The drive back to Seventh Watch passed in a blur. The rain thinned away to nothing, and the moons came out, Ilath almost full and Thain about two-thirds. They shone down pearly-white on the empty midnight roads and the monolithic faces of the tenement blocks.

The stay-awake kept my eyes open, but my attention was starting to wander. It was just as well there was virtually no traffic; I noticed myself weaving across the lanes, and even running a couple of red lights. I decided against taking another capsule, though the itch was definitely there. I reckoned we still had a good while before the comedown set in properly. Which made Jandra’s stony silence all the more strange, and uncomfortable. She didn’t even mess around with the radio. She just sat there and watched the sleeping city rush by.

There were so many things I wanted to say to her. I bit my tongue, fighting off the drug’s impulsiveness. She would talk when she felt ready to talk.

We were driving down off the R-36 when she spoke up, catching me by surprise. “I thought I could get him in the leg. I was sure of it. I’m a good fucking shot, Evaris, you know I am.” She sounded as hollow as before, though I thought I could hear an edge of anger in there.

I chose my words carefully. “You’re good. You’re not a miracle-worker. That ganger was running full-tilt. Even an Inspectorate sniper would have struggled to make that shot.”

“If fucking Petil hadn’t gone wild, shooting all over the place, scaring him off…” Jandra shook her head bitterly. “He could have just fucking stopped when we said stop.”

“We gave him every chance,” I told her. “Harondt said the gangers are as good as feral. They spend their whole lives fighting each other in the ruins. Everything’s instinct, everyone’s a threat. You can’t hope to reason with that.”

Jandra was quiet for a moment. Then she turned to look at me, with a tensed jaw and dark, searching eyes.

“You were up close. You saw him. Was he…was it bad?”

You can’t stop it. It’s already begun. I shook away the memory of that terrible blood-choked voice, trying to keep my face neutral. “I’ve seen a lot worse. He was barely conscious. He mumbled a bit, then it was over. I reckon he wouldn’t have felt much pain, with the shock and all.”

I wasn’t sure if she believed me. Her expression gave nothing away. Her hands were folded in her lap, fingers clenched tight.

“I know how it feels, Jand. Trust me,” I went on. The streetlamps whipped by, turning the cruiser’s interior from light to dark to light again, the shadows sliding across our faces. “The first man I killed was a drug runner. Did I ever tell you about him? It was years ago, when I was new in Seventh Watch. I was part of a dreamcane sting in the south wharves. This guy saw us waiting for him in an alley, and panicked. He pulled a gun. I shot first. He died worse than your ganger.”

That last part wasn’t true. The dreamcane runner had fallen, writhed around a bit on the cobblestones, and then gone still. He hadn’t spoken to me. Hadn’t stared up with hate-filled eyes and blood seeping through his teeth. Hadn’t told me the stars are coming down.

I still remembered his name, though. Danry ir-Kobha. Twenty-four years old. A university dropout from Corvelen who’d gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd. On that blustery winter day, his chain of events had intersected mine, and that was that.

Jandra stayed silent. The shadows played across her face. I was starting to feel foolish, and vaguely inadequate. A speech like this would hardly have comforted me back then. I wasn’t sure why I’d expected it to cheer her up.

“What I’m saying is – it’s part of the job,” I told her. “We don’t set out to kill. Nobody on Aede knows how they’ll handle these kind of situations until they’re in one themselves. And nobody’s going to blame you for doing what you did.”

“His family might,” Jandra replied coldly.

“I’d be surprised if he even has one. A lot of these gangers are orphans, runaways from the slums.”

“So, that makes it alright, then.”

“No, I just mean-” I cut myself off. I could tell I was doing more harm than good now. “Look, let’s get back to the precinct. We’ll play some king’s-ransom, have a drink or two and go home. Our job’s done for the night.”

“Aren’t we lucky.”

I gave up, suppressing a sigh of exasperation, and tried to focus on the road. We were coming up to the Velmiris now. I could see the lights of the Inspectorate checkpoint shimmering on the placid river. The waterline was noticeably higher, swelled by the rain.

It was only when we were over the bridge, cruising east through the familiar streets of Seventh Watch, that Jandra broke the silence again.

“That thing we saw back there. The silver machine. What do you think that was?”

