Galactiquest

The archive keeper had yet to arrive. In the meantime, Lorenzo studied the documents on Ranger Hook for answers. Could she have been the same woman who asked him for directions? He tried to compare her to the photo on his tablet, but all he remembered were the differences between them.

In his heart, he hoped it wasn't her. To let a target slip by after walking up to him? What an inexcusable display, and right in front of his subordinate, too. It's even worse than partaking in a donut in front of her. That was out of his control, and at least he trusted Wattson had enough sense and discipline to avoid succumbing to their diabolical deliciousness.

He couldn't say the same of Kelly and the child's ability to apprehend Hook. Nonetheless, the fate of the mission might have fallen into their hands.

"...And it's so hard to find good help these days." Across the open area where Lorenzo stood, at the far end of a table, two women stood, having a conversation. One spoke up louder than appropriate for a library setting.

"Oh, I completely understand. I've been absolutely devastated since my nanny left. The boys are old enough to take care of themselves, but it's not just about that. She was my girl, my BFF. That's not something I can just replace, you know?" The longer-haired woman sighed dramatically. "We're supposed to start on Seamstress on the Run next week?"

"Yep, I hear it's a real rollercoaster. I can't wait! See you then?"

"You know it~" She shimmied.

Both left. Neither of them looked anything like Hook, so Lorenzo didn't know why he bothered paying attention. He directed his focus to Ranger Wattson, who stood on the other side of the archive door, hidden from view of the seating area by shelves lining its perimeter. She read a book to pass time. He wondered if he should do the same.

The shelf to his back held a selection of history books. His eyes tried their best to search for one related to the Interstellar Forces without his reading glasses. Technically, he could switch over to him, that was, if he wanted to blow his disguise. No, he'd wait until getting into the archives to do that.

Pale fingertips fell onto a book spine in his eyeline. They weren't Wattson's. Wattson still read her book on the other side.

"Oh, excuse me." A middle-aged woman stared up at him, the long-haired one from earlier. "I'm just looking for something." She blinked a few times. "You wouldn't have happened to see a book called Seamstress on the Run, have you?"

"No, ma'am. I haven't seen that title."

"Phooey." she pouted, continuing to trail her fingers along books. "I don't think I've seen you around before. You look memorable."

Lorenzo pondered over how or if he should respond. "These clothes are memorable, I suppose."

She giggled. Was what he said funny? He glanced over at Wattson for some kind of confirmation, but she must've been completely engrossed in her book. Her face was fully buried in it.

"The clothes are definitely part of it," the woman brushed at her bangs, "but you have a striking look about you in general. Oh, you know what you remind me of? Those living statues at the gym up that way." She pointed north. "I've taken a job there a few times. All I had to do was stand around and pose. You should go for it if you haven't."

Stand around and pose while nearly naked, if Lorenzo remembered correctly. He'd rather not. However, he did know for a fact that the gym models were chosen for their admirable physiques, so he took that as a compliment. He took it cautiously though, even if something about it make his muscles tense. "No, thank you."

"You do seem the shy type." She giggled again. Wasn't she supposed to be looking for a book? Suddenly, she jerked her head to the side, squinting at something over Lorenzo's shoulder.

Behind him, Wattson inched toward one of the other bookshelves. She almost disappeared out of view when the woman walked over to her.

"Excuse me?" her voice was almost too quiet for Lorenzo to hear.

Wattson jolted, instinctively turning her head towards her.

"Mia??"

"H-Hi Mom."

"Mia!" whisper-screamed the woman. "You look gorgeous! Come here~" She then locked Wattson in a tight embrace, planting kisses on her cheek with the speed and intensity of a woodpecker. "I miss you sooo much." Suddenly, her eyebrows furrowed. "Wait, I thought you were supposed to be at work today."

"I, um, I–"

Lorenzo's relief ended when her eyes fell back on him. "Whoops!" With one hand, she covered her own face. "Sorry, this is my daughter Mia," she squished both of their faces together, "although some people think we're sisters."

Both had wavy, red hair and similarly pale skin, though even to Lorenzo, Wattson's mother looked old enough to be her legal guardian.

