an attack. I just don't know who or why." Violet removed her hand and looked around lazily once more. "If they see I sent you out, they'll know how much of a mistake they made. I want them to know that." Taking a deep breath, Violet added. "I will be in my lab. I'll see what you found this weekend. Don't call unless it's urgent."

With that, Violet ended the conversation, leaving Millie more than a little disappointed. She wouldn't see Violet for days. Wouldn't hear her. While that meant she could focus exclusively on her task, it also meant Violet would always be on her mind.
"Oh, and Millie..." Violet reached for Millie's forearm, snapping the Zima out of her thoughts. As Millie looked back, Violet closed the distance and gave her a quick kiss. "Be careful."

 

[0stinato]

The breeze did a decent job at filling Nika's silence for a while, but Tethys lacked any sort of Romantic sensibility needed to enjoy such a thing. Her mind wasn't poetic enough to appreciate the chill it brought, nor its personable flipping of her hair. To her, it was just a breeze. So she picked at a loose thread in her trousers, noting that longer nails would make the task easier.

She looked back when Nika spoke again though. For a while she listened, relenting to Nika's decision to grace her with a history lesson. If she thought it was necessary then it must be important. She wouldn't just spout nonsense for no reason, she wasn't Moscur. That boy had a way of hopping between topics as if the previous one was about to give way beneath him.

But she couldn't resist a smirk when Nika sounded like a textbook. But she didn't mention it.

"Yeah but the Director's wherever," Tethys waved a hand. "I think you're looking too much at the bigger picture and it's making you worry about things you dun't need to be worried about. I mean, I know we're, like, line of defence and all, but you're being too general. What's the point of worrying about who will follow Thorn? In my opinion, I'd judge the situation before I decided who I was gonna follow. And, honestly, if people aren't gonna follow Thorn, then that's because of the picture she's decided to paint of herself. At least the Director ain't out here shittin' on his own reputation eh?"

She gave another laugh, this one more forced to try and cut through the tension Nika had germinated in their conversation. She was worried, but then again she was always worried.

"And listen, one other thing, you don't have to blindly accept or ignore anythink. If you don't like sommit, change it. You think this world's built on people saying what you're saying? It ain't, chick. You're seein' the world too black-and-white and not even thinking 'bout whether there's a third option. Me... I didn't think anyone in that bar would gain anythink by seeing someone be shot in the head, so I made sure it didn't happen. Anyway. Enough 'bout that. You know my thoughts and I guess we don't agree, so whatever," Tethys shrugged. "What I guess I want is to develop myself more here in this job. So I can be that change I wanna see, you know? And if I can do that by being more perceptive, I wanna get training on that. Stop things before they happen. Put me on a job like that! That's what I want. I might not be too good at it at first, but hey, only way to learn right?"

 

[Mr_DC]

Nika grinned, showing off her pearly white teeth to Tethys as the pair stopped in front of a door which would look more appropriate on a vault. "I'm really glad you're interested in advancing further. Maybe one day I'll be calling you ma'am." She joked and placed her hand on the palm analyzer.
Nika preferred that future. She didn't see herself in a role commanding anything more than a squad on the field. She needed to feel the situation. She wanted to interact personally with whoever they were being sent after, be it protestors or rebels.
There were opportunities for advancement. Promotions offered, even pressured on her but she didn't crack. Wasn't interested in it. There were several reasons for her rejection, from knowing that she would be paraded around to darker reasons.

The heavy door let out a hiss, followed by clicking sounds like there was a clockwork system somewhere behind the mirrored metal surface. "The security is fairly tight but this is just one of many failover locations." With a shrug, she continued. "As far as I understood it, there's nothing important here but it might be one day."

As the door finally slid into the wall, Nika stepped inside. Her heavy boots sent echoes on the mirror perfect floor that echoed through the whole room. The floor paired with the mirrored ceiling made the room seem infinitely large. There were no physical documents in the archive. No tall shelves full of boxes of documents. There were only rows and rows of servers with holographic terminals. Tethys and Nika weren't alone in the archive. Soldiers quietly tapped away at the projected screens, the sound of their breathing lost in the gentle hum of the servers surrounding them.

"Looks kinda high-tech, huh?" Nika tapped her foot on the floor to add some sound to the room, leaving some dirt on the mirror-polished surface. Nika smirked, giving Tethys a nudge with her elbow. "You think you can stand the silence?" She asked and headed down the aisle between two server rows. Her hands behind her back, Nika slowly paced ahead, her expression soft and relaxed. "Want to see how boring the documents actually are?" She hushed her tone, not wanting to bother other soldiers. "I'm fairly certain you can't see anything you aren't supposed to with my credentials. Just general logistics." With a half smile, Nika turned around to look at Tethys. "Really wish some conspiracy theories were true - the job would be more interesting." She joked.

 

[0stinato]

"Well if security weren't tight, I'd be worried. I mean, can't have just any ol' guy marchin' in and messing stuff up can you?"

Oblivious to how loud her voice was in the room, it bred with reverb and echoed her swinging accent back into her ears. But it didn't deter her from speaking at her regular volume as she gave affirmations or small comments to Nika's words. Her comments became sparser as her brain began working overtime to take in the room. It wasn't warm. And perhaps she just expected equipment like this to be warm because her own mechanical devices always heated up after an hour or so of use. Her tablet would heat up to be warm to the touch, her bike would growl itself into a frenzy of heat and noise, and her oven - well, that got real hot real fast.

She chuckled at her own internal joke.

But it was cold. There was also very little scent to this room when her nose expected the rounded hiss of xenon to be present in the air. But alas - nothing. If she was going to be spending some time in here poking about for Violet, she'd have to get used to how disconnected it was from all her expectations of technology.

"Naw, too loud for my liking," she grinned. "I can handle it. Well, yeah, let's get me in and see if I can hack this part of the job too. I'd definitely like to have that skill. And shhh, I heard that if you discuss conspiracy theories, you get shipped off to Earth's moon to work to make it look like cheese. Well, c'mon, let's see what this is all about."

With a straightening of her back and a setting of her expression into a professional neutrality, Tethys drew nearer the terminal. The display she was presented with was fairly intuitive and she tapped around a bit, opening general files that led to some fairly dull information. Here was an inventory of ration purchases, there was three-year-old gathering of small-incidence reports, stuff like that. The most recent stuff was applicable to Nika, Tethys found, but definitely nothing like the information Violet needed her to get. Still, a step was a step.

