My day of patrol is pretty average. I walk up and down several sections, there’s about forty-two levels we rotate them daily as not to get bored. Of course, boredom here is never really a problem. For every second, seventy-five robberies are being committed, thirty homicides are occurring, and twenty-two illegal operations are underway in several main shipping hangars. The gangs and mafia crime rings are keeping busy as always. The worst offences are the ones trafficking children and genetically engineered humans, you don’t want to know about that seedy environment. It makes me sick. Some days I just want to eject those bastards into space. That’s not to say others on the force haven’t, or so I’ve heard.
As I cruise around with my partner of five years, Raven Salak, a nice looking dark-haired woman of thirty-three; whom I have had sex with at least one time (and that’s all), we casually checked in with the small business owners of the levels and inspected the odd perp we felt needed to be randomly frisked. These lower levels were often very long and narrow. Typically, they had the cream of the crop of scum living here. The upper sections, where the ships docked and the more of the upper-crust kind of humanity resided, wasn’t as over ridden with low-life’s as this. Down here, you had to watch your back at all times. Keeping two officers assigned was an absolute must. Going alone meant certain death. At least with two, you had a better chance of not being offed by some strung out dead-beat.
“The future of humanity––today!” A calm, relaxed female voice announced over the confined promenade area. “Triton space station is your gateway to a better tomorrow.”
“Jesus,” I thought. “Ten years and still nobody knows how to stop that ad from repeating over the speakers.”
I didn’t realize I said it aloud. My partner laughed and agreed with me.
“Every time we com here, the same ol’ argument.” She said. “You’ve got to get a new script, dude.”
“Hey, I’m just stating a fact.” I said, glaring at her. “Nobody has attempted to go find the program and shut it down. You can’t tell me that doesn’t bother you every single time.”
Raven shrugged. “Sure it does. But I’m not going to bitch on and on about it, does no good. I’ve learned to accept it as part of the underlying charm of... uh... what’s this level again?”
“Fifteen...” I replied, giving a slight snicker. “Come on, you don’t know where we are? This is the only level that has that woman spouting off that old slogan.”
“I don’t make it a point to remember.” She chuckled. “Or care about, for that matter. It’s all the same. You’d have to get to the thirtieth floor to even see something remotely clean in some regard.”
She was right. The cleanliness was a far cry from being on those upper sections. You could just feel the scuzziness traipsing through this place. And the smell... fuck me! Yeah, it stinks. We’ve all grown accustomed to it, but some days, it surely does get overly rank.
“Did you hear about Marci?” Raven said, changing the subject.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I heard she got one in the skull on night-shift.”
“Fuckers...” Raven snarled. “She was almost due for retirement next week.”
“Really?” I glared as I waved to a shop owner, greeting me in return. “She was retiring? Damn, she’s only forty-seven.”
“Yeah, but, I guess after her mother died back on Earth, and her getting the inheritance, she decided it was enough to get a ticket out of here.”
“Woof!” I stated, giving a look of disbelief. “Talk about fate being way too literal in that regard. A ticket out is a ticket out alright.”
Raven took a moment to scan her wrist communicator. The floating holographic screen gave her an update on the latest reports and any crime alerts that might come through. It surprised her to see it so light today; only seventeen arrests, twenty theft call-ins, and one gang attack that left seven civilians dead. She showed me the stats, and I raised by brows.
“Wow, is it a holiday or something?” I mused. “Guess they’re not in the mood for some shit today.”
She laughed. “I guess so.”
No sooner as we had just said that, when a large explosion ripped through a building three blocks away. The plume of smoke rushed past us and caused us to cough uncontrollably. Thank you karma, always nice to see you again.
“What the fuck?” Raven stated, grabbing her side arm and running towards the blast area.
“Wait,” I yelled at her, coughing and trying to catch up. “Wait a second, Raven!”
