Changeling teaser (Patreon)

“Perps turned east, seven streets down. They’re slowing down.”

“Copy,” Camus said.

Nestra had no idea how he could keep talking. All she could do was gulp cold night air and pump her tired legs on the warm asphalt. MaxSec armor had never been designed for running for Riel’s sake. Not like keeping up with users on foot was eaCamus to begin with.

“They’ve stopped near a closed gate. E6-105. Small one,” Dee said.

“Stib. Gate status,” Camus asked.

The tall fucker didn’t even sound winded. That pissed Nestra off. Meanwhile, drone operator Stibbons must have been pulling files. She sounded distracted.

“Hmmm. Closed. Permanent on a nine day cycle. It was pacified over a week ago by North Star Security, the owner. Oh. They’re trying to wake it up.”

“Can they survive in there?”

“Hmm. Portal nature and monsters class is classified information. By North Star. I don’t have clearance.”

Camus swore in his beard. Nestra thought it was stupid. It didn’t matter if the two thief users could use it or not. They clearly thought they could or they wouldn’t be feeding it mana to wake up early.

“Least,” Bard croaked, “least they’ll be tired.”

Nobody stated the obvious. So would they. And users didn’t leave baselines the opportunity to recover from a mistake. Nestra’s grip tightened on her standard issue pacifier. If the users were low D-class, they would achieve something. If they were in the higher ranges then…

Had to die sometimes. Might as well be tonight.

“Where are our fucking reinforcements?” Bard panted.

Camus signaled and everyone came to a halt. Nestra put her fist on her knees and breathed all she could and fuck the decorum. They already looked like a militia anyway with patched up gear and surplus shit.

“Alright. Stib, they’re really opening that gate?”

“Trying. Might take a while. Not sure why though.”

Camus grunted in answer. Nestra sighed. It was obvious.

“They’ll go through and find a place to hunker down,” she explained. “We’ll have no choice but to wait around or have our own users go in. They’re hoping to leave in a day or so, after we’re gone.”

“That’s just stupid,” Bard replied. “Why not take us out now? Then they can disappear in the district before the augs show up.”

His voice always felt so grating, always with the laid back surfer persona. Always whining about everything.

“TPD is overstretched. They know that. They don’t know there’s only the four of us on their trail right now though. Besides, it doesn't matter. They’re charging the gate. Either we try stopping them, or we don’t.”

“Someone changed our orders while my back was turned?”

Camus’ black gaze was fixed on Nestra. She shrugged. Only the faintest dark skin could be seen around the giant’s bloodshot eyes. The rest was covered in nylon, kevlar, and ceramics. Probably older than he was. Nestra sustained the gaze. He was being a pissant.

“Any chance for borgs?” Park interrupted.

The last and most quiet member of the team deflated the tension as he often did.

“Call them augmented for Riel’s sake. And not now. They’re busy by the Kaiju wall. We’re it. As I said earlier. Now, Stib, show us the map around that portal.”

“Sure thing boss.”

The squad used a diverse assortment of ancient helmet visors to read the 3D map.

It was a standard abandoned hab bloc near the wall, population swallowed by one of the arcologies at least a decade before. The portal opened on a small courtyard surrounded by shuttered small businesses. Nestra was starting to agree with Bard. Those users were morons. Place was far too open. Any augs around would have spotted them from the sky while only baselines would miss the mana vomited by the open portal. Much better to run and hope for the best.

“I got an ID on one of them. The one who removed his mask. Jonas Wong, D-class, a record as long as my arm but only small stuff. Larcenies, destruction of public property. Got one count of battery. Oh, and the item they stole is inert. Confirmed by the vics.”

“You sure?”

“Lenses used in surgery robots. Niche and expensive only. No ‘korrigans’. They won’t blow up in your face.”

“Right, here is what we’ll do. Bard and Nes take the front and wait for my signal. Park and I move to the side then on my mark you start apprehending and we move in while they look at you. Weapons free. Don’t hesitate.”

Nestra caressed the hilt of her stun baton. The tool was custom-made, one of the gifts from her aunt Claire. The habit soothed her nerves. It wasn’t dying that worried her. It was the pain.

She watched Park and Camus run to a side alley. Bard turned to her. She could see his amusement in the way his shoulder moved, as if he was containing a laugh.

“So, Palladian. Wanna be the negotiator? Every time I talk it seems to piss off the perps.”

“For the last fucking time, use my call sign when we’re on the field. And you piss off everybody, not just the perps. Because you’re a cunt.”

“How smooth, darling. You talk to them then.”

“Stib here, goons,” Nestra’s earpiece said. “With the footage of our perps. Sending the feed now.”

A window opened on Nestra’s visor. It was placed on the upper right corner so as not to impede her vision. It showed a deserted hab square littered with junk. Boarded up businesses lined it on every side, dead neon signs hanging limply from rusting supports. Stairs led up to the living quarters in a uniform gray color of unpainted concrete. Typical of quick jobs from just after the gates opened and survival became the highest priority.

The only colors came from fading graffitis promoting long-dead gangs: two men standing before an empty arch, one facing it with arms extended while the other fiddled with a control panel linked to the arch by a pair of heavy duty cables. Nestra noted that the controls were ancient. Resilient stuff made at the beginning of the incursion. Rich guilds used holographic interfaces nowadays.

It was clear the one at the panel had no idea what he was doing. He had also discarded his face covering, a basic bandana, to reveal the handsome face of an Asian man with slick black hair and a frantic expression. Jonas Wong. By contrast, the other perp wore a plastic or ceramic white mask with fox features. His outfit was close-fitting, his boots made to run. As she watched, a blue light flickered in the center of the arch.

“Looks like the portal’s activating,” she said.

“Almost in position,” Camus said. “Ok, in position. Start the approach.”

“Ladies first,” Bard said with a smile.

Nestra took the lead. Her heart did its best to escape her ribs with every step that brought her closer to the pair of users. She felt excitement as well, for a good fight. Envy. Mostly, she felt envy. It bit at her chest with the cold acid of what ifs.

Wong faced them while Fox Mask ignored their presence.

“This is TPD. You are surrounded. Our users are on the way. Surrender now and do everyone a favor.”

“I don’t think so,” Wong said. “You say gleam pigs are on the way. I say you’re lying.”

He sounded defiant and angry. A dangerous combination. Also meant he would be easier to distract. Fox Mask was an enigma though. He was still focused on the gate.

