Seen from above, the enormous metallic structure with access points to multiple flight platforms looked less like a functional building and more like an octopus stretching out its tentacles. Countless tall neon-coloured arches guarded by official police, souvenir shops, street markets, androids moving about. All of it contributed to a prevailing sense of chaos, where it wasn't easy to get one's bearings, and through which everyone was forced to pass.
The queue to register and enter the metropolis of Nineveh, on Éfesis, was immense and made up of people of every species (few nyasuk, many hybrids and humans). This mass of humans, humanoids with iridescent veins, others with violet eyes, still others with scaly skin, was beginning to lose patience. Confederate police officers tried to process entries quickly through the biometric data reader, but the system was slow. A system utterly unfit for the size of the population.
Nero Lumina barely lifted his gaze when it was his turn. He didn't say a word as he went through.
That was why it was so surprising when the Éfesis officer blocked his access to the portal leading into the megacity. He stepped squarely into the metallic arch that was reading biometric data, preventing Nero from moving forward to retrieve his belongings.
"Is there a problem, officer?" Nero said, brushing his long hair away from his face with a small gesture.
"Documents, if you'd be so kind."
"If you insist."
With a quick blink, Nero removed the green contact lenses he was wearing, revealing alien sky-blue eyes, unmistakably nyasuk. He stored the lenses in the digital cloud with a gesture and went back to reading from the tablet he was holding.
The officer shook his head in disapproval at Nero's lack of interest and began taking notes.
"Purpose of entry and travel?"
"Work."
"What kind of work?"
"Military."
"This says mercenary."
"Call it whatever you like."
"Place of origin?"
"Why all the questions, mate? Does it bother you to let someone in to do their job?"
"Just answer," the officer replied without looking at him.
"Officer, listen carefully. You let me through and we skip the chatter, or I'm not moving a single bloody millimetre until you do."
"Are you threatening an Éfesis police officer?"
"Are you calling your superiors? Shall we call them now, or do you want to wait?"
"I don't like your attitude, and that arrogance won't get you anywhere."
The officer spoke into his intercom. Whoever was on the other end—a woman with a severe hairstyle—arrived almost immediately. The system kept returning a critical error and refused to read Nero's data.
The portal closed, deploying a sheet of unintelligible purple code, making it impossible for anyone else to use the access point while the problem was being resolved. Some people in the queue began looking for another gate. The rest grew restless, their gazes shifting either toward the high vaulted ceiling or straight toward the city they couldn't enter, with its frenetic nightlife, advertisements, and distractions.
From behind the crowd, fresh off the interplanetary transfer, a blond young man appeared wearing a neon-yellow technician's jumpsuit and carrying a massive backpack. He bumped into everyone around him, disrupting the lines. He was trying not to hit anyone, but either his clumsiness or the sheer amount of gear made it impossible.
"Excuse me," he said humbly to the officer, lightly biting the piercing on his lower lip to steady his nerves. "I can't find access AB-GB11."
"From Sigma?"
"Yes. How did you know?"
"People from Sigma never know where they're standing."
The young man fell silent.
"The gate you're looking for is upstairs, past the corridor. First time in Nineveh?"
"Yes. I'm from Tulum."
"All Sigma cities are the same… but… they've started collecting tributes for the Cult there already, haven't they?" the officer continued, not out of real interest but idly trying to make conversation.
"I left a long time ago. I don't know," the young man replied, clearly lying.
"Hey, you. Don't you have a job to do?" Nero interrupted.
The officer ignored him and kept talking to the technician.
"Is it true they send people to work in the mines?"
"Some go because they want to. So their families won't be threatened," the blond admitted.
"The Cult may be a bit radical… but we needed an example. Firm hand and order."
For some reason, the young man went a little pale.
"Idiot, stop flapping your tongue and do your job," Nero cut in again.
"Look, the Cult isn't perfect. But it's necessary," the officer said, still addressing the technician.
"Does your superior know you support terrorist methods?" Nero asked, adjusting his smart watch.
The man looked uncomfortable but stood his ground.
"Look, they're out in the Naësu colonies… thousands of parsecs away. Let them do whatever they want."
"That mindset is how we got here," Nero said. "Because it's a peripheral planet, you lot prefer to close your eyes."
"It's a passing danger," the officer replied, increasingly irritated.
"Violence is insignificant as long as it's not on your planet?"
"A mercenary with principles. How fitting."
"Perhaps when you're staring death in the face, you'll wake up from the illusion. When the Cult reaches Éfesis—"
"Dirty papers, bad attitude… I definitely don't like nyasuk," the officer muttered.
"What dirty papers, human?"
"Do you think I enjoy making people wait? If your biometrics were in order—"
"Don't talk rubbish. It's not my fault Éfesis doesn't invest in better machines."
"This error shows up when someone's fingerprints have been altered," the officer continued, speaking from experience.
Nero Lumina let out a tired laugh.
"If I had the credits to alter my prints, I wouldn't be here."
"We're calling specialised security," the officer warned.
"Listen carefully. No one is touching a hair on my head, and no one's taking me anywhere."
"You don't get to decide how we proceed."
"I'm dying to see how you plan to proceed."
"We're doing everything we can to move you along."
