Chris hadn’t been happy -- of course he hadn’t -- but Freya knew how best to get him to go along with her: don’t give him a choice. She hated pulling the tactic, but also hated that he felt he should have any concern or control over the investigations she chose to pursue on her own time. 

The pair of contact lenses she was wearing connected to his console back in the East City, as did the device nestled within her ear canal. Chris could see and hear everything that she could, and she would be sure to remind him how lucky he was not to be breathing in the oxygen-rich atmosphere permeating the Sapien reservation she was now entering. 

She’d rarely seen so much green. Plants formed mountainous structures and entwined themselves with the buildings the Sapiens had built from the ruins of their prior civilization. In some cases, the vines and trees themselves formed the walls of the buildings, with natural entrances created by the rising trunks and branches. 

To get to this point, Freya had taken the Commonwealth National Transit as far north as it would go. She’d enlisted her new friend Galen Briggs to provide transport the rest of the way. 

Oh, she was much better at making friends with civilians than enemies, a trait that had done her well as an officer. She just wasn’t sure how it would carry over with the Sapiens. 

It was easy enough to tell where the central hub of the establishment was. A large white dome escalated over the green of the horizon and at the top, a large cross attached on the back of a statue showing man gasping for air in his final moments of life -- a symbol of the old Sapien religion. It lacked, like the rest of the landscape, the color red.

Two guards stood at each side of the entrance awning. They carried machine guns across their body -- a weapon so deadly efficient it had survived the apocalypse to the time of the Superiorii. 

It was clear they regarded her with suspicion. The grips they held on their guns tightened and their trigger finger pulled back, ready to be called into action at any moment. She raised her hands and walked through the metal and weapons detector without alarm. The guards barely loosened their grips as she entered the building. 

Inside, the room expanded in all directions. She’d never realized this before, but the green had a smell. Above, large flowering plants stretched across the dome, with vines hanging and blooming in regular intervals, creating lively chandeliers. Throughout the building, glass pillars filled with water offered the life source of the entire settlement. 

"What are you looking for here?" Chris’s voice manifested within her brain. 

"I’ll know when I find it," she said softly enough that no one in the busy scattered crowd would notice her talking to herself. "Or him." 

Across the room, she spotted a man who stood out in height and apparel. While the rest of the residents wore tunics and robes and boots made of biodegradable material, he talked to two far less imposing townsman wearing a pristine black suit that looked like it might have been tailored by poor laborers in the Commonwealth’s desert. The man was no Sapien. 

"Can you run the facial recognition program on that man?" she asked Chris. 

"Already on it."

Back at his desk in East City, Chris fired up the standard department recog program while he wearily maintained a glance on his office door to make sure watchful eyes steered clear. The investigation was still unapproved. That didn’t necessarily make it illegal -- well, except for the whole unauthorized use of police resources thing. On that front, no one needed to know. 

The man the computer program was analyzing had perfectly combed short black hair and a mustache that, in Chris’s estimation, had to be fake. He also wore thin wire-rimmed glasses. He was a skinny man, but exceptionally tall, even by Superiorii standards.

A soft buzz emanated from his headphones, a signal that the recog program had finished its survey. 

"Oh, shit," he said. It was an exclamation to himself, as he had momentarily forgotten Freya was on the other end of this conversation. "What the hell would a Commonwealth Naval Commander be doing at a Sapien settlement?"

The Commander in question -- Harris Kilpatrick - was a particularly high ranking official, reporting to the Admiral of the Northwest Commonwealth Navy, the highest ranking officer within the regional division. 

"The Treaty of Separation forbids military engagement with Sapiens," Freya said. "He’d have no legal basis to be here except if it was for personal reasons." 

Chris read further down in his profile. "He specializes in foreign intelligence. Other than that, his record is classified top secret. I can’t access any of it." 

"Maybe I can figure it out," she said. As she walked, her eyes didn’t leave the man, and her view fed back to his computer. It wasn’t until she sat down on a bench on the other side of the hall that she averted her eyes downward, stealing a gaze every few seconds. 

"You gonna be there a while?" he asked. "Because I need some coffee."

__

An intelligence officer would know if someone was following him. Freya had to be more creative. Instead of tailing the officer himself, she observed the people who spent their time around him the most. She made connections and drew conclusions. By dusk, she had uncovered the man’s circle of friends: the people he talked to, and the people they talked to. 

In that subtle research, she’d uncovered a new target: a scrawny Sapien who couldn’t have been much older than 20. He wore robes too big for him, and carried himself with a nervous gait, paranoid glances spared across his shoulder every few seconds. 

She followed him to the woods north of the settlement. Freya made careful use of the stealth technology of her boots, which canceled out any noise they made on the ground. She also took advantage of the thick trees for a quick hiding spot when needed. 

After a couple miles of hiking, they came across a rotting wooden house that was probably built back when the Sapiens ruled the earth and was now scarcely maintained. A trunk and tree branches speared through its roof and walls. There was one window, which was blacked out with paint. The young man entered the building and she remained camouflaged in the dark about fifty yards away. 

In the moments she waited, her ear piece picked up on Chris trying to take intentional deep breaths. Neither of them spoke. 

Finally, the man escaped from the house, a new bag strewn across his body. He disappeared into the forest. She focused her eyes on the house when she was confident he was out of sight. 

"Any signs of life in there?" she asked. 

"No heat," came Chris’s answer a few seconds later. "It’s clear."

She stepped forward.

It was a clear night, still. The house itself was deadly silent. The porch creaked as she stepped. The locked door was no problem for her, and neither was the deadbolt. Whatever was in here, the place was so hidden that security was no issue. She would never have found the place without the boy. 

The squeaking door drew open to darkness. She slowly, methodically, lifted her foot over the threshold, and then the other. Behind her, the door swung shut. From afar, Chris turned on her night vision, and then she saw the five black plastic body bags lined up in front of her. 

She squatted down and unzipped the one closest to her. Pulling back the plastic, she came face to face with the pale and wrinkled lifeless countenance of an old man. 

"My God," she said. Galen Briggs had told her of the disappearance of some of the elders of the settlement. Was this one of them? And the other four? 

Before she had her answer, the door opened and a rush of air greeted her at the back. A gun cocked behind her. A sharp intake of breath inside her head. Stay calm, Chris. 

She lifted her hands above her. If the intruder was going to shoot her on sight, he would have done so already. She turned around, and saw that it was the same kid she followed here. His hand, and the gun, were shaking. 

"You’ve never killed anyone before, have you?" she said. 

She was in arm’s reach of him, but she had to be careful. "The left ear piece has an explosive," Chris said. "Use it."

But she had no desire to kill anyone; it was only a last resort and she felt it unnecessary here. "It’s okay," she said. "It’s okay." Softer now. 

Then she grabbed his wrist. The gun discharged and the bullet flew through the ceiling. She wrestled the weapon from his hand. "I’m sorry," she said as she subdued him with his own taser. As he shrank to the floor, she ran. Before he recovered, she was already gone.