“Come on. You’re a gleam. You’ll get a slap on the wrist at most,” she replied, pointing at the heavy case leaning against the console Wong had been fiddling with. That was the stolen property, still intact apparently.

“Slap on the wrist? Easy for you to say. You won’t be sent to a dangerous gate risking life and limb every day! And for what? To extract the materials that feed glorious industry, all for the benefits of assholes sipping enhanced coffee on top of the arcologies! We’re just cogs in the machine, man. It’s all about the opium of the masses and the profits of the few. But not me! And I’m not bowing to dogs of the government. You’re just protected little pawns with shock collars for us workers.”

“Just being protected? Us? Bullshit! Utter bullshit! You think you have it hard, you pretentious bastard? You can make five times as much as I do carrying minerals through mining gates four days a week with benefits! You can heal a shattered spine! We’re all cogs, idiot. Big fucking news. But you still got it easier than anyone else. Those arcologies? High gleams. Top scientists? Gleams! Traders? That’s right, fuckface, no instant trading unless you got a mana signature. You are the least fucked out of all of us and instead of doing something you rant against the government while stealing fucking glasses like some bargain bin terrorist. Holy shit I’ve never met a worse loser than you.”

“Hmm, Palladian. Calm down?”

“YOU BITCH!”

“Stop that,” Fox Mask said, and to Nestra’s surprise, that was a female voice.

“I’m not going to stand there while these dregs—”

“They’re nobodies. TPD baselines without a single mana tool between themselves. They’re baiting you. Come and help me,” Fox Mask said, and there was a strain in her voice.

“You know what? You don’t give me orders! I’m not anyone’s tool.”

Electricity crackled down Wong’s hand, gathering in his fist.

“Wong’s a buzzer,” Nestra said.

Her anger fell down the drain while the cold grasp of fear settled in her stomach.

“Wasn’t in the file,” Stib grumbled.

Wong extended a finger towards Nestra, who brandished her baton. A bolt surged from there, much slower than true electricity. Moreover, it missed Nestra completely.

Bard received the bolt on a heavy gauntlet as it spiked towards him. Energy traveled along an inner circuit of his armor, then to the ground. There was a fizzle near his knee and he winced. Piece of shit gear.

Wong charged.

Nestra received another bolt on her blade which she had planted on the ground, dissipating the energies. Bard opened fire on the thug but he moved quickly, escaping most shots. The remaining bullets barely slowed him down though he grunted in pain. Nestra received a very obvious haymaker on her blade. She was pushed back and rolled to absorb the shock. Still felt it in her bones through the absorbing foam, the pain making her teeth click together. It was like being hit by a slow truck. She was still on her feet in an instant.

Bard managed to land a hook on Wong while his back was turned, hitting the gut. Wong barely flinched. His riposte sent Bard smashing against the wall. Nestra was up. A turn of a button and her baton extended, becoming as long as a Claymore. She caught Wong in the forehead with a perfect thrust. A hundred thousand volts made him scream and fall but he was up in the same second. Electrokinetic. Natural resistance. Nestra cursed her luck.

A flurry of strikes kept Wong at bay until she made the mistake of actually hitting him. His look of triumph when he realized she had no energy left sent a shiver down her spine. He caught her blade with ease and sent tumbling but a barrage of bullets forced him back. Bard had recovered. Behind, Park and Camus were shooting at an unmoving Fox Mask. The bullets pinged on a shield.

Bard fell back, shooting short bursts. The bullets left black bruises on an increasingly annoyed Wong. Nestra wished they’d pack lethal stuff. Their foe charged and grabbed Nestra’s baton once again.

It had finished cycling.

Wong screamed when the second thunderous discharge coursed his body from hand to toe. He fell to his knees. Nestra’s perfect swing caught him right in the temple.

Wong fell ponderously. Bard was on him a moment later, putting manacles on.

“Riel almighty that was hard,” Bard swore.

“Gotta help the others.”

They looked up in time to see… no one.

“Huh?”

Park’s body crashed against a nearby dumpster. His leg was at a bad angle. A very bad one.

“Officer down!” Stib yelled.

“Shit!”

“He’s alive but Camus needs help. Left. Go, now!”

The pair raced forward. Stib’s feed appeared on Nestra’s visor, showing Camus calmly moving back while shooting the approaching form of Fox Mask. The user didn’t seem worried. She was taking her time.

“Rubber bullets against users? Budget cuts are worse than I thought,” she drily noted.

Nestra gritted her teeth. They wouldn’t be on time. Fox Mask charged and disarmed Camus after a short exchange despite the tall man using a knife. Fox Mask had her own blade but she didn’t use it, content to gut punch him with the hilt. Even through the MaxSec armor, the impact left the colossus prostrate.

It occurred to Nestra that they didn’t really have anything to take Fox Mask down.

Bard was next to fall. Fox Mask ran him down and grabbed his gun, emptying the entire magazine against his armor then kicking him down nearby steps. Nestra was left with her baton held in front of her. The portal flickered behind her. She felt more than heard it.

“Oh? A fellow practitioner? Well, of course then. Please.”

Fox Mask saluted. Nestra retracted the blade and held her baton like a foil. Speed would matter.

They fought.

Fox Mask used her short blade like a saber. It was clear she was used to a longer blade. It was also clear that she was slowing herself down a lot. It didn’t help.

“Reinforcements will be here soon, Nes! Hold on!”

It was all Nestra could do to hold on. Finally, her weapon finished cycling. She pressed the button as Fox Mask parried. The saber’s surface crackled, electricity sliding over mana.

“I coated my blade, of course,” Fox Mask said conversationally.

A jab caught Nestra in the ribs, stealing her breath through the armor. She couldn’t scream. She could only gasp and gulp air in her abused lungs as fast as she could. Fox Mask still stood there, short blade resting on her shoulder. This hadn’t even been a serious hit. There was no blood. Fox Mask had specifically used a coating to dull her weapon.

That stung more than the blow to her chest.

“Oh, looks like it’s time.”

Nestra knew what Fox Mask meant. The portal was opening. The perfect sly blue light suddenly bathing that trash alley would have been enough, of course, as was the low hum like a distant choir, or the smell of the sea and fresh air fighting off the stale stench of this forsaken hab bloc. That wasn’t how Nestra knew.

It was the mana.

Nestra’s pain faded. The constant aching in her bones dulled to a whisper. Energy washed away her exhaustion, flooding her limbs with renewed energy and a desire to move. To use that strength. More importantly, she felt complete.

At peace.

Whole.

She deflected the casual blow meant to push her off, countered. Her blade danced and sang with speed. Fox Mask blocked and backpedaled.