"Tell you what, you can start calling me ma'am when I start remembering where the button to go back is," she said with a sideways smile at her friend. "How does your access to this stuff help your job? And could I even aim for it in my current position? I'd certainly like to learn it... I feel like, seeing all this, it makes me feel like I've been kinda blind to everything."

She paused, then lowered her voice to a private pitch, "I've been involved in worse things than the other day but... I think the other day just had the mix of everything I cared about and didn't stand for, if that makes any sense. Usually I can remove myself but, I think because I was off-duty it felt more personal than it should have." She nodded to herself. "I'm kinda ashamed I let it be personal. That's not the point of my position."

Then came that spark. Was she doing what Violet asked her because she was still reeling in personal aggravation? She rarely fell into this trap. Moscur fell into it more than she did - the number of times he was worried about some higher-up not liking him and being afraid of... well, Tethys never understood why he was so worried about that anyway. So what if some boss didn't like you? Even if they were a terrible boss, they couldn't deny Moscur's skills.

But she'd fallen for it this time. She had to make sure she didn't let it affect anything.

 

[0stinato]

The pitch black clouds opened up above the Epsilon Engineering’s blocky compound and let out a torrent of rain, painting all facilities an even darker pitch of gray. Puddles were forming on the single road that led to the compound and the plains were threatening to flood should the rain continue for more than a few days. Still, the thick, castle-like walls kept man and nature at bay.

EICA director Borbett didn’t like the weather. It started almost as soon as he could see the complex on the horizon. Even though he was in one of the conference rooms without an outside view, he could still feel the ominous nature of it. Borbett was not a man of superstition - a person who had access to all the shadowy dealings of Epsilon had no reason to be - but there was something about weather. It was raining just as hard on the day that his predecessor died. Rained just as hard when the plane carrying his wife and children crashed. But it rained just as hard a week ago when nothing eventful happened.
Still, it made him uneasy.

Borbett grabbed one of the doughnuts he brought and bit into it. He had been craving sugar more and more over the last decade, destroying the respectable EICA agent figure and sliding him further towards the Santa Claus end of the spectrum. It didn’t bother Borbett too much. He was stuck in the office almost as much as director One and he counted himself lucky if health complications were the end of him.

Taking another bite of the doughnut, Borbett smiled to himself. He memorized the personnel file well. Moscur Alir, an engineer who was always highly commended by any agent that supervised his projects. Brilliant but not asking too many questions. Not suitable for offensive applications but perfect for defensive. Not a member of the loyalists yet more loyal than most of them. Borbett was looking forward to taking the young man’s measure himself. Even more than that, he was excited to get the project underway. Moscur would be perfect for it.


That air conditioner was ugly. So was that skirting board. And the colours. Gosh, lots of things were ugly in this hallway. Even though this corridor led to a cluster of pleasant board rooms, lots of small details were hideous. The air conditioner must only have been a couple of years old and already its design seemed obsolete. There was nothing sleek about it. It was a spot, a blackhead, on this wall.

Moscur didn’t notice objects like that usually. Too busy thinking of some theoretical project or another. Visualising the end product, and working backwards. Thinking about some calculation or code he was stuck on. Puzzling his way around a problem. But now, with nervous energy eating away at his working mind, his comparatively small everyday wisdom was allowed space to roam. He was seeing every aspect of the room, digesting the shapes and colours, and forming opinions that were, he thought, over the top. Who cared if an air conditioner was ugly if it worked? He’d made many things that looked awful/dangerous/hazardous/lopsided - all words his supervisors used - but they worked.

Sure, some of them were hazardous, but occasionally that was the point.

Oh well - if obsessing over the ugliness of an A/C unit would stop him from profusely sweating, or showing other unsavoury signs of anxiety before this very important meeting that he mustn’t screw up, then Moscur would take it.

He was on his third coffee of the day, though. His first one had been a nice hot milky one with all the warmth and comfort of his family apartment in a cup. The second one had been much less milky as his body cried and screamed for the caffeine. It was a din similar to the screeching of his younger brothers a few years ago when they didn’t get dessert when they demanded it, only confined to the chemicals in his brain. But now clutched in a spark-scarred hand that would tremble if the caffeine wasn’t doing its job, was a half-guzzled cup of pure black coffee.

He took a tiny gulp, if only to prolong entering the meeting room, and straightened his jacket. It was the only suit jacket he owned, and the elbows of it showed telltale creases of the wearer preferring the sleeves up. His bottom half was dressed worse though. Moscur had approximately zero pairs of trousers that matched a suit, so he’d selected a pair of navy blue chinos instead. They were a bit paint-stained - the result of his younger brother Aelin getting upset and impatient trying to paint a minifigure - but at the time Moscur thought they would do.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

Well, it was too late to change. With a breath intended mainly to straighten his posture rather than to calm his nerves, Moscur entered the room.

“Good morning.”


“Mr Alir.” Borbett smiled wide and went around the conference table to offer the younger man a hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Your name gets mentioned quite often after most projects you were involved with.” With a chuckle, he added. “Mentioned positively, of course.”

Straightening his dark, three piece suit which made him look like One’s chunkier twin, Borbett motioned at the box of doughnuts. “Please, take one. It will make me feel better about the dozen I had on the way here.” He joked.


After the handshake - which was stronger than he expected - Moscur gave a weak smile. “I’m-- I hope it’s only positive. Don’t praise me too much, ah, I don’t want to start off blushing. Um… thank you for the offer.”

Moscur took a seat and inspected the box. In the back of his head, memories of cop shows began playing. He had a coffee, he had a doughnut, the only thing he didn’t have was a badge and a pair of handcuffs. A nice sugar-topped one looked the most appealing. The powdered sugar stuck to his fingertips in that delicious way. It promised sweetness. It promised comfort.

“So, um, before I embarrass myself trying to eat this, I just want to say thank you for meeting me. I’m anxious to know what project you’re bringing me.”


Borbett nodded, maintaining his smile, looking like a shaved Santa Clause. “What I’ve got for you can easily be seen as another contract. Something the military would request. Another secret project that’s not truly that demanding for someone as skilled as you but still interesting.”

Clearing his throat, he added. “But that’s not what it is.”

Taking a sip of water from the plastic cup on the table to wash away the sugary taste, Borbett continued. The water seemed to have washed away his smile as well. “That’s exactly why I’m here. My presence is a way of showing you how unique this assignment would be. It will be demanding. It will require leading a project. It will require technologies you don’t know exist yet.” He paused, allowing the engineer to process what he was saying. “Do you believe you can do something like that?”