I thought of those spindly, knife-edged, lightning-fast limbs, glimpsed for a heartbeat in the rain. And the four gangers, handcuffed and terrified, being loaded into the Inspectorate rig. Never, I was sure, to be seen again. “I have no fucking idea.”

*

Erkasri called us when we were nearly back at the precinct. He sounded markedly on edge, more so than usual.

“Report straight to the chief-of-watch when you get in, One-Three. He wants your version of events, he said.”

“Did Koniel tell him what happened at the cathedral?” I asked, with a sinking feeling in my gut. I’d radioed in a brief update on the drive, just confirming that the sweep was done and that we were returning to Seventh. I hadn’t mentioned the dead ganger. It wasn’t that I was actively trying to conceal that particular detail. I simply felt that it could wait until we filed our written reports.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Most likely. Don’t keep him waiting,” the dispatch officer replied tersely.

I hung up the mic and glanced at Jandra. “Let me do the talking, okay? If he asks you something, keep your answers simple. And remember, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

She nodded absently. She didn’t look worried. She looked, for want of a better word, numb.

We glided into the precinct motor pool, splashing through a huge puddle that had collected in front of the gates. My body tingled with the lingering heat of the stay-awake as we trudged back into the main building. Though it wasn’t only the drug that had my heart racing in my chest.

Orczin’s office was in one corner of the precinct, down the corridor from the Icebox. He had left his door ajar. I knocked on the frosted glass, and he called us in, with our guns and batons still on our hips.

The chief-of-watch was seated at his desk, clattering away on an old mechanical typewriter and working his way through a bottle of chilled Novgha Reserve. He’d always been more of a vodka than a whiskey man. He bid us both sit down, hardly glancing up from his work, and poured us a half-glass each. I took it and sipped, though I didn’t much like the stuff. Jandra didn’t touch hers.

“I hear from Ninth Watch that you two were a great help tonight. Koniel’s very grateful,” Orczin said tonelessly. It was hard to tell if there was any sarcasm in there. He wasn’t a natural joker, old Orczin. “I appreciate you keeping up our relations with the other precincts. Ninth will owe us a favour, which I mean to cash in at the appropriate time.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said. Jandra said nothing.

Orczin took an unhurried drink of his vodka. Then he gave us a dispassionate look across the desk, steepling his fingers. “I also understand there was a fatality on site,” he said. “A rubble ganger, resisting arrest. Regrettable business. I recall I did say no shooting.”

I saw Jandra purse her lips, as if she was trying to force herself to stay quiet. “It was unavoidable, sir. We were taking fire from gangers in the ruins,” I put in hastily. “The suspect was given every opportunity to surrender. We called an ambulance for him, but he succumbed to his wounds before it could arrive.”

There was an uncomfortable pause as Orczin typed a few sentences into his typewriter. I didn’t know whether he was taking note of what I said, or if it was an entirely unrelated piece of work. Then, as I’d been dreading, he looked at Jandra.

“You took the shot, correct?”

Jandra made me proud. She didn’t let a hint of emotion show in her voice. “Yes, sir.”

“Is Watchman Morre telling the truth? It was unavoidable?”

Jandra blinked. I could see she was trying hard to keep eye contact with Orczin. “Yes, sir. The suspect refused to stop when warned.” She took a deep breath, and added: “I was attempting to wound, not kill.”

“How admirable,” Orczin said, sounding bored. He glanced back at me. “Koniel informed me there was a Royal Inspectorate presence on site. I trust you didn’t get in their way.”

“No, sir. Watch-Sergeant Harondt from Ninth was liaising with them. Their drone assisted us in sweeping the ruins.”

“Mm. It’s rare for them to bother with the rubble gangs,” Orczin remarked. “Still, the sweep was Ninth Watch’s operation. Not really any of our business.” And let’s make sure it stays that way, was the unspoken addendum.

The chief-of-watch typed in a few more lines. “Anything else to report?” he asked, without looking up.

I hesitated, forcing down another icy sip of Novgha Reserve. I didn’t want to mention the silver machine-thing. I didn’t even want to think about it. On the other hand, if Movar or Petil reported it to their precincts, Orczin might find out. He might already know about it. And contraband technology, anything that looked like a high-tech weapon, was taken very seriously by the higher-ups.

