The Korpes File

PART ONE - Year 2596

1 - Teslem Station

An unexpected sneeze broke the silence.

Doctor Alys Santaro looked up and noted the lighting had shifted to night cycle. She checked the time. Nineteen hundred, already? Two hours had slipped by without notice, and only one member of her team remained. You always stay late. She smiled with almost maternal affection at the young man working across from her.

Excuse me, ma’am. Tech Nash X. Korpes apologized. He remained hunched over his digipad, focused on what he was working on.

She’d requested him by name for her design team, and it had raised more than a few eyebrows, but he was worth the extra friction. He was one-of-a-kind, not just in mind, but in looks.

Unlike the Korlo, who were xenophobic, the refugee population had embraced the concept of blending generations ago. Known collectively as Diasporan, the refugees encompassed the Ebo, Drakkar, Birlo and Tyran populations that had sought sanctuary in Korlune and Ankoresh. Throwbacks were a genetic blip that appeared among them, and they were the physical embodiment of their ancestors.

Until Nash, she’d never encountered a Tyran throwback. Her remaining staff was Korlo like herself. Amid his dark-haired, blue-eyed co-workers, Nash’s starkly pale appearance and green eyes were distinctly alien. Alys didn’t notice the differences anymore unless he stood up unexpectedly. He towered over everyone on-site by over a head.

Korlune Military Research and Development’s recombinant genetics department had been thrilled when Nash transferred to Teslem. The Rec-Gen labs considered getting their hands on any throwback an achievement. Tyran and Birlo were especially desirable. Nash worked as a Tech for her, three days a week, the rest of the time he was assigned to the Rec-Gen labs as an unofficial subject.

Nash’s fingers danced across the digipad in front of him. His eyebrows shot up, and he furiously entered in new lines of code.

It must be coming together. Alys recognized the expression of delight on his face and grinned in response.

Almost done with that thruster upgrade, Tech Korpes?

Yes, ma’am. It’s ready to go. When you have a minute, I’d like to show you the tweaks. He didn’t look up until he finished the line of code and began compiling it.

She made her way over to his workstation and looked at the screen. The two-dimensional version of his work appeared, and he transferred it to the small hologrid.

Walk me through your design.

I’ve modified the cowling and added new intakes here and here, to create a hotter burn. There was no way to get around the issues with the fuel lines without a complete redesign, so I added an internal Haloryn gel power supply as a backup system. Nash looked up. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve already run a simulation. With these augments in place, it’ll cycle faster and reduce the vibration issues. I recommend that we swap out the old Sekk-Tech chipsets for the new ones manufactured by Harlo-Fyre. They’re made from tellium fiber fused with graphene, so they’ll withstand the energy loads without super-heating or fracturing. Their flexibility will also allow us to adjust the housing to this configuration.

Looks aren’t everything, Tech Korpes, and we don’t happen to have a supply contract with Harlo-Fyre.

Nash flashed a shy smile then opened the drawer under his desk. Perhaps the department should consider one. I discovered that this is what happens when you try to run that kind of current through the Sekk-Tech chipset for longer than an hour at a time. He handed her a melted mass of plastic, so she could examine it. As you can see, they’re not going to work for this new build.

Simulation? Alys grinned down at her assistant.

The VR lab was occupied. Master-Mech Channing gave me the parts for that mock-up.

Impressive. Alys pulled her digipad out of her pocket and booked the VR lab for the rest of the week. You now have four days to run this new config through its paces. Log the results, so I have something to present at the next departmental meeting. If I order the parts now, can you have a prototype ready for me to demonstrate at the end of the month?

Yes, ma’am, Nash went back to work.

Alys returned to her desk and brought up Harlo-Fyre’s site on her digipad. She found the reference numbers for the chipsets Nash had indicated and added them to her requisition order. She made a notation about the Haloryn cells under that.

Can you think of anything else you’ll need?

Not now, ma’am. I’ll send the specs for the housing to Master-Mech Channing.

Alys signed off on the form, leaving the team information blank. Nash had already managed to alienate important people on staff, and she’d learned that adding his name to any project drew negative attention. Such a shame. The wars end and the hate lingers with the radiation. Alys reflected on the fact that history was always written by the victors. It was moot. The discrimination against anyone with Tyran ancestry had become so institutionalized that it had its own status as a medical condition. Tyrandaiphobia. She couldn’t discount it entirely. For some, it truly was a negative pheromone response. For most, it was just a convenient excuse. State-sanctioned hate.

