Two patrolling security drones hummed past the alley entry, their searing lights assaulting Dion’s already sensitive eyes as he shuffled further into the shadows. He’d already had to turn down the brightness inside his helmet so his eyes would stop watering; now he knew that karma or whatever was out to get him. 

In retrospect, he probably— definitely, shouldn’t have drunk so much the night before. Money was already tight, but it was a special occasion. At least, that’s what he told himself. Dion had just finished paying off a fine after months of barely making ends meet. He’d even had enough left over to finally renew his licence. Those nasty little things in the air weren’t going to catch him without one again. Just as well; they were scattered through the main streets like flies today, and Nextech never showed mercy. Especially not for a repeat offence.

The mega-corporation had a monopoly on just about every public and security industry in the Nystjarna Galaxy. Everything from the drones and Sentinels to the ID chip embedded in Dion’s wrist were all designed, manufactured and implemented by NexTech. They knew exactly who you were and your exact location at any given moment. You couldn't blink on a core planet without NexTech knowing about it… or so they say.

A farce, in Dion’s opinion. Morrian City was only truly safe topside. Overpopulated, with buildings built on top of other buildings, the ground was so far below ‘civilised society’ that the sun couldn’t even touch it anymore. Although the security measures were designed to keep people in line, there were far too many people to monitor individually. He, of all people, should know. The rigorous patrols usually neglected the dark, narrow spaces unless one of the drones picked up something unusual. Alleys on the ground were where the city truly seemed to ‘breathe’ under the scrutiny of constant surveillance. 

A metal door burst open with a clang that echoed like a gunshot next to Dion’s aching head. A young girl, maybe fourteen to fifteen years old, looked him up and down from the doorway as if she hadn't expected to see him there. When she sneered at Dion, he scowled back. Pointless, given he was wearing a helmet that hid his face, but it had already been a particularly long day. Each obnoxious smack of her mouth chewing on, assumedly, gum, was intentionally exaggerated. His hangover made good work of assisting in grinding the sound into his nerves.

“Delivery.” She wasn’t asking.

Dion nodded curtly. 

The brat grunted, rolled her eyes, then carelessly tossed a brown paper bag at him. He caught it in one hand as she slammed the door closed from the inside. She sure had a lot of attitude for a kid who worked in a dodgy fast food restaurant at her age. By law, she should have been in school.

Many families in the area weren’t well-off and some children never learned proper people skills. Dion couldn’t judge them. His nineteen-year-old brother never had a chance to go to school and be a ‘normal’ kid either. Dion moved around for work, taking on any job that could make ends meet, even if only barely. Sometimes that meant dragging his sickly little brother across the galaxy time and time again. There was never a chance to settle in one place long enough for either of them to call somewhere ‘home’.

Dion’s motorbike chugged to life with the grinding of exhausted metal on metal. The poor thing had seen some much, much better days. Old reliable was starting to be… well, less reliable. Dion prayed to Mother Earth that this delivery job would finally get them out of the red numbers long enough to fix it with more than duct tape and whatever mechanical parts he could pilfer from a scrap yard. That and finally pay the utility bills. They’d been without water for a few days already. They needed to visit the neighbour whenever they wanted to use a bathroom.

Once his helmet connected to the vehicle, the display in Dion’s visor lit up with the usual ‘Route Connected - Navigation On’ for a moment. It was replaced with a bold red line that overlaid his view and led out onto the main road before disappearing around a corner. The countdown still had plenty of time left. It should be an easy job.

This delivery gig paid significantly more than regular delivery services, but only if the goods were handed over within a timeframe decided by the recipient. Drivers who failed were fired and typically banned from doing deliveries again, sometimes worse. There was never a shortage of openings.

Dion gave the DataCuff on his wrist two taps. “Call Atticus.”

“Dion!” a voice answered inside the helmet. The call didn’t even ring. His brother must have already been using his own cuff. “Where are you?”

“One last job for the day. It’s nearby, so maybe… two hours? Need me to get anything while I’m out?”

“Actually, yes. We’re out of fresh water.”

Is he a fish? Dion cursed. With Atticus always at home, bottled water was starting to get as expensive as the actual water bill. In all fairness, it was Dion’s fault for getting caught without a licence, but he’d only been a day late on his renewal. Now they were bordering on poverty yet again as a result. It felt like they were back to square one, no matter how hard Dion tried to keep on top of things. The delivery job that started as a quick buck a few months ago had suddenly become a lifeline.

“Water. Got it. See you in a few hours.”

“Don’t crash!” Atty sang a moment before he disconnected the call.

Brat. Dion had only crashed once in his life, but the little menace never let him forget it.

Halfway to his destination, flashing lights for a roadblock peeked out over the mass of slow-crawling vehicles. The throbbing in his head increased tenfold. Just my luck… A random search checkpoint. He glanced at the time again and sighed. There was still an hour left to finish the drop, but every second mattered. He couldn’t stall for too long.

Three surveillance drones buzzed around a parked vehicle as he drew closer. A particularly angry woman was pinned to it by a Sentinel while a uniformed police officer spoke to someone over the holodisplay of his DataCuff. The moment the woman tried to break free, the Sentinel twisted her arm in such a way that it had to be broken or, at the very least, dislocated. She hollered so loud that Dion jumped. It happened so fast. It always did.

Dion’s stomach tensed. Drones were a part of everyday life, but Sentinels made his insides shrivel. He didn’t know a single person in the galaxy who liked the creepy things; human-shaped, yet not remotely human-like at all. Robotic in some way, and yet so fluid. They were the nightmare parents warned naughty children about. There weren’t many of them, thankfully. He’d only ever seen a handful while planet-hopping. Sentinels were usually reserved for high-profile cases or high-risk tasks. This checkpoint had probably been set up specifically to catch someone. Maybe Yesterday’s Children. The group was all the news outlets were talking about lately.