"I know her." he responded. "We came here together." Though Mia's cover was partially blown, he could at least keep the nature of their presence a secret.

"You did?" She turned to her daughter. "When were you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"I-I guess now is a good time. Mom, this is, um..." Wattson trailed off.

Lorenzo offered his hand. "Rafael."

"Oh my~ Rafael, what a handsome name." She took her time clasping her hand around his. "Well, it's nice to meet you." Her hand slid off of his instead of letting go, as if she was trying to prolong physical contact as much as possible.

Out of politeness, he suppressed a flinch. "Likewise, Ms. Wattson."

Something in her expression soured, but she quickly recovered. "Please, Ms. Wattson is my daughter. Rose. Delilah Rose."

"My apologies, Ms. Rose." In hindsight, he wondered if her rose earrings and belt were supposed to be a clue.

"Aww, how polite. I know it's a little jarring meeting someone from TV, but don't feel the need to be so formal. Unless you want to~" Rose winked.

Lorenzo had no idea what TV had to do with anything.

"My mom's been in some local commercials." Wattson chimed in.

"Movies too, but those are a little before your time."

"Her commercials play fairly often," she elaborated, "so, uh, you've probably seen her." Lorenzo had seen a lot of people in commercials. He didn't remember them all.

"Maybe this will ring a bell." Rose cleared her throat, then pressed her hands to her face. "Wow, these savings are truly out of this world! If you wanna shop smart, choose Carter's Mart."

Surprisingly, that worked. "I remember now. I often hear that commercial when I'm cooking."

"You cook? How fascinating. Wh–"

"Mom, do you need help finding that book?" Wattson steered this conversation back on track, thankfully.

"Oh Mia," her mother grabbed her hands, "you know I adore your help–really, I can't bear living without it–but if there's anything I can handle on my own, it's finding a book. Right now, I want to know more about your friend. It's strange you never told me about him. We're BFFs! I don't understand why you'd sneak out behind my back just to hang out with a bo–"

She gasped before finishing that sentence, then went silent. Her eyes darted between Wattson and Lorenzo. Soon, her hands cupped over Wattson's ears, and she whispered something that her daughter furiously shook her head at.

"Excuse us," she finally addressed him with a smile, "we need to have a girls' talk."

Those were her last words before dragging her daughter into an aisle. Lorenzo took a breath for what felt like the first time in hours. He needed to conserve his mental energy for searching through the archives, so the break was much appreciated. It gave him time to just stare into space.

Before long, a short, old man wandered over to where he stood. He looked around for a moment before his eyes settled on him. "Excuse me, you wouldn't happen to be the one requesting access to the Interstellar Forces' archives, would you?"

"Yes, I am."

"Sorry if I took long, I was finishing up my lunch break." This was evident by his tuna breath. "Can I see your ID?"

Lorenzo handed it over, and the man scrutinized it.

"May I see your eyes?"

With no one else around, Lorenzo saw no reason not to. This guy wasn't Hook.

The archivist handed back his ID. "Yep, you're the guy in the photo. Though I wasn't expecting someone dressed so flashily."

"This is a special case."

"Huh." He looked around expectantly. "I was under the impression that there would be more than one person here."

Lorenzo searched for any sign of Wattson coming back. "My associate should be here soon. Please excuse me for a moment."

He walked part way there until realizing that he might intrude on their privacy. So instead, he took out his tablet and hoped that Emil would respond to his message right away.

'Please call Ranger Wattson and tell her that the archivist is here.' he texted.

'HUH? What does THAT mean?!?!' Emil included confused and question mark emojis as if the capitalization and punctuation didn't get his confusion across. 'Aren't you supposed to be with her anyway?'

'She's in the middle of something. She'll know what you mean.'

A few moments later, he responded back. 'Done.' The next message included a sighing emoji and a wink emoji. 'The things I do for you. Btw the crush thing is all settled.'

'Good to hear.'

'C'moooon join the group chat already.' Emil whined via text and emoji. 'Or at least get Mia's number.'

'Thank you for calling.' Lorenzo returned to the archivist.

Wattson poked her head out of the aisle, then stepped out while making reassuring hand gestures to the woman inside. They also seemed to double as an attempt to get her mother to stay in place. It was to no avail. Her mother clung to her arm on her way over to the other two.