Alys had witnessed inappropriate outbursts from staff in the last year, but to his credit, Nash hadn’t responded. In fact, he didn’t seem to hold their reactions against them. Alys considered that a mark of exceptional character.

A beep drew her out of her thoughts and announced a waiting message on her digipad. She keyed in her access. Another tour?! Don’t these people have access to clocks? Alys sighed loud enough that Nash heard her and sat up.

Something wrong, ma’am?

We’re about to have visitors, but there’s no reason why you should suffer too. Get out before you’re trapped again.

The smile he bestowed on her was all the proof she needed of his gratitude.

Alys cut him off before he could say anything. Shoo, they’ll be here any minute.

*

Nash didn’t have to be told twice. He ducked out the side door and jogged back to his room. Time for some light reading. He absently slid the key card into the lock and stepped inside, ducking so he wouldn’t crack his skull on the header. The first thing that caught his attention was the clothes that littered the entrance way forming a random path into the room beyond. The distinctly feminine giggle made Nash sigh. His room-mate was seldom around, but when he was, he was never alone.

Okay, hint taken. Garry, I hate you, you lucky bastard. Nash withdrew discreetly, locking the door before heading to his favorite alternate reading spot.

*

Nash was halfway through the latest journal from Makondi-Core when his attention was drawn to an odd noise. The distortion made it hard to identify at first, so he put his head closer to the duct he’d climbed through and listened. This section’s closed. What the hell? Someone was running down the corridor adjacent to him. There was a dull clang as the screen covering the ventilation shaft was shifted, and a small, frightened-looking boy invaded his sanctuary.

Help me, he mouthed silently.

Nash could hear pursuit; the footfalls were heavier and closing rapidly. He looked back at the boy, whose expression had become one of dread. I’m not the scary monster, for once. Nash winked and held his finger up to his lips, indicating that the little intruder should remain silent. He lifted the boy past him, placed his digipad carefully on the floor and edged closer to the opening. He didn’t have to wait long.

Come out, Trent, if you know what’s good for you. A hand appeared and grabbed a fistful of Nash’s t-shirt.

He put up no resistance and let himself be pulled out into the hall. Nash flashed a wicked grin as he stood and stretched to his full height. He then surveyed the group of boys before him and memorized the names on their tags. Young, well fed— Excellent, I was starting to get hungry, he reached out for the boy that had touched him.

The mob screamed in unison and fled.

Nash’s laughter drowned out all sounds of their retreat, but he waited until they were out of range before he spoke. It’s safe to come out; they’re gone.

Okay. The answer was small and hesitant. The boy emerged cautiously from the vent, cradling Nash’s digipad. He looked up and suddenly stopped; his mouth dropped open in shock. Nash hadn’t been standing when they’d first met.

What’s your name, kid?

Davis. Uh, Assistant Mech Davis Trent, sir. Are you a giant? The look of wonder on the boy’s face was priceless.

For an instant, Nash contemplated saying yes. No, I’m not a giant. My name’s Nash. He held out his hand and shook hands with the boy. Let me guess. You’re part of the new trainee group that came in last week? No offense, but how old are you? Nash couldn’t gauge the boy’s age. He looked like he was eight.

I’m thirteen! Accordin’ to Mom, I take after Dad’s side of the family, and we grow late. I think I’m the shortest guy here, though. I’m shorter than most of the girls, too, and that’s embarrassin’, but I’m still a better Mech than any of them are. I kinda proved it already an’ that’s why I’ve got the fan club. He paused; his giant was watching him with an amused expression on his face. Somethin’ funny?

You’re from one of the Northern Diaspora, aren’t you?

I’m from Sarune! Hey, how’d you guess?

Accent. Nash smiled at the little guy. He liked him. He held out his hand. Can I have my digipad back, please?

Uh huh. Davis looked briefly at the material Nash had been reading. Just so you know, that Makondi-Core stuff isn’t as good as the latest tech from Harlo-Fyre. Someday I’m gonna work for Harlo-Fyre as a Master-Mech and oversee my own section and everythin’.

Nash hoped he got his wish. Good luck. Nice meeting you, Davis. Nash wanted to go back to reading, but the tiny interloper didn’t seem to take hints well.

How tall are you?

Nash looked down at the boy, annoyed, then realized that he was only curious. One-point-eight-five meters.

There must be a lot of bulkheads and doors in this place that give you headaches. Is everyone in your family that tall?

No. I’m the tallest.

