“Well... sign him in here, we need to get his report.” the surprised officer said as he gave his papers to a small, wheeled automaton that scanned them, then went away to store them.

“Hmmff, she has a face lik' porcelain, but she's defintely not jus' words...” Forge grumbled to himself.

After signing papers for a while, he was taken, still wrapped-up, to the interrogation room. Going past the lobby, there was a very spacious office area, having many nikeans in desks writing and typing away at machines that looked like a combination between a television and a typewriter. These “computers” had rather primitive looking screens, even if they were technicolor. 

Multiple lines of pipes were lined across the ceiling and the riveted walls, often ending near the desks (evidently, these where pneumatic tubes).  The whole place was well-lit by many dome-shaped ceiling lights thorough. Regardless of their position, everyone here was overly well-dressed.

Having reached the interrogation room, he was sat on a chair, facing two Nikean officers across a table. A single lamp basked it's light over Forge, leaving the other two in dimmer lightning. One of the officers had a full beard and the other a neckbeard. 

The two whispered some things to each other that Forge couldn't make out.

Suddenly, a third officer walked in, this one was older and had grey hair with a short beard. He told Forge: “Please, stand still and keep your eye open, this won't hurt.”

Forge noticed he held a ophtalmoscope-like object and was about to ask “Wha-” before the officer held his head in place as he put said scope over his eye. Forge could barely keep his eye open at the befuddlement, but after five seconds (that felt far longer than that), the officer removed the scope and repeated the action on his other eye.

After this, the gray-bearded nikean said to the sitting officers: “Hhhmmm, I can't see any grid-pattern. Rather unexpected.” He then left the room as quickly as he arrived.

“Wha- What was that 'bout!?!?” asked Forge in utter confusion.

“We are asking the questions here, foreigner.” the neckbearded nikean exclaimed.

The full-bearded nikean began to count Forge's violations:

“Violating Nikean territory laws, resisting arrest, assaulting an officer and property damage.”

“What is your name?” one asked.

“What do you want with this planet?” asked the other.

“Where do you come from?” asked the first again.

“Do you come here to attack us?” the other, yet again, asked.

“I... uhhhh, m-my name's Forge Pérez, I co-come from a place call'... Poluum. I... lived ther'.” Forge reluctantly said.

Suddenly, another officer, one with no beard and slicked-back hair entered the room, whispering to the sitting officers: “I must inform you... Latymer has said his blood looked red.”

“Huh... that's weird. Are we sure he is a foreigner?” one of the officers asked quietly, as the other took notes.

“Just look at him.” the other replied, gesturing at Forge, who just sighed at this.

“I guess he's one of those distant ones. Apparently, some of them do have red blood.” the first one said.

“Whatever, a foreigner is a foreigner. The species is irrelevant.” the other concluded.

“L-Look, I only wanted to... fin' the way to a ci-cilvie-ciliv- an inhabited planet... t-to go back home.” he continued.

“What exactly is your planet? What is it's name and sector? Is it this 'Poluum' you mentioned?”

“N-No, Poluum isn' the name of a planet... my hom' planet is na-named... 'Seplaiz'.”

“Hmmm, never heard of that planet. Is it close in any way to Nikean territory?”

“Not at all... Bu-But to be hones', I don' re-reelly know were 'xactly my pl-planet is, I'm... lost?”

“So, is that the only reason you came here?” they asked.

“Yes.” the Man in the Jacket responded.

“How do you know this language?” the neckbearded one asked.

“Th-This is just the sa-same languag' Iv' al-always had.” Forge answered, shyly. 

The full-bearded interrogator whispered to the other “From what we've researched, there are recorded cases of surprisingly distant places, even with foreigners, that are acquainted with this dialect.”, to which the other responded with “How curious...”, before continuing their interrogation.

“If you only wanted to reach this planet, why did you attack an officer?” 

Forge just stayed silent for a moment, thinking, then answered: 

“I... I was tryin' to explain myself... but... I ad-admit shouldn' have...” 

“Are you now or ever have been associated with any movements or organizations? Or were you working for someone else?” they questioned again, not really listening to him.

“No... I... I c-came hear' by mysel'.” Forge replied.

“Then where exactly did you obtain the ship you have?” one of them asked.

“I... I foun' it on the garbage.” the Man in the Jacket replied, immediately before realizing how stupid that sounded.

