Five

Two cycles had passed since he had met with the corp leaders, and he had gotten nowhere since. No leads had panned out. He was having trouble sleeping at all, only for an hour or two at a time. The stress of a stagnant case was gnawing at his peace. After he spent the night trying unsuccessfully to track down a local cabbie depot owner who was rumored to have information about Ascendent gathering locations, he sat back in his hotel room, mysteries still unsolved. His gaze drifted to the thin walls of his hotel room. The hum of distant conversations filtered through, a stark reminder of the world moving on just beyond his reach. It was in these quieter moments, away from the bustle of his investigation, that a deep-seated sense of loneliness crept in. His alienation on a foreign planet, far from the UEA's core sectors, where his presence was seen more as an intrusion than help. Coupled with the slow progress in unraveling the case, it was liable to drive him mad.

Mo found himself yearning for a touch of familiarity. He extended his hand and slipped on his CommLink, its intersystem function activating as he linked it to his room's quantum relay and initiated a long-range call to the UEA's Nexus mainstation. His call was to the substation where a close friend Alexei, a fellow trainee from his early days in the UEA, managed communications.

To Mo's immense relief, the call connected swiftly, and Alexei's familiar voice crackled through the line, interspersed with static.”UEA Nexus Substation M-15,”

 Mo leaned back slightly, a comforting sense of normalcy seeping in, assuring him that at least life back at the mainstation was still business as usual.

"Alexei, hearing your voice is a relief," Mo began, his tone heavy with the weight of recent events.

"Mo! …static… How's Eclipsis treating you? ...static... Everything's steady back here," came Alexei's fragmented reply, his voice cutting in and out but still bringing a semblance of connection.

Mo let out a sigh, feeling a brief respite from the burdens he carried. "It's a maze here. Between the case and the peculiarities of this planet, it’s a real test," he said, his eyes scanning the room's shadowed corners.

"Signal's…static... seems light can't outrun the lag here," Alexei joked, though his words were mangled by the static.

"Hard to catch all that. This connection’s sketchy at best," Mo admitted, his frustration seeping through. He imagined the other quantum relays, the lifelines of interstellar communication, dangling light-years away. "Listen, I stumbled upon a symbol, and I'm hitting walls. No leads at all."

"Caught something about a...static... symbol? Does it tie...static... to the case?" Alexei tried to piece together a response through the digital noise.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Mo fought through the static. "It's choppy on this end. I'll transmit some images of it. Could you dig into the archives? Anything from minor mentions to major references, I need whatever you can find," he detailed, urgency underlining his request.

"I’ll see what...static... can be found...static... Stay sharp," Alexei’s voice struggled to punch through the static, his message fragmented but filled with the intent to assist.

"Appreciate it, Alexei. Just hoping this gets through," Mo replied, clinging to a thread of optimism as he terminated the call and sent the images.

In the next two cycles following his call with Alexei, Mo's routine became a blur of relentless investigation and erratic sleep. The symbol, once a mere point of curiosity, began to consume his thoughts, eclipsing even the primary objective of his mission. The Eclipsian environment, devoid of natural day-night cycles, compounded disorientation. The ever-present neon illumination coupled with the hum of its infrastructure crafted an otherworldly presence as he traversed the maze-like streets on too little sleep. Endless holographic ads fluttered in the air, exhausting Mo’s senses.

Each lead pursued, every database scoured, and all records examined offered no clue on the symbol's origins. The symbol began to seem like a lie in and of itself.

Frustrated by stagnation and feeling cornered, Mo resolved to take a step he had been hesitant to consider — seeking further assistance from Commissioner Harlon. This would mean potentially revealing more to the ESED than he had wanted to, but options were dwindling, and he needed answers of some kind. 

Finding a secluded alleyway, Mo lit a smoke and slipped on his CommLink, ready to dial Harlon's private line. The streets were unusually quiet. Aside from the occasional distant echo of footsteps or the soft buzz of neon signs, Mo found himself alone.

After an agonizing wait, the line buzzed to life. But there was no greeting, only the faint rustling of someone breathing, its eeriness amplified by the stark silence around him.

"Commissioner, It's Tracer Darin," Mo began, voice unsteady in the cold, his smokes’ ember briefly illuminating his face. "Hope it’s not too late, or err, early, to be calling, but there's a symbol in the data you shared. It's all over the Holos but it's no longer there at the physical scenes. Perhaps your onsite team could shed some light on it?"

A long pause ensued. Finally, Harlon's voice emerged, eerily close and distorted as if his lips were pressed directly against the receiver, "Describe it to me."

Mo was taken aback by the abrupt response. Gathering his thoughts, he replied, "Well there’s three interweaving spirals. There’s these dots, dashes, I think maybe it’s a code of some kind. Or, maybe, a language." Mo could feel his heartbeat racing as he described it, his voice was sporadic and rushed. It had a grip on him, that was for sure, and his desperation was showing.

There was another unsettling pause, an uncomfortable silence that seemed to stretch into infinity. And when Harlon finally spoke, his voice was detached, stripped of all emotion. "Oh, that. It’s meaningless."

A knot formed in the pit of Mo’s stomach. Something that was unusual for him. He couldn't dismiss the symbol as inconsequential. "Harlon. It’s in every scene’s holo. Did you hear me?"

Harlon let out a strange, breathy sigh. His voice remained distant, his reply was curt -  "Tomorrow. Come to the ESED. We'll discuss."

Mo's determination surged, fueled by a growing unease. "There has to be a connection between the symbol and the vanishings."

The line cut off with a pronounced click, leaving Mo alone in the darkness. The sudden end to the conversation unsettled him, Harlon's shift in demeanor was uncharacteristic. Perhaps he had woken Harlon from sleep, Mo reasoned. The ensuing silence seemed to amplify, echoing in the empty streets around him. He stood immobilized, the CommLink still in his ear. The Commissioner he had conversed with tonight felt nothing like the man he had met just a few cycles prior, the change was undeniable. Something was amiss.

With an effort, Mo shook off his paralysis, swiftly pocketing the CommLink and heading back towards his hotel with a quickened pace. He found the lobby empty, save for the night attendant dozing behind the counter. He ascended to his room, the hallways silent and unwelcoming. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing him in a room that felt more like a cell with each passing cycle.

The night was spent in contemplation. Harlon's abrupt demeanor over the CommLink, the mysterious symbol, and the overarching sense of isolation on Eclipsis coalesced into a tangled knot of uncertainty. Mo's mind raced with theories and potential connections, but each thought only led to more questions. Sleep tonight, once again, seemed a distant ally.