I’ll bet you and me are the tallest and the shortest people stationed here! That’s funny! Just proves that we were supposed to meet. What’cha doin’ now? My group isn’t scheduled to begin anythin’ until next week, and I don’t really want to go back to the dorms ‘cause they’ll be waitin’ for me. Thanks for scarin’ them, by the way, I really appreciate it. Do you have a brother or sister? What Diaspora do you come from? The relentless surge of dialogue only stopped when Nash started to laugh.

I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who talks as much as you do! How can you do that and not stop to breathe?

I’m sorry. People tell me I talk too much all the time, but I can’t help it. If I’m botherin’ you, I can go. Davis stared up at him with his big blue eyes, silently begging Nash to let him stay. It worked.

I’m getting hungry. How about I buy your dinner, and you tell me a bit about yourself?

Nash led him to the main cafeteria and listened to Davis as he told him not only his entire life story but vividly outlined his master plan for getting into the private sector. He’d never encountered someone with this much enthusiasm and found it both mesmerizing and exhausting. You’ve got a lot of ambition, Assistant Mech Trent. I wish you the best of luck. Nash finished the last of his meal and got up to leave.

So, what do you do here? Davis smiled up at him.

I’m just a Tech in Weapons Development. Nash pushed the chair in.

Davis rose, frantically searching for a way to continue the conversation. Nash recognized the starved-for-attention expression on the boy’s face and saved him the effort. Would you like a private tour, Davis? Teslem station is the largest training facility in Korlune.

Would I? You bet! Y’know, I didn’t think anyone here was friendly, ‘cause when I first got here it was all so formal, and we use our last names instead of our first or just our tag numbers. You’re the first person to talk to me, or ask me my name and not read it off my ID. How long have you been here?

Working for KMR and D, or working in this place?

You’ve worked other places, too? I didn’t think you were that old. Oh, sorry. Davis bit his lip, thinking he’d just offended his new friend. Nash laughed.

Don’t worry about it. I’m nineteen, so to you I probably am old. I’ve worked in a lot of other facilities, but it’s not as impressive as it sounds. Nash winked. Rumour has it I’m a troublemaker, and hard to get along with. This is the longest I’ve worked anywhere, to be honest, and I’ve only been here a year. Being seen with me might not be good for your reputation, Davis. Still want that tour now that you know the truth about me?

Davis didn’t miss a beat. Nineteen? That’s only six years older than me and whoever said that crap about you is a caluvah vex. You just spent a bunch of your free time hangin’ out with me when you coulda spent it with your friends or your girlfriend.

Nash grinned at the use of the Diaspora slang. It had been a long time since he’d heard the term ‘son-of-a-bitch’ in slang. The language differed from site to site, but the swear words remained universal.

Do you have access to the Mech-Bays? I’d really like to see them! I’ve heard that they’re big enough to house five, full-sized Bethune transports, with room to spare. Is it true that their domes can open to the surface, completely? I’ve never been topside before. Are we allowed to go outside?

For the record, topside is overrated - it’s beautiful, green, but remember, everything up there wants to kill you. You’d need an envirosuit to last a day. Nash shuddered, remembering his last excursion. Weather. The Mech-Bay you’re thinking of is at Farel Station - I was stationed there a couple of years ago. Given how poorly designed the Bethune was, I’m surprised that there are five left in service now. Honestly, they should just leave the remaining ones out in the rain and redesign that monster. Nash grinned at the boy. The Bays here aren’t quite that large, but they’re far more active. Right now, they have three of the Lentarin engines in for servicing, so you’ll get to see military trains up close - if you’ve never seen one before. Nash indicated that Davis should follow and led his charge through the main concourse to a set of maintenance stairs.

Why didn’t we use the lifts? Davis asked, noting that they’d walked right past them.

I’m going to sneak you in. This is the easiest way.

Are we gonna get in trouble for this? Davis slowed down and looked for security.

Only if we’re caught. I don’t plan to be. Do you trust me, Davis? Nash turned to face the boy but only had to wait a few seconds for the answer. The boy nodded his head quickly, his expression conveying complete trust.

Nash thought back to his first week on site and who he’d trusted. I’m a crap role model, aren’t I? The question was rhetorical. He knew he was about to make an impression that would last a lifetime. It mattered. Do this by the book, Nash. Change of plans. C’mon. Nash approached the main doors to the hangar and spotted the man he was looking for near the entrance. He grabbed the tiny boy by the wrist and dragged him through the security check. I have to speak to Master-Mech Channing about stuff. He flashed his ID and a smile, counting on the fact that everyone knew who he was, even if it was only by description.

