Roshenko hunched over a cluttered desk, no less than three mugs of coffee intermingled with half-eaten food and strewn paperwork. Many of the more junior officers would call it a war zone, he always scoffed at that; there was an order to the mess, a reason to the madness.
This new case was an extension of that; an amnesiac in a ship of an unknown make that seemed to slip past most of the system security procedures; if it hadn't started burning up in the atmosphere, no one may have noticed it crashed. Roshenko shuffled through the papers on his desk till he pulled out his tablet, the weathered device seemed as old as its owner, a scratch dividing the screen, neatly in half.
He scrolled through message after message all summarizing the same thing, this doesn't make sense. The friction damage would imply it crashed in the atmosphere. The supplies, on the other hand, imply a long-haul trip, large food stocks, water, and supportive equipment but no money; in any currency.
The detective slotted the tablet into one of his free pockets and grabbed the nearest coffee mug. A heavily chipped piece of cheap ceramic that proudly declared him the world's best dad. Sniffing the stale coffee that lingered in it he took a tentative sip only to break into a cough.
"Easy, the department can't afford to replace ya Seamus." Roshenko scowled as he heard the voice of his immediate superior.
"Captain." Roshenko coldly responded. The aging detective looked around the dilapidated offices for some out of any possible conversation, any coworkers he saw hastily averted their gaze or for the first time in their careers focused on their work.
The Captain was a hard man, the only person older than Roshenko in the department, though thanks to Rejuvenating Bio-mods he looked twenty years Roshenko's junior. A sharp youthful face would give the illusion of a far kinder man; though it would only take one look into those cold, icy eyes to make most freeze.
The Captain clasped his hand on Roshenko's shoulder. "Walk with me Seamus."
Roshenko could tell this was not a friendly request. With resignation he placed down the coffee mug, eyeing it longingly. The two began to walk out of the precinct, navigating the crowded halls of the pre-fabricated building, the cheap bland metal had long since been painted over with friendlier colours, though to Roshenko it merely gave it the veneer of a horror movie set, weak flickering lights barely illuminated the hall.
"Seamus- Roshenko, we really kicked the hornet's nest on this one. What do you have?" The Captain guided Roshenko into a long disused storage room, a thick layer of dust covering several stacked desks.
"Frankly, nothing. Not a thing on the kid, not a thing,
The Captain seemed to stare straight into Roshenko's soul. He pulled out a small info chip from an envelope he kept deep in his pocket.
"Not nothing Seamus, slot it." The Captain placed the chip into Roshenko's hand. Curious, Roshenko pulled out his tablet, secretly proud he remembered which pocket he placed it in. As he inserted the chip into the tablet a torrent of information came up, however, all of it seemed to be scrambled making it illegible.
"What's this sir? Seems like gibberish."
The Captain made sure the door was closed, leaning his back onto it to prevent anyone from creeping it open.
"That is, at least according to my friends in the armed forces; encrypted dossiers, thousands of them."
Roshenko nearly dropped his tablet in surprise, tightening his grip and glancing at the door.
"Sir, is it okay for you to be showing this? I haven't had my clearances renewed."
"You don't have to worry about that much, the nearest nation mentioned in those files is five hundred light-years away."
***
POV LANCE
Lance's week in the hospital was a blur, bouncing between being uncontrollably itchy and doped up on a cocktail of extremely powerful painkillers made it difficult for him to take in much of his surroundings, but he did notice that the hospital is both horribly run down, yet far more advanced than anything he was used to.
Drones dealt with most of the banal issues as nurses did more detailed work, though even then the nurses looked far too overworked, often running down the halls with focused intensity.
He wanted to explore more of the hospital, but every attempt he made was quickly met with a dour police officer, or at least someone he assumed was a police officer. The Officer, a man scarcely older than him, would without ceremony drag him back to his bed. In Lance's eyes, it turned into a game' a little back and forth between the pair, though the officer clearly did not enjoy it as much as him.
The dynamic continued as Lance got used to his new world and the itching sensation faded into a mild inconvenience. His mind clear and his body surprisingly able he began to absorb more of his environment. The hospital's rooms seemed to all be uniform, even the halls felt more like a continuous line of copy-pasted modules than an actual building. Divided by thick bunker-like doors. The Officer, who was sent to babysit him sat in an ugly gray chair that seemed to be a singular hunk of a light metal. it creaked in agony every time he shifted his weight.
There was no Television or radio to alleviate his ever-growing boredom, only the ticking of a distant clock and the half-heard gossip of whatever nurses walked by his room. On occasion a doctor would come to study his condition or drag him away for tests, but The Officer kept as close as the medical staff would allow. It was these moments that helped ground Lance to some level of sanity, the nurses and doctors were sympathetic to him, though every time Lance spoke of his adventures he would quickly be hauled away for another round of tests.
The days continued in this pattern over and over, leaving Lance with far too much time to ponder his existence, though admittedly. Was his arrival here actually extraordinary, his dreams of being a space buccaneer truly his? Was there even a New York? For the first time in weeks, Lance's thoughts went back to home. He missed being a part of the throngs of people. He missed arguing with his friends outside of his favorite bodega. He missed his family.