She was gone into the smoke before I could even join her. I struggled to pull my weapon out the holster as I sprinted along. Hell of a time for my pulse-rifle to get lodged in my pants belt loop. I continued to tug it free as I ran fast. I could almost make out her shape in front of me... oh, wait, no... that’s just some asshole in the way. I shouted at the dork, gawking at me as if he didn’t know who I was. Probably just shell shock, or just a typical slack-jawed idiot waking from his drug-induced coma. Either way, I shoved him aside and leapt over some debris.
I continued to call out for Raven. She didn’t answer me. I leapt over more large chunks of smouldering debris (god I hoped it wasn’t bodies), and finally approached the centre of the blast site. Raven was there, gun poised and looking shocked at what it was. I joined her in that shock. Sitting there, like a misplaced boulder, was a ship. A slender-streamlined silver ship that punctured through several levels from above and smacked down onto this one like a bomb.
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Hundreds of people were slowly climbing out of the wreckage surrounding it. Some were putting themselves out from being on fire, others were screaming in pain from the trauma, and the friends or family living in that section were pulling out the dead, and wailing uncontrollably. It was total carnage. Looking up, we could see all the way up through the massive hole. It broke through thirty floors in total. Debris was still occasionally dropping and people could be seen hanging on for dear life on many of those sections.
The station’s alert clanged on and on over the speakers, and the sound of approaching medical units sirens blared away over the chaos of people and loud whining of metal fatigue. Raven was gobsmacked by it all. She continued to hold out her gun as if stuck in that position.
“Holy—” Raven uttered.
“Well,” I said, holstering my gun playfully. “At least that advertisement woman is finally off. I think that calls for us to take a break. Want to get a coffee?”
----------------------------------------
To put your mind at ease––yes, we really did go get a coffee. Hey, coffee is a privilege out here, so get it when you can. But that was only after we helped salvage the wreckage, the vessel that decimated thirty some-odd floors. Raven seemed impressed that it survived so well, there wasn’t a scratch on that thing. That silver ship was so sleek and mooth to the touch, I’d swear it was like touching the best part of my ass. And yes, my ass is very smooth in parts, that you very much. Raven could vouch for that.
The ship was big, sure, but not so much that we couldn’t get a crane to haul it out of the devastation. It seemed odd to me, and to my partner as well, that it managed to go through so many levels and yet—after touching it, was still unblemished or missing pieces.I couldn’t make out the markings, or the license plate for that matter. I had my scanner ready to give this guy one hell of a ticket. But, so far, nobody turned up. I had expected some rich bastard to suddenly appear and accuse us of damaging his ride. The med-staff tended to the wounded, and Raven, me and the other officers turning up for duty, aided in the retrieval of civilian casualties.
Some lady hugged me and seemed overly grateful. I would discover later that she managed to reach into my back pocket and swiped my pay chip-card. That will teach me for carrying it around. But how else am I suppose to pay for overly priced coffee? They don’t have implants here. No virtual system to use your eye or DNA sequencer to make things more secure. Well, the jokes on her, I didn’t have much on there to begin with. Maybe just enough to get her a stick of gum or one candy from the economy brand vending machine. Enjoy, ya stupid bitch. Is that mean of me to say? Who cares. Like I said before, this is the lowest of the low living here. Sympathy is practically non-existent in this place.
Speaking of which, I grew tired of digging for bodies. I hoisted up my belt and informed Raven that I was done. She seemed to agree and we let the others (who finally showed up… late) have a crack at it. We proceed to get that coffee, like I said, and she paid for it. Cause––ya know––I lost mine.
* * *
“Hey, Mike? What do you think that was all about anyway?”
Raven and I were seated at a small table, just outside of the coffee shop. Larry’s Damn Fine Grinds, to be exact. She glared at me as I slowly slurped my coffee. I wasn’t sure how to respond. I was really enjoying that brew, I mean, it was damn fucking good. Larry didn’t lie about that. But I could see that the whole crash scenario still bothered her. Guess it would be, seeing how we were only a few shops away from it. The teams of station personelle and medics doing all they can to free those poor trapped bastards.