The guard nodded, disinterested, and waved him through the checkpoint.

Nash lost no time in closing on his target. Sir! May I speak to you for a moment? Nash’s stride was hard for Davis to match and he was forced to jog or be dragged.

The Master-Mech turned and waved them over. And what can I do for you today, Tech Korpes?

I’d like permission to take someone on a quick tour of the operations here, but first, let me introduce you to him. This is Apprentice Mech Davis Trent. Davis, this is Master-Mech Channing. Everything you see in this bay is under his direction, and at some point, you will be, too.

The grizzled Master-Mech stretched out his hand, Pleased to meet you, Trent. Welcome to Teslem.

Davis shook his hand, dazed. A pleasure to meet you too, sir! Davis could barely contain his delight.

Is it convenient for me to show him around the Mech-Bay, sir— Nash’s digipad beeped, indicating he had a message. Sorry, I need to check this. He turned the device on and read the note. "New file received. Interview scheduled for tomorrow at twenty-one hundred. Collect and review." A dark frown crossed his face. Another one? Fuck. Davis, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. Would you mind if we do this another day? Nash looked over at the Master-Mech quickly, With your permission, of course, sir.

You go do what you need to do. I’ve got some free time; I’ll take care of the tour, Master-Mech Channing looked down at the tiny boy. Unless you mind the substitution. Do you, Assistant Mech Trent?

Davis shook his head. He turned, but Nash was already on the move. Catch you later? he called after the tall blond.

Sure, Nash answered, but his mind was elsewhere. When will they give up?

*

Tech Korpes, take your seat. The voice over the intercom directed.

Why? This isn’t going to take long. Nash preferred to stand and pace to wear off the nervous energy that had built up. His stomach knotted uncomfortably when saw the time. Less than five minutes until she arrives.

At the age of seventeen, every Diasporan became eligible for the Pairing Protocol. Prospective matches were chosen based on genetics, interests, and a host of other elements. There were provisions in place to reject a potential, or veto as it was more commonly known, but most found the arrangement completely to their satisfaction. It was rare that someone used all three of their vetoes.

People were granted leave to go home for their interviews. The fact that Nash’s wasn’t left room for gossip. The truth was, he hadn’t been granted leave in the six years he’d worked for Korlune Military Research and Development. His interviews were always held on site, in rooms identical to this one.

The team of observers watching from behind the one-way mirror, the microphones and security on standby were also a standard feature.

Nash looked around and did a visual check. Nothing new. He glanced up at the lights, knowing that they made him appear even paler than he was. Everything necessary to scare the living daylights out of anyone sensible.

Sit down, Tech Korpes. This time the voice was feminine and seemed familiar. Nash tried to place where he’d heard it before, but couldn’t.

These first meetings never went well. While the atmosphere played a part in their failure, he knew his file played a larger role. Every potential was sent a copy to review. Nash had to concede that even he’d been put off when he’d gone through it. The references it contained were mostly taken out of context, and it read like the diary of a psychopath. He was mystified by how they kept finding matches. This would be his twenty-third first introduction, but he already knew that it would fail. The fact that there had been twenty-two rejections prior pointed to a trend.

"Sit... down," the male voice demanded.

If she’s read my file, she already knows I’m tall. Nash stopped himself before he launched into a rant and sat down. He’d caught himself this time. The last thing he wanted was to be transferred from Teslem for insubordination. He adopted a neutral expression as he focused his attention on the sound of the wall clock, counting down. It’ll be over soon.

The door to the room opened, and a young woman entered, then froze when she saw him.

Shock? You saw my picture. What were you expecting? Nash couldn’t claim the same. He hadn’t even bothered to open the dossier they’d supplied on her. He didn’t see the point anymore.

She continued to stare. Even with the stricken look on her face, she was cute. Her Ebo heritage showed in delicate bone structure.

Nash had never seen anyone with hair that long, and he decided it was her best feature. Jet black. Wow. It almost looked blue under the harsh lights, and her dark skin reminded him of coffee. She was the night to his day, opposite in everything except for the shared green eyes. Amma would have looked a lot like you when she was young. The memory of his grandmother made him smile.

The smile was not returned. The young woman looked at the large one-way mirror. I can’t do this, she turned and left.

