He was dreaming again.
He knew it immediately, but even so, he didn't want to awaken from this dream. It was a beautiful dream; calm and peaceful, a welcome respite from his daily life. The mind draws upon prior experiences, fictional or otherwise, to generate the phantasmagorial landscapes within dreams. His dreams were no exception.
The cool ground beneath him, with a singular sleeping bag serving as a groundsheet. The winds blowing onto his face as he lay beneath the closest that he would ever get to a night sky. The warmth of the person who lay beside him, their hands clasped together, and their fingers interlaced.
???: "Still awake?"
The voice that he had grown to treasure, that he realized in his semi-lucid state that he missed dearly, spoke to him in its familiar tones. It was a mundane question, but at that singular point, he wished he could return to that mundanity. He opened his mouth to reply, to say the words he wished he could have, but the only words that came out were those he said on that day.
Dreaming Man: "Yeah. And you?"
???: "Almost. Just asking."
He smiled, and without needing to check, he could tell that she was also smiling from the way her firm yet gentle grasp returned his own. He closed his eyes, savoring the memory of a time he failed to adequately treasure; a time that was now long gone.
???: "Hey."
Dreaming Man: "Still can't sleep?"
???: "Yeah. I'm – I'm sorry."
Dreaming Man: "You're sorry? What for?"
There was a rustling, and he felt the fabric of the sleeping bag moving about. When he opened his eyes, her face was right above his. She was leaning over from his side, and her long black hair brushed gently against his skin. In the midst of his lucid awareness, he remembered something for the briefest of moments.
Dreaming Man (thinking): Ah, this isn't what she said back then.
He looked into her green eyes, the eyes of the woman he loved. Her eyes burned with her passion for life, and in them he saw his own amber eyes reflected. While the words she said were just his memories of her, distorted and merging together in this dreamscape, her appearance before him was as crisp and clear as when he had last seen her.
As she leant in closer and he felt her hot breath upon his face, he heard her speak. It wasn't the sound of a voice as the human ear would pick up if directly spoken. It was mixed in with the telltale distortion that resulted from playback by a digital device. It was the deathstroke that convinced him that she was being projected by his own subconscious wishes, that this wasn't the woman he loved, but a mere fabrication, a memory.
???: "I'm sorry for leaving, Edmund."
---
*BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.*
Edmund jolted awake from the depths of sleep. He grabbed at his temples, the throbbing pain reminding him of the drinks he had consumed the night before.
Looking around him, he saw that he was back in his one-room apartment aboard the Agnes, a middle-class habitation ship. He surveyed his immediate surroundings, finding the bedsheets heavily crumpled beneath him and the covers and blankets lying in messy piles on the floor. Grimacing, he waited for the pain to subside, and turned off the alarm programmed into his communicator. It was a personal terminal into the Network, giving Edmund the ability to access information and communicate instantly with whomever he chose. Communicators could be customized, and Edmund's was in the shape of a golden pocket watch with a long chain.
Clad only in a nondescript pair of grey boxers, Edmund dragged himself out of his bed's warm embrace and made for the toilet sink. He beheld his ragged reflection; freshly grown and untrimmed beard stubble, short but unruly dark brown hair, wrinkles appearing across his forehead, and a scar across his left cheek from an encounter, long ago.
Edmund cleaned himself up and made for the kitchen in the corridor, where he filled his cup with ice-cold water from his dispenser and chugged it in a single gulp. With the cold liquid surging down his throat washing away his fatigue at last, Edmund placed his communicator on the charging pad built into the kitchen counter.
Most residents aboard the Agnes would consider Edmund's accommodations very comfortably-sized. It had a single room serving as both living room and bedroom. A corridor connected at the corner of the room led out to the exit, with a stove and sink built in a countertop along the corridor wall allowing the occupant to perform basic cooking and cleaning duties. At the opposite corridor wall, a small folding door led to the toilet and shower. The remaining space occupied by neither room, toilet nor corridor in the unit's rectangular floorplan was occupied by a built-in set of cabinets and drawers. This helped to give the occupant some storage space for their personal effects, allowing them to maximize the spaciousness of their small living space.
And yet with the clothes strewn all over the floor, the guitar propped up in a corner and the table sitting in the center of the room with numerous books stacked up upon it, almost half of the usable area of the room was unavailable. The mess had never bothered Edmund, but it had made it hard to keep her happy while she was still around.