The part of Moscur’s brain that was leftover from his childhood was actively focused on nibbling away at the doughnut. The clingy fragments of sugar were already promising comforting sweetness, and he was looking forward to tonguing his fingers clean after the main course was finished. Borbett’s tonal shift spawned dissonance in the room, and in Moscur’s mind as he looked up.

There was lots to ask about. Many things Borbet had said were concerning, curious or just plain confusing.

But now wasn’t the time for those questions. To ask questions now was to sound like a child. To respond was to deliver professionalism. To anticipate what the job might entail would prove to Borbett he was the right person for the job.

But first, a smile. One of those raised-eyebrows smiles.

“Little point in asking if I can do something like that when it seems to me you’ve already revealed a lot. ‘Technologies I don’t know exist yet’? That’s a big thing to say. If I said I wasn’t the guy for the job, you’d suddenly have the annoyance of trying to deal with me finding out what these technologies are. I’m certain that you know my, um… quirks? You can’t just dangle something like that in front of me and not expect me to jump for it. So,” he swapped the doughnut from one hand to the other, and licked sugar from his fingers in the pause, “do you think I can do something like this?”


Borbett watched the young engineer enjoy his doughnut. He was silent. Silent for a while, long past what was acceptable for a reply. But Borbett knew the value of silence. So many of his associates believed in force while he preferred the gentle touch. And there was nothing gentler than silence.

“What we need you to make is a piece of defensive technology.” Borbett’s smile returned. The boy would be good. He was as brilliant as everyone said. That aside, Borbett even liked him as a person. That was a pleasure he rarely had while working as the EICA director. “Not something that would ever take a life but save one.”
Borbett took a deep breath like he just laid down to lounge under the sun. “It needs to be something that can change appearance. Be light, almost invisible but also indestructible.” Borbett laid down his list of impossible demands.

“Imagine your father going out to the store. He puts it on and it looks just like an old, leather jacket he usually wears.” He began gesturing as he spoke. “Someone - god forbid - shoots him. And he doesn’t even feel it. Not even a bruise.” He paused. Borbett assumed Moscur’s mind was already trying to work out how that could function and it was only kind to let him process it.

“Imagine that but over the whole body.” Borbett made his way close to Moscur and placed his weighty hand gently on the boy’s shoulder. “I would like you to make it as if someone you really care about would wear it. Like it was their life that needs to be kept safe.”

He chuckled. “I know it sounds ominous but we won’t test it on your family members. Don’t worry, we aren’t in the business of making threats.” He tried to reassure the engineer. EICA had a reputation, after all. “But it will eventually need to save a life. When it does… It will be thanks to you, doctor Alir.”


A whirlpool of emotions swirled around Moscur’s mind. Borbett’s silence sucked away the confidence that’d previously built up as a result of his rhetoric. It was a judgemental silence. Had he said the right thing? Was he a smart-ass? Or was the man digesting his words and preparing his next move?

The smile and warm continuation then put Moscur at ease again. The subject matter he quickly got onto though brought a fear for his family’s safety to mind. Even though the man mentioned it was only a hypothetical, and that he wasn’t at all making a threat, and just wanting to bring Moscur’s attention to the importance of the personal bodily defence attire that he was wanting Moscur to design, that image remained. It was highly, highly unlikely that anyone would shoot at his father, but who knew?

The tech certainly seemed impossible. Lightweight enough to wear, but strong enough for the wearer not to feel a thing, not even sustain a bruise. It would require material that would spread out the impact across itself, and absorb it entirely. It would have to be as thin as possible, which certainly was possible. But all bulletproof vests left bruises at least. Better than bullet-wounds of course, but still, to take out bruising was a big ask.

Moscur frowned, suddenly aware he hadn’t spoken in a while.

“Uh um. Well, right now, with what I know, it sounds utterly impossible. You’ll really have to change my mind about that… you’ll have to send me documents and patents of that ‘technology I don’t know exist,’ because… other than a few ideas I’m having in terms of… impossible tech, I can’t see many ways of avoiding bodily harm entirely.” He smiled up at Borbett. “Afraid that’s the difficulty right now. Hard to agree to make something when I don’t have all the pieces.”

Borbett had laid down his pieces, and Moscur was going to counter him with a demand of his own. Much to the relief of his good demeanour, though, this was a friendly meeting. There was nothing dangerous here.


Borbett listened to the young man’s mind work. He was interested in the idea but he feared it might be impossible. There was creativity kept in check by practicality.
Just as Moscur was working out the possibilities in his head, Borbett was doing his own analysis of the project.

This engineer would be trusted with carte blanche. His creativity might be costly but Borbett doubted the costs would spiral out of proportion. Security was a non-issue with Moscur. Even though he would be watched every step of the way, Borbett firmly believed that the boy wouldn’t let slip a single word of the project. He wasn’t trained to resist torture but… That was why he would be followed.

Yes, the veil would be lifted for him. Not completely but generously enough that he could get the job done. He should be able to handle the information without breaking.

“I will make sure to arrange a meeting either here or at the Sphere. You will see what we’re holding back yourself.” Looking at the blank wall in front of him, Borbett decided to alleviate Moscur’s concerns. “It may be unrealistic to expect no bodily harm but perhaps this should be your criteria…” He began, looking at the boy now. “Say I’m wearing a hat from it. I need it to protect me from a high-power sniper fired right at my temple. No.” He raised a finger. “A tank shell.” He raised the stakes, the plan to alleviate his concerns possibly trampled. “Full kinetic protection.”

Clasping his hands behind his back, Borbett decided to share his own thoughts. “I’m no expert but I imagined your nanobots could come in handy there. Perhaps disassemble the incoming projectile.” With a big, friendly smile, Borbett raised his hands. “But I have no idea how they even work so take it as an old man’s fantasy rather than a suggestion.”


At Borbett’s theorising, Moscur’s expression changed several times. A squint while he listened to the man merged into a wide-eyed, quizzical expression at the prospect of a sniper-proof hat, to a stare of disbelief when a tank shell got into the mix.

But he was right. Those little nanoprobes might be useful to consider. Disassembling the projectile was a bit of a fairy-tale, as far as Moscur knew, but they could help in spreading the impact from a projectile across a wider area. A synthetic skin made of a community of nanoprobes could do wonderful things.

It’d require some thought.

“I’m looking forward to seeing what I don’t yet know exists,” he said. “I’ll try my best to hold myself back from playing with them too much. I’d also be eager to meet some of the people who developed them. See how they got to the positions they’re in now.”

Borbett let out a hearty laugh, giving Moscur a soft pat on the back. “What makes you think you don’t already know these people?” After another laugh like he heard a particularly good joke, he continued. “A lot of people in Epsilon Engineering developed tech they’re not allowed to talk about.”