Nash looked at his watch and raised his left eyebrow dramatically. Under thirty seconds! She just set a new record. He looked over at the mirror and asked, May I go? He didn’t wait for an answer, he stood and left the room. The rumor mill will have fun with this one. His stomach rumbled as he picked up his pace. Something to eat before I go to ground. Nash took the corridor that would lead him to the cafeteria and lost himself in thought.

I didn’t hear any screams this time; still single, Kor-piss?

Daniel. Hal. Nash kept walking. Nash felt his hackles rise.

Two young men fell into step alongside, and when he showed no sign of slowing, Daniel cut out in front, bringing Nash up short. "How many vetoes does that make now? Twenty-something? How do you deal with knowing that every woman you meet thinks you’re a freak? How do you live? If that happened to me, I think I’d go topside and just let nature take its course."

Drop dead, both of you. Nash stepped around Daniel and continued his trek.

Although the cousins both had Birlo ancestry, Hal was as much of a throwback as Nash was. He matched Nash’s pace. I’ve heard a rumor about you, Korpes—

It’s probably true. Nash lengthened his stride.

Daniel jogged to keep up, leaning in so Nash could hear him. So, you’re confirming that all who’ve met you cite ‘extenuating circumstances’ when they turn you down?

Yep. Women take one look at me and swear off men for life. Well done! You’ve solved the mystery, and you’ve hurt my last feeling. Now, run along and celebrate this with your pack, while it’s still fresh. Nash started counting his steps to distract himself. He only got to six.

Hal grabbed Nash’s shoulder and spun him around to face them. It was the first time that he’d ever touched Nash and an ancient response to the challenge resonated in both young men.

It’s rude to leave a conversation in the middle of it— Daniel paused, sensing the sudden tension. His eyes narrowed.

Nash glanced at the hand that was still touching him and resisted the urge to break it. Something of his intent crossed his face, however, and Hal retracted the offending appendage. Too late, though. Blood spoke to blood, and the challenge remained.

Apologies. I was unaware this exchange constituted a conversation. I’ll tuck that quaint Birlo factoid away for future use. Nash took a deep breath to calm himself and regretted it. Gods, Hal, you stink.

Hal’s lip curled in disgust. "You reek, Korpes. Don’t you ever bathe?"

What? Daniel sniffed the air looking confused.

Nash’s muscles tensed, anticipating action and he savored the adrenaline rush as it coursed through him. The primal part of him loved fighting. Pheromones. It’s only a chemical reaction. Walk away. Nash stood glued to the spot as the primitive part of him warred for control. He counted to ten and intellect won. Nash willed himself to start moving and turned away.

Daniel snaked out in front again, a new barb poised on his tongue. He was felled by a swift punch to the sternum.

Nash spun to face Hal and indulge his primeval self.

*

Teslem’s Detention Center was on the level below the main concourse, in the older section of the station. Nash had spent the night in a security cell for putting the two Mechs into the Med-Bay. Per the chief medical officer, they’d be there for several days. The Birlo throwback, Hal, had sustained the worst of the injuries and would require a complicated surgery to repair his right hand. Nash sat on the bunk, staring at the floor. He heard the security door beep but didn’t look up. Two people entered, speaking in low tones.

Alys approached the narrow cell. Nash?

I’m sorry if I’ve caused any problems for your section, Doctor Santaro. Please, accept my sincerest apologies. He couldn’t look up at her.

Alys looked Nash over. Was he scanned or treated for injuries when he was brought in, Captain?

My shift just started, ma’am, I’ll check the records. The man began the file search, then looked over at Nash and grimaced. Gods, he’s a mess. The beep drew his attention back to his digipad. Nothing has been logged, ma’am. The report states that he didn’t request aid or complain of any injuries— The captain frowned and shook his head. Someone’s ignored procedure. I’ll be right back. He went in search of the duty roster.

Nash’s eyes grew wide with alarm. It’s okay. Really!

Will you tell me what this fight was about? Alys had seen black eyes, bruises, and the odd split lip on Nash before, but this was by far the worst he’d ever looked. It was evident from the digi-feed she’d viewed that the others had been aggressive, but he’d thrown the first punch.

I— Is that an order, ma’am? I’d actually prefer not to talk about it; it’s personal.

Even through the injuries, she could see he was embarrassed. Given how often you look like this, yes, it’s an order.

Nash opened his mouth to begin, but the captain’s return spared him.

Alys held up her hand, indicating that he should remain silent while he was scanned.