“Yes, sir,” I said at last. “We saw something in the ruins, before engaging the suspect. A mechanical device of some kind.”

Orczin looked up from his typewriter. His piggish eyes narrowed. “Describe it,” he said.

My palms were starting to sweat. It was never a good idea to pique Orczin’s curiosity. The dead ganger didn’t interest him; this did. I was afraid to go on, but of course now I had no choice.

“It was human-shaped. Metallic silver. Very tall and thin, with sharp edges. It moved extremely fast. We only caught a glimpse of it before it moved deeper into the ruins.”

Orczin’s body language changed. It was subtle, but undeniable. His shoulders tensed up and a hard, almost hostile look came into his eyes. “Did anyone else see it, besides you two?”

I immediately wished that I had kept my damned mouth shut. I could sense Jandra’s legs jittering nervously under the desk.

“Watchman Movar from Fourth Watch and Watchman Petil from Ninth. They were in our search party,” I said. “Petil thought it was a ganger wearing body armour.”

Orczin’s eyes bored into me. “And what do you think?”

The stars are coming down. “I’m…not sure, sir. All I can say is that it wasn’t a ganger.”

Orczin glanced between me and Jandra. “Now, listen to me. Both of you,” he said. He leaned forward, his fingernails digging into the desktop, and in an instant I saw what was beneath that unsmiling, self-important exterior.

The chief-of-watch was afraid.

“You didn’t see anything. Do you understand me? It was dark, it was raining, there were gangers causing trouble for Ninth Watch. You were shot at, and you shot back. Everything was done according to regulations, to the best of your ability. That’s what I want to read in your reports. Which I will have on my desk before you leave tonight, Morre,” he added pointedly, staring hard at me. “You mention anything else, any bullshit about mechanical men strutting around in the ruins, the black-bands will get involved. And then it will be beyond my ability to protect you. I may not even be able to protect myself.”

A hundred questions formed and died on my lips. Jandra just stared straight ahead, not looking at either me or Orczin.

“As I said, this is Ninth Watch’s mess to clean up,” the chief-of-watch continued. “Koniel is well-acquainted with the Inspectorate. I am not. I do not wish to be.” He leaned back in his chair, and just like that, the odd look in his eyes was gone. “I think both of you should take a couple of days off. Morre, you have a rest-day tomorrow, don’t you? Take the day after, as well. Jandra, you too. No need to put in a leave request. We’ll discuss this further upon your return.” He paused, then shook his head. “Actually, no, we won’t. Once I’ve filed your reports, we won’t speak of this again. At all. And you will not mention it to anyone else, in this precinct or outside it. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. When Jandra took a moment to answer, still staring blankly ahead, I nudged her foot under the desk. She blinked, remembering herself, and echoed me.

“Good. Morre, get me those reports – shorthand is fine. Then you’re both free to go. Have a nice break. There’s due to be sunshine tomorrow, I hear.”

There were times when I thought Orczin had no clue about me and Jandra, and other times when I feared he knew every detail. The expectant way he looked at us now left me none the wiser.

I assured him I’d make an immediate start on the reports. He waved us out without another word. The rattle and chime of his typewriter followed us out into the corridor.

I asked Jandra to return our pistols and batons to the locker room while I headed to my desk in the bullpen. I was the only one in there; there was no sign of Cherdane or his screechy radio. I sat down, picked up a ballpoint and began to fill out two blank report forms. One for me, one for Jandra – the same statement for each. My fingers were trembling slightly, making my handwriting spider-walk across the page. Some of that was the effects of the drug. Some of it wasn’t.

The night’s events kaleidoscoped through my mind. The ruined cathedral looming out of the rainy night. The silver creature flashing in and out of sight. The crack of Jandra’s gunshot. The bloodied smile of the dying man.

You can’t stop it. It’s already begun.

What troubled me the most was Orczin’s reaction. He hadn’t dismissed my account out of hand. It would have been simple for him to wave it away as a trick of the light, or even an outright hallucination. He might have suggested, bluntly or obliquely, that we should lay off the stay-awake.

But he hadn’t. He’d told us – ordered us – not to tell anyone about it. Hell, he’d warned us the Inspectorate would come knocking if we did. That could mean only one thing.

The machine-thing had been real, and Orczin knew it.