“Wha—”

Caught off guard. Nestra pressed the advantage in a flurry of thrusts her foe deflected with some effort. Unfortunately, that was just stolen mana. Fox Mask… was the real deal. She parried and attacked in turn, ever faster. It was Nestra’s turn to fall back.

A hand against her shoulder. She was airborne. She was on the ground. Her shoulder hit a brick.

“Oof.”

Fox Mask stood just as calm as she had always been. Still taking it easy. Sirens blared in the distance. Fox Mask looked up, revealing a triangle of tan skin and a hint of black curls. She returned her gaze to Nestra. Dark iris like pits in the middle of that white ceramic fixed the prone officer.

“Guess you can have it then.”

Fox Mask walked through the portal’s aperture, disappearing as smoothly as through the surface of a lake. A ripple agitated the calm blue surface.

Nestra sat back up, winced, then decided to wait.

***

Flashing lights and cheap coffee. Groups of vigils milling around in groups of three, doing fuckall. Nestra took a sip of tea. Too strong. Tepid.

What little mana she’d absorbed was gone now, dissipated into the air. She felt cranky. Her forearm and ribs hurt like a bitch. The medic by her side finished waving an old piece of tech around her body. It beeped. She didn’t know the guy. Not interested in small talk.

“Bruising, mostly. You’ll be fine. Regen capsule and a pain killer.”

“I got some at home.”

“Good, then…”

“How’s Park?”

The medic sighed and leaned back with his hands on his waist. Something cracked. He sighed, more relief than contentment.

“Fractured tibia and humerus. Bad. He’s out for at least a month with healer care. Camus has a broken rib. You guys got it easy.”

“What do you mean?”

Anxiety chased away the gloom.

“Beta squad got in a scrap with gangers. Hmm. Regis is dead. Sorry.”

“Fuuuuck.”

“District fifteen is going down in flames. All our users are there. It’s bleeding through.”

“Yeah yeah.”

Nestra didn’t know Regis very well but he’d always been tolerable. Polite, supportive. A great teammate. Why couldn’t they have killed Gorge instead? There was no justice in this world.

The medic felt the mood and left, looking for someone else to help. Nestra just stayed there, not sure what to do. They’d given her a cover made of weird metal but she was still getting cold.

“Drive you home?”

Nestra looked up. Stib was offering a hand which she gratefully took. Stib was smiling but it was only skin deep. Brittle. Her eyes were red. She’d been crying.

The tiny woman hoisted Nestra to her feet. The darkness made her boyish with her sharp face and tiny frame, hair cut short under a cap. Despite that, her grip was firm.

“Thanks. You heard?” Nestra asked.

“Yeah, I… Yeah.”

The two made it to the squad vehicle. It was meant to carry eight people, a blocky, armored transport designed to carry a squad in and out safely. It had been top of the line thirty years ago. Now, any mana-powered glider left it in the dust, a C-class gleam could punch a whole through it, and a B-class could fold it like a fucking paper crane. Budget cuts meant they no longer had a dedicated driver, or a medic, or a dedicated mechanic for that matter. The squad had been cut from six to five and Lance was still in the hospital. Nestra slammed the passenger door shut. The hinges creaked ominously. Inside, it smelled of synth leather and old sweat. There were old blood stains on the upholstery that predated Nestra’s entire career.

Stib pulled out. The engine roared like a chimera but the truck moved like a slime. The streets were empty save for transients roasting surprise meat over barrel fires, watching them pass by with the hollow eyes of tracked beasts. The ramp up the wall ring pushed their old rustbolt to its limits. Stib immediately stuck to the slow lane while corpo cars and convoys raced by.

“So, Nestra.”

“Siobhan. Are we having the talk again?”

“Yeah. I guess we are. I mean, after tonight…”

There was an awkward silence. Nestra didn’t know how to handle it anymore. Siobhan Stibbons entered that rare category she considered as friend. It meant that when Siobhan talked, she listened. Even though they’d had the same conversation plenty of times. Except… this time it was different. The two remaining squads were mangled. Nestra knew they’d crossed a point of no return.

“Yeah,” she finally whispered.

“You’ll consider quitting then?”

“I mean. Not right away but… I don’t think we’ll have a choice. Short term. Tomorrow we’ll get gleams and city admins on our asses and they’ll ask questions and there’ll be no good answers. It doesn’t even make me mad anymore. It is what it is.”

“Yeah. I’ve talked to my parents. They want me out too.”

Nestra laughed at that.

“What? Old man Stibbons, the career copper?”

“Ha ha. Yeah. I guess mom has been working him to the bone. They want me to transfer to Blue River as a drone operator, earthside.”

“A guild? Must be freezing in hell.”

“Blue River is made of ex-cops. Their gleams exclusively raid while us ‘crunchies’ handle the day-to-day stuff. I’d be carrying crates of material from portals to warehouses and the likes. Cozy job, little risks. They said I could even pilot an antigrav.”

“Must be nice.”

“Look, once I’m there, maybe I can get a word in. You’re not really family but you’re close enough by now.”

“Riel. Thanks.”

“I mean it.”

“I know but you know what they’ll ask. I can’t borg up.”

Siobhan mechanically touched the silvery plate on her neck where the mind jack was installed. It was non-invasive as far as cybernetic augmentations went but it was still more than Nestra could handle. She felt like an asshole, never explaining to the shorter girl what the deal was. She was being shit friend.

“Look I’ve not told you the exact deal before because it’s, well, painful. Annoying.”

“Guess you had to explain many times before, right?”

“Understatement of the decade.”

“I get it. If you feel like sharing now… Otherwise…”

Nestra realized she didn’t mind. The scar had fully formed now. She’d grieved enough for this life.

“Thank you. For being understanding. And it’s fine. Look, thing is, I got all the pieces to make a proper beginner user. I got a mana structure. I have high mana capacity though that doesn’t even make sense. Riel, I probably even got affinities.”

“Affinities plural?”

“Lightning for sure, ice maybe. From the advanced testing. That’s the thing. People with mana structures become crazy if you borg them. That’s a fact of life. Maybe quirkies can get away with it if they don’t cut the body part that hosts the mana structure but even D-class get bonkers and I got the D-class package. It’s just not working.”

“Got it. I’ll still ask. Maybe there is a way. Unless you got a project lined up?”

“My contract is due in seven months. If they don’t shut us down before, I’ll move then. The idea was, well, I can probably be an assistant. I’m not going to like it but at least they pay well. And I can get away with external systems instead of a mind jack like you have. My aunt Claire offered it.”