The pain in his head returned with greater intensity than before. Edmund fell to his knees before the kitchen counter, his cup slamming down upon it. While he was no stranger to the pain, this was one of the worst hangovers in his long life. The ceiling illuminations were currently set to "candlelight", with a warm orange-yellow light providing illumination. In the midst of his agony, Edmund's communicator started loudly playing its alert sound, a discordant tone deliberately selected to be impossibly annoying and impossible to ignore.
Edmund: "Accept."
His voice was too soft and failed to trigger the voice recognition program. There was no response as the communicator continued to play the sound. He now regretted his past decision to choose that ringtone.
Edmund: "ACCEPT!"
Zora: "Hello – are you awake – oh? Good morning Edmund, so you're awake, then."
Edmund grimaced. He hadn't expected to hear the husky tones of his boss, Inspector Zora, today.
Edmund: "Morning, Zora. to what do I owe the pleasure of this courtesy call on my off day?"
Zora: "Oh, just wanted to hear if my top detective was still alive after his party last night, you know, the usual stuff."
Edmund winced before continuing to talk.
Edmund: "Well, I regret to inform you, ma'am, that I am indeed still alive. Please help me inform the actual top detective that he can look forward to us butting heads again eventually."
Zora: "You can tell him that yourself when he's back from medical leave. An urgent request for you came in just this morning. You are required to report to the office by zero-nine-hundred so that I can brief the both of you."
Edmund: "The both of you? Who am I working with? Also, you know that you can't just cancel my leave, right? Even if you've been "Inspector" for the last fifty years, you can't just trample over my right to a holiday!"
Zora: "You can ask more questions later, Edmund. Right now, I need you to understand that I really didn't want to do this. I'll explain everything later. Zora, out."
Edmund: "Wait, I'm not done with –"
There was a quick click, signaling that the connection had been cut. Edmund groaned with frustration. He was going to enjoy his off-day today by exploring the parts of the Agnes that he normally didn't visit, visiting his favorite food haunts, then returning with take-away portions for a night of guitar-playing and food-enjoying. All those plans had just been cast aside with impunity.
Edmund checked his communicator for the current time. 0700. He had two hours to make it to the Doyle for the surprise briefing. One hour would be more than sufficient to reach the designated transport in time. He returned his communicator to the charging pad before hopping into the shower to freshen up.
---
Merrion stepped out of the toilet in her shared serviced apartment unit. The last of the water clinging to her skin fell to the absorbent mat placed before the entrance in a slightly curved trajectory and was absorbed within seconds, changing the fabric into a darker shade of blue.
Merrion toweled her bob-cut jet-black hair and fixed her appearance before the mirror in the hallway. Her work attire, a long-sleeved blue shirt tucked into a well-fitting black skirt worn over opaque black tights, was completely prim and proper, concealing the fact that it had been thrown on in a hurry. In a single deft movement, she bound her hair back into a neat ponytail held together by a grey scrunchie, adjusting it slightly so that it was comfortable.
She had woken up at her usual time today, bright and early at 0700. This would have given her plenty of time to slowly get out of bed, head down to the marketplace and buy breakfast which she could leisurely enjoy on her daily commute before reporting to her workplace by 1000, sharp.
Her well-planned daily routine, however, had been upset by a message in her communicator sent by her boss.
The last two words in that unexpected message had sent Merrion's heart rocketing out of her chest upon waking up. Checking her communicator immediately after disabling the alarm so that her roommate wouldn't need to wake up earlier than needed had already been an ingrained behavior.
Her flustered shrieks upon comprehending the message however, not so.
A sudden yawning sound coming from the occupant of the other bed in the room caught her attention as she finished fixing her outfit. Merrion cocked her head to see her roommate, Maria, squinting and stretching as she arose from within the cocoon of her blankets in a disheveled state, with her clothing right about ready to fall off her.
In the mirror, with both herself and Maria's faces reflected in the silvered surface, Merrion took notice about just how similar the two of them looked. Indeed, the similarity between these two, totally unrelated individuals was somewhat eerie. Jet-black hair, green eyes, a relatively-pale complexion and a slim but toned build. The two of them, however, always saw their physical similarity as a sign of their compatibility with each other, and it was through this initial similarity that they had become friends all those years ago.
Maria: "*yawn* Going out so soon? Isn't it too early?"
Maria spoke in a half-yawn, her words seemingly catching in her throat before projecting forth in a semi-smothered fashion.
Merrion: "Sorry. Did I wake you up?"
Maria: "Mmnn. I was already awake anyway. How could I sleep? I'm so excited for today!"
