There was something odd in the way the air felt when Erin Ward stepped off the tram. The platform carried a faint whiff of burning metal, the kind that lingered after a maintenance drone passed through. Beneath it, a low vibration pressed against her skin, subtle enough to dismiss yet persistent enough to notice.

    She paused and scanned the horizon beyond the station's glass barriers. Cargo towers, shuttle gantries, the distant rise of the orbital lift pylons; everything sat exactly where it belonged. Nothing moved that shouldn't. Nothing explained the sensation.

    Erin adjusted the strap of her satchel and continued into the station proper, boots clicking against the composite flooring.

    The ride out from the central hub had been a blur of districts and elevated rails, cityscapes flashing by in quick succession. Now, with the tram behind her and the spaceport ahead, the real work waited on Ganymede, and she felt the familiar weight of a case beginning to form before she even knew its shape.

    The station concourse opened before her in a wide sweep of glass and composite arches. Morning traffic moved in steady currents, travelers pulling cases, technicians in orange vests guiding service drones, and a few uniformed officers posted near the security gates. Erin let her gaze drift without appearing to search, a habit formed from years of fieldwork.

    The vibration she had felt on the platform faded as she stepped farther inside. It had probably been a maintenance cycle running beneath the rails, nothing more. Still, she logged the sensation in the quiet corner of her mind where unclassified anomalies waited for context.

    A boarding announcement rolled through the concourse, its calm synthetic voice echoing off the high ceiling. Erin checked the departure board. Her shuttle to the orbital transfer ring was on schedule, which meant she had time to clear security and review the briefing packet again before launch.

    She moved toward the checkpoint, weaving through clusters of passengers. The air smelled faintly of sterilizing agents and the sharp ozone bite from the docking arms outside. Her satchel bumped lightly against her hip with each step, the weight familiar and grounding.

    Erin's wrist unit vibrated once. A secure notification pulsed across the display, marked with Space Force Enforcement Bureau priority clearance. She opened it with a thumbprint.

    Incoming directive. Case assignment: Ganymede. Preliminary classification: suspicious death. Local authorities report accidental cause. Director requests independent verification.

    Erin read the lines twice. The message included a compressed file header, locked behind higher clearance that would only open once she reached the transfer ring. Standard protocol for off‑world cases.

    She closed the notification and continued forward. The concourse noise faded into a low hum as her thoughts aligned around the new assignment. A death on Ganymede was unusual. Accidents happened, but the director rarely intervened unless something in the initial report failed to add up.

    Erin stepped into the security queue and exhaled slowly. She had not even left Earth yet, and already the case had begun to shape itself in the back of her mind. Patterns, motives, inconsistencies. She would wait for the data, but the instinct was there, steady and familiar...

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