“The one who gave you the apartment?”

“Yes. I’m forcing her to accept rent, or at least mortgage but…”

They stopped for a while to watch a long, train-like convoy race past them. It was entirely black and sported the TDF logo. Probably wall supplies and ammo.

“She’s probably saving it all in a rainy day fund?” Siobhan continued.

“How do you know?”

“My grandma did the same. Anyway, she got you a job?”

“She offered. If she did, it means she’ll find one. I won’t enjoy being reminded of what I’m not and they won’t like remembering that I can happen to their kids but…it’s probably doable. And much better than becoming a barista. I don’t have transferable skills.”

“And you have a shit attitude.”

Nestra chuckled. It was true.

“That too. And, you know, they don’t ever get near portals.”

At that, Siobhan fell silent. Nestra knew why. Some of her family had a history with alcoholism and Nestra’s issue was too close for comfort.

“Yeah. About that. Is it like… an addiction?”

Nestra chuckled once again. Little Siobhan was daring tonight.

“I don’t know. I just know that if I haven’t been near a portal in a while I feel like shit and as long as I get close, it’s like… feeling alive again. Fully functional. If it’s an addiction then I’ve had it since I was a young adult.”

“What did Mazingwe say?”

“Same as before. My case is so rare that nobody cares about it. It’s not profitable to fix it.”

“You parents…”

“Got me to the best healers. Even Shinran.”

“Wait. You met Threshold’s Guardian? Our Shinran?”

“Yep. They all said the same thing. There is nothing wrong with me. I’m exactly what I was born to be.”

“Well, shit.”

“Indeed. Nothing to fix. I made a request to have weekly access to active portals. The answer must come soon. If the city government doesn’t say yes then maybe a guild will. That’s why a raider’s personal assistant would be perfect. I mean, getting close to portals would be part of the job.”

“Yeah. I hope it works.”

Nestra didn’t reply. It wouldn’t work. It had gotten worse over the years. She needed more mana to fill the pit of hunger deep within her every time and every time, it lasted less time. Just like Siobhan said, just like an addiction, one that no one knew how to fix. Maybe some portal item… Maybe.

Had to keep hoping.

***

It was the same dream. Nestra watched from above the innocent, young version of herself. That one had white gold hair curled in great loops as was the fashion at that time, not the listless dark blonde mop. That one had lustrous skin, not a gaunt mask marked by tiny scars. That one had bright eyes, gray edging on silver as if on the cusp of awakening, the only thing the current Nestra had kept. That one wore a uniform from the prestigious Threshold Preparatory School at over twelve thousand credits a set. The current Nestra earned a fourth of that every month, hazard pay included. That one walked blithely to the analysis chair like the little shit full of hope she was. Positively vibrating. A kind-looking woman with a teal gleam in her eyes welcomed her with matronly attention.

“Miss Palladian, welcome. Are you ready?”

“Ready and eager, ma’am.”

“Haha, feel free to call me miss Daendra. Hop in!”

That Nestra climbed and closed her eyes. The room had no windows. It was all white tiles suffused with a warm glow. An observation deck overhead hid the complex machinery and control panel required to make it work. That Nestra studiously ignored it. She knew her mom was there. And a few teachers. She had to look cool about it.

Mana flooded her body. A pressure on her mind invited her deeper in. She followed it. It was like being submerged in water. Weightless, relaxed. That Nestra dove until she found herself in a luxurious, well-lit reception room. There were doors to the side but she knew without trying that those were locked tight.

“Right, we are about to send a mana burst to help you find your core representation. You might also see the affinity you have based on the color so keep your metaphorical eyes open!”

“I hope it’s ice!”

“Hoho, well we have a betting pool about that. Sending the burst now. Follow it to your core.”

Light filled the reception room. Great arcs of power traced through the air like aurorae. It was beautiful for as long as it lasted.

“Miss Palladian, are you in the room?” Dean Daendra asked in a more subdued voice.

“Ye… yes.”

“Could you please make contact with your core? We cannot seem to get a lock on it.”

“I am in the room but I do not see the core. Mana just disperses in the air.”

“No retention?” a voice said in a way that hinted she was not supposed to hear. “None at all? That can’t be right. Children of users are always users. Look, no, the likelihood is less than one in a million and the few recorded cases lack her structure. That can’t be it. Sorry, sweetie, we’re just having some trouble. Hold on there, okay?”

“Okay.”

That Nestra held on through the hours of testing, through the general consternation, the hasty meetings, right to the point when the car bringing her home left the school’s garden through the small door. After that she cried a lot. The school reimbursed her tuition and the uniform with their apologies. It didn’t help.

No core.

A freak anomaly.

***

Nestra woke up in her bed. Her back hurt. Her shoulder hurt. Her forearm hurt a lot more. Her mind felt groggy, starving in a way that food couldn’t sate. Her stomach growled though she barely had an appetite. She used her civilian com eye piece to check her messages. This one was a light model that covered just one eye. Com contacts were better but Nestra couldn’t stand them.

Summoned at 10AM by Mazingwe for a checkup, then the admin at 11. One day of respite was too much to ask. The bureaucracy demon demanded that ink be shed and pacts signed in triplicate. Well, electronic ink but whatever.

Nestra followed her usual morning routine. Stretch, shower, brush teeth, dress, gobble down two essence bars— 100% of your daily intake of everything in convenient packages! —  drink coffee. Ignore the ghost of her mother’s voice that told her she should brush her teeth after coffee. Climb on her old electric car and drive to work.

Her apartment was in a nicer district, not a wall one. That meant a forty minute drive through the remnants of the morning rush. That also meant a reduced risk of gang wars spilling over her favorite coffee shop. The weather was nice, clear, still cold from winter’s weakening’s grasp. A news feed blared info until something caught her attention. She turned the autopilot on and listened.

“A Threshold police officer lost his life in a clash with an unknown gang in district fifteen yesterday evening. Officer Regis was a baseline with over fifteen years of experience but he fell to a gang user. Opposition Councillor Schofield reacted to the news with a dire warning.”

“Gang violence has increased by 21% over the last year in the outer district in general. In district fifteen, crime is so high that authorities have deserted it entirely! This is the direct and predictable result of the politics of abandonment Mayor Kim Soon-Jae has promoted over the last decade. Our population swarms in arcologies, leaving our outer shell disused and abandoned to marginalized groups ripe for induction by unscrupulous actors. If nothing is done, we will lose the entire outer ring to crime lords!”