Giving Moscur a big smile, he added. “You’re about to be one of them.”

Escorting the young engineer out of the conference room, Borbett almost ran into someone. He quickly showered the person with apologies before abruptly stopping.

“Violet.” He said in the tone of a person scraping gum off his shoe. “I didn’t expect to see you in this facility.” Just running into her seemed to have raised a cloud of her perfume, bathing him in her disarming scent.
Violet, wearing a slim dress more suitable for a formal ball than an engineering laboratory, gave Borbett a pleasant smile. “One’s approval.” She replied simply, not giving Moscur even a glance.
“You do know EICA can also give you approval. No need to bother the director with it.” Borbett spoke carefully, his serious expression contrasting with his previous Santa behavior. He sounded like he was faintly struggling.
“I know.” Violet replied again. “And you? What are you doing here in person?” Her stare at Borbett was so intense it seemed as if she was purposefully ignoring Moscur.
“I was verifying some new staff members.” He said, motioning his head at Moscur but Violet seemed less than interested.
“Pleasure.” She gave Moscur a short but sharp glance before returning her gaze to Borbett.

Their exchange was cut short by a shout from down the hall. “Miss Violet?”
Seeing as she was summoned, Violet gave a curt nod to Borbett before proceeding on her way. With a sigh, Borbett placed his hand on Moscur’s shoulder again. “Shall we visit your new laboratory?” He asked, his jolly smile reappearing.

 

[Mr_DC]

She could taste her brain in the back of her throat. That fuzzy taste of copper and… Green. A touch of orange. She could also feel the texture of it on her teeth.
Her teeth. Pieces of porcelain clinking together with every bite into that crunchy brain. Crunchy, dry, bruised.

“Ma’am.” Her teeth spoke. “Lull is here.” The brain retorted.

She swallowed heavily, pushing the brain back down into her stomach. Licked the ma’am off her teeth.

She missed the orange.

Her wrist sang. Oooh. Her tongue jiggled. She would have to chew it off with the porcelain. Calm its dancing.


Koola gasped as if someone threw a bucket of cold water over her. With her yellowish, bloodshot eyes spread wide, Koola locked onto the syringe in her wrist. That little bitch of a bodyguard broke her high.

She was sitting in her chair, her legs thrown on the desk. Her tight, black leather outfit was dusted with hundreds if not thousands of credits worth of drugs. Her desk was even worse.
Bags filled with powders, crystals, and plant matter created stacks overflowing and spreading across the floor as well.

Koola was about to start berating the guard when the guard repeated the words she heard before. “Lull is here.”

“Let…” She tried to speak but her throat was as dry as gunpowder. Instead, she waved at the door while searching for a bottle of alcohol in her drawers.


Veins, arteries, capillaries. All clogged with substance. Was the shimmer of sweat on her face a liquidised version of whatever drugs were sprinkled upon her breast? Or was it just the physiological reaction of the strain upon every organ at once? Was there point of Lull considering it, or was it just making him feel ill?

Well, he did feel ill, that was for sure.

He hated walking in to see her in the process of getting high. Seeing her washed away on some tidal wave of synesthetic pleasure brought bile to his throat. Same physical response as when he was in the labs of hers in the third ring. Greasy air. Perhaps he was breathing her sweat. He suppressed a shudder beneath a few coughs as he walked up in front of her. He gave a glance to the guard: not a thank you, but a look of acknowledgement. I appreciate you announcing me to save her from hating me for interrupting her.

“Hi,” he said. Didn’t feel like saying anything else.


The guard returned a grave nod to Lull, clearly less than comfortable about being near his boss when she was in such a mood - which wasn’t exactly infrequent. The job of Koola’s bodyguard was highly stressful even though they rarely saw actual combat. Still, the money was fantastic.

Koola raised a finger when she heard Lull’s voice. She fished out a half-empty glass bottle full of a clear liquid which definitely wasn’t water. Unscrewing the top and letting it fall to the floor, getting lost in the assortment of drugs which would make her dens jealous, Koola brought the bottle to her lips and turned it upside down. Gulp after audible gulp and whatever Koola-quality booze she drank soon disappeared.

Tossing the bottle across the room past Lull, Koola grinned wide. “There’s my fucking lieutenant!” She yelled. “You gorgeous creature!” She clenched her fists and got up to her feet.

“I’ve been listening to the news for the past hour and getting the fuck off to it.” She laughed, smacking one of the guards on the forearm. “Wasn’t I, boy!?” She laughed.
“Yes, ma’am.” He replied, staring ahead but he still managed to see her expression change. Her laugh was gone. She was staring right at him, her mouth ever so slightly open.

“Yes?” Koola asked, cocking an eyebrow. “So, you were watching me get off? That’s what you’re saying?” She asked, getting right up in his face.
“No, ma’am.” He replied after a short pause, still avoiding eye contact.
“No? Yes? No?” She asked. “Make up your fucking mind!” She yelled, punching his chest. “What now? You wouldn’t watch me? You don’t find me hot?”

Silence draped the room. The guard wasn’t just holding his words back but he was also holding his breath.

“Fucking chill!” She laughed again. “It’s a good day, relax.” Giving him another punch to the chest, she winked. “Feel free to whip it out next time.”

And her attention returned to Lull. “You’re a fucking artist! Tell me, did you see them die?” She grinned wide, resembling a wolf approaching a wounded deer.


Her breath was torture. The cortisol spiked inside him. The muscles in his calves were prepared to jet him backwards any moment. Suddenly, running became a viable strategy, and not a physical impossibility as he’d become accustomed to thinking it was. His skin felt strange upon the stink hitting his brain. As if every cell was tensing in preparation for attack, assault.

Getting involved in whatever back-and-forth was happening between his boss and her latest vict-- employee was not a good idea. The man hadn’t yet learned to just keep his mouth shut. Apologise if necessary, but otherwise, stay quiet. Stupid man. How long was he going to last? Few months? How long would it be before Koola impaled something through his chest or head? Lull could almost see it now, blood running down from his neck, a fully-grown adult body wasted in the toss of a dagger or broken bottle.

Not yet. He was still alive.

She was talking to him with that breath. He’d survive it somehow. Provided she didn’t lunge towards him with the intention of ripping out his windpipe with her canines. She looked like she might. If he gave her a wrong answer.

But she was happy with him now, so hopefully she just, you know, wouldn’t do that.

