Nestra woke up in her bed. Her back hurt. Her shoulder hurt. Her forearm hurt a lot more. Her mind felt groggy, starving in a way that food couldn’t sate. Her stomach growled though she barely had an appetite. She used her visor to check her messages. This one was a light model that covered just one eye, rather cumbersome. Com contacts were better but Nestra couldn’t stand them.
Summoned at 10AM by Mazingwe for a checkup, then the admin at 11. One day of respite was too much to ask. The bureaucracy demon demanded that ink be shed and pacts signed in triplicate. Well, electronic ink but whatever.
Nestra followed her usual morning routine. Stretch, shower, brush teeth, dress, gobble down two essence bars— 100% of your daily intake of everything in convenient packages! — drink coffee. Ignore the ghost of her mother’s voice that told her she should brush her teeth after coffee. Climb on her old electric car and drive to work.
Her apartment was in a nicer district, not a wall one. That meant a forty minute drive through the remnants of the morning rush. That also meant a reduced risk of gang wars spilling over her favorite coffee shop. The weather was nice, clear, still cold from winter’s weakening’s grasp. A news feed blared info until something caught her attention. She turned the autopilot on and listened.
“A Threshold police officer lost his life in a clash with an unknown gang in district fifteen yesterday evening. Officer Regis was a baseline with over fifteen years of experience but he fell to a gang user. Opposition Councillor Schofield reacted to the news with a dire warning.”
“Gang violence has increased by 21% over the last year in the outer district in general. In district fifteen, crime is so high that authorities have deserted it entirely! This is the direct and predictable result of the politics of abandonment Mayor Kim Soon-Jae has promoted over the last decade. Our population swarms in arcologies, leaving our outer shell disused and abandoned to marginalized groups ripe for induction by unscrupulous actors. If nothing is done, we will lose the entire outer ring to crime lords!”
“The mayor’s office announced a plan to address the issue by giving police duties to guilds, compensating them with tax rebates. Opposition denounced the measure as unconscionable because it would leave state duties to private entities and force portal raiders to play a role they are not trained for. However, the mayor office’s representative remarked that public safety must take into account new realities such as the rise in the number of criminal users. They noted that the proportion of users in the 16 to 18 age bracket has recently reached the historical amount of 20%. The process only seems to be accelerating, demanding a change in the way law enforcement functions. In other news, pop star singer Mizuha officially signed with —”
Nestra tuned it off. She changed channels to pre-incursion music and sat back as comfortably as her bruised back allowed. That was it, really. Always fun to learn about one’s contract termination in the morning news.
The autopilot informed her she had arrived shortly after. She let the police compound take over her parking and exited the nice, modern local branch of the TPD to the shithole that was the MaxSec annex. The underground parking was mostly empty. She passed the biometric scan to find Ines serenaded by Mazingwe himself, two streaming cups of coffee waiting between them. The towering doctor turned and pretended to only notice Nestra now. The golden gleam of his iris contrasted nicely with a skin so dark it was almost blue. Mazingwe shaved entirely and the white scrubs he wore did nothing to conceal his lean muscles. Nestra still had no idea what the old gleam was doing here. She was pretty sure he was moonlighting or something.
“Miss Palladian! Just in time for your ten o’clock. Good morning to you!”
Mazingwe went for a handshake. He was old school like that. Nestra obliged.
“I bet you were Lion Nierere. He was a user from Tanzania, during the incursion.”
“Once again I regret to say that even if you were right, I would not tell you,” he replied with a smile.
“Miss Palladian, please,” Ines said with terrible embarrassment. “Show some propriety! Mr. Mazingwe is—”
“A servant of our dear mother Threshold just like the rest of us,” Nestra interrupted with a fake smile. “I’m sure he does not insist on honorifics.”
“I know how to pick my battles, Nestra. Thank you Ines dear. I will see you later. Enjoy the coffee. Duty calls!”
Nestra followed the tall man but not before shrugging at Ines’ judgemental look. The old lady was pale and rotund and fretful, always worried about appearances and Nestra’s continued single status. She meant well. So Nestra didn’t give her too hard a time. Mazingwe was fair game though, the old doctor’s unflappable demeanor a challenge to her. She followed him to the medical room and waited while he fiddled around with a scanner. That one was quite nicer.
“While we proceed, I need to ascertain your identity. Are you —”
“Must we?” Nestra moaned.
