Twenty-fourth century cop. That's Lani Maxwell.
She's good at it, too. She knows Trenton, her desert city, capital of the North American Union and the place she calls home. She knows police databases and computer decks. She's proficient with firearms and martial arts, and is a regular terror on horseback or with a sword in her hand.
So why does she wake up screaming, most nights?
Could that have anything to do with the puny retail fraud case she's investigating? Seems unlikely. For that to be true, her leather-store tricksters would have to be merely a tiny root, winding underground, feeding something much bigger. A conspiracy, say, growing inside the bureaucracy, threatening the Union's very foundations.
Why would she even think such a thing? Well, she's heard rumors. And lately, one by one, good cops have quietly dropped out of sight. Not many. But still, maybe she should pull back a little. Reduce her exposure.
But no. Not Lani. No pulling back for her.
Instead, she digs in
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