He took a breath to steady himself and raised his eyebrows. “Um… I saw someone collapse, and after that everyone was escorted out. Afterwards, I persuaded one more guy to go back in and take one of my fake reversers. He likely OD’d on the drive home. Didn’t see anyone die though.”

A string twanged out in his head. He could hear her reaction now: “You didn’t see anyone die… that’s a shame, why don’t you see someone die now?” and then, somehow, she’d kill her bodyguard. Adult body wasted, breath leaving neck, brain shutting down forever, memories lost, et cetera, et cetera.


Koola drew in a long breath through her nose as she approached Lull. Her movements were very predatory and her eyes were hungry.

“Probably crashed into someone.” She moaned, now a step from Lull. “Maybe crashed into an incoming car.” She quietly moaned, taking a perverse pleasure in imagining it. “Fuck…” She closed her eyes and sucked in another breath. “Tell me… Was he young? Full life ahead of him?” As she asked, she looked at Lull again.

Instead of lust-addled or hazy from the alcohol, her eyes were sharp. Belonging to someone significantly more in control of themselves than she seemed to be.


“Fairly young, yeah. Said he was really looking forward to relaxing after work with coke. Him looking forward to anything is going to be impossible now. Definitely dead. Hopes and dreams dead too.”

One reason why she probably valued him was that he didn’t just tell her what she wanted to hear: it just so happened that what she preferred to hear, and what he wanted to say, overlapped quite nicely. In this case, he wasn’t even exaggerating, or making up answers. These were all thoughs he’d had when he placed his hand on the sweater-vest-man’s shoulder, when he told him to go get himself a reverser.

“I told him not to risk driving home under the influence of drugs, and he went to get a reverser.”


“Mmmm, you sick fuck.” Koola moaned, not breaking eye contact for a moment. With a loud clap that seemed to bring her out of that fantasy, Koola laughed. “I might just visit the morgue today… See your handiwork. You know his name?”

She asked and immediately went to the next subject. “I had the boys bring me half a dozen junkies. Shit, what I’m gonna do with them.” Giving a Lull a poke in the chest, she asked. “Did you ever stomp on someone’s throat so hard you heard that crunch of his windpipe? I slept like a fucking baby after that…”

In a second, her turned serious again and began pacing towards her desk. “You up for something more? This time, it’s gonna be a lot more fun.”


“Uh…” Lull tilted his head. “I don’t think I asked his name. Whatever his name was, he’s not going to use it anymore, is he. And no I… never stomped on someone’s throat. I don’t think I’d have to stomp if I did.”

Lull gestured to himself, indicating the self-deprecating joke. Haha, I’m fat.

“What’s the next thing? If it’s going to step on a bunch of junkies’ throats, I might leave that to you, since you’d enjoy it more than I would. I also want to, at some point, get some more intel on that whole bomb thing. You know. Even if you just point me to a few places and I’ll investigate myself.”


After tapping her foot on the floor a couple times as if she was imagining the stomping she had planned, Koola gave herself a satisfied nod.

“The slut still isn’t giving up on cocaine. She’s still trying to fill her stores with it but I sent groups out to intercept the trucks. The stores should be empty for the release day.” She explained confidently. There was always an uneasy pact between the two. Killing each other’s employees was off limits. It always just lead to war which both sides had to admit wasn’t profitable.

But Koola didn’t care. She wasn’t about to lose her market share to this new product Violet thought up. No, the rules no longer applied. War it is.

“I want you to go with the team. Intercept one truck and load a package into it. Then just follow it to the store it’s meant for.” She turned around with a wicked grin. “It’s a bomb.” She added matter-of-factly.

“But since you’re mentioning the whole bomb thing - don’t worry!” She laughed. “I’m working on it. So far, none of the rebel leaders admitted they’re responsible.” With a shrug, she added. “I’d say it was a false flag attack. But that will take time to determine.”
She walked back up to him and grinned in his face, giving him a nice view of her white, fake teeth. “Have fun. Kill people. I’ll deal with this.”


Sounded simple. But it really depended on who he was working with. If he was working with inept twats, he’d have to take charge. Maybe hit a few people, cuff ‘em round the back of the head. Wave a gun around a bit. Text Koola and ask if she could kill a few of them.

“Alright… that bomb isn’t gonna go off randomly is it? It’s good-quality terrorism?”

What the fuck was he saying, ‘good quality terrorism?’

He held his breath when she came closer to him. Breathing in her stink wasn’t anything he wanted to do. Those teeth were a dire reminder of how much she’d ruined herself over the years, of how bad her product was. Still. He preferred seeing her white teeth than those meth-mouth teeth. He’d seen those on too many of her lab employees. The brown, rotting roots and the white dying cap on top.

Imagine any breeze on those.

“Kill people? I guess that’s a go-ahead to murder anyone who gets in my way?”


Koola shrugged at his concerns about the bomb. “It’s not something I’m gonna go anywhere near so why the fuck would I care if it’s good?” She began making her way to her desk as she spoke. “You’ll get a bomb, you’ll get a remote. Use the remote when the truck gets into the store. Fairly simple.”

As she passed by her lined up guards, she suddenly swung at one, hitting him straight in the stomach. The guard’s diaphragm spasmed and he found himself on his knees, unable to breathe. “Oh, come on, you little bitch.” She slapped him. “I could have broken your nose. I still can. Get the fuck up and man up.” She ordered, giving him another smack.

“You!” She pointed at Lull again as she got behind the mountain of drugs again. “You’ll get a bonus for every bloodied purple tie you bring me. A bigger bonus if the head is still attached.” She said, sitting down as her guard finally regained composure.

A gunshot echoed in the room as that guard collapsed, leaving a brain splattered smear on the wall behind him. “Fucking useless.” Koola scoffed, tossing a small handgun aside.


Why was he surprised? He’d worked under her for years. Seen many people die between these walls, just because she got bored, or mildly annoyed, or just plain felt like it. He still jumped when he heard the gunshot, if he wasn’t ready for it. The confined space only increased the echo, as well as the claustrophobia of everything.

Though, that wasn’t what his spirit was upset about. Watching her beat on him, punch him in the stomach, threaten to break his nose, her female voice spiralling abuse down onto his head, Lull could almost feel the rough, stained carpet of his childhood home beneath his toes. The fear of pain whenever he tried to breathe through his broken nose, long after it had stopped bleeding was almost within reach.

Hearing her gunshot, hearing her killing the guard, broke him out of that place at least. It was a blessing. The abuse was over. He didn’t have to be pushed back there anymore.