“It is the protocol and as a doctor—”
“Yeah yeah fine. I am Clytemnestra Palladian, named by an idiot father with an ancient Greece fixation backed with no real knowledge and who didn’t consider that sending a girl to school with a name that starts with ‘clyt’ was a shit idea. There you are. That’s me.”
“Clytemnestra was a powerful figure, the queen of Mycenae.”
“Assassinated her husband in a fit of jealousy.”
“I withdraw my remark and concede your point. Minor bruising but otherwise you are in remarkably good shape. Did you take a regen capsule?”
“Yesterday before bed. With a mild painkiller.”
“Get another one tonight and you will be fine. Painkiller if you need it. No training until I have performed another exam tomorrow. And no mission. You’re on the bench.”
“Me and the others,” Nestra grumbled.
And Regis. That poor fucker.
“I am sorry about what happened to your friend Regis. He was a good man. His loss leaves us all poorer and the world duller.”
Nestra shrugged. She didn’t do well with emotional stuff like that.
“There will be a service on Saturday, if you can attend. Regis was a Christian. We are going to church.”
“Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”
Mazingwe sighed.
“Look, you are still young and you can recover from trauma overnight but that will not last. Your dedication and skill with the sword are remarkable, to have landed a position in the alpha squad as their CQC expert, especially as a woman.”
“That’s sexist.”
“Nestra, please. For baselines, reach and muscle mass matter a lot when it comes to close quarter combat. Technique will only carry you so far. My point was that you are burning the candle from both ends. You need to consider… another activity.”
“Not you too.”
“Danger is rising. Your numbers are dwindling.”
“But that didn’t stop you,” Nestra replied with conviction.
Mazingwe flinched. That was the first time it happened.
“That was different.”
“Hah! I knew it. You’re a first-gen gleam.”
Mazingwe tsked and his gaze hardened. Nestra felt immediately chastened. It was weird how quick he’d turned from cool doctor to, well, high gleam. What he really was. Oh, he had his mana under complete control but Nestra was no fool. Only old monsters could control themselves to that extent.
“Sorry.”
“I cannot fathom what you see in pushing me to the limits of my patience. That drive is almost… but I digress and your psychological profile is not my prerogative. I suppose it is time to tell you about your inquiry.”
“You got an answer?” Nestra replied, only for her hopes to die stillborn. Mazingwe wore the commiserating face that meant he was the bringer of bad news.
“It’s a no, isn’t it?”
“I am sorry. I swore on my honor as a practitioner that my observations were true. I gave them charts. Pictures. Cortisol levels. Everything. The final argument is that your case being unique, the city is unwilling to create an exception for you. They suggest, and I quote, that you pursue inquiries with private entities.”
He raised his hands to forestall any protests.
“I am sorry and I agree that they are failing their obligation to provide medical care. There is just no guideline to handle your cases since all the other children of users who are not users themselves come from comparatively weak parents. However, I suspect something may be at play. Possibly a stubborn individual.”
“Damn,” Nestra whispered.
“Ah, I expected a lot of swearing.”
“It’s just…”
She shrugged.
“Everything.”
“I get it. I am making enquiries with my contacts. And no, you may not know who it is or my super secret identity.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that felt comedic on such a serious face. Nestra chuckled. He was a good guy.
“Yeah. Guess that’s one more closed door.”
“Do not lose heart. You were next to an open portal yesterday, yes?”
“The power surge faded as soon as I left the area and the long-lasting relief was gone this morning.”
“So…”
“It’s getting worse.”
“Perhaps you are merely accumulating a deficit. Let’s not get carried away with the doomsaying, yes? I am on your side and I will try to help more. In the meanwhile, I believe I have taken enough of your time.”
“Thanks, Mazingwe.”
“Is your gratitude enough to finally get a ‘doctor’ before my name?”
“I don't know. Are you sure—”
“No you may not know my super secret identity. Off you go now, mtundu. You are trying this old man’s heart.”
“Ok ok!”
Nestra fled, trying to recall what he called her but realizing she didn’t know how to spell the strange word. And that was cheating. Or was it not? In any case, he had successfully distracted her from her pain. She needed mana, and the city would not provide. What to do? Unfortunately, that lasted long enough for her to reach her cubicle. It was a safe haven with an actual lock on it. An ancient holographic display hummed alive. Someone knocked on the door behind her.
“Palladian.”
“Chief.”
