A Walk to Greater Worlds: Aeriel Trilogy #3

Chapter 82

The Department of Defence occupied a prime location at the intersection of Patriot Road and Emancipation Avenue, two of the most prestigious streets in Ragah. Sunlight glinted off the chrome and tinted glass façade of the imposing twin buildings.

A crisp morning breeze rustled the neatly trimmed hedges lining the path to the first building. It carried with it a mix of scents: the fragrance of fresh flowers from the surrounding gardens mingling with exhaust fumes and the occasional whiff of polished metal.

Ruban and Simani had just passed the main entrance – an arched gateway framed by simple wrought-iron gates. Two guards in olive-green uniforms stood by, acknowledging them with a slight, courteous nod.

As they approached the first of the twin buildings, however, they were met by another guard. Tall, slim, and neatly bearded, he too wore the olive-green uniform of his colleagues.

He greeted them with a friendly smile, positioning himself firmly between them and the cool, inviting lobby. A holstered gun hung discreetly at his hip, but his hands remained open, palms raised in a placating gesture.

He asked politely for their identification and the purpose of their visit. Ruban ignored him. It was evident the man knew exactly who they were and why they were here.

While Simani wrangled with him, Ruban focused on the activity inside.

Personnel moved purposefully between the two interconnected buildings, some clad in military attire and others in business suits. As they passed by the front doorway, many cast furtive glances at Ruban and Simani.

The two of them were here to request permission to interview Atbin Siyal, the young Hunter accused of attempting to kill Simani by pushing her in front of an oncoming energy-shell. Ashwin's shell, to be precise.

Ruban wondered how many of these people knew that; what they made of it. Was that the reason for the furtive glances?

Well, it couldn't be helped. For his part, Ruban didn't understand why he needed permission from the Department of Defence to interview Siyal, who was currently being held at the Central Ragah Detention Center, awaiting the conclusion of his trial and sentencing.

If anything, this situation reminded him of Farid. One of the Qawirsin's smugglers arrested last year at the Zainian border, back when Ashwin was still in the clutches of Janak Nath.

The Department of Defence had blocked their attempts to interview Farid then, just as they seemed to be doing now with Siyal.

As Simani argued with the guard for the fifth straight minute, a handsome young man emerged from the lobby and flashed them a too-bright smile. He wore a simple blue button-down shirt tucked into dark trousers. An ID hung visibly around his neck.

Ruban would've paid him no mind, as most of the personnel here were similarly attired. Yet, something about the ID dangling from his lanyard snagged Ruban's attention. It wasn't quite like the others he'd seen on the premises. It was a moment before he realized why that was. Ruban recognized the familiar yellow-and-green logo on the ID card.

His heart skipped a beat.

It was the logo of The Ragah Times. This man was a reporter.

No sooner had Ruban come to the realization than a few more reporters emerged from the lobby. Now that he knew what to look for, they were easy to pick out. They were all smartly dressed, but their style was almost aggressively muted. As if making a deliberate effort not to stand out in these somber surroundings.

Microphones and cameras emerged like the sudden blooming of flowers. Their lenses and recording devices focused directly on Ruban and Simani.

Ruban glanced back at the main entrance, where the two uniformed guards resolutely blocked a larger crowd of journalists and cameramen. The wrought-iron gates marked the boundary, the guards' firm presence keeping the media at bay, even as they shouted questions and waved for attention.