"Hello there, Delilah." The archivist adjusted his collar and glasses. "I wasn't expecting you here."

"Always a pleasure to see you, Georgie." Something about Rose's words brought out a chuckle from him.

"Here's my ID." Wattson cut through the small talk.

"Oh, yes, let me take a look at that." The archivist examined her ID. His eyebrows raised. "Can you lift your glasses, please?"

Wattson did so.

"Wow, you bear a striking resemblance to Ms. Rose. Are you related, by any chance? Let me guess, are you," he raised an eyebrow, "sisters?"

Rose continued the chuckle-fest. "She does have my long lashes, my hazels, and my figure," she bumped Wattson's hip with her own, "but that's because she's my daughter."

"Well, didn't you win the genetic lottery?" The archivist handed Wattson's ID back to her.

She took it. "Thank you."

"By the way, Rafael, Mia does most of our house cooking, too. At least... she did before she left us behind." Rose leaned her head against her daughter's shoulder while pouting, then sprang back up happily. "Maybe you can share cooking tips."

In the times that Mia took over cooking duty, she established herself as one of the more competent cooks, from what Lorenzo remembered. "I'll consider it."

"She wears a lot of different hats actually. Chef, maid, financial adviser–she's especially good with keeping children alive! She's a bit modest, but she doesn't ask for much and is a wonderful listener–"

"Delilah, I'm sorry to interrupt your conversation, but only authorized individuals are allowed into the IF archives."

"Oh, so this is a work thing?" she asked Wattson. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"It was kind of supposed to be a secret." Wattson answered.

Her mother looked her over. "That still doesn't explain why–Ah, nevermind. You two have fun in there." She winked at her. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do~"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Bye-bye Georgie, bye Rafie~" Not a moment too soon, she left. Lorenzo gave her a polite nod.

"Goodbye, Delilah." The archivist's eyes trailed her as she walked past the group. Finally, they snapped back to the other two. "Follow me."

He led them into a grey room packed with rows of shelves, each brimming with binders. A doorway off to the side revealed a seating area lit by a half-dead fluorescent light. Wattson pulled her jacket over her shoulders, no doubt because of the temperature drop. With the dim lighting and lack of witnesses, neither needed their sunglasses.

"So, what are you two looking for in particular?"

Finally, a conversation Lorenzo knew how to approach. "We're looking into behavioral patterns of star rangers who have deserted or have been absent without official leave."

"AWOL or deserters. Hmmmm," the archivist adjusted his glasses, "the court martial records should have what you're looking for. From the ones who've been caught, anyway. Is there a particular time period you're looking at?"

"What time periods are available?"

"Everything from a little before the Moon landing up until ten years ago."

"So about fifty years." Lorenzo reiterated. "Records from the past ten to twenty years should be most useful for our purposes." The Interstellar Forces and Lunaria hadn't changed too much during that time. Any tricks to hide should be unchanged as well.

"Ten to twenty years ago, got it. Why don't you go wait in the research room while I get those for you?" The archivist motioned to the side doorway. "This room gets cramped with just one person, let alone three."

Lorenzo and Wattson heeded his advice and navigated through narrow passages on their way to the research room. Once they reached the table, Wattson sat down a few chairs away from him.

"I'm sorry about my mom." she spoke up after a moment of silence. "I was trying to get her to leave before the archivist got here."

"You controlled the situation to the best of your ability." Though her efforts were in vain, Lorenzo appreciated them.

"Thanks. Um, if it makes you feel any better, she's not actually interested in you. I think."

That answered a question that had been bubbling at the root of his discomfort with Rose. "So she was flirting with me."

Wattson nodded. "She won't anymore. Probably. Though now she thinks that we're," she pointed between them, "something."

Lorenzo's shoulders tightened. Even a rumor of him dating a subordinate could make for a particularly bothersome scandal. "Is there some way you can convince her otherwise?"

"I tried. Nothing I say short of coming out will work." She glanced at him. "I would prefer not to do that."