Chief Ruben was a tired old woman in an equally tired suit. There were deep pockets under her eyes and a weight in them that told Nestra she’d given up, yet the flawless haircut and rigorously ironed outfit said she hadn’t. Ruben’s position was a punishment. For what, Nestra didn’t know. Chief Ruben acquitted herself of her duties with grim determination. She’d also handled Gorge’s second to internal affairs for being an absolute piece of shit. Nestra and her had a truce going. It was nice.
“We have a member of special affairs and a user from internal affairs here to see alpha squad, starting with you. Miss Kim and Ilar. No given last name. They’re waiting for you in room 2.”
There was a lot to unpack there, starting with the fact chief Ruben was not invited to the show. That was a slap to the face and not a small one. Nestra decided to dig a little more. The chief had not moved yet. That meant she wanted to talk. Or say something.
“I thought my appointment was at 11?”
“It is. Mr. Wilson was supposed to come at 10. He has not arrived yet.”
“Bard left a gleam and the rat squad hanging?”
“Yes, he did. And they outrank us all. I am placing you in a difficult situation but, please, for once, use honorifics?”
It was a tired request made in a hopeless voice, yet Ruben’s face betrayed only bored calm. Nestra found the dichotomy jarring. Shouldn’t the chief look angry? A face should match a voice should match a poise, in her opinion.
“I’ll be good, chief.”
“You are very accommodating today, Palladian.”
“Oh just realized that Regis is dead, both squads are down, and we’re about to be shuttered so, compared to that, politeness is a very small thing.”
“No defeatist speech here please. And as for the squads, we are merging alpha and beta. You and Mr. Wilson will be under Gorge unless I fire the little fucker. Off you go now.”
“Riel fucking dammit.”
Nestra huffed through the corridor, clad in her annoyance. Gorge was an asshole. A grumpy, sexist, abrasive twat who was unfortunately also highly competent — the combination remained common in Threshold. She’d have to hope he stuck to professionalism during their hopefully short collaboration. Her feet carried her through the tired corridors of the MaxSec building. It smelled of disuse and antiseptic. Some of the paint had peeled off on the ceiling, leaving the concrete bones exposed behind. Many of the rooms had been converted to storage space by other departments with Ruben unable to justify the space since their numbers had dwindled. Nestra knocked on room 2’s door three times, loudly enough to be assertive but not loud enough to be aggressive. It took the people inside ten seconds to let out a reluctant come in. Short enough to assuage their impatience yet long enough to inform her they didn’t give a shit about respect. This was entirely expected. Nestra walked in with perfect poise then stopped near the rickety chair at parade rest. She did her best to stare ahead while the pair inspected her like market cattle.
She would have been mad if she expected anything else.
The woman finally gave her permission to sit. The general impression she’d got crystallized as she took both of them in turn. Kim was a middle aged woman, most likely of Korean origin from the name. Her face made her look in her mid twenties but that was the result of an anti-aging treatment, as hinted by the old-school tailleur, navy blue with dull gold outlines. Nestra just knew how to spot the signs: always a little too smooth, too perfect. Kim’s nails were tastefully manicured. There was not a hair out of place on her head. Minimalistic makeup enhanced a conventionally attractive face that screamed of plastic surgery, the really high level one. Not a cheap nose fix. She was either from money or higher on the totem pole than she let on, possibly both. Her poise mirrored Nestra’s own, rigid in her seat despite the dilapidated surroundings. Sometimes, internal affairs took out pens or similar old tech to have something in their hands but Kim had opted for immobility. Nestra knew with certainty that this woman could decide to throw her out of the force and that would be it.
By contrast, Ilar sat in a relaxed fashion, back resting against his chair. He wore casual streetwear that fit him too well to be mass produced. Understated wealth was always a sign of power but, well, he was a gleam. His iris pulsed softly with a green hue, turning from dull to distractingly bright on a two seconds cycle. He had black hair, combed back and slightly slanted eyes. Mixed blood, maybe. Just like Kim, Ilar was also picture perfect but he pulled it out effortlessly and that screamed high gleam to her. Definitely an active user from the muscle structure.
“Good morning, Miss Palladian. I am officer Kim from the internal affairs and this is user Ilar from the special affairs.”
“Kim nim. Mr Ilar,” Nestra greeted.
She finally got a fix on their perfumes. Amber for him, floral for her. Again, understated stuff but pleasant. More pleasant than dust and old coffee at least.
