I've been staring at the beige ceiling of my quarters for over an hour by the time my alarm rings. Stellar. I woke up in a cold sweat, and there was no way I was getting back to sleep. I didn't even want to try. Well, guess I'm starting day four a little sleep deprived.

At least I bought coffee.

***

My morning might have started terribly, but the coffee hits the spot. I mean, it's not good coffee, but any food tastes good when you're starving, right? What can I say, when you're desperate, you'll take your caffeine however you can get it. Maybe aside from tweaking the receptors to get the rush from the color blue, though.

Still, I feel a little better with my walk along the thoroughfare. Maybe the view helps. In any event, I'm almost grateful to be back at the dull block of the precinct.

At least, for the first twenty minutes or so.

I try to smile when I see the Sergeant, but maybe my heart isn't in it, because he gives me a bit of a frown, his cross-slitted eyes concerned.

"Morning El Tee. You look like you had a rough night."

I shake my head. Thanks. "Just didn't sleep super well. You know, the pre-fabbed cots are crap."

He gives a chuckle at that. "Hey, Cruz, credits might be tight, but you should just spring for an actual mattress. Or at least a sleeping pad. Even in low g, it makes a difference. Especially if you ever have company," he adds, crossing his arms and grinning.

Hilarious. Leave the jokes to me, Brent. "Thanks for the advice, Sergeant. Still, I'm doing alright. Closed out the toll-station case, sent the report over to forensics with some code to run through. I even made some progress on the missing AI case. I got a handle, or at least a nickname; Lemming." I cross my own arms, smug.

I see his eyebrow rise. "It's a start. Making progress with finding him?"

"Oh, some here and there. It's called having competent investigative skills, Sergeant," I tease, elbowing him in the rib. Literally ribbing him. See, even after a long night, I'm still funny.

Brent smirks. "Well, I'm glad you have some of those, I was wondering." Alright, I guess he's not half bad.

I shake my head as I take my seat, tidying up a few reports. So far, it's been pretty straight-forward; none of my reports have been flagged or supplements requested. At the very least, Cartwright isn't a micro-manager.

Looking around, there's only two other officers here in person. A mousy woman with thick curly hair and a middle-aged man with short cropped blond hair. Their profiles pop up: Corporal Cynthia Wintz and Officer Miles Rusteater. Wait... I double-check the second one. Yup, hey look, a synth who passes for human picked the least human name possible. Is the name some kind of statement? I shake my head at that. Honestly, even after all these years, I can't decide if humans or synths are weirder. It's apples and synthetic oranges.

Speaking of weird, I look around. Well, Rabi isn't here, and I'm certainly not going to complain about that. She's a little... much. Probably pouring over all that juicy data I sent forensics yesterday, dissecting it line by line. I have a mental image of her drooling down her chin as she decompiles a few billion lines of code all night long. I mean, she doesn't sleep, right?

Ok, maybe I'm not being nice, but with that hardware, I can't imagine she's playing Pong. Well, I hope you enjoy it, Captain. Better you than me. Though, given my dreams, maybe there's something to be said for going without sleep. Eh, probably not worth it, and I'm sure not lining up to get more hardware shoved into my skull. I just got rid of the last headache I had; I don't need a new one.

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As I muse, I continue nursing my coffee, even lukewarm. Way better than a stim-stick, no question. Well, despite the wretched start to my morning, I have to say, things are looking a bit up already.

In fact, my day is going swimmingly until Captain Cartwright begins the morning briefing and decides to address me.

“Lieutenant, I need you to prioritize a case involving a potential ID and avatar theft we got this morning," he begins dryly. I blink, pulling up the case-file to read along. "Someone spoofed an admin ID and walked out of a cargo bay with two canisters of medical grade nanos,” the Captain says with a bland tone. I frown, looking through the report.

The Sergeant laughs. “Some ice-hauler caught an STI and doesn’t want to let the missus know,” he snorts. Captain Ashton gives him a sharp look, nose scrunching in distaste.

