The municipality of Pardence wasn't unique as far as sprawling metropolises of the western plateau went. Hence the reason a particular young woman caught in the middle of her morning commute found it so vexing.
The crowds, the narrowness and clutter of the streets, the constant noise that ranged from idle conversation to threats of physical violence between business owners and drowsy vagrants. All part of the charm of living in a city, or so she’d been told by colleagues who’d left the field in favor of station work.
That’s not to say her immunity to such charms stemmed from an unfamiliarity with such environments. As she too had grasped the essence of city life from an early age, something she avoided leaning on as a justification for her argument against cities. Cite her sources like that and she’d inevitably be faced with questions regarding her place of origin. A can of worms she’d sooner use to knock the other party out before retrieving the can opener.
Besides, what she really took issue with was the degree in which these charms assaulted the morning lull. A sacred time she often relied on to take the edge off her days prior. She didn’t refute that such things must happen but would have liked to think moderation still existed.
And so, she skillfully weaved her way through one such source of frustration, making for the bounds of what would be generous to call a walkway. Reaching it should afford her the ability to assume her default walking speed and maybe a drink of her hot chocolate without scalding anyone.
And as expected reaching the edge of the crowd allowed her to increase pace considerably while also creating a window to enjoy her drink before it cooled. Tucking a few wayward strands of blond hair away from her mouth, the young woman observed the steam as it rose from the cup. Watched as it caught the waves of light weaving through the breaks in the city's skyline.
Unfortunately, whatever meagre amount of tranquility the moment had brought soon dissipated as the small forms of children and their piercing cries encroached on her location. Leave it to a group of school kids, likely in the middle of their own far less graceful commute, to shatter any semblance of a morning lull. An older man's kneecaps nearly shared a similar fate as they moved carelessly against the flow of foot traffic.
Sensing the children were on a course similar to her own, the young woman deliberately adjusted her speed and angle to ensure an imminent collision would propel the youths away from the rest of the unsuspecting crowd. Best to keep this an isolated incident.
Sure enough the child leading the charge, an excitable boy with little regard for his surroundings, collided directly into the right side of her waist. The brat had been so eager to tell something to his companions, had turned away from the oncoming presence. As a result he’d been effectively side checked into next week. Flying away from the crowd and nearly into a trash bin, just barely managing to stay upright thanks to a light post.
Jumping on the opportunity presented to her, the young woman directed a scathing glare at the startled boy and gestured towards her hot chocolate.
"Oi, ankle biter! It’s too early for that shit! Unless you want to be wearing this!"
The tragic victim turned bright red from either anger or embarrassment, likely a little of both, and wracked his brain for some form of retort that would help him save face in front of his friends. But before he could come up with anything the uniform of the woman caught his attention. Her jacket in particular giving away her occupation. The boy promptly swallowed whatever crude comment he’d honed through picking on girls at school and bowed his head in a quick apology.
As no further words were deemed necessary, both parties resumed their respective commutes and carried on with their lives. Turning her attention back to the hot chocolate, the woman unconsciously fiddled with the fraying strands at the bottom of the jacket in question.
The attire really wasn't anything special, rather it was the entity that the jacket represented that carried weight. That entity being the Luridian Convoy Federation's security division. Although the declining state of this jacket did confirm to the more astute that she was a current or recently excused member of field service. A rare sight in all parts of the Expanse due to the jobs' high turnover rate. She was honestly surprised the boy had connected those dots. Or maybe he could tell she was prickly this morning.
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Thoughts of the encounter quickly faded as the young woman spotted a rather stout mail carrier a little ways ahead of her. By nature of his work the man's pace was of a similar speed to her own and she expended the necessary effort to catch up to him. Settling behind his wide frame she resumed sipping on her hot chocolate in peace, as the unit in front of her parted the crowd with his stature. With any luck the man's route would lead to her place of work. The city's Crusader station.
*
Station Rouad, named for a legendary warship so large it was often mistaken for an island by fisherman who happened across the maritime marvel. Not that the name had any bearing on the overall layout or frontward appearance of the station. As by design all Crusader stations were constructed identically to promote an image of unity and consistency. A way to assure potential suitors that all city states were equal in the eyes of Lurdia. Granted a handful of cities that passed a certain population threshold were awarded a second station. But Pardence was not one of them, holding only the one. The station currently being approached by the tan skinned woman.
She noted the small bits of individuality sprinkled from pillar to post in the form of artwork. Most likely the result of station personnel with too much time on their hands or passing youths hopping between bars. Hell, many of the depictions could have just been straight up vandalism whose cultural or political implications went over her head.
Bypassing this wall of assorted doodles, the young woman climbed a small but wide set of stairs leading to a set of double doors. Amicable looking enough security personnel flanked either side of the doors but it remained far too early to muster the social energy required for an exchange of pleasantries. So she settled for a flippant wave of her identification card and paired it with a yawn for good measure. Her actions tracked and neither of the men made any move to hold her up. Turning on a heel, she backed her way through the doors and flung her now empty cup in the trash chute by the doorway. She proceeded to check her person for any additional trash she may be unaware of from the night before.
Interestingly enough she found a second ID card in the front pocket of her jacket. One she had no recollection of acquiring. There were no clues either as the only other thing in her pockets was the receipt for hot chocolate. But not the one she had just finished. Now there’s a cause for concern, if the date on that receipt was anything to go by who's to say when she pocketed that second ID? What had past her been thinking asking for a receipt anyway? Unless it was related to the ID in some way. Realizing she was holding up the arriving station workers, the young woman trashed the receipt and pocketed the ID for later. Vacating the entryway she meandered over to the departures board, steering clear of the early morning bustle so as not to invite a second collision.
Failing to stifle a genuine yawn, she went about scanning said board. Doing her utmost to recall the details of the manifest she’d skimmed last night. She’d definitely held the manifest at one point...right? She remembered looking at it, or maybe she'd been looking at something else and a copy of the manifest just so happened to pass by her field of vision. That count as skimming it? It occurred to her then that her utmost didn't amount to much when it came to matters she thought trivial.
"That you Lux?"
A gruff voice suddenly cut into her moment of self-reflection.
"Could hardly recognize you without a rifle in your hands."
[Tristler Gandlin, Age 34, Security Division]
Turning just her head Lux was greeted with the overwhelming smell of smoke, enough to earn a reaction from someone less versed in the vices of field service personnel.
"That's funny, cause you’re almost painfully easy to recognize Trist. What with the sudden desire to forfeit my sense of smell."
[Lux Ayfer, 17, Security Division]
The man met her retort with a shrug and a slow drag. Silence hung in the air alongside the smoke before the man gestured to the departure board behind her.
"Just thought I’d get you acclimated here and now, since it looks like we're both headed to New Kantler."
"Oh joy, you happen to acclimate Cade yet?"
"Haven’t had the pleasure. Diligent type like him probably came down at the crack of dawn."
Lux didn’t doubt it.
"Mind using your free hand to point me in the direction of our loading dock?"
"Oh come on, I know someone must have taught you how to make heads and tails of the board."
Lux forgot about the board entirely and closed the distance between her and Tristler to the matter of inches. Reaching forward she used her middle finger to flick the right breast pocket of his jacket, hard enough to elicit the sound of paperboard giving way.
"I'm sure someone did, someone also taught me that previously opened cartons of smokes aren't permitted onboard convoys ahead of departure."
It didn’t take Tristler long to reconsider his words.
"Dock 4."
Lux offered her senior officer a wink and turned to leave in the direction of the courtyard, a shortcut to where the station’s loading docks were situated.
"I'm still taking your shit later! Your chances of getting it back just improved slightly!"