“The mayor’s office announced a plan to address the issue by giving police duties to guilds, compensating them with tax rebates. Opposition denounced the measure as unconscionable because it would leave state duties to private entities and force portal raiders to play a role they are not trained for. However, the mayor office’s representative remarked that public safety must take into account new realities such as the rise in the number of criminal users. They noted that the proportion of users in the 16 to 18 age bracket has recently reached the historical amount of 20%. The process only seems to be accelerating, demanding a change in the way law enforcement functions. In other news, pop star singer Mizuha officially signed with —”

Nestra tuned it off. She changed channels to pre-incursion music and sat back as comfortably as her bruised back allowed. That was it, really. Always fun to learn about one’s contract termination in the morning news.

The autopilot informed her she had arrived shortly after. She let the police compound take over her parking and exited the nice, modern local branch of the TPD to the shithole that was the MaxSec annex. The underground parking was mostly empty. She passed the biometric scan to find Ines serenaded by Mazingwe himself, two streaming cups of coffee waiting between them. The towering doctor turned and pretended to only notice Nestra now. The golden gleam of his iris contrasted nicely with a skin so dark it was almost blue. Mazingwe shaved entirely and the white scrubs he wore did nothing to conceal his lean muscles. Nestra still had no idea what the old gleam was doing here. She was pretty sure he was moonlighting or something.

“Miss Palladian! Just in time for your ten o’clock. Good morning to you!”

Mazingwe went for a handshake. He was old school like that. Nesta obliged.

“I bet you were Lion Nierere. He was a user from Tanzania, pre-incursion.”

“Once again I regret to say that even if you were right, I would not tell you,” he replied with a smile.

“Miss Palladian, please,” Ines said with terrible embarrassment. “Show some propriety! Mr. Mazingwe is—”

“A servant of our dear mother Threshold just like the rest of us,” Nestra interrupted with a fake smile. “I’m sure he does not insist on honorifics.”

“I know how to pick my battles, Nestra. Thank you Ines dear. I will see you later. Enjoy the coffee. Duty calls!”

Nestra followed the tall man but not before shrugging at Ines’ judgemental look. The old lady was pale and rotund and fretful, always worried about appearances and Nestra’s continued single status. She meant well. So Nestra didn’t give her too hard a time. Mazingwe was fair game though, the old doctor’s unflappable demeanor a challenge to her. She followed him to the medical room and waited while he fiddled around with a scanner. That one was quite nicer.

“While we proceed, I need to ascertain your identity. Are you —”

“Must we?” Nestra moaned.

“It is the protocol and as a doctor—”

“Yeah yeah fine. I am Clytemnestra Palladian, named by an idiot father with an ancient Greece fixation backed with no real knowledge and who didn’t consider that sending a girl to school with a name that starts with ‘clyt’ was a shit idea. There you are. That’s me.”

“Clytemnestra was a powerful figure, the queen of Mycenae.”

“Assassinated her husband in a fit of jealousy.”

“I withdraw my remark and concede your point. Minor bruising but otherwise you are in remarkably good shape. Did you take a regen capsule?”

“Yesterday before bed. With a mild painkiller.”

“Get another one tonight and you will be fine. Painkiller if you need it. No training until I have performed another exam tomorrow. And no mission. You’re on the bench.”

“Me and the others,” Nestra grumbled.

And Regis. That poor fucker.

“I am sorry about what happened to your friend Regis. He was a good man. His loss leaves us all poorer and the world duller.”

Nestra shrugged. She didn’t do well with emotional stuff like that.

“There will be a service on Saturday, if you can attend. Regis was a Chistian. We are going to church.”

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

Mazingwe sighed.

“Look, you are still young and you can recover from trauma overnight but that will not last. Your dedication and skill with the sword are remarkable, to have landed a position in the alpha squad as their CQC expert, especially as a woman.”

“That’s sexist.”

“Nestra, please. For baselines, reach and muscle mass matter a lot when it comes to close quarter combat. Technique will only carry you so far. My point was that you are burning the candle from both ends. You need to consider… another activity.”

“Not you too.”

“Danger is rising. Your numbers are dwindling.”

“But that didn’t stop you,” Nestra replied with conviction.

Mazingwe flinched. That was the first time it happened.

“That was different.”

“Hah! I knew it. You’re a first-gen gleam.”

Mazingwe tsked and his gaze hardened. Nestra felt immediately chastened. It was weird how quick he’d turned from cool doctor to, well, high gleam. What he really was. Oh, he had his mana under complete control but Nestra was no fool. Only old monsters could control themselves to that extent.

“Sorry.”

“I cannot fathom what you see in pushing me to the limits of my patience. That drive is almost… but I digress and your psychological profile is not my prerogative. I suppose it is time to tell you about your inquiry.”

“You got an answer?” Nestra replied, only for her hopes to die stillborn. Mazingwe wore the commiserating face that meant he was the bringer of bad news.

“It’s a no, isn’t it?”

“I am sorry. I swore on my honor as a practitioner that my observations were true. I gave them charts. Pictures. Cortisol levels. Everything. The final argument is that your case being unique, the city is unwilling to create an exception for you. They suggest, and I quote, that you pursue inquiries with private entities.”

He raised his hands to forestall any protests.

“I am sorry and I agree that they are failing their obligation to provide medical care. There is just no guideline to handle your cases since all the other children of users who are not users themselves come from comparatively weak parents. However, I suspect something may be at play. Possibly a stubborn individual.”

“Damn,” Nestra whispered.

“Ah, I expected a lot of swearing.”

“It’s just…”

She shrugged.

“Everything.”

“I get it. I am making enquiries with my contacts. And no, you may not know who it is or my super secret identity.”

He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that felt comedic on such a serious face. Nestra chuckled. He was a good guy.

“Yeah. Guess that’s one more closed door.”

“Do not lose heart. You were next to an open portal yesterday, yes?”

“The power surge faded as soon as I left the area and the long-lasting relief was gone this morning.”

“So…”

“It’s getting worse.”

“Perhaps you are merely accumulating a deficit. Let’s not get carried away with the doomsaying, yes? I am on your side and I will try to help more. In the meanwhile, I believe I have taken enough of your time.”

“Thanks, Mazingwe.”

“Is your gratitude enough to finally get a ‘doctor’ before my name?”

“I don't know. Are you sure—”

“No you may not know my super secret identity. Off you go now, mtundu. You are trying this old man’s heart.”

“Ok ok!”