There he was, thankful for the man’s death, simply for the reason that he no longer had to feel the rooted anxieties from Koola’s behaviour towards the man. But that man’s family was…

Well, didn’t matter now. They’d get a payout. Possibly. Hopefully. Lull didn’t know. He’d never asked.

“Bloodied purple ties, alright. Can do.” Lull rolled his neck and made a mental note to bring a binbag with him on the job. “I’ll go and start the preliminaries. I’ll leave you to your vices.”

He turned maintaining a dull expression and not allowing himself to breathe until he got out of the room. The last thing he needed was Koola thinking he was weak. She’d shoot him dead, he reckoned, and all the work he’d put into investigating the bomb that wiped out his previous apartment, and his sister, and all the things she loved, her future and her life, would be to waste.

 

[0stinato]

Nika leaned with her back against the side of the console Tethys was working on. She never thought about it before but the silence and cleanliness of the room would make it wonderful for meditation. She could see herself sitting in the corner, emptying her mind of thoughts, and just being in the moment. Letting the world hurriedly pass by, leaving her alone with herself.

There would, of course, be complaints about her sitting in the corner, doing absolutely nothing but it was definitely an idea she could entertain. Perhaps once, on a slow day, she could give it a try.



"This actually does help you." Nika started. "Having access to all this and the responsibility doesn't help you day-to-day and it doesn't have any direct effects but you really get a feel for it all." She began motioning with her hands as if shaping a being out of wet clay. "You start to realize how unfathomable an organism the military is. You learn where its arteries are, its vital organs. You know what you must protect at all costs and what limbs can be lost to protect the greater whole." Lost in her own realization of what it all meant, she continued.

"You start to recognize the rhythm of it all, the pulse. Seeing it becomes second nature." Crossing her arms on her chest, she gives herself a sharp nod. "You eventually start applying that knowledge and those expectations to the enemy. More often than not, they come true. If with a slightly different beat to it all."


“I’ll start to realise how unfathomable it is?” Tethys queried with a raised eyebrow. “That defo sounds like som’thin I wanna realise. Yeah, come along, Officer O’Shea, and realise that you’ll never really know what’s going on. I’m kidding, I know what you mean. Or, I guess, hopefully I will know what you mean. Alright, so, I’m just gonna play around with this am I? You gonna log me in? Or, log yourself in.”

Tethys stepped to the side, and made a show of being distracted by Other Things. Staring over Nika’s shoulder while she was inputting her various details and passwords was, of course, strictly against etiquette. So she busied herself by giving professional head-nods to the few people that moved over the polished floors, leaving nothing behind them but a slight breeze. This place didn’t need an A/C unit. The ambience was keeping her bones cold enough.


Nika let out a short chuckle as she gave Tethys a light tap on the shoulder. Ultimately, she was proud of the girl. If there was anyone Nika would have to pick to watch her back, it would always be Tethys. “You know, there’s an event you might be interested in attending.” Nika began as she typed in her login details. Tethys could cause no harm using her account. After all, it’s not like Nika herself was completely professional with its use.

Stepping aside and leaning against the side of the screen, Nika gave Tethys free reign of the system. “I’ve been invited and I’m supposed to invite another person. And that person is supposed to invite someone.” She shrugged. “A teambuilding thing that I’d probably dodge but it might be useful for your career if you attend it. You feel like mingling?” Nika smirked, glancing at the soldier.


“Really? That’s really nice of you to pick me, sure I’ll come! But, who am I s’posed to invite? Should I pick someone outta my squad or just, bring along some randomer off the street? Right, what’m I seeing here…”

Putting her head down in focus, Tethys examined the icons on the screen. Mail, a folder labelled Personal Items, a folder labelled Documents and finally, a folder named DeleteMe. The last one heightened Tethys’ awareness of Nika standing close to her side. A folder named DeleteMe that wasn’t deleted yet - Tethys realised this was her only chance to see into it.

And, if it was anything like what Violet asked her to find, missing the opportunity would be detrimental to the woman’s operations. Well, possibly. Tethys still didn’t know what Violet was doing, wanting that information: all she knew was that Violet wasn’t going to act on anything. Tethys finding and delivering information wasn’t going to affect anything other than Violet’s knowledge.

With one last sideways glance at Nika from beneath her manic hair, Tethys tapped the folder to open it.

It contained about a dozen pictures, labelled with consecutive numbers. None of them had previews. Tethys picked number 7 from the middle, hoping that, whatever this folder contained, she would get a good scope if she looked in the middle. It was a tried-and-true tactic throughout her life. Take a sample from the middle of the values, and see what happens. Yes, it was certainly a method she tried to leave behind her long ago, when she exited school, but here it was, flowing back to her. In most aspects, she tried to believe she was more organised now than she was back then.

The picture loaded in a moment. The second that passed for Tethys felt like a minute. She was faced with a coy, embarrassed-looking Nika Desh, posing in front of a mirror to bring attention to the emphasised angle of her backside.

Completely naked.

At least, Tethys’ brain yelled at her as she jabbed at the holographic Close button, at least she’s a Namur and she’s got fur, right?

The experienced part of her brain shouted back that that didn’t matter - she’d been with a Namur dude before, naked was naked, and she’d just seen Nika naked.

Silly woman, why didn’t she delete the file?

She took a shallow breath to steady herself, then selected Mail. Seemed like the safest place to be. Should Nika look over, she’d just see Tethys going through junk mail. The screen was completely pointless to Tethys’ existence though: it wasn’t like she was thinking about anything on it anyway. Good ol’ reserved Nika, posing in the mirror? Well, she was a grown woman, and it wasn’t like Tethys was innocent to the trade of intimate pictures. However, where she found some cheeky fun in a suggestive picture, she never thought Nika would do the same.

Ah, she had to stop thinking about it. She’d already invaded her privacy enough by stumbling into the folder, the last thing she should do was keep thinking about it. That felt somehow more invasive…


“I was told there are only two rules on who you can invite.” Nika commented, staring ahead. She was already starting to feel the weight of the room. The silence. The cleanliness. If her mind was a blade, this room wrapped it in cotton.

Raising one finger, she continued. “The person has to be below you. Be it in terms of rank, wealth, social standing, influence, connections, whatever. The person needs to be someone who has the ability to advance further.” That was, after all, why she wasn’t interested in going. They kept pushing. Trying to find ways to nudge her forward against her will. At least something good will come out of going if she brought Tethys with her.

“The second thing is that this person has to be a loyalist.” She lowered her hand, still looking ahead. “Not an official one, just someone who won’t go rambling about how the Autocracy is bad. It’s to make sure no one gets murdered on these things.” Nika explained calmly in spite of what it implied. There would be powerful people there. People who someone wanted dead. People others wanted alive.


