Echoes

Adrian jolted awake, his breath hitching as his eyes darted around the dim light of his quarters. His chest heaved as he ran a hand over his face, damp with sweat. For a moment, he stayed there, sitting upright in his bed, that dream lingering like a shadow in the back of his mind. It wasn't the first time he'd had it, but no matter how many times it came, it never felt less real. 

The sound—he could still feel it, like it had been carved into his memory. A gunshot, a huge contrast to the whine of the charge rifles everyone was used to. At least, that's what it seemed like. But it didn't make sense. It never did. 

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his bare feet meeting the metal floor. Across the room, his desk was cluttered with law texts, worn from long hours of study. "Darren Williams – On the Subject of Interplanetary Trade Law, vol. 2" sat on top, a title he could recite from memory at this point. He reached for it out of habit, but his hand hesitated. The dream still buzzed in his mind, fragments of smoke and sound refusing to fade. 

A soft chime from the communicator on his desk broke the silence. Ellie's name flashed on the screen, bright against the dark backdrop. He stared at it for a moment before sighing and tapping to answer. 

"Adrian!" Ellie's voice burst through the speaker, bright and familiar. "Please tell me you're not still buried under a mountain of books. It's Saturday, for crying out loud." 

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. "Good morning to you too, Ellie." 

"Don't dodge the question," she shot back. "Have you seen daylight today? Or yesterday, for that matter?" 

Adrian glanced toward the viewport, where the cityscape of the Odyssey stretched out in its manufactured perfection. Towers of glass and steel reached toward the painted sky, their sleek lines reflecting the soft golden hues of artificial sunlight, all under the vast dome that housed this sector of the ship. The bustling streets below looked lively, full of people going about their day. 

"Uh, yeah, of course I have... I'm just busy," he said, trying to sound firm. "The exams are coming up, and I need to stay ahead. My provisional license won't count for shit if I screw this up." 

"You've been saying that for weeks," Ellie countered, her tone somewhere between exasperation and concern. "You can't study yourself to death, Adrian. The Daily Brew updated their menu, and you're coming with me. New pastries, new drinks. You'll thank me." 

"Ellie—" he started, but she cut him off. 

"No excuses. Meet me at our usual spot in twenty minutes. If you're not there, I'm coming to drag you out myself." 

The call ended before he could argue. Adrian stared at the communicator for a moment, then sighed and stood, grabbing his satchel. She wasn't wrong. He needed a break. 

The Daily Brew was crowded, the familiar sounds of conversation filling the air as Adrian stepped inside. Ellie stood by the baked goods display, her scarlet red hair instantly recognizable even from across the room. 

Ellie pointed at a crescent-shaped pastry in the glass display. "What's this?" 

"Croissant," the barista said with a grin. "It's old Earth food. Flaky, buttery, and amazing." 

Ellie raised a brow. "Old Earth? Sold." 

"Hey, Ellie," Adrian said, walking up to the counter. "Anything catch your interest?" 

"Shhh... I'm trying to decide what to get," Ellie said, her gaze rapidly switching between the cupcakes and the so-called croissants. "Actually, I'll have one... no, two of each! And a third croissant for my friend, please." 

"Heh," Adrian said with a smirk, "and here I thought you were getting one croissant and cupcake for each of us. I seriously wonder how you eat that much and stay that skinny." 

"I don't—I don't eat that much! I'm just hungry!" Ellie huffed. 

"Yeah, I can tell," Adrian replied smugly. "That corner over there looks cozy, no?" 

No response. Adrian looked back at Ellie to see her intently focus on the pastries being loaded up onto a plate. 

As they sat by the window, Ellie picked up a croissant and started eating it with one hand, and pushed one over to Adrian with her other hand. 

Adrian picked it up, eyeing the flaky layers. "It's bread." 

"Ith noth jutht bwead," Ellie retorted, her mouth full with her own croissant. "It'th- ahem, buttery perfection. Trust me, your soul will thank you." 

He took a bite, more to shut her up than anything else. The crisp layers shattered under his teeth, giving way to a soft, rich center. He chewed slowly, grudgingly admitting it wasn't bad. 

"Well?" Ellie leaned forward, eyes sparkling. 

"It's... fine," he said, smirking when she gasped in mock offense. 

"You're impossible," she muttered, reaching for a cupcake. "Anyway, what's with the face? You look like you didn't sleep again." 

Adrian shrugged, setting the half-eaten croissant down. "Same dream." 

Ellie stopped mid-bite, her expression softening. "The one with the gunshot?" 

"Yeah." He leaned back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's always the same. The sound, the... weight of it. It feels real, Ellie. Like it's something I've seen or heard before." 

