The alarm blared at six. Matias had tossed all night, doubts gnawing at him.

  The formal appointment notice—standard issue, no personality—arrived the day after his interview, right after Alpha's message that his shuttle had been delivered to the dock. Matias was required to report to his assigned station immediately: meet superiors, familiarize himself with ships and equipment, absorb regulations and procedures, and be ready to begin service. No freelancing here. Clear, strict rules suited Mat just fine.

  He'd hoped for a note from Sabrina. There were no other messages.

  Gathering himself, feeling rough around the edges, Mat grabbed a bite at the hotel café and headed to the customs hall before the docks. There, he encountered an unusual crowd. The bulkheads to the docks were locked.

  "What's going on?" he asked a customs officer over the heads of people crowding the counter.

  "Departure will be possible within the hour. Please wait."

  "But what happened?" he insisted.

  The officer waved a tired hand—wait and don't bother me. Mat realized the man was simply exhausted from repeating the same answer and now fobbed people off with a standard excuse.

  He looked at the rows of plastic chairs in the waiting area. All occupied. Walking to the viewport, Mat fixed his gaze on the giant body of the moon whose orbit held this station. White. Lifeless. Exactly as it was in reality.

  "Mat?!"

  Hearing his name, Matias turned but didn't spot any familiar faces.

  "Amatin!" Chuck Olson shoved through the crowd, gums flashing in a grin just like old times.

  They hadn't seen each other since military academy graduation. His joyful smile still exposed those gums. The severely thinned buzz cut of light hair, however, was new.

  "Hey, brother! Long time no see!"

  "Hey, Chuck."

  They shook hands firmly, clapped shoulders. During training days, they hadn't been friends—far from it. But right now, Mat was genuinely glad to see a long-forgotten face, to pass the tedious wait in company.

  "What brings you here? You're military, aren't you?"

  "Transferred to the police."

  "What'd you mess up?"

  "Whacked a general," Mat said with a grin. Chuck barked a laugh.

  "And what are you doing in our neck of the woods?"

  "Your neck?"

  "This is my assigned station. Local police unit. Third year already, bro!"

  He was genuinely proud. Matias couldn't help but feel a pang of envy.

  "I was here for an interview with Colonel Jane. Got the acceptance confirmation today. Now I'm trying to get to my assigned station."

  "Well, I'll be! Guess we won't lose touch now! I'm so glad, Mat! Gotta go take a leak, screw this."

  "You know why the docks are closed?"

  "Ah, nonsense," Chuck waved it off. "Explosion on a freighter right at the airlock. Hull debris blocking the bulkhead, maybe some wiring. They'll fix it soon. Been fussing for two hours."

  Matias was involuntarily horrified by how easily Chuck dismissed the incident as 'nonsense.' He glanced at the viewport. The human eye couldn't see it, but Mat knew that in the distance, ships periodically emerged from warp, caught braking beams, and headed for functional airlocks. Pilots were trapped—waiting in docks or ships alike.

  Mat peered at a drifting speck in the distance and swallowed. Drift meant a corpse. Ice down his spine.

  Nonsense…

  He looked at Chuck with a complex, hard-to-interpret gaze—a mix of contempt and pity. He remembered why they'd never been friends and never would be.

  "So you've been here a week already? Weird I didn't notice you. Could've sat in a bar one evening, chatted, reminisced about the academy."

  "No, Chuck. Just a couple of days."

  "What do you mean? You said you were already accepted? Doesn't happen that fast."

  "Apparently, it does."

  "Colonel Jane, you said?"

  "Right."

  "And that's it—only she interviewed you?" Chuck raised his eyebrows skeptically. "Is that, like, crazy luck? Or did you manage to do something more than just talk with her?" He let out a mocking laugh.

  "I managed to make it to Lieutenant Commander in the Alliance Space Forces. Apparently, that counts for something. And Colonel Jane is a professional. I don't see anything strange in command trusting her to make personnel decisions single-handedly."

  "I don't get it, Mat," Chuck admitted. "She's as soulless as a bullet casing. You never know what she's thinking—you can't read her at all—and then bam… reprimand, or worse. She interviewed me last, three years ago. Didn't ask a single question about experience or ships I'd flown. Just pried into my soul and personal life. I even thought…" He shrugged and didn't continue. "At first you look at her—pretty face, figure—you think you'll find common ground. Then you realize she's a warhead, not a woman."

