The frigate hung faintly in the sky like a blotch of oil, its dark, angular hull cutting against the cotton-like clouds that shrouded its complete silhouette against the grey sky. Against the horizon, juxtaposed against Pettalia’s pyramidal bulk in the distance, it invoked the very essence of a moody oil painting, pitting the relatively untouched expanse of nature in the highlands that occupied most of the frame with the geometric, clearly man-made shapes of the city and the ship hovering far above it. If one squinted, just perhaps, as Kofuku did not, they could make out the stream of automated craft flitting up and down from the spaceport on the uppermost level of Pettalia, a silent and mechanical conversation with their new visitor in orbit that conveyed fuel, supplies, intel, and likely, manpower. As a distant eavesdropper, Kofuku knew one was coming for them, too.

She took the opportunity took take a big gulp of air, knowing full well that in just a moment, her peace would be disturbed as-

“Oh great, bloody Corinth Prime!” Falano Duran shouted as he was wheeled out of MobiusMart. “Not a lick of sunlight! This is cruel and unusual, I’m telling you.”

Drummond walked up to her, his hands in the pockets of his coat. “Leaving already?”

“Deal’s a deal. I’ll bring him back.”

“The DA’s going to give me so much shit for this, you know?”

“You can take it, can’t you?”

Drummond shrugged, looking up at the frigate pinned to the backdrop of his homeworld. “Me? Yeah. The captain? He won’t say it to your face but I bet he’ll be pissed.”

“I’m sorry about Oscar. Really.”

The detective shook his head, puffing out his cheeks. “He volunteered. I’m going to have to talk to his wife.”

She put a hand on his shoulder, quite unsure of what to say. It wasn’t as if she’d had to do anything even close to that, but Drummond’s attitude seemed to indicate this wasn’t his first time. As she looked away, she spotted the captain talking into the radio in his helmet, and slid over to him, ignoring Falano’s attempts to get her attention.

He saw her approach, and took his hand off the side of his helmet. “Can’t help but wonder what’s with the escort, Agent.”

“I’m sorry, but this is technically a Division Four operation. We’re just borrowing some local resources.” Kofuku crossed her arms. “The deal is to send him back for prosecution, but for now we need information.”

The captain reached up and took off his helmet, revealing a mop of messy auburn hair contrasting with his pale complexion. “Sounds a lot like my brother used to say.”

“Hmm?”

He held out a hand. “Edmond Frye. Tobias was in Division Three. Couldn’t say much but he used to go on about all these vague plans. Never get to see the end of them.”

Kofuku shook his hand. Maybe it was the wind or the chilly weather this far north, but his grip was ice-cold through the gloves. Was. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“They told me he died fighting insurgents on a cruise ship way out in deep space. Which ones I don’t know. Most of the report was blacked out.”

“I…I think I’ve heard about that. He was protecting an asset.”

“Oh I know all about those kinds of assets. Faceless, nameless…” Frye glanced over at Falano. “Given enough time he’ll be that too.”

“What are you meaning to say, captain?”

“I’ve had a taste of the kind of tech the Divisions can use to get the information out of people. If you want him alive then you want to use him for more than that. Am I wrong?”

Kofuku said nothing.

“There’s always a deal. He does what you want and he goes free at the end of it. I understand that it’s bigger than me, and you, and this planet. We don’t honour this stuff, it stops working. I get that. But where’s the justice in us telling those two families they died stopping a madman who won’t get what they deserve?”

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “But compromises have to be made. It’s a-”

“Bigger issue than I know. Yeah.” He put his helmet back on. “I just hope it’s worth it, Agent.” He took a step back and saluted her.

She awkwardly saluted back, only to hear the arrival of engines much louder than the police transport fading in from behind.