“We have some questions for you concerning the theft of medical grade mana lenses, but first, let me congratulate you on the arrest of Jonas Wong and the successful recovery of the stolen item. Those are some impressive results.”
Nestra nodded. In her experience, if a suit gave you a compliment, that meant they were pulling back for a haymaker.
“We have reviewed the footage from your helmet’s camera. In your own opinion, what more could have been done to apprehend the other culprit?”
Ah so that was a good opening. Either Nestra admitted to her own fault or Kim got an admission that crunchies simply couldn’t stop users and were therefore condemned to obsolescence.
Thing was, it wasn’t a real hearing. Nestra knew the city had already decided to defund them. It was in the damn news. She still disliked Kim’s maneuvering, not because it was disingenuous — that was part of the course for an interrogator — but because Kim underestimated her a little bit too blatantly.
“Class three ammunition would have been a big help. We landed solid hits on both users but the impact those made was negligible, depriving us of our stopping power. I believe two more officers would have made a significant difference, especially if at least one of them was augmented.”
Nestra smiled at the barest hint of soreness in Kim’s poker face. Translation: you took all our money so don’t be surprised if we perform less well. It was an old argument. Class three bullets were expensive. Augmented baselines were also expensive. Despite decades of innovation, most people were still extremely iffy about amputating themselves for a lifetime of maintenance bills. Good job or not. Mind jacks were ok. Maybe eye implants since those were made to be durable. But entire arms?
“Do you personally believe that would have been enough to disable the second user?” Kim continued.
“Fox Mask?”
“That descriptor is satisfactory.”
“I do not have information to formulate an educated response to this question.”
Nestra saw Kim’s vest shift when she tightened her shoulders. It was unwise to piss off a rat queen, especially for no gains.
“So alpha squad cannot properly handle users at the current level of funding?”
Nestra was willing to let her have that one.
“I agree with the statement.”
Kim would just turn it around and say it would cost too much to properly equip MaxSec to deal with users and that would be it.
“I have no more questions for you, officer Palladian. Your cam recording shows why you have a spotless record. You have performed extremely well in trying circumstances, even holding Fox Mask off for as long as you have. You are a credit to this unit and the Threshold Police Department. My only suggestion, and that is a suggestion, would be to make use of the department’s therapists to manage your outburst of emotion. However, it did not affect your performance so this is in no way a demerit. I would also like to notify you that Officer Wilson will be disciplined for his repeated use of your family name during an operation. His pay will be docked. Should he break the rule again, his contract will be immediately terminated and all benefits canceled. This is my decision.”
Nestra nodded. That was a way of saying that Nestra wasn’t a snitch. The compliments were nice as well. Now for the haymaker.
“Now Mr Ilar has some questions for you as well.”
It was Kim’s turn to lean back while Ilar zeroed his spooky eyes on her while his smile retained neutrally pleasant.
“Miss Palladian, allow me to introduce myself more thoroughly. I work for the enclave management section of Threshold’s special affairs. My team handles grand theft and terrorism.”
Ilar waited for Nestra to process the information. She blinked, caught off guard.
“You think they wanted to offload the lenses outside the wall? To a user enclave?”
“Not Jonas Wong. He was merely a stooge. We believe his presence might have been imposed on Fox Mask for one reason or another. What I am about to tell you is confidential so keep that in mind,” he finished with a smile.
Kim’s jaw clenched. Obviously, she disapproved. That made Nestra even more curious.
“Okay.”
“Ahem,” Kim interrupted.
“Okay, Mr Ilar.”
“First, Fox Mask escaped the portal after completing the level. It happened very early this morning while we were negotiating with the North Star guild for access.”
“Wow. Not bad.”
“It was merely a low D-class portal, however I agree that the completion speed and the fact Fox Mask soloed it speak highly of their skill. Fox Mask might or might not be an agent who has stolen a few advanced systems in the past six months. We believe it is the same person due to the similarities in the stolen components, mostly advanced medical tools. However, the culprit — if they are the same person at all — always changes disguises. The only constant seems their efficacy, the use of bladed weapons, and… can you guess?”
“Telekinesis?”
“Manakinesis,” Ilar corrected.
Nestra nodded. It took a lot of control to use pure mana as a shield. Fox Mask was no pushover.
“Explains how she bypasses safety measures if she can just mangle alarm systems.”
“Correct. What I want now is your own take on that person. We have already seen the footage from your helmet’s cam. I want impressions.”
“Well… something in the way she walked was weird. But I don’t know what exactly.”
