The dream? always begins the same: a lone woman with bare feet on a lone beach under a lone sky. Trapped in his mind, the scene replays, always the same. She traces sand angels with her toe in the flat sand. The water is cold, but she’s seemingly impervious to this. She smiles, a wry smile. The wind coming off the water flutters her skirt, her hair.
Her back is to the ocean. In the sky behind her, the umber crawl of the Stigmata hangs in the wide open sky and black cloths the sun.
As if he’s still dreaming, he’s awoken by the drone of the freight train’s horn. It’s late morning, and he’s in the bed of her apartment in the City. Her bed. Her side is still warm from where her body was not too long ago.
The train’s announcements continue.
He’s never at home in her apartment. He’s a stranger. Still. The relics of her life are still foreign to him as if he’s intruding. As if he’s an intruder.
She left just a moment ago. The room is still fresh with her scent. He remembers their early morning love making. Frantic, as each of them doesn’t know the other’s body. The other’s wants. Yet.
He still tastes her on his lips.
He pulls the covers up around him. He’s cold. He’s alone.
She’s left him.
The train’s announcements continue.
“One moment, Inspector. Almost finished.”
Yama stands in the Commander’s office in the low-ceiling Watch Office. Outside the glass-enclosed office is Operations with its screens and noise and instruments and people in uniform, all bearing the Ag Corps emblem on the left upper arm sleeves.
Behind the desk sits the Commander, frowning as she reads the Directorate’s orders regarding Yama’s presence at this Complex.
She keeps her eyes on the orders. “I don’t like this, Inspector.”
Yama says nothing.
She shoves the document away from her, leans back in her chair and looks at him.
“What are you really doing here, Inspector Yama?”
“I believe my orders are clear, Commander.”
“Bullshit. You’re as old as my father. I’ve looked into your record. Bit of a shambles.”
She stands and walks to the wide glass windows that look over the Operation’s floor. Her back is to him.
She is silent.
“I’ll be watching you, Inspector. I’ve assigned Sergeant McConnell to assist you during your visit.”
“Anything else, ma’am?”
Her frown stays. “The body is still in the morgue. Per your instructions. They’re expecting you. McConnell will take you there.”
Yama nods once. “Very good, ma’am.”
“One more thing. All officer rates are required to carry a sidearm.”
“I don’t think…”
“It’s not a request. We’re technically still at war. Do we understand each other?”
“Anything else?”
“Go to the Armory. Dismissed.”
“Guess you’re stuck with me,” Sergeant McConnell says.
Yama says nothing. The two of them stand in the hallway that runs parallel to Operations.
“I have orders to take you to the Armory,” she says.
“Which we won’t be doing,” Yama says.
“But, sir…”
Yama moves to the wide window that offers a view of the Complex. False Night is concluding. The sun will emerge soon just before setting and the cold of the long night spreads over the land to rule the night.
“How long have you been Ag Corps?” Yama finally says, his back to her.
“Five years, regular enlisted, sir.”
He detects the pride in her voice. Yama sighs.
She senses his disappointment. “The Armory is a few buildings over. They power down at sunset. Restricts where you can go.”
Yama turns to her. She’s young. So young. “The Morgue first.”
Sergeant McConnell looks hesitant. “We may be stuck there a while. Until they get the auxiliary power online.”
“You in a hurry?” he says.
She half smiles. “No, sir. Follow me.”
The Morgue is cold. Frigid.
Yama seals his coat. Draws the thick collar up.
“A maintenance crew found her near the secondary desalination unit.”
“Yes,” Yama says.
“I was told to hold my autopsy. Until you got here.”
Yama ignores the doctor. “Let’s see her.”
The doctor nods. “As you wish. We’ve kept her well chilled. You’ll see.”
He and McConnell follow the doctor to a white bulkhead.
“The blood work, fluids, D.N.A.?” Yama starts.
“Inconclusive,” the doctor says.
The doctor keys a code into the glowing pad near the bulkhead. A whisper of cold air runs into the room and over the three of them as the bulkhead silently slides open.
Yama takes a step into the room.
“That one,” the doctor says. He points to a metal door on the wall of the Morgue. “She’s in there.”
Yama walks over to the door of the Morgue’s shelving unit.
He catches his breath. The room tilts. For a moment.
“Are you okay Inspector?” McConnell says.
Yama grabs the handle of the shelving unit. It’s cold.
He’s been here before.
Daddy?
He yanks the door open and slides the shelf out.
He looks at the dead woman. Her eyes are closed. She’s at peace. Like before.
And she’s young. Like before.
Yama hears McConnell’s boots shuffle on the hard cement floor. He looks over his shoulder to her. “Sergeant, if this is too much…”
“No,” she interrupts. Her voice shakes. “I’m fine. Sir.”
Yama nods to her.
“She was naked when they found her,” the doctor says. “Pretty young woman.”
“What are those?” Yama points to pink pin pricks on either side of her neck.
The doctor looks down. “Sensor removal. Standard protocol stuff. All the civilian workers have implants.”
Yama exhales. “Nothing about this is ‘standard’, doctor. Who removed them?”
“I did.”
“Where are they?”
The doctor smiles a wry smile. “That’s classified, Inspector.”
“Is that so.”
The doctor grunts a laugh. “I’m afraid it is, yes.”
Yama looks down at the girl. She’s cold and dead, and, he thinks, probably better off than here.
“Sergeant,” Yama finally says.
McConnell comes up beside him. “Yes, sir?”
He closes the morgue shelf and removes his gloves. “I’m relieving the doctor of his duties.”
The doctor’s smile drops. “You what? You have no authority…”
Yama looks him in the eyes. “I have all the authority, doctor. Confine yourself to your quarters until I say otherwise. Dismissed.”
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