“Two rules… well, you know my friend from the other night, Moscur? Pretty sure he fits the second one but, I dunno about the first. I mean… he’s a citizen and I’m a military officer. Dunno who else I’d really invite. Do you think I’d be able to invite him?”

Thank God Nika was talking about something normal. It was helping Tethys bury the mental image of those pictures, stopping her mind from projecting the pose onto her superior right there and then.

She carried on with her investigation, opening a few pieces of mail Nika had received. One contained a subtle yet forceful suggestion of a promotion to officer to which Tethys raised her eyes to Nika and gave her a teasing, “Gosh, they really want you, don’t they?” while the other two she opened were from Thorn.

These ones raised Tethys’ blood pressure a little higher. She focused a bit harder on the pixels while reading. “Gotta job” read the subject of the first. It wasn’t a long email, and its language was vague. Thorn’s “guys” would pick up a package in two days: no indication about what the package was, no hint or suggestion. Was it a physical package or some digital document? Whatever it was, Nika would have to “do it again” with “L-45-D.” There was no indication of what L-45-D was either. The numbers and letters didn’t progress in a way that Tethys recognised from other codes that came with her job or position. Its significance was a mystery that currently had no answer.

The other one from Thorn was subject-headed “Fuck.” Eloquent as ever. However, this message brought nothing positive into Tethys’ heart. There was no progression of logic between this and the last one, and its subject matter only sowed empathetic sorrow: Thorn was calling Nika a pussy for not wanting to continue seeing a guy, and for making up excuses to avoid more contact.

This email brought with it answers to questions Tethys had at the back of her mind, though. Firstly, this email confirmed something: Thorn was closer to Nika than Tethys had realised. She had conversed with Thorn about intimate matters of romance, a subject that Tethys knew she held back on. The embarrassed face in those pictures confirmed that much. Likely, too, those pictures were intended for, or had already been sent to, whatever guy she had been seeing. Did Nika like him then, but was having second thoughts now? Or did she try out taking and sending intimate pictures without knowing her true feelings?

Whatever it was, Tethys’ internal theatre stage was getting more crowded with sorrow and concern by the minute. This was a view into Nika’s mind that she’d never offered before. She was close enough to Thorn to open that to her. But why? She was responding with unkindness, to Tethys’ eyes. Why was Nika choosing to open up to Thorn, but not to her?

The thought only conjured more guilt in Tethys’ stomach. But the thought remained. Thorn wasn’t nice. Nika was making a choice to better her life and it was met with declarations meant to tear her down.

Whatever their relationship was, Tethys didn’t comprehend it.

Best to close the mail and go elsewhere The last thing Tethys wanted was Nika noticing she was looking at personal things. Though, the most personal thing on her account was probably already uncovered by accident. As she backed out of mail, she let her shoulders stretch, and rolled her neck.

“I always hunch over when I’m looking at screens… it’s not very good for me,” she said, hoping the comment would smoothen out her own mental state at least.


Nike smiled at Tethys when she mentioned her friend. Moscur. Yeah, she remembered him. He was the most normal out of all of them that night. He was also smart enough to vanish when the trouble started. “I don’t see why you couldn’t invite him. There will be people above both of us and they’ll probably have, if nothing else, useful advice for him.”

Shoving her hands in her pockets, Nika frowned. “I just hope there won’t be many VIPs there.” She let out a low grumble from the depths of her chest. “Many of them are just horrible people.” Like Violet. She thought.

Tethys managed to get her mind away from the boiling anger she had for that woman. “Yeah, they want to put me in an office so bad, you’d think I’d have done something wrong. They just want the Desh name somewhere high. Or a loyalist. Guess I’m both.” She chuckled, glancing at the screen when the younger soldier complained about her posture.
She was examining the documents. A place abundant with dull documents but vital for the functioning of the Military Police. If Tethys could go through that without dozing off, then she was definitely officer material.

Nika leaned back, looking ahead again.


“Well, I guess you’ve got a lot to live up to if they want your name on high, y’know? The last time the name O’Shea was at the top of any list it was ‘Least Likely to be Prom Queen.’ And, you know what, at school graduation I showed up alone so I guess they were right!”

What was she rambling about?

“I’ll see if he wants to come then. What’s the dress code?”

Logistics, Troops, Operations. Hardly inspiring folder names. None of them sounded fun. But, Tethys had files of her own that were named similarly. Information about Troops always had to be organised for matters of efficiency. She had a peek inside all of them, finding nothing curious to look at until she came to Logistics. Inside that was another folder called Deliveries.

Tethys’ mind flashed back to the package mentioned in Thorn’s email. She selected the folder and was met with a long list of files… each one with a naming convention identical to that in Thorn’s email. Her eyes darted around until - yes, there it was - L-45-D.


Nika gave Tethys a sympathetic smile when she reminisced about her graduation. If what she said was true, it was something they both shared. Outsiders in social circles. The odd one out.
She looked away for a few moments before looking back at the soldier. Nika was glad she took a special interest in Tethys. She was there to help her rise higher.

“Casual.” She shrugged. “Whatever you feel most comfortable in. I’ll be going in my uniform. Not the fancy one either.” She chuckled. It ultimately depended on the type of a mingle they will be going for. It could end up being anything from paintball to a visit to a fancy vineyard. Casual clothes would fit most occasions, she figured.

Glancing at the screen, Nika chuckled and threw on a smile as she took more of an interest in what Tethys was doing. “This is nothing really interesting.” She waved off the logistics folder. “It’s probably the most boring part of this job.” She explained as she watched Tethys. “Epsilon Logistics should really take it out of our hands but I don’t see them getting cleared for it any time soon.” Leaning back against the server rack, she chuckled. “Seriously, if you like this, you are probably destined for a more lucrative career in Logistics.”


“Well… it looks… yeah, guess it looks pretty boring, what with all the codes n’ all…” Tethys said, her vocal pace slowing as she checked out the preliminary details of L-45-D that she could see without opening it. Last edited yesterday. Edited by…

“If these are L files, where are the M, N, O and P files?” she joked, trying to loosen the conversation a bit with a grin.


Crossing her arms on her chest, Nika nodded along with Tethys, glad she agreed that that part of the job was boring. Wanting to change the subject away from work, Nika looked at her coworker. “You up for drinks later? Thorn has been pestering me to go out but I think I’d prefer something a bit calmer.”