A wide smile broke out across Maria's face. Seeing her best friend smile made Merrion feel happy too. How else could she react? After all today was Maria's –
Merrion: "Happy birthday, Maria! 7pm at the café, right? Hopefully, they don't keep me at work today too late. It would be a terrible shame!"
Maria: "Thanks, Merry! Yup, 7pm! Message me when you leave the Doyle!"
Merrion: "By the way, don't forget that today's when the service staff come around. Don't let them catch you in this state of undress. Nowadays some of the cleaners are guys too."
Maria replied to Merrion's motherly comment in a faux-childish tone.
Maria: "I won't. Also, don't forget your communicator. Here!"
With a flick of her wrist, Maria tossed Merrion's communicator to her. It had been sitting on her blanket, the silver metal rims of the default model encasing the central block of translucent display blending in with the silvery fabric. Merrion caught the communicator effortlessly as it sailed through the air, a feat of near superhuman reflexes which always amazed Maria. She then stuffed it securely into her skirt pocket.
Merrion: "Alright, I'll be going now. See you later!"
Maria: "Have a safe day."
---
The marketplace of the Agnes was a bustling hub of activity, even early in the morning. Commuters leaving their apartments and heading for their workplaces always passed through this central thoroughfare to grab breakfast. As such, the air was filled with the exquisite aromas of breakfast items and hot drinks, as well as the noise and hub-bub of the myriad commuters. A small intelligent construct shaped like a multi-legged insect the size of a small child, crawled along the ground, cleaning up trash and stains upon the floor left behind by the people who moved through the central thoroughfare.
Being a medium-class habitation vessel, the Agnes consisted of a central rotating drum ten kilometers from bow to stern and a quarter as long in radius. Looking up, it was hard to see past the glare of the central spine of the ship, which was lit up with plasma to illuminate the drum interior. Those who could filter out the sunlike glare could see the other side of the drum, also covered with internal units and structures.
Merrion ran through the marketplace, deftly weaving her way through the crowds towards the fore end of the marketplace, where the transfer station was located. There, she would board the 0830 tram that connected the Agnes to the Doyle, the headquarter vessel for the 8th Sector's Fleet Investigation Division, all in accordance with the message she received.
She quickly retrieved her communicator from her skirt's left pocket and checked the time. 0820.
A wave of emotion, a combination of adrenaline and hunger, surged through her. If she missed this tram, the next would depart at nine-hundred, and by then she would be late already!
Merrion stashed away her communicator and continued to run at full speed down the marketplace aisle, her magnetic boots slamming into the ground with each step she took. There was no time for her to stop and purchase breakfast. Merrion would just have to endure the hunger until it was time for her lunch break. Her stomach growled loudly, but Merrion simply ignored the embarrassing noise and focused on her goal.
Making good use of her smaller stature, Merrion exploited every opportunity that presented itself in the crowd; every parting of the crowd and every pathway that opened up amongst the sea of people patronizing the many food vendors selling their products in the marketplace.
One such vendor she ran past was one that she frequently patronized; an elderly-looking sandwich vendor who always sold out on his 'Sandwich Special'. Merrion recalled the flavor profile of that exquisite product; the aroma of the bread, the crisp textured algae sheets, and the smoky flavor of the meat-analogue at the center of it all. She felt great regret that she could not purchase one for herself today, but at the same time some relief upon seeing that the stall had a 'SOLD OUT' sign hanging over the sales counter.
As Merrion dashed past commuters leisurely walking towards their shared destination, shrieks of "Watch where you're going!" and "Hey MISSY –" came from each person that she narrowly dodged. With her preternatural reflexes, dodging them was completely natural to her. As long as she could see them, she could avoid them easily. Soon, the transfer station came into view. The large digital clock at the entrance read 0828.
Two minutes is plenty, thought Merrion, whipping out her communicator from her skirt pocket. Merrion approached the fare gate and ran through it just slowly enough for the gate to register her communicator and automatically deduct the funds from her account.
She sprinted up the stairs to her tram in the distance and sprinted at full speed into the open doors of the cabin. Once definitely inside the cabin, she extended her right arm to grab on to the rails inside of the tram to decelerate.
Naturally, when Merrion failed to grip the rail because of the sweat on her right palm, she crashed straight into the passenger standing right before the grab rail. The doors of the tram slammed shut behind her just mere moments after the unceremonious impact.
Merrion: "Ouch!"
Merrion suddenly realized what she had just done and looked up to apologize to the person she had crashed into.
