Midnight Rose

[Belle]

The tower was a wonder of Empire technology - durasteel framework, plastisteel windows, automated security, and reinforced emergency doors. All told, it was more of an aboveground bunker than an actual building. Seventy stories tall, it jostled for shoulder space with the other mega-rises of Tier Four. Its bevy of floors were home to many businesses, some legitimate, most less so. Even Alexander Seagrave, who had been there for years, doubted he had met half the tertiary individuals that crowded the Sun Foundation's jewel twenty-four hours a simulated day.

He stood at the windows of his office on the sixty-third floor, his hands clasped behind him, looking out over the glitter of the city. Occasionally a passing hovercar's lights would play against the plastisteel, and through it he could catch himself in its reflection.

Tall figured, with shoulder length, straight black hair, he stared back at him from behind a pair of thin spectacles. His suit, which had been so pristinely pressed when he had awoke,  seemed long overdue for another preening. His face was pale, and he could see the shadows under his eyes. He looked like Hell, he thought. The small mercy was that there was little else to do for the day, just one last meeting before he could retire.

As if on cue, the buzzer on his desk sounded. Flicking his arm, he drew back the sleeve and brought his wrist communicator up.  "Yes?"

"Your appointment has arrived."

"Send him in."

Moments later, the double doors across from the desk hissed open. A lanky man with slicked back, pointed white hair strode through. He wore street clothes under a synthweave jacket, and his dark eyes shifted left and right from behind an angular pair of sunglasses.

"There's no one else here, Sylvester," Alex assured him. 

The man - Sly, he prefered to go by - shot a distrusting look at him. "Yeah," he said. "Sure."

Alex suppressed the urge to roll his aching eyes. Given Sly's previous employment history, he supposed a level of distrust was to be expected - if he were working for one of their competition, his little screw up would have earned an unhealthy amount of discipline.

Still, Alex had little time or patience to mollify Sly's feelings. "There are certain things the Sun Foundation expects from its employees, Mister Adams," he said. "Loyalty. Respect. Honesty." He ticked them off on his fingers. "Just to name a few. So, I'll ask you directly: what were you doing on Garnet Street that night?"

Sly shifted. His body language screamed how uncomfortable the question made him, and he attempted to mask it with an all-too-obvious smile. "Don't you already know?" he countered.
Alex sat at his desk. Picking up a pen, he slowly turned it over in his fingers. "I don't entertain foolishness, Mister Adams. Having somebody tell me what I already know is a waste of my time." He tapped the tip of the pen against the desktop. Tap. Tap. Tap. "Again: what were you doing on Garnet Street?"

Sly licked his lips. Another glance to the side. For a moment the faux-confident smile wavered. "Following orders, obviously."

Alex stopped tapping. The tone was cute, antagonistic. And yet...

Alex set down the pen and steepled his fingers, fixing Sly with a his stare. He had known so many men like him. The seas had been full of layabouts, ruffians, tricksters. Animals wearing the skins of men. Their desires were simple, base. Common. He and the man above him worked hard to impose order upon the natural chaos an organization made up of such individuals bred. Individuals who thought they were rather more clever than they actually were. "Whose orders?"  he asked, his tone even.

Again the shifty eyes. This time, however, the smile faded, and Sly remained silent.

Alex continued: "When we brought you on, you were given a territory." He tapped his pen on the desk again, and this time a holographic image of the city projected itself above the surface of the desk. In it, Tier Four was broken up, carved by lines and colors into distinct segments. Another tap, and the image's scope contracted, expanding one segment to fill the viewing plane. "This one. And you see this part here?"

Alex lifted the pen and indicated what appeared to be a divot along one edge. "We told you specifically that this area was off limits. We made that clear. I made that clear, as well as what happened to those who decided the rules didn't apply to them. So tell me, Mister Adams," he whispered.  "Whose orders were you following when you decided to walk into that zone and started demanding credits?"

~+~+~+~

Alex entered the lift and keyed his destination. The door slid shut, and he ruminated on the coming minutes. If one assumed Sly was telling the truth, then the answer was obvious: there was only one other person in the organization who could give an order that superceded his. 

The only question was why.

The whirring of the descending cabin thrummed, barely audible. Down he went, past the ground floor, into the sublevels that stretched for several more below. He exited at the bottom, breathing in the cold air and scent of ailing metals neglected too long. Droids could only do so much to stave off the inevitable. Tier Four's infrastructure was in dire need of repair, likely only to be noticed when the metaphorical dams finally broke.

The level was dimly lit by a few ceiling lights. Alex followed the long corridor, past several turns and barred doors. Sounds of misery echoed from inside, sounds that needled him with the faintest pangs of guilt. He strode on, at last coming to the door to the lab. Swiping his card on the reader and putting his face up to the biometric scanner, the lock clicked, and he entered.

Past the anteroom, past the preperation tanks and medical suites, he passed into the Egg.

It wasn't an actual egg, of course. Ovoid in shape, the enormous chamber was ringed around its inside by a retractable catwalk at its median. At the chamber's center, supported by tractor beams, was an enormous, glowing sphere. Fifteen feet in diameter, it roiled, a chaotic kaleidoscope of rainbow colors, never settling on one before moving to the next. The inside walls of the chamber were hexcombed, each hex containing a distribution node, some of which were in use. Thin cords of the rainbow stuff ribboned through the air, melting into the sphere. If Alex didn't know where it came from, he would be consumed by its beauty.

Perhaps it was that beauty that so enraptured the man standing on the platform. Staring into it, immobile, he was silent.

Alex put his hands into his pockets and walked over, standing next to him. 

The man's hair was brown, short. He was young - younger than Alex, at least. He still had the look of a boy about him, skin tanned, locks thick, eyes of amber.

"Hono-san."

The eyes turned towards him. "Alex." A faint smile. "Already done?"

Alex grunted. "It's not as if a reprimand takes much time," he observed. "People like Adams are easy to knock into line when they stray."

The boss chuckled. "I see."

"Did you tell him to go to Garnet Street?"

"Yes."

The directness of the answer surprised him. Alex stood in silence for a few moments, staring up at the boiling colors. "Why?" He asked at last. "You were the one who wanted to avoid antagonizing her in the first place."

"You're right, I did."

"And that's changed?"

"Alex."

"Forgive me, Hono-san. I know it's rude of me, but I'd like to know why we're taking such a risk."

The other was quiet. "I guess you could say... Curiosity?"

Alex shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "For that, you risked angering an Anomaly?"

A hand waved. "It all worked out. Adams and the other two are fine, and she's staying put." Hono leaned against the railing as he turned his attention once more to the sphere. "You worry too much, Alex. I know her. Oh," he paused, "what about the girl?"

Alex shrugged. He had almost forgotten about that. "The message was sent." He pushed his glasses up with a finger as he turned to observe the orb as well. "I doubt she'll be trying any heroics anytime soon."