It’s just a field-issue scanner. Sorry. The captain moved it over the more obviously damaged areas on his face and then down his chest. You did a good job on resetting your nose. A couple of your ribs are cracked, there’s a fair bit of soft tissue damage throughout your abdomen, but I’m not getting any alerts about internal bleeding. Your system seems to be handling it. I’d heard that Tyrans were indestructible, guess now I can say I’ve seen proof. Still, I think you should swing by the Med-Bay and get a professional opinion. The night crew is going to catch hell for not checking you out—

Nash went white and cut him off. No, please don’t. It’s my fault. I told them I didn’t need to be checked, I’m not in pain. I don’t want to register a complaint or generate any further trouble for anyone. It’s all good, I’m okay. Can we just let this whole thing go, please? Nash squinted up at the man. He began to shake. Please?

I can’t let them ignore basic procedures like this. The captain’s tone softened, Sorry, kid. If I were to let this go, the next time my squad is reviewed the shit would hit the fan. It’s all on record. Detainees are to be sent to the Med-Bay if there’s any reason to suspect they’re injured. You were pulled from a fight that sent the other two to the Med-Bay. Kiddo, you’re one big bruise. This time it worked out, you lived, but the next guy might not be so lucky. I don’t need another internal affairs investigation on my record.

They’re going to blame me for this. They’re going to think I said something. Nash paled. It didn’t pay to have enemies that could carry weapons. All suppression guard were Korlo, and while the bulk of them weren’t from important houses, they all had ‘Rank’. Being reprimanded because a Diasporan prisoner complained was a slap they would not forget. He felt sick. I’m dead.

May I take him now, Captain?

He’s all yours, Doctor Santaro. For the record, neither of the Mechs pressed charges. I doubt they’ll cause you further problems, directly. He smiled at Nash. Tech Korpes, a word to the wise. Keep your head down for a long while and stay out of trouble for longer.

Nash nodded mutely and followed the Master-Tech out of the holding area.

Alys didn’t say a word to him until they were in the lift and heading up to her section. This is going to appear in your file.

Yes, ma’am, these incidents always do. It was a reflex response. He was mentally reviewing his new collection of enemies.

You don’t care? Alys frowned at the tone. She’d not seen this side of her assistant before.

Of course I do, but I don’t have any control over what they choose to put in there, do I? I can’t change it, can I? It’s done. His frustration added a sharp edge to the tone, which he instantly regretted. Sorry, ma’am. I appreciate the fact that you’ve helped me. Nash paused, reflecting on the other incidents listed in his file. Are you going to transfer me now? He felt numb as he waited for her answer. It had taken far less provocation in the past.

Alys paused the elevator. Do you want to be transferred, Tech Korpes? I thought you liked it here?

Nash turned to face her, his voice breaking as he spoke. Ma’am, I’m sure you’re aware that this is the longest I’ve been anywhere. It’s been a rare privilege to work with you and many of the others, but it would make things easier for you and the rest of the section if you transferred me now. Trust me, after last night’s incident, I can guarantee that this is going to escalate. I’m sure the story has already spread and— If any charges are laid, the suppression guard will find a way to get even. He felt sick again.

Answer the question, Tech Korpes.

No, ma’am, I don’t want to be transferred, but that’s—

Alys cut him off. Good, I was beginning to think that I’d just wasted my night. Just so you know, I fought to keep you. That battle’s done and won. She reactivated the elevator.

Nash leaned heavily against the wall, he was exhausted and allowed his eyes to shut. A myriad of images scrolled across his mind’s eye as he fought sleep.

We’re here. Alys gently touched his arm, jarring him back to alertness. Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. She pulled a key card out of her pocket and handed it to him.

"I expect a full explanation tomorrow. The researcher’s lounge is vacant, go there, clean up, and then claim a bed. I’ll arrange for one of the Med-Techs to pay you a visit. You will cooperate fully with them; do you understand me?" She waited until he nodded, then continued, Tech Korpes, I agree with the captain in that I think it’s best for you to keep a low profile. You were due for a room upgrade anyway, so I’ll have your things moved up to one of the empty mini-labs. I hope you’re alright with vend-o-mat fare because the cafeteria is now off limits along with all other public venues. As of this moment, consider yourself officially on probation. Your access to the station’s general facilities has been revoked. I’m having an MP assigned to you, to act as your escort between zones. I’m invoking Article Four of the Juvenile Probation Statute; you may not receive visitors unless officially sanctioned by a department head. She smiled, knowing that none of this was punishment for him.