  "I don't want to hear this, Chuck."

  "You know, she sometimes goes to this one bar in the evenings. All… like a normal chick. But you approach her, and it's like running into an iceberg. Scary and pitiful. She's all alone. Who needs someone like that? Sometimes you just feel so sorry for her you wanna bang her. But it wouldn't help…"

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  "Shut up, Chuck." Mat raised his voice.

  "What's with you?"

  "Just shut up." He fixed a piercing stare on the surprised face beside him.

  Noticing people around them stirring, Mat looked toward the dock bulkheads. Having cleared the debris and repaired the airlock, they'd finally unlocked the doors.

  "Well, finally!" Chuck cheered. "Can't do anything properly! Alright, see you. We'll meet again!"

  Chuck waved and blended into the crowd. Without saying goodbye, Matias adjusted his travel bag on his shoulder and waited for the main flow of passengers to subside.

  Soon, in the short, wide corridor connecting customs with the station's first 'street,' he spotted a female figure in uniform walking quickly, talking to someone unseen. For him, not recognizing her—even from a distance—was impossible. He walked toward her.

  Sabrina-Lee Jane didn't notice the man in civilian clothes approaching among the stream heading for the docks. She'd already turned left toward her office. Matias called out to her back.

  "Colonel Jane!" His face lit up with a completely inappropriate, lovestruck idiot's smile. He knew it—but couldn't suppress it.

  "Oh, Matias." She turned. "Allow me to congratulate you on your enlistment." She extended her hand. Mat enclosed her fingers in his burning palms. It didn't resemble a handshake. More like taking a hostage. She tried to pull back—awkward tension bloomed between them.

  "Matias, you are behaving inappropriately for the place, time, and company," she noted with complete seriousness.

  "Around you, I feel like an idiot."

  "Trust your feelings, Matias. They are not far from the truth."

  He looked into her eyes. They were laughing.

  "Sabrina…"

  "Don't you dare," she cut him off.

  "May I escort you to your office?"

  "As I recall, our conversation in my office didn't leave the best impression in your life. You are expected at the assignment office. Make sure you are not late."

  Mat, stunned, took two steps back. His next words were as dry as the riverbed where Sabrina's emotions had once run:

  "I understand, Colonel Jane. Forgive my intrusiveness. Thank you again for the opportunity to prove myself in the ranks of the Alliance Police."

  He clasped his hands before him, nodded respectfully, and turned to leave.

  "Matias." An almost imperceptible shift in tone made him freeze and turn back. "You have understood nothing—or misinterpreted everything. But I hope you have a good memory. I repeat: I have already said everything. Right now, both you and I have a service to attend."

  Repeating her gesture of a respectful nod, she turned and walked into the corridors of the police block.

  "How the hell am I supposed to understand you if you speak in code?" he muttered after her retreating figure and bowed his head, utterly confused.

  All space police outposts clustered around ElexGate transmitters. A transmitter's coverage area defined an outpost's control zone. Seven transmitters existed in the AC region. Matias was assigned to the 'upper' one—the quietest sector. Two systems, nine planets total. One ore-mining station, a couple of asteroid colonies. Total population: about sixty thousand. Reaching it from the 'center' (maximum celestial density layer) required irregular transport or a long-range vessel. Luckily, his shuttle was just that.

  The alarm rang again ten minutes later. Matias had managed to fall asleep—and now didn't dare close his eyes.

  Yesterday had been difficult. Reaching his assigned station, he'd met the unit commander, Lieutenant Colonel Song Jodhi. The colonel's youthful appearance didn't fool Matias; on the contrary, it made him carefully weigh answers to seemingly innocent questions. Even after parting, Amatin couldn't form a clear judgment of the man. Song reminded him of Sabrina somehow—questions open to interpretation while he observed reactions, listened attentively, gently put him in his place.

  "Want a boy or a girl?" Song asked as they walked from office to docks.

  "In what sense?" Mat genuinely didn't understand.

  "For a partner, Amatin—a partner!"

  "Doesn't matter. Main thing is the commander is competent."

  "Is that all you expect from a partner?"

  Matias thought a second.