“We have our own theories about this. An astute observation. Do go on?”
“She was used to a longer blade. And the way she used thrusts made me think a saber was not her weapon of choice. Oh, and she could have just killed us all if she wanted but made great efforts not to do so. I know she could have broken my ribs at any time.”
“Hmm yes. To be fair, she did break Officer Camus’ ribs, as well as Officer Park’s leg. Can you guess why she took it easy on you?”
Nestra searched Ilar’s expression for a hint of accusation. There were none. It felt more like a test than anything else.
“I think she respected my attempt to beat her with a sword. Well, a baton. Same difference.”
“We agree. We believe she followed ‘blade etiquette’. It is a much more common code in some enclaves. Are you familiar with it?”
Nestra shook her head. The outside of the wall was hostile to baselines such as herself. She’d never be sent out.
“Our Pacifica subcontinent rose from the sea floor during the incursion. The enclaves outside of this city harbor users from Japan, Korea, and northern China to the north. They have developed a code of chivalry that pervades their cultures. Which is why she beat you but not as hard as she could. Because you faced her with a blade in single combat.”
“Ok.”
“Please note that she would have been well within her right to grant you a clean death. In case you face a similar situation.”
“I do not go out of my way to challenge users, I assure you.”
Ilar smirked though Kim gave her a dark look. Not a smidgen of humor on that one.
“Very well. Anything else?”
“Well,” Nestra hesitated, but she wasn’t sure the camera had caught it. “She has dark skin and curly hair.
Ilar froze and Nestra suddenly got the impression she was a tiny mouse facing a snake. The user’s malachite iris pulsed in hypnotic patterns. There was the combat gleam under the gloss of civility.
“Elaborate.”
“I, huh, I saw it? When she turned to look at the crate, just before she went into the portal.”
Ilar gestured for Nestra to use her eye piece. He waved and information was sent to her as a priority message, a zoomed in picture showing a corner of a face with the ear and a chin and not much else. The skin tone and curls matched perfectly.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Your camera didn’t pick it up. Not enough details due to mana saturation. Interesting. And yet you saw it?”
Nestra had been caught in the excitement so that seemingly innocuous question caught her like a wet slap. She glared at Ilar. He’d broken the truce. That pissed her off something fierce.
“You read my file before this interview so you know very well how I saw it.”
“Miss Palladian!” Kim chided.
“That is alright,” Ilar said.
Kim swallowed her pride. She had been chastised by a gleam in front of a subordinate. That had to sting a bit, Nestra judged. She hadn’t made a friend today.
“I should not have tested what was obviously a sore spot in the middle of a friendly talk, especially after you brought that detail to my attention. I blame it on, let us say, professional bias.”
Nestra noted that he had not apologized.
“Moving on, was there anything else you can recall?”
She considered the question seriously. No need to let her annoyance get in the way of her professionalism.
“Not that I can think of.”
“Very well. Was there anything else, Kim Hubae?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, thank you for your time again, Miss Palladian. If you recall something else, please contact me. I’m sending you my contact details.”
That was a nice dismissal so Nestra stood and went straight to the cafeteria for nice coffee. Bard was there. His messy blond hair and light blue eyes looked lost, well, more lost than usual. From afar, people could have taken the two of them for siblings. Bard was much taller and wider — he was a swimmer as well — but they shared the same lean muscles, dark blonde hair, and light eyes. Sometimes, Nestra thought they could have been olympians if Olympic games were still a thing.
“My pay got docked,” he whined.
“Riel. Wonder how that happened,” she deadpanned, glaring at him to let the dull fucker know she was well aware.
“That’s not funny, Nes.”
“See that’s the thing. You’re going to whine like it’s my fault but you just used my call sign and you know what that means? It means you could always remember to use it. You just never gave a shit.”
“Everybody knows you’re protected anyway.”
“Who told you that?” Nestra exploded. “I live alone, retard. Do you really think the mighty Palladians would keep their horrifying fuckup around? Fat good their terrible vengeance will do me when I’m pasted across my carpet.”
“Riel, calm down.”
Nestra took a few deep breaths. He was beyond salvation. Kept around because they had no replacements.
“I think the internal affairs want a word, by the way,” she said sweetly. “Were you not supposed to meet them earlier?”
Bard hastily blinked, a sign he was using his contact lenses.
“Shit.”
“Room 2. I’d hurry.”
“Shit shit shit sh—”