Overture To War

Chapter 1

Most people living in the city hardly ever had to check a clock to tell time. The artificial lighting in Phobos perfectly complemented the regimented and tightly scheduled life inside the underground shelter. Judging by the tint of the diffused neon colors around him, Bastien knew precisely what time it was. The transition from orange tones to a pale shade of grey-blue signaling the start of the evening hadn't concerned him. But that had been two hours ago. His eyes glanced at the neon tubes and noticed the shadows of the midnight dark purple creeping inside. In the next couple of minutes, ten at most, the clock would pass the 8 p.m. marker, causing him to be late. Again.

He sighed while making his way to the office to bring in the day's reports. As he reached the entrance, he caught a shadow pass behind him with the corner of his eyes. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and minuscule drops of sweat rose to the surface of his forehead. There was no reason for anyone to be in this corner of the city so late at night.

And it wasn't the first time he had noticed things shift in the dark near him. The thought that they would have an interest in his mundane life made him feel claustrophobic and lightheaded. His hands began to shake while his heart pumped at a frantic pace.

Taking a long breath, he steadied his nerves, and slowly turned around to face whatever danger, real or imaginary, was waiting behind him; nothing except the cold breeze of the night cycle and the tranquility of solitude as far as the eye could see. Perhaps the strain on his nerves has begun to show. With a steadier arm, Bastien reached for the contact handle on the door to the Auditor's archive.

The Auditors' building stood mostly vacant, with only the Auxiliary Hans slowly making the rounds. It had been hours since the last of his colleagues had left. Any other day it wouldn't have mattered, but tonight he had promised not to be late. Another broken commitment to add to an ever-increasing list.

Seeing Bastien approach, the auxiliary did a small bow in his direction but said nothing and turned his face away to avoid eye contact. No surprise there. Bastien just nodded his head slightly in response and continued on his way toward his office. The man's stare burned into the back of his head but nobody could blame him for his anxiousness. Most people weren't comfortable with Institute auditors around them during the daytime, let alone late at night in a dimly lit office. It had even surprised him in his early days to see how quickly the specter of authority latched on like a shadow to anyone representing the interests of the Inquisition. Being an Imprint didn't make any difference. If anything, it made it worse since it displayed a conscious decision to work for those so many considered to be their oppressors.

He had gotten used to it at this point but did feel the need to offer some courtesy for disturbing the auxiliary so late at night, even if it was for the umpteenth time. Truthfully, he didn't need to be there physically since everything could be uploaded to the mainframe via the remote network. Having print-outs was a luxury. Paper and ink were rare, but, unlike the data sets in a database, he could touch and feel the robustness of the ring binders sitting on the rows upon rows of shelves in his house. Also, unlike their digital counterparts, his archives wouldn't be as easy to alter. His mind returned to the fateful day when, going over some of his old reports, he had found slight changes had been done to them.

"You work too hard, Auditor Hughes. Try not to strain so much every day, it can start to play tricks on your memory" his superior, a lanky inquisitor had told him. But he knew what he had written inside those documents. Ever since then, he began keeping a second set of records on old-fashioned pen and paper, even though no other irregularities appeared.

After the prints finished, his hands moved automatically to grab a new folder and carefully place the copies inside, labeling it with the date and sector. Seeing and feeling the thick dossier gave him a sense of stability. Usually, it would follow him home and find its place in Bastien's growing physical archive.