  "Well—if he or she isn't too chatty, that's a plus. If they're not an ace or too experienced in skirmishes, I can be useful. But for rules and instructions, better they know them perfectly until I can say the same. Doesn't matter much to me who I work with. I'll find common ground with anyone and show due respect—to your choice and to my partner—regardless of gender or experience. As for character—we don't have to become friends to remain effective."

  "Now it's clear…" Jodhi smirked. "Amatin, they don't like bores and sycophants here. Especially bores who can eloquently express correct thoughts—and most importantly, believe so wholeheartedly in what they say that no polygraph could find fault."

  Amatin's jaw tightened. He'd strived for this place, earned it with sweat and blood, with absolutely sincere intentions Sabrina herself had deemed sufficient. And now what? What did they expect?

  "Aha!" Jodhi smirked. "Now I see the face of a law enforcer—not a fucking politician. That's your warhorse."

  Matias knew the lieutenant colonel watched his reaction closely. He simply nodded. Assigned to a class B vessel—a frigate. It didn't matter. Even this tiny thing in experienced hands became a deadly weapon. Police ships were known to surpass any superpower developments except military-grade.

  "Schedule's on the 'board.' You'll meet your partner tomorrow. By end of day—familiarize yourself with rules and instructions."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Dismissed."

  And now it was his first workday in the police force. Turning off the third alarm, he couldn't tear himself from the pillow.

  When the doorbell rang, Matias finally had to get up.

  "Coming!"

  On the threshold stood a stocky brunette with a short bob and straight bangs over her eyes—apparently of Indian descent. Surveying Matias from head to toe, she met his gaze and uttered with a haughty smirk:

  "Tuck your junk away and move it to the docks. Briefing in ten minutes. Departure in twenty. Anna."

  She started to extend her hand but withdrew it just as Matias raised his palm. Mockery—or unthinking reluctance to shake hands with a naked stranger. He decided on the latter.

  Scratching his head in confusion, he glanced at the bathroom door. Ten minutes—just enough to reach the docks at a very, very fast pace.

  "Well then…"

  Without further delay, the freshly minted police officer dressed and ran.

  "Shift Six, listen up!" Lieutenant Colonel Song shouted, spotting his rookie among pilots. "You have a new addition. Lieutenant Commander Amatin—step forward. Show him some love and kindness. Former military, experienced pilot, hopefully a decent guy. Your partner is Anna. Same patrols! Do not leave your sectors! Fungur—you hear me?! Do not leave your sectors!"

  "Yes, sir," a lethargic reply came from an albino guy in the second row.

  "Fly safe, guys!"

  "Fly safe," an uneven chorus echoed with varying enthusiasm.

  Clapping the rookie on the shoulder, Song headed out. Mat went to his partner.

  "Matias." He extended his hand. This time, Anna condescended to shake it. "According to the schedule, I had another half hour."

  "According to the schedule, you also have a lunch break," she retorted matter-of-factly and turned 180 degrees. "Fuel up in the frig, Amatin! The criminals are waiting!"

  Mat looked around. He was getting looks from all sides—every kind. He nodded in response to most. Ten minutes later, Anna—as commander of their small wing—warped them both to their sector.

  Matias opened the system map, zoomed in. They flew in silence. Matias decided to comment:

  "When I told Lieutenant Colonel Jodhi I'd prefer a partner who isn't too talkative, I didn't mean this silent."

  "Pray I stay silent, Amatin," Anna replied instantly. "Because if I start talking, it means you've fucked up."

  "Clear enough."

  Mat had survived hazing before—the kind that left marks you couldn't see. He'd hoped the police would be different. Apparently not. Well—interesting experience, he decided.

  Anna had served as captain of a heavy cruiser. Not a pilot—a captain. Matias had significantly outpaced his partner in his light frigate and turned to brake. When Anna's marker appeared on the scanner, then the cruiser itself on the viewscreen, Matias didn't immediately understand what she was doing. The enormous hulk approached—not turning—heading straight for a ramming course. Maneuvering the frigate away from collision, he swallowed.

  "Don't get ahead of your elders, Amatin," Anna commented. The cruiser began its turn.

  Mat remained silent.

  This is going to be a truly interesting experience, he smirked and took cover from her direct line of sight under the belly of the cruiser.