Edmund: "That's my line. What do you think you're doing running into a tether tram?" Merrion was already in some pain from the impact, but now the greater pain was from the embarrassment from crashing straight into her mentor, Detective Edmund.
Merrion felt her face flush red, but immediately the instinct to deflect kicked in.
Merrion: "Good morning, Edmund! Fancy seeing you here today, at – aren't you on leave today?"
Edmund rubbed his nose bridge as his eyebrows began to furrow.
Edmund: "Yes, yes I was. Inspector Zora called me back, cancelling my leave. Wasn't a great start to the day." Edmund looked down at Merrion from the side of his eyes. "…and being crashed into by you, of all people, is not helping my mood."
Merrion: "…sorry."
Merrion apologized sheepishly to Edmund, who was dusting off his work attire. A simple grey shirt over which a small sling bag was worn, and black pants tucked into his magnetic boots, relatively neat and tidy, unlike her own outfit, which had been messed up by the impact. Her blouse had been pulled out from its neatly tucked state, and the impact had left it crumpled.
There was a loud hissing sound, as the tether tram doors sealed shut behind her, and a jolt as the tram began to move. Merrion pulled herself to her feet with the handrails and began using the internal reflective walls of the tram to fix her appearance; pulling out the creases in her blouse and tucking it back into her skirt; adjusting any stray strands of hair back into place. As she fixed her outfit, she saw Edmund standing some distance behind her, looking at his communicator.
Merrion: "Arranging another party for tonight?"
Edmund: "Not anytime soon. The hangover from last night's party is still here."
Edmund looked down, realizing that the impact had caused his shirt to crumple, too.
Edmund: "Damn it. You messed up my shirt."
Merrion: "Sorry."
Edmund: "Yeah. Still hurts though."
The magnetic boots worn by all the passengers automatically kicked in with an audible click as the tether tram reached the Agnes's central axis of rotation and the gravity stopped. The tram slid along the cabling as it made its way towards the airlock, with the tram's doors hermetically sealing in preparation for the transition into hard vacuum.
Merrion's ponytail began floating in the microgravity environment, gently bobbing in time with the oscillations of the tram. This was always her favorite part of travelling along the tethers, away from the gravity of the ships. She grabbed the nearest grab rail as the tram accelerated for the next half-minute to cruising velocity, to traverse the ten kilometer-long cable linking the Agnes to the Doyle.
Edmund looked around, seeing the other passengers who were strapped into seats gently snoozing, or clutching onto the grab rails while they talked to others. He tapped his communicator, bringing up an external camera feed from the tether tram. The tram had no windows, for they were weaknesses in a pressure vessel and would expose the passengers within to deadly cosmic radiation.
Edmund watched as the feed showed the Agnes shrinking in size, until it only occupied a small portion of the screen, only its name engraved upon the hull and illuminated by floodlights visible in the infinite void of the cosmos.
---
Merrion was checking her communicator, which had fortunately stayed intact despite her collision with Edmund, for the latest news updates. As usual, she had received some annoying messages from strangers on her network profile. She never bothered to read messages from people she didn't already know or wasn't trying to know. Most of these messages were from automated programs anyway and weren't worth her time. Some were from new religious groups looking for new members; the most annoying of all. With a quick series of familiar swipes, those messages vanished into the trash, where they would dissolve into nothingness after several days.
The deceleration of the tram caught Merrion by surprise. Usually, the hiss of the doors loosening their hermetic seals after transiting through the Doyle's plasma windows would have prompted any passengers to begin preparing for the slowdown kick, but Merrion had still been distracted by the earlier events. She panicked as the communicator flew out of her left hand.
Merrion (thinking): Damn my loose grip.
She promptly grabbed it before it flew too far, and stuffed it back into her skirt pocket, where it would be safe.
Edmund had seen Merrion's quick reactions in action before, but it was always impressive to witness. Edmund considered his own reaction time. They were by no means lacking, but Merrion's were at least twice as fast.
Edmund: "Nice save."
Merrion: "You saw that?" Merrion said, rather abashedly.
Edmund: "Of course. If only you had reacted as fast earlier."
A wry smile barely appeared on Edmund's face.
Merrion: "It wasn't my fault. I tried to grab that rail, but my grip slipped. Maybe next time."
Merrion smiled sheepishly, her hair sinking down as the tram began descending rimward within the Doyle and the gravity started to kick in. The other passengers in the tram unfastened their belts and began to shuffle towards the doors; gently shifting from side to side to compensate for the movement of the tram. Merrion made for the door, before feeling a strong grip on her shoulder pulling her back. It was Edmund, who had stretched out his right arm to restrain her.