"Of course. That's a sensitive subject, I understand." He never cared to keep track of his crew members' orientations aside from his brother and the ones who shared the same one as himself. In this sense, Wattson's offhand remark came as a pleasant surprise. One less subordinate to worry about having romantic feelings toward him.

His list of potential problems narrowed down to three: The eternally unpredictable Ranger Allen, Léonardo, who Emil already dealt with, and the unauthorized child. He would be dealt with soon.

"We're leaving tomorrow, right?" she asked him as he opened his tablet.

"Yes." And that was the reason he needed to get this Summers situation settled. Stocking up the ship and getting briefed on this mission robbed him of the chance to handle the issue yesterday, but now, he had the perfect opportunity to search for missing persons in the Summers' hometown.

A familiar message greeted him: 'Some results have been blocked in accordance with the United States Domestic Information Privacy Act.'

In this case, 'some results' included all the relevant ones. As deeply unfortunate of a setback as it was, Lorenzo would not let it get in the way of him sending that imposter back where he belonged, even if it meant having to make another phone call. He needed to do so in privacy. For now, he must wait.

"Here are the court martial files." The archivist came back heaving two thick binders. "This one," he placed one down closest to Lorenzo, "covers twenty to fifteen years ago. The other," he slid the remainder toward Wattson, "goes up to ten years ago."

He then wandered over to a row of boxes against the back wall and picked up two pencils, a few sheets of paper, and some sheets of a material Lorenzo couldn't identify.

"Some pencils and paper for note-taking if you need it." He placed them on the table. "You are allowed to use your electronic devices, but due to how recent these files are, I'm going to have to place these stickers over your cameras. Can you please turn yours on?"

Lorenzo rarely used his, so it took a slightly embarrassing amount of time to find it, but he activated his camera and handed it over to the archivist as Wattson did before him. The archivist, in turn, peeled stickers off of the remaining sheets and stuck them tightly onto the cameras of her phone and his tablet.

"There you go." He returned their devices. "I'll be in and out of the area, but if you need me, there's a button you can press over there." His finger pointed to a button on the wall behind Lorenzo's back. "Any questions?"

Neither had any questions.

"Well," his hands clapped, "I'll leave you to it. Good luck with your research." After both star rangers gave their thanks, he left them alone, and from the sounds of it, he left the entire archive.

Lorenzo donned his reading glasses and opened the file in front of him. "Let me know if you find anything noteworthy among the AWOL and desertion cases."

"Yes, sir." Wattson cracked open her own file. "Do you want me to update the group on our findings? We won't find Hook in here, but what we find might help the others."

"Good idea. Speaking of the group, have there been any updates?"

She scrolled through her phone. "Angelo–Sorry, Ranger Summers reported seeing the same woman we saw earlier but lost her in a crowd."

"Hmm." He knew he couldn't count on that group.

"Ranger Kim wants to know if she had a Southern accent. I'm pretty sure she did, are you?"

"Now that I think about it, she did." Their question confused Lorenzo until a realization struck him. "Hook is from Georgia." That was a much easier way of scoping her out than remembering facial features. He wanted to kick himself for not thinking of it sooner.

"I informed Ranger Kim."

"Thank you. If we only knew where she'd show up next." Another realization struck. "Her interview. She should still be on Apennine Boulevard. Tell Ranger Kelly's group to stay in place."

Wattson texted something. "They've been informed."

"Thank you again, Ranger Wattson." For all the misgivings he had about Kelly's group, having the aid of Wattson and Kim made completing this mission feel somewhat possible. Wattson's straightforward communication was especially appreciated.

Idle appreciation would mean nothing if he didn't put in the work to honor their efforts. He did so, eyes first, hands later, scanning over dense blocks of text in order to find charges related to their mission. Dereliction of duty, insubordination, dereliction of duty, larceny, it took a few pages until he got to the first AWOL charge.

The documentation revealed that the accused, a corporal from a New York base, shirked his duties in order to see a movie premiere. Sickening. Lorenzo shook his head wondering how anyone could be so frivolous. He only received 14 days of confinement and a month of reduced pay. It's situations like these that made him unsure what counted as an acceptable punishment.