A bright light shone in his peripheral vision, startling him again. Another drone was scanning vehicles and their occupants. It was just a routine for the little floating device, but Dion still didn’t want to be noticed. Despite neglecting the alleys, the security network was incredibly efficient where it was present. Even the smallest offence was enough to get ‘a drone on your tail and a fine in the mail’... and sometimes worse if you were whoever that howling woman was. The pained screams were loud enough to be carried over the sound of his struggling motorcycle engine and through his helmet. The harder Dion tried not to think about it, the louder the screaming felt in his throbbing ears.

Dion’s turn came when the drone blocked the path forward. He sucked in a deep breath, watching the evil, red light under the drone’s sensor. Blue light projected over him and his bike, scanning for anomalies. He was suddenly very aware of how much he was sweating. It was going to catch something. He just knew it. Dion’s luck was never good. Now that he was suddenly on his way back up in life, surely the horrid hangover was just the start of yet another series of disasters.

Nanoseconds seemed to stretch into entire ages while he waited with bated breath, staring into the tiny red dot.

Green. The drone quietly moved out of the way and Dion sped off as fast as the law would let him. He really, really did not want to be on the main road anymore, especially while a Sentinel was on the street. Those things were impossible to outrun, and he did not want to get caught with whatever was in that bag.

Thank Earth, Janice paper was invisible to NexTech scanners. All of this cutting-edge surveillance technology, and all it took was a thin slice of dead tree to thwart it. Janice trees used to grow on one of the border planets, Dion couldn’t remember which one. As soon as it was discovered that the automated security couldn’t detect it, smugglers started importing it to the core planets in large quantities before NexTech could catch on. Getting caught with any amount of Janice tree byproducts was illegal; however, it was a rare offence, largely because only a human could tell what it was. It had a very distinct shimmer, even in low light. Unmistakable to anyone who knew it the way that Dion did.

This gig wasn’t your ordinary food delivery; there was a reason it paid a lot. Dion didn’t know what was in the bag, but he did know that the kind of person who orders things in Janice paper would kill you if you so much as peeked inside. It was safer to live in ignorance; he wasn’t getting paid to know things. Honestly, he preferred it that way. There was still plenty to live for.

After a while, the navigation system took him to the middle of a vehicle manufacturing district on a higher level. Unlike the residential areas that made up 95% of the city, manufacturing districts for large products in Morrian weren’t built up as tall after a gas explosion levelled part of the city a few hundred years ago. Because of that, the sky was visible overhead, along with the bright, glinting sun reflecting off the monstrous skyscrapers. Dion hated it. 

The absence of people was unsettling. Factories usually had one or two staff on site to step in if something went wrong, and the robots weren’t programmed for human interaction. It was like Dion didn’t exist to them. More shady deliveries were dropped off in warehouse districts than those that weren’t. He didn’t know if NexTech was genuinely out of the loop or if they deliberately ignored the numerous mini crime hubs throughout the city. 

The road ahead was restricted to authorised vehicles, his engine shutting off automatically when he crossed the threshold. There was still half an hour left on the timer. His final destination was still ten minutes away; he could make it as long as he didn’t get lost. He needed to leave his bike somewhere and carry the package the rest of the way on foot. 

With a chime in Dion’s ear, his visor display lit up with ‘Incoming call: Atticus Floyd’ in a hideously large font. While stationary, the notices always showed up in the middle of the screen. While he wasn’t driving, he might as well be blind on a call. It was supposed to be a feature; however, newer helmet models stopped including it when they realised people had to stop at traffic lights frequently. 

“Atty?” Dion answered.

“I ate the last of the cereal. We need that too.” It sounded like Atticus had food in his mouth while he was talking. “Will you still be a while?”

“Yeah, I think so. I haven’t reached the drop yet.”

“Ugh, but I’m starving!” Atticus complained in a childish voice. 

Dion could hear the sound of Atty’s cutlery clinking in his bowl.

“Good. You deserve it for eating all the cereal.” He smirked. 

“Wow, so mean. Your little brother is wasting away and that’s all you have to say?”

“Sorry, I gotta go, Atty. I’m still on the clock. Water and cereal.” Dion ended the call abruptly. He felt bad for cutting his brother off, but he needed to stay alert. The red line appeared in the display again and disappeared around a corner further ahead.

Damn it all, he thought, getting off his bike. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the bright light of the real world again when he removed his helmet. The sun was brighter on some planets than on others. Oryxs was unfortunately one of them. It took longer for Dion’s eyes to adjust, having lived half his life with only artificial light in deep space. When Dion was young, the idea of the open sky was like a distant dream he didn’t think he would ever see. Now it felt like a nightmare he couldn’t escape, no matter how hard he tried.

Sticky, humid air-soup stuck to Dion’s skin the moment it was exposed. A new feeling of guilt tugged at his heart when he realised poor Atticus was stuck at home in the heat. The apartment air conditioner was also still broken. It hadn’t been a problem at first, but the summers in Morrian City were one of the root causes of heat stroke on Planet Oryx since humanity colonised it. With the whole city so closely packed together, there wasn’t any natural airflow, creating a kind of glass furnace. 

Dion brushed a hand through his sweaty hair, glaring at his ancient motorbike. Old Reliable was going to have to wait a bit longer for repairs. His brother came first. He didn’t work so hard to keep Atty healthy, just to have him bake alive like a potato.

“Dion Saunders?” Someone behind him laughed. “How in Earth’s name did your worthless existence get to a core planet?”

Dion pivoted quickly to face three men he knew all too well. Men he had hoped to never see again in his lifetime or the next.

Something hit Dion hard on the back of the head. The bright blue sky went dark.