Edmund: "Easy there. Take a look around you."
Glancing from side to side, Merrion quickly realized her error.
Normally she would take the 0900 tram, where passengers were generally lower-ranked staff aboard the Doyle. However, Inspector Zora's special request had authorized her to take the 0830 tram, which was filled with passengers that Merrion now recognized as being various high-ranking personnel of the various departments amongst the Fleet Investigation Division.
Department of Forensics; Technological Crime; Specialized Crime; the insignias present today were as diverse as ever. There was even an agent of the Department of Internal Affairs, their sigil of an eye superimposed over a black flame discreetly pinned to his collar.
Merrion's eyes trailed over the various insignias and felt a small knot in her throat form as she saw their ranks. A few Specialists, a Captain, even a Commissioner. They paid her no heed as they exited the tram, readying their security passes for entry into the Doyle.
???: "Morning, Edmund."
The sudden voice came from one of them, a tall and lanky man almost a head taller than Edmund and wearing a smartly pressed suit. The suit was various shades of white and grey, with a light blue tie completing the outfit. The whole outfit contrasted heavily with the man's brown skin, brown eyes and long dark hair, intricately braided into locks. A wireless earpiece hung from his left ear. Peeking out through the back of his hair was the tell-tale bump of a cranial datajack.
???: "Fancy seeing you here today at this time. Isn't today –"
Edmund: "- my off day? Yes, I thought so too. Zora disagreed. Good morning to you too, Jeyga."
A smirk manifested on Jeyga's face.
Jeyga: "That's a damn shame indeed. I hope she doesn't cancel my off as well, I really want to visit my mother on that day."
Edmund: "If you piss me off, I might just give her reason to do so. After you tried to change all the decorations in the office last month –"
Jeyga: "Give me a break! Don't you just wish that they'd lighten up the mood in the office? I understand that we're the General Investigation Department and we have a fraction of the manpower of the other departments, but still! If only we had more people, then MAYBE we'd have the budget to requisition furnishings instead of having to procure them ourselves!"
Edmund: "Only you care about that, Jeyga."
He provided an obligatory response while his eyes rolled in the opposite direction.
Edmund: "You're just going to say that the main office – "
Jeyga: "The main office is so damn plain! Don't you ever tire of seeing the same old wall, the colour of gunmetal – "
Edmund didn't bother responding further. Once Jeyga launched into one of his rants, he wouldn't stop until he decided to stop. Edmund nudged Merrion on her shoulder, and together the trio exited the tram.
Merrion: "Psst, psst. Who's that?"
Edmund looked down and saw Merrion looking over at Jeyga.
Edmund: "The man who won't stop talking is Specialist Jeyga. He's our department's technical wizard. Have you seen him before?"
Merrion: "Can't say I have."
Edmund: "It's not surprising. He – "
Jeyga: " – the Department of Technological Crime wanted me back for a while for my expertise, but eventually Zora – "
In response to being rudely interrupted, Edmund gave Jeyga a light smack on his shoulder, creasing the fabric of his suit.
Edmund: " – don't interrupt me, shithead. Just because Zora lets you keep a non-standard hairstyle – "
Jeyga: " – I'll have you know I worked hard for this. You think the data interface in my office is just for show?"
Merrion watched quietly from the side as the two of them started to get more heated in their friendly banter, all the while shuffling forward step by step as the queue before them passed through the security checkpoint up ahead.
Edmund: "I wouldn't know, I don't have a headplug, Jeyga, I can't interface with that damn thing!"
Jeyga: "And that's why, Edmund, I get keep my luscious locks while you have to maintain that oh-so-dashing hairstyle of yours."
Edmund: "Hmph."
Jeyga: "Hmph."
Merrion watched as the two of them sulked briefly before their gruff and sullen expressions melted back into warm and friendly smiles.
Edmund: "It's good to have you back, Jeyga."
Jeyga: "It's good to be back, Ed. The Technological Crime operatives are so stuck up. They thought that just because they technically outranked me that they could push me around like some fresh recruit."
Edmund raised an eyebrow, half knowing and half wanting to know.
Edmund: "And? What did you do to them?"
Jeyga: "When the complaints come in, you'll find out."
A wicked smile spread out over Jeyga's face, exposing his pearly white teeth in an expression that sent some chills down Merrion's spine.