I mulled the question over in my mind for a bit, giving another long sip and seemingly looking pensive. Eventually, though, I gave her my answer.
“About what?”
Yeah, that was a brilliant response. I could see her brow furl even as I took another long sip of my delicious cup of joy.
“About the fucking ship! You ass!” She gave my head a slight slap. I tried not to take it personally, or spit out my coffee in the process, but I looked back on the scene and nodded (as if I finally clued in).
“Oh right, that… um… well, I guess that is rather odd for here, isn’t it?” I could almost feel another slap coming from her, so I decided to add more to that observation. “I mean, what are the chances something like that happening? Those guys up in the docking bay are really slacking off.”
“I don’t think that was their mistake.” She glared at me, with disbelief. “I’ll bet it crashed into the station, past the docking bays and straight down to here.”
“Uh, yeah…” I nodded. “I think you might be right.”
I glared back again, taking another long finishing swig of Larry’s coffee, and agreed with her theory. It defiantly was possible. But, I had to point out the obvious to her.
“If that’s true, why didn’t the station alarm go off? You know, for collisions and mirco-meteor bombardments…”
“Maybe it’s busted.” She shrugged. “Wouldn’t be a far stretch from the state of this place.”
“True that…” I agreed again. “In any case, it’s above our pay grade to think about the why or how… we’re just here to keep people from stealing stuff.”
“Oh, Mike…” She groaned. “Don’t you ever want to be more than some beat cop? Wouldn’t you like to move up the ranks, get into some real police action, maybe become the station’s top investigator?”
“Nope, not at all…” I quickly replied. “That’s the kind of stuff that can get you killed.”
“Just being cops can get us killed.” She stated back. “Why would another title be any different?”
“Look,” I said, trying my best not to upset her with my typical earnestness. “We get paid shit. And that’s okay, cause everyone else here is in the same boat. Getting a bigger title, doesn’t mean you’ll get a greater scale of pay. So, you’re doing more for less. If that’s the case, you should remain where you are and just keep getting that crappy pay scale, and doing the minimum it allows for. Work smarter, not harder, that’s my motto.”
Raven groaned at my sense of laziness. She’d had to deal with me for far too long. That’s probably why we stopped having intimate encounters rather quickly. She knew I wasn’t the guy for her. She liked a guy that could be the hero, the one leaping into danger and giving their all for the job and the ones they loved. Well, that defiantly wasn’t me. I’m not a hero seeker. I’m not the guy willing to take a bullet to save you. I’m just living my life, getting some money to survive, and sleeping in for as long as I can on my days off. I exist for just existing. Hm, maybe that’s not the best way to phrase that. Uh, let’s see… I’m… just… uh… oh, fuck, whatever. You get the idea.
“You’re some piece of work my friend.” Raven disappointedly mocked at me.
“Yep,” I said, giving a raise of my cup to Larry glaring at us from behind his bullet proof shop window. “I’m just here for the coffee.”
“So why be a cop then?” She said, giving the owner the hint as well with her cup as well. “Why not just be a janitor or one of those dock-crew guys? Why would you bother to be part of the Triton Authority elite?”
“Because of two factors,” I said, leaning on the table with one arm. “One, I get paid slightly better than either of those jobs, with benefits most would kill for. And two…”
“Shit,” She rolled her eyes. “Here it comes…”
“Women fucking love officers in uniform.” I waggled my brows. "They really, really do... ya know?"
“You’re a pig, you know that?”
“Yep,” I nodded, giving the owner yet another strong indication I needed a refill, and grinned at her. “A well fed, well paid pig at that. Oink! Oink!”
The owner finally came out, refilled our cups, gave me the finger and stepped back inside.
“Yes indeed…” I snickered while taking a sip. “It’s good to be a Triton station cop.”