Insomnia
© 2023 by Walter Reimer
(Stanislaus Coon and Ivar Vargsson courtesy of E.O. Costello)

Thumbnail art by  tegerio, used by permission of  EOCostello


To my credit, I didn’t get lost. Not when I went to ‘M’s’ adjutant’s office to arrange a billet for the night, nor when I went to the residential block and found my room. I was very pleased about that.

I wish I could have been pleased about everything after that.

The government center in the heart of New Melbourne is a city within the city. More like an ancient fortified city surrounded by besieging armies, really. The military and Intelligence establishments constitute a city within that fortified area. A little confusing for someone born and raised on a world that had much wider open spaces.

With no windows anywhere in evidence, I was reliant on my padd, linked to the local AI, to tell me what time it was.

“I think, my dear Stanislaus,” Ivar murmured in my ear, “that not being able to look outside is not a bad thing. You saw this world from orbit, and chances are quite good that seeing it at ground level would only depress you.”

He had a point.

My room was very comfortable, comparable to a good hotel. There was a holowindow with a menu of available views. I selected one that depicted a seashore, complete with the muted sounds of seabirds, wind and waves. With that in the background, I opened my padd, accessed my notes, and began my report.

Taking as read that Admiral-General Gromov was telling the truth, I concluded that further observation of this Moka Bustani was required, and since I was the Counterintelligence officer assigned to the investigation, I should be allowed to travel to Maratha and observe or interview the subject at first-paw. Attaching me temporarily to the Director’s staff would lend my presence there some legitimacy.

“Hiding in plain sight,” Ivar said, “is sometimes the most effective way to conceal oneself and their intentions.”

“True,” I said, and paused as my stomach growled. I glanced at the clock on my padd and also noted that the holowindow had changed to show that the sun was going down. I closed and sealed my still-incomplete report before accessing the residential block’s amenities. “Hmm.”

“Yes?”

“There’s an item here called Surf and Turf,” I said. “It’s steak – “

“You interest me.”

“I thought it might. And something called ‘lobster.’ I think I’ll have that, along with some red wine,” and I chuckled. “Red, of course.”

From his usual place in the shadows, Ivar smiled. “I see that my efforts to educate you in civilized behavior has paid off, Stanislaus.” That made me laugh as I placed the order and the mess orderly assured me that it would arrive within the hour.

Within thirty minutes, the annunciator on my door sounded, and a rating carrying a tray smiled when I opened the door. I thanked him and took the tray in with me, the stray odors coming from under the cover making my whiskers twitch.

I’d never had ‘lobster’ before; the flesh was very tasty and slightly sweet. The steak was a very pink medium-rare, and the wine went well with both. In keeping with his preference for treating dining as a religious experience, Ivar remained silent, and I respected his silence until I had eaten everything.

I sat back, sipping the last of the wine, and watched the stars come out over the beach in the holowindow. “I wonder,” I murmured, “if that’s an actual place.”

“Perhaps,” Ivar said. “Space is vast, after all. I perceive that you are tired, Stanislaus.”

He’d caught me in mid-yawn. I finished the yawn and drank the last sip of my wine. “You’re quite right, Ivar. It’s been a long day.”

Were there listening devices in my room? It was entirely possible, but very little of my conversations with the spirit of my dead friend were actually audible. The rest could be discounted as me talking to myself. That might net me a recommendation for a psychiatric evaluation, but I was already under a doctor’s care.

After clearing away the meal tray, I took off my uniform, got cleaned up, and went to bed after blanking the holowindow and dimming the lights.

Maybe two hours later I was seated at the desk again, in my underwear, still working on the report. I think I’d managed about an hour’s sleep. Was it the time difference between here and my usual lodgings on another planet? Was it nervousness? Was it this case getting into my head?

“I should hope not,” Ivar sniffed. “There is only room for the two of us in here, my friend.”

I chuckled softly, even as I completed the report and sent it to ‘M’ under seal, which meant that only he could open it using his personal code. I closed and folded up my padd before sitting back and rubbing my eyes. “Hmm, a cup of tea,” I said aloud.

“It would help you sleep,” Ivar agreed, “along with the knowledge that you have completed your work.”

I nodded, even as I got into my uniform. I gave my headfur a lick and a promise with my furbrushes, and headed to the residential block’s commissariat.

They did have a wide selection of teas, and I got a cup and a small plate of ginger cookies and found a table. Even at this late hour, there were a large number of furs present, eating and socializing. Nearly all of them had the same sky-blue Intelligence tabs on their uniforms.

I was halfway through my cup of tea and a third of the way through the cookies when I raised the cup to my lips and felt a pronounced tremor run through the floor and up my feet. The lights flickered, and my tail bottled as I shot to my feet and put my cup down.

Everyone else had felt it as well, and everyone’s ears flattened as a voice sounded from hidden speakers, “Attention please. Attention please – “

“Don’t dare to talk, don’t dare to sneeze,” Ivar interjected. I hushed him.

“ – Armed attack, Zone2A4. Repeat, armed attack, Zone 2A4. Atmospheric compromise minimal. Emergency units responding.”

My throat went dry. Zone 2A4 was where my room was located.

“’Was’ is probably le mot juste, dear Stanislaus,” Ivar said.

After the announcement, nearly all of the furs in the commissariat settled down apart from a few who left hurriedly. I walked over to a young weasel femme wearing a lieutenant’s rank and said, “Excuse me?”

“Hm? Oh! Captain, I – “ I stopped her with a paw motion as she started to stand up, and I sat down facing her. “Is there anything wrong?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “Does this happen a lot?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not from Terra, and I’ve never seen you before.”

“True on both counts,” and I told her I was from Directorate III’s headquarters planet. She settled down, and I repeated the question.

“Not very often,” she replied. “The planetary police do what they can, but there are always malcontents and traitors. One of them must’ve succeeded in getting past the perimeter defenses to throw a bomb or fire a missile.”

“Are we in any danger?”

“If we were, we would have headed for the undergrounds,” she said. I thanked her, and left her alone with her meal.

“I’m not certain which is more toxic,” Ivar remarked. “The atmosphere outside, or the inhabitants.”

“Yes, it is very disturbing,” I said. “It reminds me of the reports I’ve been seeing back at the Lodge.” There was always a certain level of disaffection of the populace towards the government; with the loss of so many systems to the Kashlani it was taking quite a bit of time to settle things down.

I started out of the commissariat only to be intercepted by another lieutenant, this one a wolverine wearing a Security brassard. “Yes?”

“ID, please,” he said, and he ran a reader over my badge. “Sorry, Captain Coon. Your quarters have been destroyed. I hope you didn’t have anything valuable in there.”

I sighed. “Just my furbrushes.” I suddenly felt tired; the tea was doing its work. “Can I arrange other quarters?”

“Of course, Sir. Come with me,” and I followed him.

Damn it, I wouldn’t be able to get any sleep for a while yet.

I needed to buy another grooming set before my meeting with ‘M’ in the morning.