Nestra fled, trying to recall what he called her but realizing she didn’t know how to spell the strange word. And that was cheating. Or was it not? In any case, he had successfully distracted her from her pain. She needed mana, and the city would not provide. What do? Unfortunately, that lasted long enough for her to reach her cubicle. It was a safe haven with an actual lock on it. An ancient holographic display hummed alive. Someone knocked on the door behind her.

“Palladian.”

“Chief.”

Chief Ruben was a tired old woman in an equally tired suit. There were deep pockets under her eyes and a weight in them that told Nestra she’d given up, yet the flawless haircut and rigorously ironed outfit said she hadn’t. Ruben’s position was a punishment. For what, Nestra didn’t know. Chief Ruben acquitted herself of her duties with grim determination. She’d also handled Gorge’s second to internal affairs for being an absolute piece of shit. Nestra and her had a truce going. It was nice.

“We have a member of special affairs and a user from internal affairs here to see alpha squad, starting with you. Miss Kim and Ilar. No given last name. They’re waiting for you in room 2.”

There was a lot to unpack there, starting with the fact chief Ruben was not invited to the show. That was a slap to the face and not a small one. Nestra decided to dig a little more. The chief had not moved yet. That meant she wanted to talk. Or say something.

“I thought my appointment was at 11?”

“It is. Mr. Wilson was supposed to come at 10. He has not arrived yet.”

“Bard left a gleam and the rat squad hanging?”

“Yes, he did. And they outrank us all. I am placing you in a difficult situation but, please, for once, use honorifics?”

It was a tired request made in a hopeless voice, yet Ruben’s face betrayed only bored calm. Nestra found the dichotomy jarring. Shouldn’t the chief look angry? A face should match a voice should match a poise, in her opinion.

“I’ll be good, chief.”

“You are very accommodating today, Palladian.”

“Oh just realized that Regis is dead, both squads are down, and we’re about to be shuttered so, compared to that, politeness is a very small thing.”

“No defeatist speech here please. And as for the squads, we are merging alpha and beta. You and Mr. Wilson will be under Gorge unless I fire the little fucker. Off you go now.”

“Riel fucking dammit.”

Nestra huffed through the corridor, clad in her annoyance. Gorge was an asshole. A grumpy, sexist, abrasive twat who was unfortunately also highly competent — the combination remained common in Threshold. She’d have to hope he stuck to professionalism during their hopefully short collaboration. Her feet carried her through the tired corridors of the MaxSec building. It smelled of disuse and antiseptic. Some of the paint had peeled off on the ceiling, leaving the concrete bones exposed behind. Many of the rooms had been converted to storage space by other departments with Ruben unable to justify the space since their numbers had dwindled. Nestra knocked on room 2’s door three times, loudly enough to be assertive but not loud enough to be aggressive. It took the people inside ten seconds to let out a reluctant come in. Short enough to assuage their impatience yet long enough to inform her they didn’t give a shit about respect. This was entirely expected. Nestra walked in with perfect poise then stopped near the rickety chair at parade rest. She did her best to stare ahead while the pair inspected her like market cattle.

She would have been mad if she expected anything else.

The woman finally gave her permission to sit. The general impression she’d got crystallized as she took both of them in turn. Kim was a middle aged woman, most likely of Korean origin from the name. Her face made her look in her mid twenties but that was the result of an anti-aging treatment, as hinted by the old-school tailleur, navy blue with dull gold outlines. Nestra just knew how to spot the signs: always a little too smooth, too perfect. Kim’s nails were tastefully manicured. There was not a hair out of place on her head. Minimalistic makeup enhanced a conventionally attractive face that screamed of plastic surgery, the really high level one. Not a cheap nose fix. She was either from money or higher on the totem pole than she let on, possibly both. Her poise mirrored Nestra’s own, rigid in her seat despite the dilapidated surroundings. Sometimes, internal affairs took out pens or similar old tech to have something in their hands but Kim had opted for immobility. Nestra knew with certainty that this woman could decide to throw her out of the force and that would be it.

By contrast, Ilar sat in a relaxed fashion, back resting against his chair. He wore casual streetwear that fit him too well to be mass produced. Understated wealth was always a sign of power but, well, he was a gleam. His iris pulsed softly with a green hue, turning from dull to distractingly bright on a two seconds cycle. He had black hair, combed back and slightly slanted eyes. Mixed blood, maybe. Just like Kim, Ilar was also picture perfect but he pulled it out effortlessly and that screamed high gleam to her. Definitely an active user from the muscle structure.

“Good morning, Miss Palladian. I am officer Kim from the internal affairs and this is user Ilar from the special affairs.”

“Kim nim. Mr Ilar,” Nestra greeted.

She finally got a fix on their perfumes. Amber for him, floral for her. Again, understated stuff but pleasant. More pleasant than dust and old coffee at least.

“We have some questions for you concerning the theft of medical grade mana lenses, but first, let me congratulate you on the arrest of Jonas Wong and the successful recovery of the stolen item. Those are some impressive results.”

Nestra nodded. In her experience, if a suit gave you a compliment, that meant they were pulling back for a haymaker.

“We have reviewed the footage from your helmet’s camera. In your own opinion, what more could have been done to apprehend the other culprit?”

Ah so that was a good opening. Either Nestra admitted to her own fault or Kim got an admission that crunchies simply couldn’t stop users and were therefore condemned to obsolescence.

Thing was, it wasn’t a real hearing. Nestra knew the city had already decided to defund them. It was in the damn news. She still disliked Kim’s maneuvering, not because it was disingenuous — that was part of the course for an interrogator — but because Kim underestimated her a little bit too blatantly.

“Class three ammunition would have been a big help. We landed solid hits on both users but the impact those made was negligible, depriving us of our stopping power. I believe two more officers would have made a significant difference, especially if at least one of them was augmented.”

Nestra smiled at the barest hint of soreness in Kim’s poker face. Translation: you took all our money so don’t be surprised if we perform less well. It was an old argument. Class three bullets were expensive. Augmented baselines were also expensive. Despite decades of innovation, most people were still extremely iffy about amputating themselves for a lifetime of maintenance bills. Good job or not. Mind jacks were ok. Maybe eye implants since those were made to be durable. But entire arms?

“Do you personally believe that would have been enough to disable the second user?” Kim continued.

“Fox Mask?”

“That descriptor is satisfactory.”

“I do not have information to formulate an educated response to this question.”

Nestra saw Kim’s vest shift when she tightened her shoulders. It was unwise to piss off a rat queen, especially for no gains.

