“Your sister was killed in a terrorist attack.”

  “Yes, sir. And I promised myself I would do whatever I could to make sure that didn’t happen to anyone else.”

  “And you did. Before you joined Search and Rescue you were with the Marine Raiders, First Battalion. That’s no easy feat.”

  “I still don’t see your point, Lieutenant. Because I was going to an Ivy League school, that makes me special? I don’t think it does. Because I was good at football? That only helps me run from the trife faster. Because my sister was killed before the trife came? I’m not the first grunt who lost a family member to evil doers. Because I was a Raider? I worked my ass off to get there. Anyone can do that if they’re motivated enough.”

  Jones smiled. “Look at it from a generational perspective. Your genes are valuable.”

  “Then why was I accepted as a Guardian when so many others were turned down, sir?”

  “The program wasn’t allowed to use genetic quality as a factor. I’m not trying to stroke your ego, Caleb. As your commanding officer, you aren’t any more important than anyone else. But, I believe in doing what’s best for the mission, and for the colony that comes out on the other side. That’s why I’m trying to convince you to join me in Metro.”

  “You, sir?”

  He nodded. “I’ll be the first vice-governor of Metro, under Colonel Lin. If you want it, I can make sure you’re installed as the first Sheriff. The top position in internal law enforcement, one of four in the city, even though you aren’t commissioned. I’ve already discussed it with General Watkins, and he’s on board. You’ll still be protecting people, but from the inside.”

  Caleb was silent as they kept walking, heading to one of the banks of elevators nearby.

  “Just experience the city first, and then tell me what you think,” Lieutenant Jones said. “I’ve only done this recruitment speech for a few Marines so don’t turn me down too quickly.”

  “Your pretty persuasive, sir,” Caleb said.

  Jones smiled. “I know.”

  They boarded the lift and descended to Deck Twelve. From there, they took a winding path of corridors back toward the center of the ship, stopping in front of a heavy blast hatch with a control panel on the side.

  “Everyone on the Deliverance will be injected with a chip into their wrist for easy personal identification. It’ll also contain the security clearances for the individual. Normally it goes in the right arm but considering your wound we’ll have to put yours in the left. In any case…”

  He walked over to the panel beside the hatch and put his wrist to it. The door began to slide open.

  A few seconds later, Caleb got his first look at Metro.

  Chapter 12

  The hatch opened up to what appeared to be a park. Trees lined the immediate area, surrounded by fresh green grass, bushes, and flowers. It was clean and beautiful and unblemished – a sight he hadn’t seen in nearly two years.

  Where everything outside felt gray and brown, burned and scorched and dead, his first impression here was of life and hope, and a real future for humankind. It overwhelmed him, bringing tears to his eyes almost instantly.

  “And you’ve only seen the tail edge of the park,” Lieutenant Jones said, noticing his reaction. “There’s an identical one on the other side.”

  “It’s amazing,” Caleb said.

  People were walking through the park. Men, women, and children. They wore civilian clothes, new and clean – unblemished by war and death. They looked over at him as though the open hatch behind them and their military uniforms were an affront to their peace. In a way, he supposed they were.

  He tilted his head up to look at the ceiling, remembering what Sho had said about the atmospheric generators. He squinted at the brightness of the light shining down on him. Light wisps of white clouds lined the sky, moving in a realistic pattern, dimming the light when they passed in front of it. Caleb marveled because he felt like he was outside, even though he knew he wasn’t.

  “I assume the light moves from east to west?” he asked, forgetting in his amazement to add sir to the statement.

  “Of course,” Lieutenant Jones replied. “The generator also simulates the seasons and different weather. The floor has a porous surface, which allows rainwater to filter through and cycle back for reuse.”

  “What about the ceiling?”