She frowned, her cupcake forgotten. "That doesn't make any sense. Charge rifles haven't been replaced with anything that loud for—what? Two centuries?" 

"That's what makes it weird," Adrian said, running a hand through his hair. "It doesn't fit. Not with anything I've studied. But it keeps coming back. And it's not like the stress from school is helping." Adrian leaned back in his chair. "There's just so much paperwork. I've signed so many forms declaring that I won't abuse my status, won't do this, won't do that… And then there's the memorization – thousands of laws, precedents, case studies…" he trailed off, the list endless in his mind. 

Ellie nodded, surprisingly understanding. "I get it," she said with a hint of empathy. "The Academy wasn't easy either. They don't really prepare you for how much of the job is just paperwork and procedure." 

Adrian raised an eyebrow. "Right, I forgot you just started with the Odyssey Security Force. How's that going, by the way? Must be pretty intense, getting thrown into the deep end." 

Ellie shrugged, a mix of pride and nervousness in her expression. "It's... a lot," she admitted. "I'm still getting the hang of things. I've only been on a few cases, and most of them were pretty routine. But I'm learning. Fast." 

The determination in her eyes were clear, showing the same drive that had pushed her through the Academy. "You're going to be great at it, Ellie. Just don't let them bury you in paperwork like they do to us." 

She laughed, but there was an edge of anxiety in her voice. "Yeah, I'm finding that out already. But hey, I'm here, right? Taking a break just like you. Maybe we both needed this more than we realized." 

She paused for a moment. "Maybe we could take a walk?" she suggested. 

Adrian agreed. They stepped out of the Daily Brew, and the contrast was immediate – the café's tranquility gave way to the lively chaos of the Odyssey's streets. The artificial sun cast a warm glow over the bustling crowd. 

Adrian shoved his hands into his coat pockets, walking beside Ellie down the gently curving boulevard. 

"You ever wonder," he asked, nodding toward the distant dome edge where the sky met the faux-horizon, "what it'd be like to see a real sunrise?" 

Ellie glanced over. "A real one? Not really. Never trusted the idea of standing on a rock ball where the air can just... leak out." 

He laughed. "You- we both know that's not how it works." 

Before she could respond, her communicator chimed sharply — a different tone than usual. 

She frowned, pulling it up. Her eyes scanned the alert, then narrowed. "Priority ping. Sector 19-Gamma. Possible homicide." 

Adrian blinked. "That's, like… three blocks from here." 

Ellie was already moving. "Not my sector, but I'm the closest OSF body on foot. You coming?" 

"I'm not authorized to—" 

"You're a provisional legal observer. That means you observe." She threw him a look over her shoulder. "C'mon, Phoenix." 

Adrian groaned. "You know I hate that nickname." 

"Then move faster, Counselor." 

The alley was cordoned off by quick-deploy OSF barriers by the time they arrived — glowing yellow lines and floating holograms reading RESTRICTED — CRIME SCENE in all four major shipboard languages. 

A few bystanders lingered behind the perimeter, whispering. Overhead, the sky simulation dimmed subtly — as if in response. 

Inside the barrier, a man knelt in the shadows, hands bound by translucent cuffs. His face was pale and panicked, his clothes stained with dark red. Nearby, a body lay under a sterile sheet. A small squad of OSF drones hovered above, scanning, logging, analyzing. 

A gruff voice called out. "This your jurisdiction now, Ellison?" 

Adrian turned to see a tall woman in standard-issue armor approaching. Her badge read Investigator Laen, and her expression didn't suggest patience. 

"Negative," Ellie replied. "I was nearby. Thought I'd assist." 

Laen crossed her arms. "Don't need assistance. The suspect was found with the body. Blood on his hands. Case writes itself." 

Adrian stepped forward. "Is that standard procedure? No preliminary review?" 

Laen's eyes snapped to him. "And who's this?" 

"Adrian Solis. Legal observer, provisionally licensed." 

She scoffed. "Babysitting the scene now, are we?" 

Ellie stepped in smoothly. "We're just looking. Don't worry, we'll stay out of your way." 

Laen muttered something under her breath but waved them through. The alley was narrow, flanked by residential towers with security cameras perched on every corner — all blinking red. 

Adrian pointed. "Cameras offline?" 

"Every single one in this sector glitched at the same time," Ellie said. "Laen thinks it's a system fault. I think someone knew exactly what they were doing." 

He knelt near the sheet, carefully pulling up a corner. The victim was male, mid-30s, clothed in simple civvie wear. No ID chip visibly implanted. 

Adrian frowned. "Why no scanner ping? Everyone onboard has a tag." 

Ellie looked just as puzzled. "There's nothing. No records, no ID, nothing." 

