Ballroom

2:28 PM, 16/2/96, 16/29/96 AUC, Ashringa Apartments, Arkadia, Hub

The policeman was up before his radio alarm flicked on.Technically he didn't need the sleep, but he liked the rest, and his mom had insisted he sleep regularly when he was a kid. Old habits.

He padded to the kitchen in his boxers, humming along to the electroswing. The apartment was small enough to hear the music through the walls, and the music his neighbours were listening to. Or making, on occasion. A new couple had moved in upstairs.

He opened a cubpoard and tried to choose between cooking and not. He could taste the additives in the cereal, so that was out, but he didn't feel up to putting something more complicated than bacon together. Above his head, a Mangadorian tried to perform the ritual monthly mating cycle without upsetting the six-foot tall policeman downstairs. Genderless aliens were weird.

Fuck it, he'd eaten last night. He could go for another day or so on that.

He felt more up to it after a shower and putting some casual slacks and a t-shirt on, and decided to revert his decision and cook up some bacon. The radio had flicked to traffic reports - a crash that he knew Officer Ramirez was dealing with, some congestion on McQueen Street - nothing serious. Bacon was good. It held his attention. He considered leaving at that, but eggs didn't take long and his bread wasn't out of date and hey, bacon and egg sandwich. With coffee. Excellent.

Halfway through his meal, there was a knock on his door. Nobody interrupted his bacon sandwiches. He stomped over to the front door and flung it open.

An alien designed to be the most pitiable thing in the world looked up at him. It was three feet tall and resembled a cartoon dachshund in the middle of being slammed into a wall. He relaxed. Piche didn't technically live here. He was an informant who worked for the highest bidder, which, due to his lack of a home and preference for eating other people's refuse, meant basically anybody. The policeman was currently paying him twenty bucks to keep an eye on everything in his apartment block.

"Hey, Piche. What's up?"

Piche snuffled. "Hey, boss-boss. Got something for you. Is good-good."

The policeman blinked. "Uh, hold on a second then."

On the plate was the last of his bacon sandwich. Piche's species were scavengers - they ate what they could, but better meals were worth their weight in gold. He drained the last of his coffee, picked it up, went back to the door and tossed the remains into Piche's waiting maw.

"That good enough?"

Piche chewed slowly. "Very good-good. Boss-boss pays well, so Piche tells you. Gadian on the fifty-second floor, room 23, he growing Ambrosia. Could smell it when I went by his room. Stank bad."

The policeman sighed.  His powered armor was in the shop, he was off-duty and the Gadian would probably kick his ass, but he said "Okay then" anyway.

His parents had put a sense of heroic duty in him, for some reason. But he hoped the Gadian was out. Just in case.