She pays them no mind as she nearly charges through the doors that whisk open and shut for her, a gust of air-conditioned breeze rushing straight into her face. Immediately, she notes a front desk, behind which sits a man in a short-sleeved officer’s uniform and a beret. The others who walk up and down halls wear the same thing, minus the golden rope over this man’s left shoulder. Ify strides directly to him.

“Please take a ticket,” the man drones without looking up from his touchboard. “And fill out our online form describing your query or complaint, and we will be with you shortly.” He pops a piece of chin-chin into his mouth.

“My name is—”

His mouth full, he says, “Please take a ticket and fill out our online form describing your query or complaint—”

“I am here on an urgent matter!”

“—and we will be with you shortly.”

“I don’t think you understand! I am a Colonial official representing Alabast. You will see to my matter immediately!”

Most of the work in the police station continues. The officers walk by, the hum from videos projected from tablets continues. But more than a few officers and administrative personnel stop what they’re doing to look at this woman who has turned herself into the center of their universe. Color rises in Ify’s cheeks, and she struggles to maintain her posture of authority. When they all see that it is a nineteen-year-old woman dressed like some oyinbo from space, they return to their tasks. By now, the desk attendant has his chin resting in the palm of his hand. He finishes chewing his chin-chin and makes a show of swallowing. The bored expression has not left his face.

“I just need you to look someone up. I need to know where they’re being held.”

“Please take a ti—”

“Please, they’ve just arrived.” She lowers her voice. “I just need this one thing.” She realizes now that she has no idea how big or how small this compound is. Is there a jail attached, or do they merely process the people the police arrest here and transport them elsewhere? Ify doesn’t recall seeing transport vans in the parking lot, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t somewhere on these premises. So many things would have been prudent to know before making this play, and yet she has let emotion drive her. She has let herself be guided by the face of that girl. That girl they snatched away from her. That girl who would not stop staring at her. That girl whom Ify had refused.