  “An ultra-high definition membrane screen. The light source is behind it, and there are heating and cooling vents that activate based on the intensity and angle of the sun and daily temperature. Metro is programmed to simulate an aggregation of weather patterns based on the Pacific Northwest, Southern California, and North Carolina. According to the scientists, those are the most favorable climates.”

  “Does it snow, too?”

  “It can, but snow events are programmed to be very rare. Come on.”

  Lieutenant Jones led Caleb through the park. They walked along a meandering path between the foliage. There were residents having picnics on the grass, or sitting on the benches and reading.

  “You can imagine how grateful these people are to be here,” Jones said.

  “How were they selected, sir?”

  “Half of them were hand-picked by Command, based on occupation, experience level, age, gender, genetic screening, all of the good stuff. The other half were entered into a lottery. They had to pass the genetic screening too, but they’re your artists, your chefs, your teachers, and the like.”

  “How many people?”

  “Forty-thousand three hundred and twelve. The systems are designed to handle up to fifty-thousand, but we wanted to leave some room for growth.”

  Caleb could see past the trees now, to the edge of the city. Tall buildings rose in vertical columns ahead in blocks of tightly packed structures that reminded him of a circuit board. Each one was forty meters tall and apparently square.

  “The layout is based on a best route algorithm,” Lieutenant Jones said. “Artificial Intelligence optimized the placement of the blocks to maximize space efficiency. Every resident was assigned their apartment based on their occupation, age, and so on. There’s an algorithm that will help shuffle living spaces around based on all of the appropriate factors.”

  “It’s all pretty high tech,” Caleb said. “How do you know so much about it?”

  “I’m the Vice-governor. It’s my job to know.”

  They reached the end of the park and crossed a wide street to the front line of apartments. The bases of the buildings were outfitted with different shops, just like a normal street.

  “How are you going to manage inventory over two centuries?” Caleb asked, pointing at a clothing store.

  “The clothes are all recyclable. There’s an exchange further into the city where they’ll take old threads and credit the family for them.” Lieutenant Jones paused. “Oh. You probably don’t know about the replicators.”

  “Replicators?”

  “The next evolution in recycling. As long as you feed them raw materials, they can print pretty much anything you need. So you design a shirt on a computer, you put the recycled thread into the machine, and it makes it for you. It’s a black box to me, but it’s pretty amazing.”

  They kept walking down the street. Caleb pointed to another storefront which had a sign over it that read:

  THE DANCING TRIFE

  “A bar?” Caleb said.

  “They’ll be phased out over time, but we’re trying to acclimate the civilians to living this way. According to the psychologists, too much change at once is likely to lead to malcontent and unrest, especially over time. It’s easy to be happy when feeling safe is a new feeling again. What about ten years from now when you’ve been looking at the same people and places, and the trife are a distant memory?”

  “I can’t even imagine what that would be like.”

  Lieutenant Jones lifted his arm, checking his watch. “Caleb, I have a meeting with General Watkins on the bridge in twenty minutes. Here.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper, holding it out to him.

  “What’s that?” Caleb asked, taking it and looking at the writing.

  Block Twenty-three, Cube 8-15

  “It’s Habib’s apartment. Her husband should be there, waiting for her to come back.”

  Caleb stared at it. He hadn’t even considered that Habib had already moved into Metro. Damn.

  “Once you’re done there, walk around a little and check the place out. And head over to the Law Office. It’s that way. Sheriff Aveline is already on duty. She can show you around, and she can see you out when you’re done.”

  “You’re ditching me here, sir?”

  Lieutenant Jones smiled and nodded. “If you decide you want to move into Metro, send me a message and I’ll make it happen, just like I said.”

  Caleb stared at Jones. He couldn’t say it wasn’t tempting, especially knowing Jones would be one of the people in charge of the city.

  “Yes, sir,” he replied. “I’ll definitely give it some thought.”

  “That’s all I ask. Thank you, Sergeant.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Chapter 13

  It didn’t take too long for Caleb to locate Block Twenty-three. The blocks were all laid out the same, only the paths from one to the other were different, though most could be reached in a relatively straight line.

