There weren’t many places on Etrah where the night sky shone turquoise; this was perhaps one of Novus’ only claims to tranquillity. When the people looked up into the night sky, the stars would flicker as though they were simple illusions. It was presumed that the turquoise glow was simply to suit the city-state's utopian ambience, and the Novians who spent their lives beneath it had accepted this as the truth.
But the truth was it wasn't for ambience at all. The Novian Border was a cold, hard wall of energy that could roast you at the touch, and it was put there to control.
Cassian McConnell was one of few people in Novus who knew this truth. And for good reason. But as she laid on the roof of a derelict department store, sniper rifle pointed over the railing at the streets below, she couldn’t help but feel as though it was about time someone other than her knew the truth of the sky — among many other things.
She was both an open book and a mystery to those who knew her. An open book in the respect that when someone asked her a question, she’d answer.
But a mystery in the respect that those answers were usually lies.
As far as her peers knew, her bionic right arm and complimentary orange contact lense were the result of an unfortunate kidnapping in which Cassian was a guinea pig for ‘nefarious, pro-cybernetic forces’: she never cared to elaborate on the details. It was just as well nobody ever asked - perish the thought that she’d have to start keeping track of these things.
Her eyes closely tracked the orange interface invading her peripheral vision, and she watched as the clock struck eleven at night. She double-tapped her right temple and impatiently instructed this interface - known as the VisoCom - to call Ali: the man who had her in this situation in the first place.
“Alright, you’ve had your funny-five-minutes, mate, where the fuck are they?” Cassian snarled over the VisoCom.