The focus light clicked off sometime before dawn.
When Areon finally came out of the zone, sunlight was already sliding through the second-floor glass and landing directly on the Seventieth Canvas, as if the house had decided to witness what he had done.
His iris display lit in the left corner.
[4th October // Monday // 07:30 // Genma-986 (local time)]
The storm on the painting had moved forward, the lake darker, the rope-lines sharper, the boat more desperate. But the sky was still incomplete. The storm still refused to fully arrive.
Empty water bottles lay around the hoverboard on the floor, tipped on their sides like evidence of time spent in one place too long.
His personal AI surfaced an update without ceremony.
[Progress Update: 33% of remaining area completed. 67% remains.]
Then a line that tried to sound like encouragement and came out like a system reset.
[Daily Reset Complete] Monday detected. New week cycle.
More notifications stacked underneath.
[Intake: No food intake detected since yesterday]
[Suggestion: Grab breakfast before transit]
[Recommended: Light cardio or gym session today, if possible. Stress load elevated.]
Areon pushed them aside with a mental nudge.
"I need to keep moving," Areon told himself.
He looked at the section he had painted overnight, the part where the sky began to threaten thunder without committing to it, and for a moment he could almost hear Jasmine's voice judging it.
Not disappointed. Not yet.
He pulled up his mother's status next. The stasis feed opened cleanly.
[Patient: Jasmine Vonn]
[State: Stable]
[Stasis Integrity: Nominal]
[No degradation detected]
Stable was a word he could hold on to. Another message arrived, flagged as priority, from Professor Rowe.
[Meeting Scheduled: Director Halden // 11:30 // Institute of Science, Central District]
Areon added it to his list without thinking, because lists were safer and manageable than feelings.
He went straight to the bathroom and turned the shower cold. The shock made him inhale sharply and reminded him he still had a body, still had a day to survive.
In the mirror, water on his lashes, he stared at himself until his own eyes stopped looking like someone else's.
"I'll do whatever it takes," he said to himself quietly.
Xi Wue's voice rose in memory, clean and unsympathetic: _and he can tell you what you will owe._
Areon dressed in simple formal wear in muted colors, the kind you wore to offices that decided your life with signatures. Nothing loud. Nothing careless.
Before leaving his room, he messaged Theo and Wesley with a single statement.
"Can meet at Institute of Science at 1 PM."
Then he called a pod, which arrived in ten minutes, silent and precise.
---
The morning atmosphere on Genma-986 was almost unfair.
Mist hung in thin sheets over the valley, and the forests below the corridor looked freshly washed, greens layered on greens, lakes reflecting the sky so cleanly they looked like open portals rather than water. Mountains held the horizon in sharp cuts, their peaks catching early light like metal edges.
Areon sat alone in the cabin and tried to become still.
Meditation was not peace for him right now. It was maintenance, a way to keep his mind from chewing through itself after a night of painting and a day of procedure waiting ahead.
The pod slid through the dedicated corridor at cruise, and the world moved beautifully beneath him.
He didn't appreciate any of it.
After fifty minutes, the pod reached the central district and dropped into the entry points for normal traffic lanes.
Permission-coded corridors split and braided across the skyline. Drones maintained flow with quiet authority, adjusting speed windows, rerouting micro-delays, enforcing order without needing to raise a voice. The buildings were sleek, matte, and non-reflective, designed to avoid glare and hide wealth behind texture. Advertisements existed, but only as soft prompts through iris overlays, muted until you focused on them long enough to invite them in.
The pod projected a local map.
Central Court Avenue: 5 mins.
Another notification surfaced from his personal AI.
[Intake: Breakfast recommended]
Areon reached into the pod's purchase tray and took the high-calorie protein bar. He ate it without tasting it.
The pod decelerated and docked.
When he stepped out, the time read 09:15.
Areon pinged Deputy Marshal Keene.
Keene responded with a temporary visitor authorization sent to his inbox. Areon flashed it at the gate using a projection from his watch, and the access field let him through with a soft chime.
Central Court Avenue wasn't just one building. It was a huge campus.
Multiple structures sat behind layered security and open stone walkways, arranged with ceremonial symmetry. A small military garrison was visible from the building types and paint scheme alone: compact, practical, utilitarian, sitting near the edge like a reminder that law still leaned on force when it needed to.
The main building was wide and low, a single-floor court structure fronted by a long staircase. Tall pillars wrapped a walkable outer corridor. The entrance was broad and formal, made for processions and cameras.
To the side rose the planet's final judiciary authority building: taller, more modern, glass-heavy, reflecting the city in hard lines.
Keene was waiting outside.
He looked the way he had sounded yesterday, controlled, contained, functional.