  The inside of the apartment building was as fresh as everything else in the Deliverance. The glass facades were spotless, the interior smelled like fresh paint, and there were framed pictures on the walls and small tables with fake flowers on them down every corridor. The elevator was quick and silent, and the carpeting soft and plush.

  Cube 8-15 translated to apartment fifteen on the eighth floor, about halfway up the building. There had been people in the lobby of the block, and judging by the way they greeted Caleb he assumed this complex was composed of military families.

  Did they have any idea why he was here?

  Caleb came out of the elevator on the eighth floor. He wasn’t nervous about talking to Habib’s husband. He would have preferred it if he were. But he had done this too many times already, and he had the small comfort of knowing this time would be the last. By tomorrow they would be rocketing through the atmosphere into space, and from space to a planet nearly a hundred light years away.

  He approached apartment fifteen. He could hear the laughter of a child through the door. Habib’s son. He reconsidered his nerves, a tightness forming in his chest. Just because he wasn’t nervous didn’t mean it was easy. He didn’t know if he could live with himself if it were.

  He knocked on the door, taking up a serious and somber posture in front of the door. He regretted not wearing his mess uniform for this. The simple utilities were too informal.

  The door opened. Caleb had met Rohan Habib a few times before, and they recognized one another immediately. Caleb didn’t need to say anything. Rohan stared at him in silence, his expression slowly fading from the joy he had been sharing with his son to the sadness of realization.

  “Mr. Habib,” Caleb said. “It’s with my deepest regret and sympathy to inform you that your wife, Private Anaya Habib, was killed in the line of duty at oh six hundred this morning. As squad leader for the Vultures, it’s a personally painful event. Your wife was an incredible Marine, and an even better human being. I’m very, very sorry for your loss.”

  Rohan stared at him, looking him in the eye. Caleb could see the tears forming there. He could feel the moisture forming on his own eyes. He glanced down when Habib’s son, Rohan Junior, came to the door and put his arms around his father’s leg.

  “Daddy?” he said.

  “Was it fast?” Rohan asked, still keeping eye contact.

  Caleb nodded. “For whatever consolation it’s worth, she died a hero, and will be receiving a commendation for her actions.”

  “It isn’t worth much, Sergeant.”

  “I understand. There are counselors available if you need to reach out to someone. I can also provide you with my personal contact ID if you want to talk to me directly. It’s my job to keep my people alive, and I take full responsibility for my failure.”

  Rohan shook his head. “No, Sergeant. Anaya would never forgive me if I blamed you. She had so much respect for you, and so much pride in what you were doing. I know you did all that you could. I need some time to process this and to talk to my son. Thank you for coming here in person to deliver the news.”

  “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

  “Of course, Sergeant.”

  “Again, I’m sorry, Mr. Habib.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant Card.” Rohan looked down. “Come on, Rho. Let us sit and talk a little, okay?”

  “Where’s mommy?” Rohan Junior asked. He was looking at Caleb.

  “Your mother is in a better place,” Rohan said. “You’ll see her again, but not for a while.” Rohan glanced at Caleb and forced a smile as he gently closed the door, leaving Caleb standing alone in the hallway.

  Caleb wiped the moisture from his eyes, turning away from the door. He heard Rohan Junior start crying a moment later.

  Screw the xenotrife.

  He left Block Twenty-three as quickly as he could, getting back out into the street and trying to calm his nerves. It was harder than he had expected, probably because Anaya had come so close to getting out of hell alive.

  He remembered The Dancing Trife. He was tempted to head back there, to see what kind of alcohol they could provide. There wasn’t any available in the barracks, and he could have used a stiff drink. It might be his one and only chance too. Yet he was drawn elsewhere, navigating to the Law Office, having to stop a couple of times to ask for directions.