“So alpha squad cannot properly handle users at the current level of funding?”

Nestra was willing to let her have that one.

“I agree with the statement.”

Kim would just turn it around and say it would cost too much to properly equip MaxSec to deal with users and that would be it.

“I have no more questions for you, officer Palladian. Your cam recording shows why you have a spotless record. You have performed extremely well in trying circumstances, even holding Fox Mask off for as long as you have. You are a credit to this unit and the Threshold Police Department. My only suggestion, and that is a suggestion, would be to make use of the department’s therapists to manage your outburst of emotion. However, it did not affect your performance so this is in no way a demerit. I would also like to notify you that Officer Wilson will be disciplined for his repeated use of your family name during an operation. His pay will be docked. Should he break the rule again, his contract will be immediately terminated and all benefits canceled. This is my decision.”

Nestra nodded. That was a way of saying that Nestra wasn’t a snitch. The compliments were nice as well. Now for the haymaker.

“Now Mr Ilar has some questions for you as well.”

It was Kim’s turn to lean back while Ilar zeroed his spooky eyes on her while his smile retained neutrally pleasant.

“Miss Palladian, allow me to introduce myself more thoroughly. I work for the enclave management section of Threshold’s special affairs. My team handles grand theft and terrorism.”

Ilar waited for Nestra to process the information. She blinked, caught off guard.

“You think they wanted to offload the lenses outside the wall? To a user enclave?”

“Not Jonas Wong. He was merely a stooge. We believe his presence might have been imposed on Fox Mask for one reason or another. What I am about to tell you is confidential so keep that in mind,” he finished with a smile.

Kim’s jaw clenched. Obviously, she disapproved. That made Nestra even more curious.

“Okay.”

“Ahem,” Kim interrupted.

“Okay, Mr Ilar.”

“First, Fox Mask escaped the portal after completing the level. It happened very early this morning while we were negotiating with the North Star guild for access.”

“Wow. Not bad.”

“It was merely a low D-class portal, however I agree that the completion speed and the fact Fox Mask soloed it speak highly of their skill. Fox Mask might or might not be an agent who has stolen a few advanced systems in the past six months. We believe it is the same person due to the similarities in the stolen components, mostly advanced medical tools. However, the culprit — if they are the same person at all — always changes disguises. The only constant seems their efficacy, the use of bladed weapons, and… can you guess?”

“Telekinesis?”

“Manakinesis,” Ilar corrected.

Nestra nodded. It took a lot of control to use pure mana as a shield. Fox Mask was no pushover.

“Explains how she bypasses safety measures if she can just mangle alarm systems.”

“Correct. What I want now is your own take on that person. We have already seen the footage from your helmet’s cam. I want impressions.”

“Well… something in the way she walked was weird. But I don’t know what exactly.”

“We have our own theories about this. An astute observation. Do go on?”

“She was used to a longer blade. And the way she used thrusts made me think a saber was not her weapon of choice. Oh, and she could have just killed us all if she wanted but made great efforts not to do so. I know she could have broken my ribs at any time.”

“Hmm yes. To be fair, she did break Officer Camus’ ribs, as well as Officer Park’s leg. Can you guess why she took it easy on you?”

Nestra searched Ilar’s expression for a hint of accusation. There were none. It felt more like a test than anything else.

“I think she respected my attempt to beat her with a sword. Well, a baton. Same difference.”

“We agree. We believe she followed ‘blade etiquette’. It is a much more common code in some enclaves. Are you familiar with it?”

Nestra shook her head. The outside of the wall was hostile to baselines such as herself. She’d never be sent out.

“Our Pacifica subcontinent rose from the sea floor during the incursion. The enclaves outside of this city harbor users from Japan, Korea, and northern China to the north. They have developed a code of chivalry that pervades their cultures. Which is why she beat you but not as hard as she could. Because you faced her with a blade in single combat.”

“Ok.”

“Please note that she would have been well within her right to grant you a clean death. In case you face a similar situation.”

“I do not go out of my way to challenge users, I assure you.”

Ilar smirked though Kim gave her a dark look. Not a smidgen of humor on that one.

“Very well. Anything else?”

“Well,” Nestra hesitated, but she wasn’t sure the camera had caught it. “She has dark skin and curly hair.

Ilar froze and Nestra suddenly got the impression she was a tiny mouse facing a snake. The user’s malachite iris pulsed in hypnotic patterns. There was the combat gleam under the gloss of civility.

“Elaborate.”

“I, huh, I saw it? When she turned to look at the crate, just before she went into the portal.”

Ilar gestured for Nestra to use her eye piece. He waved and information was sent to her as a priority message, a zoomed in picture showing a corner of a face with the ear and a chin and not much else. The skin tone and curls matched perfectly.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Your camera didn’t pick it up. Not enough details due to mana saturation. Interesting. And yet you saw it?”

Nestra had been caught in the excitement so that seemingly innocuous question caught her like a wet slap. She glared at Ilar. He’d broken the truce. That pissed her off something fierce.

“You read my file before this interview so you know very well how I saw it.”

“Miss Palladian!” Kim chided.

“That is alright,” Ilar said.

Kim swallowed her pride. She had been chastised by a gleam in front of a subordinate. That had to sting a bit, Nestra judged. She hadn’t made a friend today.

“I should not have tested what was obviously a sore spot in the middle of a friendly talk, especially after you brought that detail to my attention. I blame it on, let us say, professional bias.”

Nestra noted that he had not apologized.

“Moving on, was there anything else you can recall?”

She considered the question seriously. No need to let her annoyance get in the way of her professionalism.

“Not that I can think of.”

“Very well. Was there anything else, Kim Hubae?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, thank you for your time again, Miss Palladian. If you recall something else, please contact me. I’m sending you my contact details.”

That was a nice dismissal so Nestra stood and went straight to the cafeteria for nice coffee. Bard was there. His messy blond hair and light blue eyes looked lost, well, more lost than usual. From afar, people could have taken the two of them for siblings. Bard was much taller and wider — he was a swimmer as well — but they shared the same lean muscles, dark blonde hair, and light eyes. Sometimes, Nestra thought they could have been olympians if Olympic games were still a thing.

“My pay got docked,” he whined.

“Riel. Wonder how that happened,” she deadpanned, glaring at him to let the dull fucker know she was well aware.

“That’s not funny, Nes.”

“See that’s the thing. You’re going to whine like it’s my fault but you just used my call sign and you know what that means? It means you could always remember to use it. You just never gave a shit.”