Soon after, Forge was taken, inspected, mugshot, then thrown into one of the temporary cells. It wasn't your typical jail cell with bars, but something different. Quickly, he heard sound of hissing and gears moving as the cell closed like a slide door. This door was made of something similar to glass, while the cell itself was lit by a single light, with a single decrepit bunk at the side.

Bizarrely, the walls seemed to be made of simple bricks. 

“There's no way.” said Forge before he (discreetly, of course) attempted to push the wall over. Of course, the wall didn't even budge.

“I figured...” he grumbled to himself.

He tried to fly, but noticed he (again) couldn't even do that. Something in this cell was apparently 'nullifying' his powers. The Man in the Jacket sighed and said: “I... I was 'fraid this woul' happen...” 

“To be expected from a foreigner.” said a certain nikean, suddenly.

“Uhhhh, what?” Forge asked.

“Flies into Nikean territory unauthorized, gives a very unconvincing excuse, attacks an officer, can't even speak properly... not surprising.” said, rather smugly, Officer Latymer, arms-crossed as she approached the cell.

Frowning at that last part, he (tried) to defend himself: “Well, I-I coul' not 'xactly phone you be-before comin' here... y-ya know? Also, what I said is true 'spi-'spite the fact that it sounds weird.”

“That ship you have isn't just any garbage ship, it's actually a surprisingly sophisticated and fancy machine. Who sent you here?” she asked, with a tone of disdain at his way of speaking.

“Again... no one sent me. I... I only got here 'ca-'cause I wanted to fin' cilivy-civlie- some place with people. A-An' I was sick of waitin'...” the Man in the Jacket replied.

The officer asked him “Is that why you attacked me?”, with a serious tone.

“...Hey, I... wasn'... okay, I ad-admit I'm an idiot. I tr-tried to 'splain my sit-sitution...” Forge thought for a moment before continuing “...I-I really wanted to ge-get to my hom' planet... whi-which is all I want...”

“We'll see about that...” the Officer replied, unconvinced.

“So... wh-what 'xactly will you be doin' to me?”

“I'm sorry, but I won't be telling that to a foreigner.”

“Oh com'on!!! If... If I'm jailed, than I at leas' wanna know the ba-basic process!!!”

“That's just too bad.” she coldly replied as she walked away.

Forge was about to say something, but decided otherwise, not wanting to bring himself further trouble. He just sat there, resigned, with his arms crossed. At least he wasn't on a ship anymore.

Instead, he was in a jail cell.

“I... reelly screwe' up... di-didn' wanna wast' more time, s-so now I'm wastin' even more time.” he said as he walked and rested his forehead on the wall.

“...If I'm this stupid then I deserv' this... at leas' I didn'... say that whol' 'still need to breathe' thing out loud...” he grumbled.

As our Forge was busy grumbling, Officer Latymer went to talk to her closest friend.

“Alright, where's Maroon?” she asked loudly.

“Right here, how did it go up there?” answered another, slightly shorter nikean. She had light skin; shoulder-length brown hair, with a long bang that went over her left eye; and was dressed in a desaturated-orange buttoned blouse with a tan skirt, a dark-orange jacket and white gloves. A noticeable scar could be seen in her left cheek.

“Well, I arrested a foreigner that had entered this territory. With no permit, of course.” the officer explained.

“Must've been boring waiting all that for something to happen... Anyway, what was this foreigner? Was did they look like? Were they strong?” continued Maroon.

“This foreigner looked kinda like us, but he had blue skin and no nose. He couldn't even speak well, he fumbled with words over and over.”

“How did you arrest him?” asked Maroon.

“I simply told him to get out of the vehicle, warning him that he was trespassing. I informed him that he had to come with me, trying do it the easy way. He resisted and I had to bring him in... tenderized. He was pretty different from most foreigners I've heard of.”

“What'cha mean, different?”

“He could fly and he wasn't nearly as weak as most foreigners. Plus, he had red blood.”

“Yeah, red blood... So you fought an... anomaly?” asked Maroon, sounding interested.

“...I guess?” replied Brigitte.

“Wow, just wow, you're on a roll this month! Taking down troublemakers every single week and now you've got an anomalic foreigner too?” exclaimed an impressed Maroon.

However, Brigitte expressed her doubts: “Ehhhh, I have a feeling the higher-ups don't like me that much anymore...”