“Sergeant, medical grade nanos are class two controlled tech. No self-replication, but they could be reprogrammed to kill, if someone cracks their base-code.” He flicks the air, and in my overlay, a silver thread blooms with specs and technical information on the nanos. They looked like tiny metal tardigrades, but even more resilient than their biological counterparts. “Priority is neutralizing them, either their software or hardware. Recovery of physical assets is a bonus.”

I let the specs roll through my overlay. Just standard class two medical nanos, nothing experimental or classified. “Captain, if someone spoofed admin level access, isn’t that the bigger issue?” I say, cocking my head.

The Captain turns his eyes to me at that. “Yes, which is why the first precinct is handling it. It’s being considered an internal security issue, not a code violation. You’re to focus only on the nanos, Lieutenant.” First Precinct. Earth.

Great. Even half an AU from the binary, it’s the same jurisdictional pissing match. “Green across the board, Captain,” I say.

“And I want a progress report on the ME case, say in forty-eight hours. Show me what you turned up.”

***

After getting another case with zero leads from the Captain, I’m a little sour. The rest of the day goes by a bit more swiftly, but without much progress. Reviewing the security footage turns up nothing; someone spoofed the eyesbots outside the cargo bay. There are no physical prints in the room or digital prints in the code. That oxide-huffing tight-ass Cartwright just handed me another case I can’t possibly solve.

By the time I walk back to my quarters, it’s already late afternoon. When I get a bubble in my overlay, with the name Alex Wells hovering in silver, I growl. No, definitely not today. I put all my augments on silent and lay down on the couch. I stare at the beige ceiling, drumming my foot on the bulkhead. Shutting my eyes, I lay a hand over my face. Somehow, I thought being out at the Jovian, a job with less stress, would be better. But it doesn’t really feel that way right now...

I’m surprised when I get a ping from my door. I blink, feeling my numb hand as I sit up. Shit. I’ve slept more than an hour. My arm is asleep, my back has a kink, and I can’t figure out why my augment…

Oh right, it’s on silent. I call up my overlay and see three missed messages. The newest two are from Sparrow. Crap.

I link to the door and open it, just before I realize the sorry state of the room. Rubbing some sensation into my arm, I smile weakly as Sparrow pokes her head in. “Hi! Sorry about the mess.”

She steps inside, an eyebrow raised, kicking some of my dirty laundry aside. She has a datachip in her hand, but that isn’t where my eye is drawn. She’s wearing a romper that seems to cling to her curves, and I’m briefly disappointed that it covers so much of the tattoo. Then I realize she just spoke, and I completely missed it.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. I just woke up,” I say, scratching my neck.

“I can see that,” she says, folding her arms and giving me a mock scowl. “And these quarters? For shame, Lieutenant Cruz. What would the good Captain Cartwright say if he performed a surprise inspection?”

I put a hand on my hip. “We don’t do room inspections. I’m not Navy, Captain,” I say back, but my half-smile spoils it a bit. “Besides, I just moved in a few days ago. I’m getting situated,” I grumble.

“Lot’s of luggage?”

That statement, and the state of the room, hang in the air. Silence reigns. “It’s a-“

“Long story?” She says, a wry grin on her lips. I can’t help it at that point. I laugh, and she joins me.

“Oh Melody, come on. This isn’t a wirehead’s dorm room. We need to get this place in order. First, let’s go shopping for some better décor,” she says, waving an arm at my walls. “You can even buy me dinner to thank me.”

“Oh, Sparrow, you’re so generous,” But I look around the room. The rug and wall hanging don’t really add much. And I’ve got a decent chunk of credit in my account. “Well, alright, but you're telling me how you got the name 'Sparrow'. I can't imagine your parents named you after a bird,” I tease.

She rolls her eyes at that. “Keep going, and you’ll talk yourself out of buying me dessert too,” she says. I can’t help but notice her eyes seem to linger on me a moment, before she turns and walks out. “Coming, Melody?” She calls back.

Oh yeah, you’re in trouble Mel.

***

I don't notice the port on the wall turn on and off.