  The civilians on the ship were all friendly to him, happy to be of help and still in the afterglow of escaping the outside world. They guided him to the small three-story building near Block Eight, identifiable by the gold star hanging over the entrance.

  He walked through a pair of sliding glass doors and into the front of the station. There was a central reception desk with four desks in the open space behind it, and then a short corridor that led back out of sight. There was no one in the front of the building, leaving him to wonder if anyone was there at all.

  “Hello?” he said. “Anyone here?”

  He waited for a second, and then started making his way toward the back. He couldn’t imagine they would leave the door unlocked if the place was empty.

  “Hello?” he repeated.

  A woman moved out from the back of the corridor. She seemed pleasantly surprised when she saw him. “Oh, there is someone here.” She smiled. The shape of her face and brightness of her eyes — the life in her — caused Caleb’s general malaise to lift.

  “Sheriff Aveline?” Caleb asked. He stared at her, thinking about Lieutenant Jones. Had the lieutenant sent him here to learn about being a sheriff or to set his eyes on this sheriff?

  “That’s me,” she replied. “Formerly Captain Aveline of the United States Space Force. You’re a Marine, right?”

  Caleb nodded. He didn’t know if he had a type, but this woman was his type. “Yes, ma’am.” He almost came to attention, but she wasn’t an officer anymore, right? She wasn’t technically military at all. “Sergeant Caleb Card.”

  “Caleb Card?” She kept beaming. “Welcome to Metro Law, Sergeant Card. What can I do for you?” She kept coming forward until she was standing right in front of him. “We don’t get too many, well, any Marines in here.”

  He couldn’t stop his smile. Her demeanor was infectious. “Lieutenant Jones asked me to stop by. He’s trying to convince me to join the department.”

  “Law? We still have a few spots open for deputies.”

  “As a sheriff,” Caleb said.

  She tilted her head slightly, squinting one of her eyes. “You must be something. All the other sheriffs are former officers. They pulled deputies from the enlisted.”

  “I’m not particularly special,” Caleb said.

  “Modest, huh? I like that. There’s nothing worse than when a handsome man knows he’s handsome and gets all arrogant about it.”

  Did she just call him handsome? He could feel his face heating up. “Uh. He thought you might show me around the office, and tell me a little bit about the job.”

  Somehow her smile had managed to get a little wider. She was enjoying his sudden discomfort.

  “There’s something about you, isn’t there, Caleb Card?” she said. “You look like the kind of man who would climb a tree to save a kitten. Have you ever done that, Cal?”

  He noticed she had a slight twang to her voice. It was subtle and cute.

  “I don’t think I’ve had the occasion to save a kitten from a tree,” he said. “But I did save a dog that had been chained to a tree and abandoned.”

  “See? I knew it.” She put her hand on his shoulder, her smile vanishing, her expression suddenly serious. “And you signed up to be a Guardian, didn’t you?”

  “It’s like you can see right through me,” he said.

  “That’s part of the job of being a sheriff,” she replied. “Noticing the details. Observing. Figuring things out. There isn’t going to be much cause for violence in here, which means most of what this department will be doing is saving cats from trees. It’s kind of a one-eighty from being out there fighting the trife. Vice-Governor Jones wouldn’t have sent you here if he wasn’t trying to change your mind about staying outside. Maybe he even thought I would take a liking to you.”

  “Have you?”

  Her expression changed again, and she started laughing. “I’m not telling,” she said. “But yes.” She winked at him. “What can I say, I’ve always been a sucker for soft-hearted men who aren’t afraid to cry.”

  Caleb was impressed. “Observation. Is that it?”

  “Yup. If I had to guess, I would say it’s because you just told Private Habib’s husband his wife is dead.”

  “You know who I am,” Caleb said, only slightly surprised. Sheriff Aveline was sharp.

  “I keep tabs on things, and I recognized the name. It’s another part of my duties. I know the Habibs recently moved into Metro. I put two and two together.”