The shuttle from the frigate was much bulkier than the police one, with a pair of flattened engines stuck along the top of the fuselage, and much more powerful ones tilting to make its landing. The amount of wind it kicked up was incredible too, settling on to the with a perfect imitation of an overweight albatross. The back of it unsealed, revealing a relatively spartan interior with passenger seats on each side of the space, each with a large  rubber-covered restraint bar unfurled above it  not unlike on a roller coaster. Veld and another team member carried Falano’s crate in, strapping it to the floor with the provided cables, and then shoved the cyborg himself into one of the seats and locked him down. Kofuku picked a chair on the opposite side, next to the compartment in the front where all the autonomous pilot machinery was, and took a headset off the wall to place over her own ears. As soon as she did, the noise cancellation kicked in, which would drown out the engines warming back up, but more importantly, they banished Falano to the realm of being forever ignored as long as she didn’t look in his direction.

“Ready to depart,” she said softly into the headset’s microphone as soon as the cops had left. To that the ramp in the back sealed up from its three pieces, becoming airtight in preparation for the journey up, and the ship began to vibrate.

“He didn’t give you too much trouble, did he?” a voice asked over the headset.

“Two people are dead. One of them was an employee.”

“And the other?”

“Police. Is there a containment team ready?”

“It’s not a D5 ship, but we’ll get close. He’s not anomalous, is he?”

Kofuku looked across the hold to Falano, who only stuck his tongue out at her and mouthed something she couldn’t hear. “Yeah no, he’s pretty normal. I just can’t tell if he’s still got weapons on him.”

The ship was beginning to tilt upwards, and the shaking intensified as the upper engines ignited. “He won’t use them.”

“You think?”

“I think this is fun for him.”

Kofuku looked at Falano again. Despite missing one arm and half of the other, with his armour riddled with bullets, he seemed completely unfazed and was in face cheering as their shuttle rocketed through the lower atmosphere. “You’re on point with that.”

“I know his type. He’s already realised you’re not going to kill him, so the next best thing is seeing what else you try.”

Kofuku bit her lip. Around them, the shaking stopped, engines switching to cruise mode now that they were in orbit. She certainly didn’t need the fact that her insides had begun floating to know that. “I’ll see you on the ship.” She took her headset before there was a reply, and stowed it back on the wall. “Hey.”

Falano blinked at her. “Who, me?”

She stared at him. His face was just this goofy grin, and from what she could tell, that was entirely genuine. Utterly impossible to read. “How is it you know my father?”

“How is it you don’t know?”

“I only have memories. As a child. I saw you in the garden with another guy, and him. Before the whole deal with the sword.”

Falano tilted his head, trying to look thoughtful. “I think that was the first time I met him too. Sorry, it’s been a while. My hard drives aren’t exactly what they used to be.”

“You keep calling me princess.”

“That’s what everybody called you. Your father, the palace staff, the teacher guy…but you don’t really fit that anymore, do you?”

“What exactly did my father hire you for?”

“I have…connections. Actually a lot less now after what you made me do.”

She frowned. “None of us forced you to kill that guy. He was just doing his job. You should have just surrendered.”

“And he should have just stayed out of my way. I was going to let him live. What’s your point, we should all roll over and live to fight another day?”

“Have you ever done a single decent thing in your miserable life?”

“Decent? Well…depends on what you mean by that.” He sat back in the chair. “People don’t hire me for ‘decent’.”

“So what did my father pay you for?”

Falano smirked. “Oh, nice try. Information’s not free though, princess. Maybe you put me back together and I’ll be a little more leaky.”

“You’re not really in a position to negotiate.”

“And you are? Do you even see the look on your face? You have to know. I don’t have to do anything.” He shut his eyes and turned away.

She considered a comeback, but decided against it when their ship rocked again and touched down, her organs settling back into their proper places.

It wasn’t long until the back hissed open again, this time to a large hangar in the underside of the frigate and waiting at the base was a small contingent of uniformed soldiers, at their head a woman with short hair that was tied back into a bun, an eyepatch over her left socket. She gave a little wave and the soldiers marched in to pry Falano from his seat, unlatching his box from the floor and carrying them both off to a small flatbed vehicle already waiting for him.

Kofuku lifted her restraining bar up and hopped down the ramp. “I feel like shit.”

“Should have slept last night like I told you,” Colburn said, turning to watch her soldiers drive the cyborg mercenary away. “He said anything yet?”

“I don’t know how a guy like that can be so annoying and talkative and also say absolutely nothing useful.” She shrugged off her backpack, handing it off to a hangar tech while they headed towards the security checkpoint connecting to the rest of the ship.