Nash visibly relaxed. "Understood, ma’am. I’ll report to you at zero-eight hundred tomorrow, with a full explanation of the events, my part in the fight, and... thank you, ma’am." He gently took the key-card from her hand and retired for the rest of the day.

*

Nash knocked softly at the door. Doctor Santaro? He waited a moment, checked his watch. I’m on time. He knocked on the office door again and waited. He could hear raised voices coming from within and knew, even before his name was mentioned, that he was the topic under discussion. Fuck. He moved quietly away from the door, standing across the hall and out of earshot.

The door opened and a man Nash had never seen before exited, his dark mood emanated from him like a poisonous cloud. The dark brown uniform and lapel badge marked him as a member of the suppression guard, but there was no indication of rank. He paused, staring coldly at the lanky tech before he spoke. You must be this ‘Diasporan Tech’ I’ve heard so much about.

Sir. Nash saluted but slouched, trying to make the difference in their heights less obvious.

The man nodded disdainfully, confirming some unspoken fact to himself, then turned and walked away.

Sorry to keep you waiting, Nash. Alys stepped out into the hall and smiled briefly in his direction, but her attention was focused on her recent visitor. They both heard the door slam.

More fallout? I can’t begin to tell you how much I—

Alys waved her hand to stop the apology. I’ve just heard the official story, come in and tell me the truth.

Nash’s heart stopped as he guessed at the identity of the visitor. Was he—

A member of the suppression guard’s legal team? Yes. Alys motioned for him to take a seat. The internal affairs agent was here earlier. It seems there’s to be a full inquiry into the conduct of the squad. They— She stopped.

Nash blanched. He sat, leaned forward, and covered his face with his hands. There were no words that could express what he felt.

Apparently, Command has been watching that squad for months. There were several other incidents on file, Nash. Your case was just the final straw. They can’t blame you for this, they’ve done it to themselves.

You just called it, ma’am. I was the final straw, of course, they’ll blame me. Nash considered asking for a transfer and realized there was nowhere he could hide; suppression guards were stationed everywhere.

Nash? Alys claimed her chair. I need you to tell me what happened. What led up to this?

He sat up slowly. A weak smile appeared when she indicated he should help himself to the coffee. Thank you, ma’am.

Alys stirred her Jalat as he downed his first mug.

Nash poured himself a second and put the carafe off to the side of the desk. Do you want the short version or the long version?

The more I know, the more I can help. She watched him flush.

Long version it is. Nash exhaled, resigned to the fact that he was about to humiliate himself in front of one of the few people he respected. The issue that led to the fight, all centers around something, he paused. It began two years ago.

You were at Farel Station then, weren’t you? Were Daniel and Hal stationed there as well?

No, ma’am, they weren’t. Are you familiar with the Diasporan Pairing Protocol?

Only what I’ve learned since you joined my staff. A potential spouse is chosen based on certain qualifiers; heritage, religion, personal likes. They call the first meeting an ‘interview’, right? A wrinkle appeared between her brows. The fight was about that?

Nash sipped his coffee and slid back into his chair until they were eye-level with each other. Yes, and yes. I turned seventeen at Farel Station, and my first interview was scheduled a week later. Everything seemed to click, until— Nash frowned as he remembered. He didn’t complete the statement. For most, the person that’s chosen is a good match, but sometimes things don’t work. He shrugged, That’s why there’s a grace period before the relationship is made official. Everyone gets three chances to say no, we call them vetoes, but few use more than one. You can also apply for what’s called ‘extenuating circumstances’, but the criteria to get that is very specific.

So, you do have some choice in the matter. I’ve noted the number of interviews you’ve attended, and you mentioned there are only three vetoes. Do extenuating circumstances apply?

No, ma’am, there’s no question of my gender preference, and before you ask, I haven’t used any of my vetoes either.

Then I’m missing something. You’re saying over twenty women chosen using this system, have declined the match? Why? Surely they’d have to give a reason?

Nash hid his stress by taking a long swig of coffee. He’d composed himself by the time he swallowed it. It boils down to a combination of things: my looks, what’s in my file, and— he drained the mug and refilled it. Just get it over with. He gestured at himself, The spirit is willing, the body … less so—

And that’s what the fight was about?

Not this time. This was just about the number of rejections I’ve racked up. I’m often a cheap form of entertainment after interviews.

Alys’s expression softened. Is there something that can be done for you, medically, in regard to your physical problem?