"Like he doesn't exist." 

Nearby, the suspect — a trembling man in synth-stained overalls — stared at his hands like they didn't belong to him. 

Adrian walked over. "You found the body?" 

"I—I swear. I just heard a noise and came out to look. He was already down. I checked for vitals, that's all." 

"You ran when OSF got here." 

"I panicked! I fix circuitry, not… not deal with dead people!" 

Adrian studied him. Something about the way he spoke didn't scream guilt — more confusion than calculation. 

A quiet alert buzzed in Adrian's earpiece. It was a direct message from the judicial system: 

"NOTICE: CASE 01-BETA-1074 assigned to Provisional Observer SOLIS, Adrian. First Hearing scheduled T-minus 12 hours. Prepare admissible testimony and summary." 

His stomach twisted. 

Ellie glanced over his shoulder. "You're in it now." 

The walls of Adrian's room pulsed faintly with the gentle glow of "night mode," simulating twilight. The air recyclers hummed overhead, rhythmic and unchanging — unlike the thoughts in his head. 

He sat at his desk, staring at the bloodstain still faintly visible on the cuff of his jacket. The call would come soon. He could feel it. 

Right on cue, his screen lit up with a crisp incoming secure transmission tag. 

ID: Veyla, Selene — Senior Legal Advisor

He swallowed and tapped to accept. 

The monitor came to life with a clear, high-definition image — no artifacting, no noise. Selene Veyla sat in a stark office of dark alloy and glass, backlit by the distant stars through a wide viewport. She wore a sleek black modular suit trimmed in muted violet thread — a thread that subtly shimmered with code. No robes, no symbols of pomp — only precision. 

Her cropped silver hair framed a face of sharp lines and sharper focus. A matte black interface lens covered one eye, data flickering across it too fast to parse. Her voice was calm, like a scalpel resting on a steel tray. 

"Adrian."

Adrian straightened before his name finished echoing. He knew that voice.

"Counselor Veyla," he replied, a little too quickly.

She was already pacing into view on the commscreen — composed, sharp-eyed, framed by the familiar backlit office of the Defense Training Division. Her expression gave nothing away.

"You've read the preliminary report?"

"I was there," he said. "Ellie and I were the closest unit when the call came in. The suspect—"

"—is now your client," she interrupted, gently but without room for argument. "You're being assigned as provisional defense under emergency conditions. Oversight remains in place, but the case is yours."

Adrian blinked. "That's fast. I haven't even seen the discovery packet."

"You'll have ten hours," Veyla said. "The old system gave attorneys ten minutes. Consider this generous."

She stepped closer to the camera, her gaze boring into him as if distance didn't matter.

"You're here, Adrian, because you weren't wrong about the law. Not in that final-year thesis. Not in any of your qualifying hearings. You argued the system could be principled without being rigid. Flexible without falling apart. Now you get to prove it — in open court."

He swallowed. There was a sudden pressure behind his ribs.

"Are you… assigning me this personally?"

Veyla didn't blink. But something in her voice softened — just slightly.

"I'm watching," she said. "Closely. And so is everyone else."

She let the weight of that hang.

"The post-revolution court is still forming. Every ruling reflects on what we are, and what we refuse to become again. You won't win this case by shouting louder or looking tragic. You'll win — if it can be won — by making the truth undeniable."

Adrian nodded once, but it felt small, unsure. She noticed.

"If he's guilty, you'll know. If he isn't — it's your job to make the court know it, too. Not because you believe it. Because the facts demand it."

A pause. Her eyes sharpened.

"The law is a tool, Adrian. But it's also a weapon. Handle it well."

The screen blinked dark.

Adrian stared at his reflection for a moment longer than necessary — pale, jaw clenched, collar askew. A rookie, with too much riding on his shoulders.

But still standing.

Adrian didn't move at first.

Then suddenly, he shoved back from the desk. The chair clattered to the floor as he stood too fast. He paced to the far wall, pressed his palms flat against it like he needed to stop himself from falling through.

Ten hours.

His first trial.

Someone's life hanging on his words.

His breath came quick and shallow. A noise rang in his ears — high and sharp like feedback — and his vision blurred just slightly, just for a moment—

And then… everything snapped into place.

His pulse slowed. His back straightened. The pressure in his chest vanished like a switch had been flipped.

A strange clarity flooded him — like someone had turned the world's contrast up. The dim lights felt brighter. Every document title on his desk was legible at a glance. He didn't feel calm, exactly… but the panic was gone. Replaced by something colder. Focused. Mechanical.

Adrian blinked. Looked down at his hands.

They'd stopped shaking.

Without a word, he turned, lifted the chair back into place, and sat.

He opened the case file.

And began to read.