“They told me it was the right thing to do.”

“They told you you’d be cheered for this?”

“They told me it was a great honor.”

“Oh please. A rookie Gold like you?”

“Just tell me why she doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Like I said, she’s busy. And I’m busy too. If you need to return to Sevens, I’ll be glad to shift you there,” Garlan said to me in that self-important White tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“Nothing. Contact me once you’ve met with Shane.”

“What exactly are you implying, Garlan? Garlan?” I listened into the back part of my brain, the part where White Prophets subconsciously communicated with others, and heard nothing. The woman’s voice was gone, the telepathic link severed.

“I don’t even know where to find Shane,” I said out loud. I immediately regretted it as at least a dozen people turned toward me, stopping to stare. Only when they saw the golden helmet on my head did they turn away in haste as I hurried to my destination.

Prosper had always been a fertile planet. It had no oceans, only massive lakes and rivers dotting its surface and the smallest icecaps of any of the seven planets. Long ago, the city-state of Prosperity had expanded and spread to the far-reaches of the globe. It was the first city to be founded, the first to become a nation, the first to reach outer space, and the first and only city to claim home to five hundred million people.

Yet for some reason, I was quickly realizing that the masses felt a few murders was perfectly acceptable.

“You looking for Shane?” a man I passed said to me with a hint of a grin, gear grease coating his hands as he sniffed through his blackened mustache.

“Yes,” I replied. “Do you know where I can find him?”

The people around me on the crowded sidewalk laughed, a few behind hands, a few loud and condescending.

“Just like the last one,” the man said. He shook his head, grinning, and walked away with short steps.

Most likely, the man was heading to one of the millions of factories and shops the city housed on the lower levels. They were pretty easy to spot, these. Usually the owners put up flimsy apartment complexes above them, cheap ideas of forced beautification in order to hide the massive smokestacks that shot up from underground like burning trees.

I grunted, a bad habit the people of Prosperity found humorous and uncouth. These people were used to off-worlders, but not Prophets from my planet. I closed my eyes and cleared my mind of the annoyance I knew lurked in the back of my mind, listening to the people around me.

“They sent a Gold this time,” a woman whispered to the woman walking beside her.

“Another one?” the friend replied. “Wonder how long he’ll last.”

I grunted again, ignoring the glares of those around me, and made my way toward the Trains District Police Station.

I’d done my research before shifting to this planet. The very heads of the Prophets in the Sept had assigned me this mission, a high honor I lessened by making them wait long enough for me to gather an appropriate amount of knowledge on Shane and Prosperity before leaving. After all, this was the first time I’d been on a planet that wasn’t Triumph, my home-world, or Sevens, the home of the Prophets.

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Prosperity was divided into hundreds of districts. I had skimmed over the cultural and economic aspects of the cities and focused on what I had to worry about: crime. Each district had its own police force. From what I’d read, they were all well-trained, well-experienced, and well-penetrated by corruption and organized crime.

It had been an increasing problem, Prosperity’s crime rate. Ever since that rogue planet they’d colonized decided they didn’t want to look out for the common good anymore and declared independence, millions of people had flooded into the poorer sections of Prosperity. Seed, the name of the colonized planet, got cocky and attacked Prosper’s merchant vessels. The war was long over, but refugees from both planets still came in, penniless and unwanted.

The point of all this research was so I could learn where Shane might be. The Sept gave me the patterns, past confirmed locations he’d been spotted at, police reports. Those especially came in handy. One thing made me choose the Trains District: the gaps.

In the shadows of the downtown high-rise office and apartment buildings, shimmering in their stainless steel and unornate glass exteriors that rose straight and tall into the sky, sat the concrete block of a police station. I had to cross the street to get to it, and approached the rust-dotted walkway hanging over the massive street.

I walked across the sidewalk, dodging the hydrogen-powered cars shooting across the street so close to each other’s bumpers they looked almost synchronized. They’d have to be, considering the ten lanes of traffic had constant movement. Millions chose to walk or take the T, the name for the system of tunnel trains snaking below the city, and avoid the daily fee required to drive a personal vehicle. No matter what choice, unless you were hugely rich, crowds were a normal part of life in Prosperity.

Screaming children and people shouting even louder on their portable telephones flowed like an endless river as I impatiently made my way through the walkway suspended over the streets and toward the police station.

The building next to the police station was a hospital, its white-plastered exterior stained a nearly sickening brown from the exhaust of the nearby train assembly yards. As I walked toward the wide, barred doors of the police station, I saw an ambulance race toward the hospital.

My Gold instincts took over and I ran to the ambulance as its breaks squealed it to a halt, hoping my meager healing powers could be enough to help someone. Doubtful, since I’ve never been able to heal more than a scratch in others.

“What happened?” I asked the emergency crew as they went to the back of the ambulance.

One of them stopped when he saw me, surprised at the sight of my blessed golden helmet. He stuttered, trying to say something, when one of the other crew yanked on his arm for help.

Several doctors in white coats ran out from the hospital to meet the large ambulance. “From the Bells District this time,” one of the doctors said as he shook his head while the emergency crew wheeled out four gurneys.

They were all dead. Two gurneys had uncovered bodies on them, pale faces staring up at nothing. As they passed, I saw that one had no injuries, only a thirsty, open-eyed stare.

“Shane,” I said, recognizing the man’s work from my research.

A woman stepped out of the ambulance. She wasn’t a doctor or hospital worker. Her sad look at the thirsty-eyed body told me she was family.

“What happened?” I asked her as the doctors saw to the two bodies. “Was it Shane?”

“I guess,” she said flatly. Till then she hadn’t looked directly at me. After answering my question, she looked up and saw my helmet. “He, my husband, he was killed.”

“Don’t worry, miss. I’m here to stop Shane.”

“What?” The woman looked at me, confused, her eyes empty of tears.

“Coming through,” the emergency crewman said as he pulled two more gurneys out of the ambulance.

The other two gurneys held long, black bags that bulged in random positions. I saw the thick trickle of blood draining out of the black bags as the gurneys were wheeled into the hospital.

“Where did this happen?” I asked the woman.

“At my home,” she answered. “Bells District.”

“Do you know why it happened?”

“I… I’m sure they have papers I need to fill out. Excuse me.” The woman swallowed hard and stepped around me, following the gurneys into the hospital.

I watched her go, watched her catch up with her husband’s body. Were it me, I’d have done all I could to help the man trying to bring my loved one’s killer to justice. She wouldn’t have given me anything I didn’t already know, but it still felt strange to have her and all the other family members of those four walk past me, doing their best to pretend I didn’t exist.

They were protecting Shane. But why?