He paused, remembering when he’d asked the same question. No. I metabolize everything too quickly for it to have any noticeable effect. Everything they try on me has to be adjusted because of it. There is a chance I’ll outgrow the problem, ma’am. Everyone’s metabolism slows as they get older. Maybe I’ll be normal when I’m forty? He flashed her a sad smile.

Then why do they keep scheduling interviews for you? It seems particularly cruel.

Yes, it is. Nash shrugged.

She opened his file and skipped to his medical reports. Have all of your fights occurred directly after an interview? She didn’t look up at him, flicking to the notations that listed the dates and cross-referencing them with incident reports.

No, they haven’t, and as far as the fights go, I’m learning how to contain myself. You’ll note there have been fewer conflicts since I transferred here.

They have, markedly. How do you account for this? Alys asked as she looked up.

I like being a member of your team, and I know that if I screw up, I’ll be reassigned. I rely on willpower and avoiding people as much as I can. Unfortunately, the bulk of Teslem’s population seems to have Birlo heritage. The first month here was torture.

How so?

They had me housed in the main dorm, and my bunk was between Daniel and his cousin, Hal. I’ve made a point to steer clear of them as much as I can, but, to be honest, I have similar responses to half the people working in the Mech-Bay. My roommate, Gary, and I set each other off as well. Fortunately, he’s a maglev Tech and off-site a lot. When he’s home, he leaves me subtle clues that I’m not welcome. I’ve discovered that the couches in the observatory are not only private but comfortable.

That’s awful. I knew there was a counter-response, but I had no idea it was so extreme.

Nash nodded. My biggest fear is that someday I’ll snap and won’t be able to stop myself. Last night was close. Nothing they’ve prescribed seems— Nash’s digipad beeped and he quickly checked the number. Speaking of which, it’s the Rec-Gen lab, ma’am. He waited for her permission to call them back.

Alys nodded, then added a side note on Nash’s file as he checked in.

Doctor Lynel wants me down in the lab. They’re going to issue my new meds. Who knows, maybe this time he’ll give me something that works. He looked up and flashed her a hopeful smile. With your permission, ma’am, I’ll go attend to that now, unless you have more questions?

I think I’ve heard enough. Thank you for your honesty. Wait here while I call your escort. Alys tapped in an extension number on her digipad and sent a text.

Nash placed his mug back on the desk and rose. He took a moment and indulged in a long stretch and un-kinked his back. He sighed as he settled back into a hunch.

Someone knocked on the door.

Come in, Sergeant Glass, Alys called.

A handsome young man, dressed in a military police uniform entered. Ma’am. He cast a sidelong glance at Nash.

Sergeant Dylan Glass, I’d like you to meet Tech Nash Korpes. You’ve already been briefed on the nature of your assignment.

Yes, ma’am.

The two young men politely acknowledged each other.

Where do you need to be? Dylan asked.

Rec-Gen labs, level twelve.

Come back when you’re done, and we’ll get you started on your next project.

Yes, ma’am, they said in unison.

*

Alys waited until they’d shut the door before she scrolled through the directory and brought up his medical file again. Only four prescriptions were listed; two were anti-depressants, one dealt with anxiety, and the last one was for migraines. On a hunch, she accessed the central hub and keyed in her personal access code before downloading the restricted file. This version was three times larger than the one she’d been given when he transferred.

Alys returned to the medical section and frowned. There were now twelve items listed as current and four pages of pill cocktails that they’d tried. She skimmed the current prescriptions, horrified. This can’t all be necessary. She exited his file and accessed her contact list. Vivienne will know. Doctor Santaro’s fingers found the number she was seeking, and she pressed the icon next to it.

A young man answered. Ethos Station, Special Projects Division. How can I direct your call?

Extension two-seven, Doctor Vivienne Kruvic, tell her it’s Doctor Alys Santaro.

*

Dylan entered the lab and looked for his charge, then caught Alys’s attention. He gestured at his watch.

Nash? Alys waited thirty seconds to see if the Tech responded. Teslem Station calling Tech Korpes. Are you receiving?

The two researchers sitting behind Nash chuckled.

Ma’am? Nash finally looked up, embarrassed by his lack of focus.

Don’t you have a test at thirteen hundred?

Nash stared blankly at her for a moment, saw Dylan, then remembered. Oh, right. The Cullin-Morse. He sighed. I’ve taken four, already. They know I’m not going to pass. The results don’t change, regardless of what new crap I’m put on. Nash wished they’d connect the dots.

Alys pointed at the clock. You’ll be late.

He