A staff major left without even requesting emergency leave to attend the birth of his child. He obtained authorized leave for a later date, but the baby was due earlier than expected. Understandably, he received a lighter punishment, only one day of confinement and no reduced pay.

Most cases played out similarly to the first, with no good reasoning for absences. None were relieved from duty. Lorenzo jotted down these and other patterns he saw. One emerged that struck him as being very different from Hook's case.

"I've only seen absences of one day or less."

"That's what I've noticed, too." Wattson confirmed. "The sentences are less than thirty days of confinement."

"Thirty days is the maximum sentence for minor instances of absence without official leave."

"When does it stop being minor?"

"After three or more days of absence, sentences can extend up to six months." answered Lorenzo. "More than thirty days is classified as desertion and can be penalized with twelve months of confinement and dishonorable discharge."

"I wonder if it would be more helpful to focus on longer AWOL cases and desertions instead, since Ranger Hook disappeared last month."

"That would be in our best interest." he acknowledged. "We only have so much time to find her."

Without a word, both resumed the cycle of skimming and turning pages. That was until Lorenzo noticed something odd about Wattson's way of doing so.

"Is there a particular reason you're going backwards?"

She lifted her head. "Oh. I figured the most recent records would be most helpful. Isn't that why we chose them?"

"Of course. Carry on." How embarrassing that he didn't consider his own logic to the fullest extent. He hoped she didn't notice him flipping over his binder and starting from the end.

This new method helped him sift through pages much faster, so fast that he felt the need to double check in case he missed anything. He continued doing so until he finally found it: a desertion case.

The accused took a loan from an organized crime group near his base in Florida to support his gambling addiction. Unable to uphold his end of the bargain, he fled all the way to Arizona for 18 years until he won the lottery. He purchased a ticket to Lunaria to celebrate. Had he vacationed somewhere with looser background checks, he may've never been caught.

It made for a cautionary tale, but a pointless one for understanding where Hook might have gone. Assuming that she's the same woman who needed to go to a job interview, it was unlikely that she planned to leave Lunaria any time soon.

"I suggest we focus on cases related to Lunaria and the Moon Base." he decided.

"Understood, sir." Wattson's phone vibrated before she was able to resume her search. Her eyebrows raised when she checked it, then fell, giving her a tired-looking expression as she texted back.

"Any developments from the others?"

"Oh no. There haven't been any updates." She slid her phone away, then began to turn the next page in her file. Her hand stopped midway. "Um, Captain?"

"Yes?"

"I don't mind relaying the group chat at all, but with all due respect, it does seem," her eyes darted away, "inefficient. Is there any particular reason you won't join?"

"Yes."

She did not ask for an elaboration nor did she wait for one. She simply returned to the task at hand. This made him feel something. Joy? Not quite. Relief? To some degree. Something pleasant.

He also noticed he lacked the distinct discomfort that invaded one-on-one interactions with the rest of his crew, minus his brother and Kim. Even then, he struggled to interact with Kim in a way where he didn't feel like their junior, and if Emil were here, he'd need to ensure he didn't get too sidetracked. Wattson had neither of those problems.

For as passionate as Léonardo was about the Interstellar Forces, he wasn't the kind of subordinate Lorenzo had in mind. When he first imagined having a crew, he imagined having a crew full of Wattsons.

"Sir? I have another question, this time more related to the mission." After receiving a nod from Lorenzo, Wattson continued. "A dishonorable discharge from the IF basically means getting banned from all space residences, right?"

"Correct."

"What happens when someone lives here?"

"They're sent to their last place of residence on Earth." answered Lorenzo. "Though things have become more complicated since space residency has expanded beyond active duty star rangers. If someone like you, for example, were expelled to Earth, you'd have nowhere to go."

"That would be pretty bad, especially with me not knowing the full extent of my allergies."

"Exactly." He nodded. "There's also the concern of you losing contact with friends, family, and other loved ones."

"In my case, family."

This surprised him. "I assumed you were close with Ranger Allen."

That comment startled Wattson, which internally startled Lorenzo.

"My apologies, I overstepped."

"No, it's fine. We're on good terms for now, it's just," she took a moment to choose her words, "things are easier with less people. Does that make any sense? Sorry, we should be focusing on–"

"I agree." Never had Lorenzo felt more understood. "It's why I haven't joined the group chat. Less contacts having access to me, less chances for sabotage."

