“Fifty-three? Is he for real? Fifty-three?” Chloé exclaimed when they were finally dismissed and found themselves in the outside corridor.

Canea kept on walking, eager to widen the distance between them and the Director’s office. He always gave her the creeps. Those reptilian eyes never invited confidence.

“Canea, wait! What’s the hurry?”

“We have to meet with Sergeant Garin.”

“There’s still time. No need to rush.” She then smiled deviously and added, “Is it that eerie little man in that office you want to get away from?”

“Don’t say that here.”

“He can’t hear us.”

“You don’t know that.” Canea stopped and discreetly glanced upwards, but Chloé laughed.

“Only in Middle Dacaria and Terraria are those ceiling TVs used for observance.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Watch your words, Chloé.”

“Or else?”

“I’m not threatening you. I’m just trying to protect you,” Canea said, wanting to add ´you idiot´ but she decided to swallow those last two words.

“Protect me? I don’t need you. I was doing fine without you. Caleb is my partner and he will be again once we find him.”

“I’ll be happy to step aside if we indeed find him but for now you have to work with me.”

“You work for me, not with me. You’re a Middle Dacarian and your lot always obeys High Dacarians.”

“I’m not your maid. We’re both in the Squadron, and we have the same rank.”

Canea was beginning to lose her patience. She hated working with High Dacarians. They were all plagued by an air of superiority and behaved with absolute entitlement when they dealt with members of the lower classes. Even if the Director claimed that social classes did not count in the Squadron, everyone knew that they were only equal in theory. A High Dacarian was always going to boss a Middle Dacarian around, regardless if he or she was a partner. The theory of equality was also voided in officer’s ranks. All high commanding positions were manned by High Dacarians.

It was Canea’s dream to rise in the ranks and make it to Captain, but she knew that she had a long road ahead of her. It wasn’t going to be an easy goal to reach.

Chloé laughed in derision and shook her head, amused at the notion of having the same rank.

“I wonder how you got that one.”

“What?”

“S-A Junior. I earned mine on merit, but considering that you’re a Middle Dacarian you must have gotten yours with less … conventional methods.”

Canea wasn’t going to take the bait. She had heard that insinuation all too often from other High Dacarians who couldn’t stand Middle Dacarians to serve in their ranks.

They were now nearing the exit and she was glad to walk out the tall white doors and breathe in fresh air again. With brisk steps, she headed to her motorcycle, a 450 cc with metal wings on the sides.

“That Savvydae  is yours?” Chloé asked, not hiding her surprise.

“Yes.” Canea sat on the soft seat and pressed the ignition button.

“Where are you going? We have to meet the task force.”

“As you said, we have time, and since you don’t seem too keen on spending it with me, I thought it would be a good idea to give you some space.”

“But, how am I going to get there?”

“Call your maid,” Canea proposed and took off.

Chapter 2

The Savvydae raced over the parking lot and when Canea reached the wide gate at the end of the Director’s compound, she pressed a blue button that had a blackbird painted on. Her bike’s wings widened and lifted her, gliding like an albatross. Canea loved flying on her motorcycle. It was one of the best inventions ever.

She had paid a hefty sum for this bike, but she had saved for two years for this and it had been worth it. Nothing compared to that feeling of freedom when she was on her bike.

The wind carried her long blond hair and her agate eyes shone with joy. The motorcycle made up for Chloé’s arrogance and much of the other crap she had to put up with from High Dacarian colleagues.

Equality … What a joke. The Director might be a smart man but he sure had high hopes if he thought that High Dacarians would ever show respect to anyone from another class. She just didn’t see it happening.

She had one more hour before the task force meeting started, so she veered to the left, past the swamp that loomed as a barrier between the compound and the city, and she steered her bike to the beach. It always felt good to leave the flying vehicles far behind her. Although she had passed her exam on the flight rules and regulations after passing her ground traffic exam, it always baffled her how drivers managed not to crash midair. There seemed to be plenty of that happening on the ground, but up in the air everyone seemed much more focused, perhaps because an accident meant a drop to the ground, and in most cases that ended in death. Too much was at stake, perhaps? Who knew? She had always wondered about the difference in accidents on the ground and in the air.

When she reached the beach, she lowered her motorcycle slowly and managed a soft landing on a dirt road behind the dunes. After enabling the anti-theft lock she climbed the dunes and then ran down to the beach on the other side.

How she loved the sound of the waves’ constant pounding on the sand. The Pacific Ocean beat the sand relentlessly with deafening thumps while the sun bathed it in her light, turning the sea into a carpet of sparkling diamonds.

How calming a visit to the beach always was. It was just her and the ocean. No one else was around. She loved empty beaches, especially this one. It always filled her with energy, drove away the darkness she sometimes had to deal with, and always gave her hope and ideas for improvement. A trip to the beach was like therapy for the soul. She always came back recharged.

If she had to work with Chloé Zettanu she would probably need lots of beach outings. The woman was a handful.

She walked to the shore but kept her distance from the waves. Usually, she would take off her shoes and dip her feet in the water but not now. She was wearing her uniform and she didn’t want to arrive at her first task force meeting with wet sand over her shoes and pants.

When it was nearly time to go, she turned and headed back to the dunes.

Strange, there was a large green growth on one of the dunes to her right. She hadn’t noticed that when she first came here. The growth seemed luscious and was unlike the typical beach shrubbery. These plants seemed to thrive in this environment which was another weird occurrence. With her curiosity aroused, she approached it. Lots of thick weeds grew over abundant moss and grass.

Moss is pretty normal here, she mused. It grows on the rocks as well, but what about the other plants?

She often saw some of this foliage in forests but not here on the beach, exposed to the sun and salty air all day long. Although she was by far no plant expert, she knew enough to realize that the plants were not in their natural habitat. A strange humming sound was emitted from the growth. Surprised, she listened, not sure if it truly came from the plants.

Her hearing was excellent, but she couldn’t always locate the sources of certain sounds. This low hum might come from behind her and not from this foliage. In the distance, she heard a rhythmic clicking.

Interesting, she thought and went on her way, not wanting to be late for the meeting.