âYour mum came by. We had a very nice talk! She left a note for you.â
Surprise that left her blinking a couple of times in awe, unable to find the words. Her mum did⌠what? AndrĂłmeda knew she was the only one out of the three siblings that lived in New Atlantis, and that her parents missed HĂŠrc and Cass to death, but this was too much. With a strained smile and burning cheeks âshe was only able to blush when it came to MarĂa and Fernando GarcĂaâ, she grabbed the slate her colleague was handing her and put it in one of the many pockets of her cargo trousers.
âThank you, Iâll⌠listen to it later. I have work to do.â
If the work consisted of boring patrols in the Well and it was an excuse for her to not immediately listen to whatever her mother had to say, nobody had to know.
This was Androâs least favorite part of the city; the subterranean one.
A place filled with noise and people, most of them living in quite poor conditions. Like Cydonia, but on a different planet. Like Cydonia, if around thirty-five percent of the population was rich and able to live on the surface, while the rest of society didnât even get to enjoy the rays of sun on their skin.
So, worse than Mars, even, and that was saying something.
Most people in the Well acted as if the Security Officers from the United Colonies didnât exist. And that was alright with her, honestly, because she sort of also pretended to not be aware of⌠them. When she was in her nice, fancy apartment in the Mercury Tower, enjoying a cup of Terra Brew coffee. When she spent an amount of money that was, definitely, much more than those people earned in an entire month in a dress. When she went to expensive restaurants with her friends once her shift ended.
It was⌠uncomfortable, to say the very least. She had tried to get her supervisor to give her anything, any other assignment, butâŚ
âYou recently got injured. The doctor said your rib dislocated and punctured your lung. You are healing nicely but you canât be on the field yet, AndrĂłmeda.â
And there she was. In the Well. In the year 2330. Stuck in a small planet while there were over 120 systems, 1,700 planets and moons in total.
But some people had it worse.
Her dark eyes traveled around Jakeâs Bar, in which people were drowning their sorrows in beer, whiskey, or other liquors. There were also a lot of wannabe pilots, weapon specialists and shields engineers, hoping that some captain would give them a place in their crew. She would have to ask Cass, if she required any assistanceâŚ
There were also two men, drawing attention to themselves because they were laughing. Laughing out loud, in fact. A sound that wasnât that popular underground. Most people avoided them, as if they were spreading radiation with that simple gesture, as if they had a deadly illness like the plague had once been on Earth. Her father, a history professor, had taught AndrĂłmeda that much.
No doubt, something had happened to them. Something joyful, exciting. The taller one, a long-haired monster that was certainly over two meters and with muscles like those of a bull, had an arm around the shoulders of the shorter one, also muscular, but leaner. He was saying something, with a deep voice that reverberated in the entirety of the bar, but that AndrĂłmeda still couldnât hear because of the volume at which Jake kept the music.
His green eyes encountered hers. And they seemed to watch her intently, although the young woman was quite sure he couldnât quite see her face with the helmet she was sporting, especially not from a certain distance.
Was she supposed to say something? No. She was here to check for criminal activity, for people in danger. She couldnât simply approach two middle-aged men because they were laughing.
Maybe one of them had just become a dad, or something.
No, he wouldn't be so happy, then. Not if he lived in the Well.
ââââââââââââââââââ
âYou are going back on the field.â
John Tuala âJohn for friends, family members and absolutely anyone after a couple of drinksâ, leader of the Vanguard in New Atlantis, had called AndrĂłmeda to his office. And there she was, sitting down in a chair, with a straight back and hands over her knees, trying to be the image of good behavior. Something that had made John laugh, but he hadnât commented on it; there were more important subjects at hand.
âReally?â AndrĂłmeda was wary. She didnât want to get her hopes up and then⌠it hadnât been the first time they had considered putting her back out there. But it had never been John to tell her. Usually a nurse, or a doctor, or some low-ranking member that should be answering to her, instead of the other way aroundâŚ
âReally. Two reasons: youâre accompanying Diplomat Airi Takahashi in Neon. Be ready to leave in a few days. She will give you the details of her mission, if she so desires, when you get there. Once you land the planet, you will act as her bodyguard. No, better yet, her shadow. Attempts on her life have been made, as you very well know.â
AndrĂłmeda pursed her lips.
She had been the one to stop quite a few of them.
And still, she was excited. She liked Airi, a lot. They had quickly become friends, even if what had brought them together was AndrĂłmedaâs work and Airiâs need for protection. But they were like-minded spirits, twin souls, people who were born of the same stardust. She couldnât wait to see the Diplomat again.
She nodded firmly, for John to continue. If there were any questions about the assignment, she could ask them after he was done. He had, after all, said there were two reasonsâŚ
âWe are looking for a man. Goes by Vessel.â AndrĂłmeda raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. âAn ex-member of the Crimson Fleet.â
That did it. âHow do you exactly leave the Crimson Fleet?â The Martian blurted out.
They hadnât really become a problem until recently. A few years back, when AndrĂłmeda was a kid, they were nothing but a loose confederation of individual parent captains; now, however, they were more or less an organized entity, that had expanded way beyond Kryx (what used to be their main base), all the way to Sagan, Cheyenne, Lunara and Narion.
âApparently, by hiding in between the cargo of a merchantâs ship and making your way to the next port.â
She was impressed (not so much with the tactic itself, but by the fact that a plan as simple as that had worked â and that still nobody, not even the faction he had once belonged to, had managed to find him) but she tried not to show. John, however, saw right through her, laughing as he said his next words:
âThatâs why we need you. Youâre one of the best â if someone can bring this man to justice, itâs you.â He rounded the table, to come closer to her and be able to look her straight in the eye. He did that when he wanted her to really see him, usually when he was asking her to take on a very demanding mission. AndrĂłmeda had been slightly near-sighted when she had first joined the Vanguard; not anymore. She had had eye surgery years ago, but some things never changed. âThe Crimson Fleet is also looking for him. You have the right to kill those who stand in your way.â
âI will bring him to justice.â AndrĂłmeda declared. It was not the first time she had been sent in one of these missions. She had a reputation, and before she had gotten injured, her name was one of the favorites to become Johnâs second-in-command. She wanted those rumors, those whispers, to start again.
âI expected no less from you.â A proud smile, almost like that of a dad, even if John wasnât much older than her. âOf course, if you ever need helpâŚâ
âCanât trust the Neon City Guard. Maybe the Rangers, but not likely. Safest bet is to try and contact any UC ships that are in orbit.â
âExactly. And now,â John clapped, stretching his neck and back, rotating his shoulders. âEnough about work. Want to go get a Terrabrew and catch up?â