"You'd better pay me for the hours of work I've lost."
The woman looked at him seriously. The screens were finally making some progress with the error.
"Time is money. If you have no valid reason to keep me—"
"Sorry, where was the entrance to—" the technician glanced at his notes on his transparent smart glasses, "—AB-GB11?"
"Kid, let the men talk," Nero dismissed him.
The blond looked at him intensely.
"I'm just asking a question," he defended himself.
"He already answered you."
WISE, the operating system of the young man's smart glasses (and many other devices), abruptly intervened with its mechanical, genderless voice from a small built-in speaker.
"WISE reminds the user that the destination is located 'upstairs, past the corridor.' Message received at the UCT, 11:43:07…"
Nero couldn't suppress a slight smile.
"I can't believe anyone still uses one of those."
"When you don't know much about technology, it can seem like a miracle."
That made him smile a little more.
"Those frames… did you make them?"
"In Sigma we learn to work with what we have," the technician said, unable to hide his pride.
"I'm glad you've got something to keep yourself entertained."
"I don't do it for fun. It's my job."
"You like discontinued devices."
"I specialise in them. I studied technical rehabilitation," the young man replied, his modesty returning.
An idea occurred to Nero. But he couldn't act on it without pulling a few strings. People were beginning to shuffle, and the officers looked increasingly frustrated with the portal.
He leaned an arm against one of the machines and looked the blond up and down. His voice softened, became velvety, less threatening. The technician had to look up; Nero was a few centimetres taller.
"So… you know these machines?"
"Yes. Human machines. They're not very difficult."
"I've never understood them."
"That's because they're not intuitive. You're nyasuk, so—"
"Nyasuk, yes. I'm a pilot. For hire. I don't do anything for free or out of love for the homeland. You here for work?"
The young man looked deeply impressed by his words and the shift in tone. It didn't take much.
"Yes. I'm heading to a Siren-model ship docked upstairs."
"Commercial?"
"No. State-owned."
"How interesting. Confederate?"
"I don't know if I'm allowed to say yet. It's my first mission."
Nero smiled, barely masking his contempt.
"You the type who bring water and bread and pray the ship doesn't fall apart?"
The technician didn't know how to answer.
"Forgive me. Nero Lumina. I don't always measure my words," he said, offering his hand.
"Oh—don't worry. I'm Nicholas," the other replied, feeling his hand go slightly numb from the firmness of the grip.
He couldn't help lowering his gaze under that intense stare, which seemed to pin him in place. Nero cleared his throat.
"Hey, Nick. Could you take a look at that faulty tin can? I've no time to waste."
"I don't know if it'll help…" the technician said hesitantly.
"Whatever you can do, I'd be eternally grateful."
"I'll… I'll do what I can."
The young man got to work. He set his massive backpack on the floor and approached the officers and the biometric reader. Nero thought he might have blushed a little. Poor kid.
"That nyasuk—he your friend?" the officer asked Nicholas.
"No. We just met."
"And you're already doing him favours? Bloody nyasuk. Sometimes it's like they've got powers. You know this biometric reader?"
The system rebooted itself, unable to overcome the critical error.
"It might be something simple. Permissions…" the technician began. "When this system was updated last month, there were a lot of nyasuk data gaps due to deletion. Naësu still hasn't sent the most recent databases."
"Deleted? Who would do that?"
"The Cult," Nicholas explained simply. "It doesn't suit them for nyasuk nobles to be publicly associated with the Cult, so they erased them."
The woman cut in.
"So this guy could be Cult?" she said, discreetly pointing at Nero.
"He's nyasuk… but the way he talks, impossible," the other officer replied.
"Not necessarily. Entire categories were erased to make it look like an accident. Log into the system and restore the previous version," Nicholas suggested.
"Won't that break everything?"
"It'll let him through using the criteria from before the update."
"Better than staying like this. I can't stand his bloody smug face."
"Wait—the recognition is progressing. Looks like we won't need to do anything."
The sensor flashed green, and Nero Lumina passed through the security portal without further incident. Nicholas watched him walk away. He hadn't even said thank you or goodbye.
But Nero stopped a few steps ahead and looked back.
"Hey, kid. Which gate did you say you were heading to?"
"AB-GB11!" Nicholas shouted back.
The mercenary retraced his steps. Nicholas felt his breathing quicken.
"Your ship—does it have a full crew yet?"
"We still need to fill communications and navigator."
"I'm not interested in being a navigator. Where's your captain?"
"She said she'd wait for me at the gate."
"I get along well with women."
The technician had no doubt about that. The two of them started walking toward the indicated gate.
For a moment, the hum of drones, sensors, the crowd, the smells and movements of everything that wasn't Nero faded away for the young man. With every step he checked to see if the pilot was still at his side, half-expecting it all to vanish like a trick of the mind.
After collecting his meagre luggage, Nero gestured ahead with his head toward a secluded spot among the crowd and went there to light a cigarette beside a large window overlooking the night lights.
"What's the ship called?" Nero asked, his gaze distant.
"Naetilus."
"If it's a Siren, it must be a beast. Huge. And crude."
"It's unique."
"That's what they all say. Do you think it stands a chance?"