“Drift” was the term for when a customs officer at the massive, city-sized Port of Seven Bridges began acting… differently. A little too efficient. A little too cheerful. A little too uniform .
She turned. Her eyes were the same sharp blue, but there was something behind them—a flicker of something vast and cold, like a starship engine seen through a pinhole. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m making the port work. Finally.”
“Order is safety. Safety is peace. Peace is 1111. Thank you for your compliance.”
His finger trembled on the trigger.
The port was grinding to a halt, and Cory Chase was at the center of it, humming a tuneless melody as she worked.
“You impounded a crate of children’s textbooks because the paper weight was 0.3 grams too light.”
He found her on Floor 17, the “Twilight Sector,” where biological and quantum cargo passed through decontamination arches. Cory stood at the main console, her uniform crisp, her hair now bleached a startling platinum blonde. She was wearing a custom-made badge—gold, not standard-issue—that read “CORY CHASE, PORT SUPERVISOR.”
“Drift” was the term for when a customs officer at the massive, city-sized Port of Seven Bridges began acting… differently. A little too efficient. A little too cheerful. A little too uniform .
She turned. Her eyes were the same sharp blue, but there was something behind them—a flicker of something vast and cold, like a starship engine seen through a pinhole. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m making the port work. Finally.” 1111Customs 24 05 20 Cory Chase Cory Takes Over...
“Order is safety. Safety is peace. Peace is 1111. Thank you for your compliance.” “Drift” was the term for when a customs
His finger trembled on the trigger.
The port was grinding to a halt, and Cory Chase was at the center of it, humming a tuneless melody as she worked. A little too uniform
“You impounded a crate of children’s textbooks because the paper weight was 0.3 grams too light.”
He found her on Floor 17, the “Twilight Sector,” where biological and quantum cargo passed through decontamination arches. Cory stood at the main console, her uniform crisp, her hair now bleached a startling platinum blonde. She was wearing a custom-made badge—gold, not standard-issue—that read “CORY CHASE, PORT SUPERVISOR.”