“Heeeey, how's it been for you?” asked a male nikean with short black hair, wearing a typical fancy black suit with a bowtie and white gloves.

“Hello, Rob...” said Brigitte.

“How did it went?” asked Rob.

But Maroon interrupted Rob, asking: “Where's Ben?”

“Mostly just waiting, they haven't called me for anything new.” a deep-voice explained.

This was Ben, a dark-skinned nikean, slightly taller that Rob. He had curly afro hair, wore a fancy black suit and tie (not a bowtie this time) and wore black gloves.

“Did you really get some blue guy, as I heard?” he asked with his naturally deep voice.

“Yes, they said his name was... 'For-Heper', I think? I hadn't heard of many foreigners like him before.”

Intrigued by this, Rob asked: “Was he one of those rastel-... uhhhhh...  ragel-... uhhm, one of those bug-people?”

“No, they checked his eyes, he's something else.” replied Brigitte.

“How strong was he?” asked Rob.

“Much stronger than the usual foreigner, but he was clearly an amateur at fighting. He just brawled randomly, I dealt with him quickly. It did surprise me how he could shoot weird 'energy blasts' out of his hands.” the Nikean-in-pink explained.

“Whaaaaat? I've heard of some foreigners capable of doing that, but not them arriving at Reglom!!!” exclaimed a surprised Rob, who continued with “This influx has been worrying the whole station. By now, over 10 foreigners have been reported entering Reglom's territory since the last year. What if a whole invasion begins? How would we react?”

“Well, he was still affected by nullissence, we can worry about it later... anyways, what have you guys been up to today?” asked Brigitte.

“Rob and I were sent to check the Saumer Gas Station, due to apparently suspicious activity going on there.”, explained Ben, who continued with “Due to our 'actions'... there's no longer a Saumer Station.”

Rob defensively responded: “Hey, we prevented something worse happening with the gas, ya know!!!”

“That explains that smoke I saw...” replied Brigitte.

“And I just got here.” said Maroon (jokingly, of course).

“What are you wearing Maroon? Is that a new jacket?” Brigitte asked.

“Exactly, it's a gift from my birthday party!!!” replied Maroon.

“Yipe!!! Another one? You sure are getting old!!!” joked Rob.

Maroon frowned at him. 

"Ha......Ha......” she laughed sarcastically.

“It's not like you are getting any younger!!!” Ben told Rob.

“Huh, this 'party' just came all of the sudden. How come you didn't tell us about it?” asked Brigitte.

“Wait, you... didn't know?” asked Maroon.

Brigitte looked at Maroon in confusion: “Well... no, you didn't tell us.”

Maroon raised an eyebrow and said: “I sent you a Type-mail, you didn't receive it?”

“Not at all.” answered Brigitte, who said “These TypeTalkys are pieces of-”, before she was interrupted by Maroon.

“Must've been my signal, actually.”

A confused Ben asked Maroon: “You've got bad signal in your house?”

“It works most of the time. It's fine.”

“Anyways, what else did you do yesterday?” the Nikean-in-pink changed the subject. 

“Last night, I was reading a novel on the TypeTalky, Called 'Of Soul and Essence'.” Maroon explained.

“Did you like it?” asked Brigitte, only for Maroon to bluntly reply with “It was terrible.”

A snickering Brigitte said: “That's too bad.”

“The story's structure was bad, the typos were distracting and the dialogues dragged on and ooonnn. And it apparently took the author like 40 years to finish. He seriously wasted his life writing this mess.”

“Going back to more important matters, our actions at the Saumer Station got us into trouble, again.” said Rob, changing the subject.

“They've warned us, repeatedly. We can't continue this behavior. If we keep this up, they'll have to arrest us.” said Ben, seriousness engraved in his tone. 

“Or just Sunhaul us.” said Rob sarcastically.

“WHAT?! Don't you even joke about that!!!” said an alarmed Maroon, while Rob just snickered while jokingly sticking his tongue out. Brigitte rolled her eyes, trying to hide her own worries.

“In all seriousness. I'm actually still curious about this foreigner. What's his real reason for coming here? Is he a spy? Or is he just lost?” inquired Rob.

“He claimed he wanted to go back to his home planet. Whatever the reason is, don't forget, never trust a foreigner.” added Brigitte.