Roses Are Red

I

The line at the Agamede station was neither long nor particularly varied, mostly natives and other colonial transgenes, their genetic alterations evident but not so profound as to make them uncanny. A pair of surly-looking Red transgenes in up-armored security uniforms looked at the crowd suspiciously, but especially at me. My AR was laced with a digital badge that I hadn’t deigned to hide, I wore my issued particle sidearm in plain view, and above all else I was a man- in a place that seemed to want so very dearly to forget about them.

The Tempesti didn’t mean me any will even if I could feel their eyes burning holes through me. They had their system of governance and foreigners, especially men, were something other that didn’t belong. Even stationed at Hypatia for over a year, I hadn’t quite gotten used to the feeling of being looked at so much, my every movement dissected by Yellows or carefully scrutinized for social cues by Greens. It was probably also why I’d never bothered trying to pick up the native language or really try to socialize outside of my co-workers outside the ARROWS branch, as distant as they were to me for being unlike them too.

As my boots clicked against the sterile white laminate flooring and my eyes wandered briefly to the star-dusted abyss beyond the layered windows of the security station, my thoughts continued to wander until a sliver of red wrapped in words crossed my vision and I heard a distinctive ‘ping’ noise. Someone was trying to get my attention.

“Excuse me, sir.”

I glanced up, noticing the line had been processed in that little time I’d allowed myself to daydream. The security guard was just trying to flag me down politely, though I knew she wouldn’t be patient for very long. As I approached, the taller of the two, whom I could only describe as an attractively svelte, dark-haired woman with the muscle tone of a prizewinning greyhound packed into skintight SPF armor, was the one to speak to me.

“Name and occupation?” She asked as our eyes met one another, matching my height but easily being twice my weight.

“Lieutenant Peio Sciacca, ARROWS.” I answered, coolly keeping eye contact. The locals didn’t really respect nor care for the UN’s arm out here in the Expanse, but I could generally count on other military personnel humoring as long as I didn’t push.

“What’s the purpose of your visit?” She asked, drawing her arm across the air to pull up an AR display with my information across it. I’m sure she already knew why I was there, why the local branch would send a man to the surface of the planet instead of one of their local staffers and was merely keen to grill me for daydreaming.

“I’m here with the ARROWS international crime division, the... specialist sent in to deal with the murders in Reykjavik.” That was a lie, but not one I meant for her. I was being sent there because an officer was killed after performing a seminar on drone warfare and was found dead in his hotel room, poisoned with local heavy metals. I was a peace offering, since our nations were neighbors on the catapult lanes... but it didn’t soothe my ego to think about the terms of my first field assignment in weeks that way.

“Hmm.” She looked at me pensively, her lips creasing upwards in the corners. I was sure she was indifferent to that particular affair since the killer was only targeting foreigners, but I didn’t dare to press on how she felt about it. To my surprise, she gave a small nod and a smile thin enough that I wouldn’t have seen it if my eyes didn’t pass into other spectra.

“Everything checks out. Good luck on your assignment, Lieutenant Sciacca.” She closed the display and gestured me through the scanner. I wasn’t sure how much she meant it, but I wasn’t going to dwell on that thought for too long.

I nodded my thanks and quietly took leave of the security post, glad that it was done with.

From there I found myself winding through a series of glass and composite hallways towards another set of shuttle bays. The whole decor reflected the Tempesti’s unique technological sensibilities: minimalistic walls for maximum AR spreads, elegantly curving yet somewhat utilitarian and blocky panels support struts and a use of abundant empty space. Making up for the gaps in materials science with excellent engineering- or perhaps just ironically converging on the exact same design paradigms as you saw anywhere else.

Hunting drones in Oceania, fighting posthuman machinery alongside the ARROWS combat crews... I had a lot of experience in seeing the various coping mechanisms people had to being categorically outclassed by an opponent. Appeals to elegance, better, more reliable engineering or even that absurd ‘grit and polish’ mentality you saw going around were basically just that.: confidence boosters.

I, least of all, was immune to the charm or giving into those notions, gliding through the zero-G hallways like a sylph while Tempesti colors hobbled around and smugly superior in my adaptations to space. It wouldn’t survive me going to the surface, to be sure, where I’d immediately be put on medication to prevent heavy metal poisoning.

To say nothing of the experience of being around Red transgenes around the clock.

As I reached the shuttle bay, I found myself glancing across to a reception party consisting of a local Tempesti in the national police uniform and a robotic gun caddy. I would have assumed another Red based on the general height and condition, and body heat especially. All those physical boosts tend raise metabolic rates and make their bodies run a few degrees hotter from the neck down, and her infrared patterns seemed to match.

“Lieutenant Sciacca? Sergeant Nel Vickers, NRPF.” My greeter was a tanned woman with russet-brown hair and eyes that met at the exact level of my throat as she stepped forward to greet me, extending a hand surprisingly smaller than mine. I made the mistake of giving a firm handshake and quickly felt her apply just enough pressure to make me uncomfortable without breaking my shooting hand.

“A... pleasure.” A tiny sweat beaded on my forehead, though I made the effort to keep calm in the face of bad manners. She eventually let go, allowing me to slide my throbbing hand into my pocket as a means to keep face. “ARROWS is appreciative that the NRPF has gone to the effort of providing me with a shuttle driver.”

“That’s not the case.”

“What isn’t?” I peered at her, suspecting that something else was at play here.

“I’m not being assigned to ferry you around, Lieutenant.” She gave an irritated smile, fingers twitching slightly. I hadn’t ever heard my rank used as an insult, but this certainly came close.

“Then what?” I looked at her incredulously, starting to lose my patience as well. It eventually clicked, and I looked at her with a slightly pained expression. Noticing my reaction, Nel’s expression became a little more forced and sour, before nodding.

“Welcome to Tempest. I’ve been assigned to babysit you.”