"Areon," Keene said. Then, quieter, "How are you holding up?"
"I'm here," Areon said.
Keene didn't push. He simply nodded and guided him toward the Judiciary Liaison Desk outlet.
Inside, an admin AI unit processed requests with a voice tuned for neutrality.
Keene spoke to it in low procedural language, and the system unfolded the next steps as if it had been waiting.
1) Next of kin status approved. Areon was recognised as acting nominee for claim processes due to Jasmine's stasis confirmation. Authorization to sign was granted.
2) Approval issued for retrieval of personal items from Judge Vonn's office. Case documents and judiciary materials remained restricted. The office had been scrubbed of anything tribunal-linked.
3) Life insurance and monthly pension remained mapped to Jasmine Vonn's account. The admin unit forwarded the file bundle to Areon's watch with an explanation embedded in clean legal language.
4) Funeral protocol confirmed.
"Judiciary Meridian Cross will be presented Wednesday," the unit said. "Ceremony scheduled 15:00. Attendance and rehearsal details will be sent to your liaison."
Keene added, practical, "You should visit the United Worlds Central Bank today. Get yourself added as a co-signer to Jasmine's primary account. With her in stasis, you'll hit friction otherwise."
"Will they accept this?" Areon asked.
"With the stasis documentation, likely," Keene said. "You may need an additional incapacity certificate requested by the bank signed by the attending physician. That might mean one more hospital visit."
Areon nodded, and then the question he had been holding down rose anyway.
"What exactly happened during descent into Lazaros?" he asked. "What did they tell you?"
Keene's expression tightened by a fraction.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Everything is still redacted at this stage."
The same wall. The same clean word.
Keene redirected without making it obvious, the way trained people did when the conversation approached a cliff.
"Central Court provides grief management counseling," he said. "If you need it. And if you need anything else, ask."
Areon looked at him.
"If there is any pathway," he said, "through the Judiciary, through the Meridian Cross, through any contact you have, for strategic substrate procurement for corrective genetic augmentation. Anything. Anyone."
Keene held the gaze for a beat too long, then shook his head once.
"It will be difficult," he said. "Awards don't grant procurement clearance. Clearance is based on military rank only. Rank can only be achieved via military service."
He didn't say more. He didn't need to. Areon clearly understood his meaning. Then he gestured down the corridor.
"I'll walk you to his office."
---
By 10:20 AM, they were on the third floor.
The corridor had decorative plants spaced for softness. Sunlight fell across the floor in bright rectangles. It should have felt calm.
It felt empty.
Areon had memories of this place, his father's hand on his shoulder, voices low but warm, small smiles exchanged in passing. Those memories were still here, but now they sat like furniture left in a stripped room.
He paused at the window and looked down at the city.
Traffic is busy as usual.
He felt hollow anyway.
His father's nameplate waited on the door.
Judge Vonn.
Areon stepped inside.
Keene stayed outside without comment, giving him privacy like it was one of the last dignities he could still offer.
The office still smelled faintly of bonsai and clean wood.
The left-side huge cabinet used to be full: slim glass-black pads wrapped in leather-like material, their halo data always in motion across the edges, legal layers shifting like living things. Now the cabinet was empty, scrubbed clean, as if the room had been taught to forget.
For a moment, Areon could almost see his father returning in official robes, carrying his personal pad, similar to the others, except built to throw the entire room into a projection when he needed it.
This illusion hurt him but Areon moved anyway.
He picked up the personal pad. He took a few spare clothes from the smaller cabinet on the right.
He gathered a couple of digital photo frames, his father's degree, and few awards that had been left. He lifted the bonsai carefully, hands gentler than he felt inside. He found the personal data stick the Judiciary had permitted him to keep, sealed and labeled with a plain tag.
He loaded everything into a backpack with the UW Judiciary logo, placed on the tea table beside the sofa and stood still for a moment with his hand resting on the edge of the desk.
The wood was cool under his palm. He closed his eyes.
Goodbye.
He didn't say it out loud. The room heard it anyway.
When he stepped back into the corridor, Keene was waiting like he hadn't moved.
"Thank you," Areon said.
Keene nodded. "Contact me Wednesday at 13:00. There will be a short rehearsal for the medal presentation. Travel will be arranged from Central Court to the war memorial site. Both Trinity Galaxy and planetary dignitaries will be present."
Areon heard the words and felt nothing. His mind was already counting the next doors.
Outside, the time read 10:50 AM.
He adjusted the strap of the backpack and balanced the bonsai in his other hand. Then he hailed another pod to Institute of Science.
Director Halden at 11:30 AM.
He stepped into the pod cabin and let the door seal behind him.