“Hmm… that depends,” Tethys looked back to the screen, giving a slight shrug in response. “I’ll have to see what the day brings, to be honest. I’d hate to, like, agree then stand you up, y’know?”

In truth, Tethys really didn’t know. Whether she would or wouldn’t go did depend heavily on something in her future, but it wasn’t anything like work, or responsibilities, or anything. The reason was right in front of her. L-45-D. The contents of this would make the choice for her.

Tethys hoped it was anything but that shipping document. Let it be some memo about inventory, some insignificant file on trooper uniforms or something. Or laundry detergent. Or the nutritional information of field rations. Anything. Something innocent that Nika had edited.

Course it wasn’t.

Why would it be?

What was fate but a slap in the face?

“Who’d be… would Thorn be going with you or…?” Tethys pulled her gaze from the screen again to see Nika. Was she there? Was she one of Tethys’ most respected friends? Her voice was numb, its warmth having been sucked out by the very thing Violet had asked her to find. “I just ask because… y’know, I don’t think I’m her favourite person?”

She kept talking. Bring something else up, something else that got her cortisol spiking. Maybe it’d hide her adrenaline, that dirty, metallic adrenaline that promised Tethys she’d be losing sleep for the next week.

“Last thing I wanna do is deprive the world of me, y’know? I’m brilliant.”

The black and white pixels of that document swam in her mind. Weapon shipment from this base to another, to be taking place three days in the future. Boxed in light grey were changes made by Nika’s account. Route: changed. Crew: changed. Last altered by Nika.

Did Thorn’s emails to her have anything to do with it? She said her soldiers would pick something up, that Nika had to ‘do something again.’ Without the email in front of her, Tethys’ manic mind couldn’t focus on the path it was stumbling down. Searching for excuses to remove her friend from blame, she just kept groping at any explanation. The dissonant logic that Nika wouldn’t possibly do anything against Epsilon screamed at her to listen to it, but the other alternative was that Thorn was going against Epsilon. And she was more passionate than anyone, that was made perfectly clear the other night.

Tethys’ fingers were still in gear. Automatically, like a child about to get caught on a naughty site, they moved across the screen, a deft precision guiding them to something that couldn’t possibly get her in trouble if Nika was to look. Some file about Names. Recognising some of them was the only thing preventing Tethys from drifting off completely.


Nika glanced at Tethys when she brought up her concerns. Her tone changed but Nika could only chalk it up to that night at the club. That nearly bloody night that caused a rift between the two potential friends. Nika hoped Thorn and Tethys could end up close but… It wasn’t meant to be. And it was Thorn’s fault. That woman never had her safety on.

“I didn’t plan on calling Thorn.” Nika smiled. “Just the two of us. But you shouldn’t worry about Thorn. She probably forgot about what happened.”
With a sigh, she continued. “I know she’s not a great person but she is a good friend.” Placing a hand on Tethys’ shoulder, Nika chuckled. “If I ever ended up murdering someone - I’d turn myself in but let’s say I wouldn’t - I’d ask her for help. And she’d do it.”

“I’d never put something like that on your conscience but Thorn is the kind of a friend who would do anything for the few people who don’t treat her like shit.” With a chuckle, she added. “Even though she is a pretty shitty person.”

Pushing herself off the wall and walking behind Tethys, Nika took a look at what exactly her friend was doing. “Curious about your fellow soldiers?” He teased, leaning against her but making sure not to put too much weight on the woman. “Do you think you saw enough? Or perhaps I should just hand my account over to you?” She joked.


“Yeah uh, she seems that way I guess. I dunno, ah, I guess she’s kinda similar to me? I’m bare intense, y’know, according to Moscur but, he’s a total wet blanket sometimes. But uh, yeah, I’d like to go out for drinks… sorry, I don’t wanna make it sound like I don’t want her there but, y’know, I kinda don’t. Probably leaving some time ‘til I see her again would be better… Huh? Oh uh. Yeah, I… well, I guess I kinda ended up here.”

Do you think you saw enough?

What a thing to say.

“Yeah, enough for a lifetime, honestly.”

Did she say that right? Was that too dismissive? She couldn’t have Nika think she was giving up this part of her duties already could she?

“I mean, enough for today. Of certain things anyway.”

That was worse! What would that even mean outside of her own head? But, looking at Nika again, leaning over her, it was hard not to let her mind wander to the files she’d seen right at the start.

“Ah, I’m all mentally screwy I think, the atmosphere in here’s pretty stuffy innit?”

Yeah - stuffy, in a room that could’ve been made entirely of marble and metal, given the chance.


“Take it easy.” Nika sang, giving Tethys’ shoulder a squeeze with one hand and logging herself out with the other. “You can’t let this type of work crush you. Approach it with the cold, calculative logic of a bureaucrat.” She smiled, escorting Tethys back towards the entrance and giving a quick wave to a passing soldier.

“We’re all just numbers in the end, aren’t we? Some are bigger numbers that can affect the whole equation that’s called Epsilon.” She said proudly. “Others… Well, even a small number can make a big change when put by the right operator.”

With the pair finally out of the sensory-numbing server room, Nika sighed. “Sorry, I’ve gone philosophical on you.” She rubbed the back of her head before giving Tethys a poke to the chest. “That drink. Are you alright with having it in the evening? I’ve got some work to tend to. Some things you’ll have to do one day.” She added with a wink.


She was happy. Confident, happy, joking around, and pleased with herself, Tethys thought. Not in a conceited way, but in the style of a mentor. Nothing she said was wrong either, even if she was waist-deep in analogy. Whatever small number Tethys was, she was now in a position to return to the big operator Violet. She’d multiply whatever Tethys brought her, and her influence would do the rest.

Though, Violet did say that she just wanted to know who it was. Nothing was going to happen to the shipment, and the shipment wasn’t going to be stopped. Violet had alluded to it being of importance to Epsilon. To the good guys. Her knowing would further the success of the goodies, and be an unknowing blow to the baddies. Finding out names was a step towards that.

But, if Violet was going to proceed with the assumption that Nika was some sort of rebel… well. Tethys wouldn’t let that happen. She’d have to feel out Violet’s intentions, see if she could tell what plans the woman might have. See if she knew who Nika was. See what she thought of Thorn.

Then she’d choose.

Right now, and until a name left her lips in Violet’s presence, Tethys was in command of the information. She held all the pieces: the facts, and the knowledge of how important those facts were. She could take her time. Breathe a little. Decide.

“Yeah, this evening’s great. Get my mind off things. Besides, not like we can bunk off work is it?” she joked back with Nika, hoping her demeanour was holding.