“Ye-yes?”
“Howard Carver. Rick Miller,” the secretary went on instead. Both men stood at the sound of their name. Blue-eyes was Howard. The senior, Miller, corrected:
“Captain Rick Miller,” with a toothy grin painted across his lips.
“Er- Captain Rick Miller,” the secretary amended, “The Councilman will see you now.”
“A-all three of us?” Dawn stammered, while her feet carried her automatically towards the opening office door.
“Well, it is a top priority mission. Usually takes more than one,” Miller whispered to her on the way.
“Top priority… where to? To do what?” Dawn couldn’t keep down.
“Must be your first one, if you’re asking me,” Miller smiled back.
“No, I…” Dawn cut herself off before she could make it worse. If one thing she could tell from the frustrating calm of these two, it was that this wasn’t their first top priority mission. “What about you?” she tried with Howard instead.
“I’m Howard,” he told her, as the three crowded together by the door to the inner office.
“I know that… nevermind,” Dawn sighed. Miller let a soft chuckle into his fist. He, Dawn, and Howard arrived at the door to Councilman Marcus Brass’ private office at the exact same time. The resulting scramble to squeeze inside left the secretary outside speechless. Behind her wide eyes was the astounding thought: he’s sending them?
“Feel free to pick a seat, when you figure out how to use a doorway,” a deep voice rumbled inside the room. Dawn dislodged her arm from the crook of Howard’s elbow, and the whole troop stumbled inside. The speaker was nowhere to be seen. Before them was a white screen that spanned the entire wall of the office. In front of that screen was a wide wooden desk, so dark it was almost black. The gleam that bounced from its glossy finish was brighter than some stars. Its chair was empty.
“Dawn,” she flinched at Howard’s voice behind her. He and Miller had saved the seat between them. Dawn plopped in it, to face the screen and the empty desk. A shimmering curtain of light rose up the wall, around a man-shaped shadow. His frame was too big for him to actually be there. A flicker of color brought him to life as a projection in his own office. His crimson tie glimmered like a streak of blood down his pitch black suit. His skin was almost as dark. His frizzled hair was pulled back in a black and gray ponytail.
“I’m sorry I can’t be there in person. I’m sure you can imagine, with the extension of the SkyLine, I’ve been a bit.. all over,” Marcus grinned.
“Neptune, by the look of it,” Miller supposed. Waves of blue color flickered through the background behind him. How Miller could glean so much from a vague aurora, Dawn had no idea.
“Don’t concern yourself with me. You’ve got your own assignment to deal with,” Marcus told him. “Now, if we’re all ready…” Marcus waited to go on until the door to the office slid back shut. “You three will form a task force to escort a very important guest back to Earth.”
“Guest? Is that what you call him?” Miller murmured.
“I’m sorry, Captain Miller, is there something you’d like to share? Or shall I run the meeting I called?” said Marcus. Miller raised his hands in surrender.
“Apologies, Councilman. It’s just, being a Captain out a ways, you hear whispers about people. We wouldn’t exactly call him a guest.”
“Who are we talking about, exactly?” Dawn interjected before she could get too lost. Marcus’ arms arose at his sides. Around him, several windows popped up in the projection. All of them showed the same, black-scaled beast in different locations, at different angles. Some of the shots looked to be from the slush-top colonies on Neptune like Miller said. Some were inside the SkyLine, focused around a winged blur. One was even in the mining net in the icy rings of Saturn. Throughout all the pictures, one consistent detail jostled Dawn down to the core. The creature’s glinted yellow eyes, with slits for pupils.
“He goes by Drogan, and he’s a menace. We never get more than a single blurry frame of him on camera. Wherever those blurs are recorded, incredible volumes of fusion minerals go missing,” said Marcus.
“Along with people,” whispered Miller.
“Only two deaths have been confirmed in Drogan’s maraudings,” Marcus corrected.
“Only two bodies you found so far,” said Miller.
“The Outerworlds Outlaw…” Howard realized of whom they spoke. Now that Dawn had heard before. We’re about to escort the biggest offworld news story in fifty years? She clutched the knees
of her pants to ground herself before the thrill could float her head away.
“Call him what you will. I call him a nuisance. What’s more, I think he might be a scout for a larger group,” said Marcus. This announcement cued the projection of several more windows. These ones showed frames of blurs similar to Drogan. Not all of them were so dark, and not all of them had those same piercing yellow eyes. Some were green, or red. All glowed with an inhuman malice. “These are pictures of the sites Drogan’s been spotted, from the weeks following. These come, as you might guess, with the disappearance of more fusion mineral.”
“Has this… been officially released?” Dawn dared to ask. In all of her late-night broadcast binges to hunt for potential assignments, she’d never seen shots like these.
“If it had, we would be sending a different task force. We want to keep things quiet on this one. We think… Drogan might be connected to the incident in Precinct 117 sixty years ago,” Marcus said, hands folding behind his back. Howard flattened back in his seat. Miller threw his head back to let out a,
“Hoo! An inside job? Now I’m getting it.”