“It’s a lot more common than you think.” Colburn stopped at the checkpoint's scanner, stepping in and holding her arms up. The machine lit up green, and she walked past.

Kofuku struck the same pose, looking up to see the officers in the room above reviewing her readings. “But he recognised me pretty much instantly. Knew about the sword too.” The light turned green for her as well and she walked through, reclaiming her bag from another tech.

“We’ll make him talk.”

Like most military vessels commissioned under Division Two of the First Unified Human Empire, the UMF Conservator, as a top-of-the-line multipurpose frigate designed to operate both as part of a fleet and on solo deployments, was designed with a particular interior aesthetic in mind. Each bulkhead and wall was tapered outwards near the base and ceiling, giving every corridor a slight octagonal form; as per regulations, there were small handholds along each flat section, providing a means of effective movement even in the absence of artificial gravity. The lights in the ceiling were in sleek, thin strips, nestled between message tubes that proliferated through the entire ship in a single centralised system. The floors were a dull metallic grey, but were covered in a series of coloured lines, albeit unmarked, which ran into different sections of the ship.

Colburn and Kofuku stepped through a doorway reminiscent of something from the seafaring ships of old, and ascended up a rectangular series of staircases that surrounded a message tube column. They ascended three levels, and exited towards the aft, emerging into the section designated as an assembly point in between all of the sailors’ quarters.

“How are you doing with the other lead?” Kofuku asked once they had climbed the steps.

“We got approval,” Colburn said. “The garrison commander where he’s being held is hesitant, though. Wants you to go there in person and talk to him there, and then he’ll decide.”

“Not unexpected. Europa?”

“Earth.”

“Which one?”

“A02.”

Further along, a door led them into a more well-furnished area that had tables on either side, and a ring of plush seats around a central column that had plants coming out of the top, adding a splash of green that was sorely needed given all the drab military grey everywhere else. There seemed to be actual carpet here, as well as soft music filling the space from an officer seated there, playing on a toned-down electronic flute.

Past that point still, and past most of the officers’ quarters, they came to a particular room with an especially reinforced door, with “Moira Colburn” printed on the label beside it.

“That doesn’t look like standard issue,” Kofuku said.

“I have a lot of artifacts. Just prefer people not snooping on what I’m doing. Too many mages on board.” She tapped her wrist to the keypad, and a variety of small-script sigils briefly flashed on the surface of the door before it slid open.

Colburn’s office was a little cramped, but with little need for physical documents  it was simply a desk, a workstation, a chair and her personal end of the message tube system, currently occupied by a canister.

Kofuku watched as Colburn opened it and pulled out a transparent rolled document, with shifting writing and symbols annotating what looked like a simplified star map. What system that was, she couldn’t tell. “Still no word from Barrett?”

“No. But the Lodge is above Talosa and there’s some kind of anomaly there. I say just give it time.”

Colburn produced her phone from a trouser pocket and glanced at the string of texts she had sent, all unread since the day before.

“You should clean yourself up and sleep. It’ll take half a day for the jump back.”

She didn’t protest that, turning her attention to another door in the back of the office and going right through. The lights automatically came on in Colburn’s bedroom, illuminating a simple double bed and wardrobe, with a heavyset safe squeezed between them and a hat rack on the corner that held a single worn and faded ranger’s hat. Kofuku paid it no mind and simply removed a fresh set of clothes from her backpack, setting them on the edge of the bed and headed into the bathroom, throwing off her blazer as she went.

When the lights in the bathroom came on and Kofuku saw her reflection, any inkling of resistance to the idea of a long, comfortable slumber faded. To say her makeup needed fixing was an understatement, and she had underestimated how much of the concrete dust had gotten into her hair, turning it more grey than her usual dyed pink. Worries still clawed at the edges of her mind, but she pushed them all back in favor of loosening her tie and unbuttoning the top of her shirt. A splash of water to the face perked her up a bit, but there was still a lot of work to do.

The cyborg, his partner, the sword, the Mobius Board, her unanswered texts and calls…she was going to take whatever rest she could get. It’s fine, she thought. Nowhere to go but up.