“Everybody knows you’re protected anyway.”

“Who told you that?” Nestra exploded. “I live alone, retard. Do you really think the mighty Palladians would keep their horrifying fuckup around? Fat good their terrible vengeance will do me when I’m pasted across my carpet.”

“Riel, calm down.”

Nestra took a few deep breaths. He was beyond salvation. Kept around because they had no replacements.

“I think the internal affairs want a word, by the way,” she said sweetly. “Were you not supposed to meet them earlier?”

Bard hastily blinked, a sign he was using his contact lenses.

“Shit.”

“Room 2. I’d hurry.”

“Shit shit shit sh—”

Nestra tuned him off and returned to her office. She managed to finish all the paperwork in record time thanks to the fact no one was accusing her of anything. Bard showed up half an hour later looking frazzled.

“Chief says we should talk to Gorge then we get the rest of the day off.”

Nestra checked the time. It was barely past eleven. Half a day off in exchange for talking to Gorge was a fair deal. She gestured Bard to open the way and he did.

Beta squad’s offices were across the aisle, separated from alpha by a tiny corridor and the staircase, yet it might just have been a canyon. Camus and Gorge hated each other. Nestra braced for the inevitable shitstorm as they found beta sitting around an open space with coffee that suspiciously smelled like cheap vodka. Gorge turned with exageration at their coming as if he’d not heard the door open. He was a heavyset man with small, deep black eyes. He was entire shaved and his face was covered in scars, the nose broken to an amorphous plum.

“And look who I got instead, the clown and the ice bitch. Fantastic.”

“Nice to see you too,” Nestra replied.

Gorge’s teeth clenched so hard she could see every muscle tense under his skin.

“Look, we’re sorry about—”

“Shut the fuck up. You say his name, I’ll kick your teeth in.”

”Guess that’s it. We’re leaving then.”

“That’s it, you fucking psycho. If you were a dyke, if you got pissed, if you screamed, I’d get it. I would. But you’re just this cold dead frigid fish with nothing inside like you’re an iceling wearing people skin… What are you doing?”

Nestra finished putting on her eye piece.

“That’s me giving you a nice warning that I’m recording each and every last one of our little talks. And I got HR on fast dial.”

“See, this is exactly what I mean. You’re worse than the fucking rat squad. At least they were scummy from the start.”

“Nice to see the good old boy spirit alive and kicking. I’ll be candid with you, as a thanks. I don’t give a shit about fitting in or your squad or you or my career here because not only are you a rotten bastard, we’re all on the fast track to unemployment. So we’re going to be polite while we’re working together or I’ll make sure you’re out on your ass with no severance package before you can say ‘ethics committee’. We clear?”

Gorge bit back what he was trying to say. His dark glare bore into Nestra’s. She’d had worse.

“See that’s why no one likes you, clit hernia. You think you’re trying to be us but you’ll always look down on us because in the end, you’re not a cop. You were never a cop. You’re just a failed gleam cosplaying law enforcement. Keep toting that sword of yours because that’s the closest you’ll get to being a raider.”

“Riel, Gorge, I am undone. Been taking profiler classes?”

Gorge sighed, deflating. That was weird. The man was like a bulldog. He never let go once he had his teeth in something.

“Why am I getting mad at you? You’re a lost cause. Guess that’s how it ends. Six cunts on a bench giving each other shit.”

Nestra frowned. Besides Gorge, there was Nuts who was the close quarter specialist, Pudding, their gunner, and Preach, the last remaining medic. Nuts was insane thanks to his augments, Pudding out of shape though he was a quirkie, and Preach was too old. She suspected Preach had a death wish. They all lunged, listless. Beaten.

“Where’s Philipps?” Nestra asked.

“He quit this morning. Stib will be doing drone work for us now. Regis… his loss was too much.”

One squad left. There were four of them when Nestra had started four years before. Things had gone downhill fast.

“I don’t like it. We shouldn’t be doing this but we got no choice. We have to run a couple of drills,” Gorge muttered.

“No can do, I’m on the bench. Doctor’s orders.”

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“Nope! And with this, I’m off.”

“Training ground at 8AM sharp. I don’t want to die because you two drag us down.”

Nestra nodded. That was fine with her.

She and Bard left the place behind.

“Riel, Nes, you know how to make a friend.”

“Gorge only respects those who obey and those who don’t.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Doesn’t matter. Tomorrow. Don’t be late because Kim chewed you out but Gorge will break a finger and claim it was an ‘accident’.”

“Yeah yeah.”

Nestra took the stairs down. She was too annoyed for the lift and the small trip allowed her to cool down. Normally, she’d be going for lunch and then it would be training time, first the range, then today was muscle training. She knew better than to ignore Mazingwe though.

Stib was in the lower hangar, piecing together a light drone of unknown design.

“Hey Stib. New stuff?”

“Scout drone for out wall operations. They got better thermals. It’s a gift from Sector twelve.”

“Nice.”

“You, uh, about to head back? I won’t have lunch. Don’t feel like it.”

“I understand.”

“You’re coming to the service?”

“Yes. Right, you’re in the zone. I won’t bother you anymore.”

“Haha, thanks Nestra. See ya!”

There was only one last thing to do, something important. Nestra sneaked into Camus’ office to take his box of favorite tea. It wasn’t hard. The offices were deserted. She drove to the hospital and dropped it with him.

“Thanks, Nes. The swill they have here. Did you take my cup as well?”

Nestra winced.

Camus picked up a paper cup and sighed. It looked like a toy in his long fingers.

“Park got an offer for severance. He took it. Can’t say I blame him.”

“I didn’t know. I was going to see him next.”

“Double fracture of the tibia. The bone was shattered. Insurance will cover it but… he’ll be out a very long time. It took two hours for the robot to pick every shard.”

Nestra knew what was coming so she chose to forestall it.

“You’re going to tell me to get out.”

“This is serious, Nestra.”

“What about you?”

Camus leaned back in his bed, crossing his arms over the medical corset healing his ribs.

“Not renewing my contract. Still coming back in a week to lead the unified squad though so hang in there.”

After that, Nestra went to say hello to Park then she drove home. The only way to let the regen capsules work fast was to relax and stretch. She was in the middle of some very slow yoga when her eye piece beeped.

“Yeah?”

“Miss Palladian, this is chief Ruben. I am bypassing Doctor’s Mozingwe’s orders to summon you here. There’s an infestation on the way at the edge of district 15. You are requested to join in with the extermination detail. Sending you the brief now.”

So much for resting.