"Less people, less problems."

"How succinct." He felt the slightest smile on his face.

The sound of a door opening startled him so much, his earpiece came off. Soon, the archivist leaned into the research area's doorway.

"Don't mind me," he quietly interrupted, "I'm just here to look through some materials. How's your research coming along?"

Lorenzo assessed what they've done so far. "We've narrowed down what we're looking for."

"That's always good. Figuring out what you're looking for is half the battle. I'll be in the other room if you need me." With a wave, the archivist leaned out of the doorway.

While Wattson resumed looking through files, Lorenzo retrieved his earpiece. The impact reversed its handle, so he corrected it despite not knowing why one side was more correct than the other. After pondering for a moment, he decided it couldn't hurt to ask Wattson.

"Is there any reason I'm supposed to wear this on my left ear?" he whispered.

Wattson looked over warily. "Not if it's reversible. Why?"

"The Lieutenant wanted me to wear it that way for some reason."

Confusion showed on her face but cleared up just as quickly. "Oh, um," her whisper grew quieter, "how do I explain this? Uh, if I had to guess, it's to make it so people won't think you're gay."

"Why would they think that based on my earpiece?"

"Well, at one point, gay guys used to wear their earrings on the right ear to signal to each other that they were gay, but at some point the general public caught on, and it's kind of a whole thing. I don't think it ever applied to earpieces, but some people read into them that way."

"Huh." How bizarre.

"I think he's just trying to protect you. Or himself. Or both?"

"Your explanation is greatly appreciated." He felt his understanding of his brother grow, something he never thought possible outside of having Emil directly explain himself.

"Um, glad to help." If only Wattson was around to interpret all of his brother's quirks. No, that would push the boundaries between an appropriate superior-subordinate relationship and his family's privacy. If they had met under different circumstances, as peers instead, he wondered if she'd be someone he considered reaching out to. For work. They worked well together.

They continued to work well together, scanning through files of their respective binders. Unfortunately, the parameters they set narrowed down their already slim number of relevant cases. Lorenzo had yet to find any that satisfied everything they were looking for. Nothing but the sound of turning pages filled the room.

Two sets of turning pages turned to one at some point. Wattson stopped on one page. Her eyebrows raised and furrowed at its contents.

"A deserter managed to go undetected here for over ten years." she recounted in disbelief. "A corporal by the name of Thomas Voltaire. All he had to do was change his name and his hair color."

"That's it?" Lorenzo couldn't believe it either. If that's all that needed to be done, Hook was already at least halfway there. "Did he change his name legally?"

"No, not at all." Wattson blinked. "Wow, whoever wrote the file really wanted people to know his accolades. 'Corporal Voltaire went on to become a talent agent, discovering successful clients such as...'" she swallowed. "Um, he worked with some actors. Anyway, 'he was caught after jaywalking under the pseudonym–' Sorry, 'under his pseudonym.'"

"What was his sentence?"

"Seven months confinement, revoked pay, and dishonorable discharge."

"How bold of him to continue living in Lunaria as if he wasn't a fugitive." Gaining a full understanding of a deserter's thought process was beyond Lorenzo, but an understanding of their movements would have to do. "Assuming our suspect is Hook, she seems to be making the same moves. Changing hair color, taking on a different job."

"Yeah. I-If you don't mind, I'd like to keep note of this case."

"I was about to ask you to do just that. Would you also mind sending the relevant details to the others?"

"Not at all, Captain." Intently, she typed on her phone while reviewing the file in front of her.

"Thank you." He logged the things he wanted to keep in mind onto his tablet as well.

Silence returned and so did Lorenzo to his work. Little progress had been made, he felt, but he and Wattson likely narrowed down who they were looking for. In the words of the archivist, half the battle had been won.

To think he almost brought Kelly with him. So much focus would have gone towards making sure he cooperated. Lorenzo found it difficult to imagine making as much progress toward finding Hook as he did with Wattson, nor could he imagine it being pleasant. Working with Wattson was pleasant. With her help, they might win the other half of this battle.