The BETA Agency

by Maxwell Coffie

  Probably because he doesn’t want the world to know that he got his butt whipped by a skinny twelve year old girl, I thought, then said, “It won’t happen again.”

  On our way to the transporter, I turned to Kattie. “Punching another student. Really? What were you thinking?”

  “My counsellor says anger is a normal reaction to injustice,” Kattie said calmly. “Fighting is an expression of anger. Was my response not appropriate?”

  “What? No!” I said, incredulous. “Fighting is never an appropriate response. Not in a damn learning centre. Wait, why were you fighting in the first place?”

  “Filiminus shoved a Hiti boy,” she said, as we reached my transporter. “He called the boy lumpskin.”

  I froze opening her door. Lumpskin was a derogatory slur for Hitis.

  Kattie was staring intently at me now. She asked again, “Was my response not appropriate?”

  I stared back at her for a moment. “Get in,” I finally muttered. She entered, and I slammed the door.

  When I went around and got in, she said, “You’re forgetting the most important part of all of this.”

  “What?”

  “The boy who Filiminus shoved, his name is Pi. He wants to hang out soon.” She stared at me, and when it was obvious that I wasn’t following, she spelled out her point for me: “I made a friend.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah.” She folded her arms. “I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain.”

  “There was no bargain.”

  Kattie ignored me. “You know what to do.”

  I sighed, and started the transporter.

  CHAPTER 12

  I dropped Kattie home, and returned to the station.

  During the drive back, I tried to call Evon, but she didn’t pick up. I wondered if she was mad at me.

  What is she, five? I grumbled in my head.

  It wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten mad at me for taking ‘unnecessary risks’ though.

  There was that time during my rookie year, when I confronted a pair of blaster-toting robbers raiding a cell-comm warehouse in District 30. I was off-duty then, so I was armed with only a stun rod and a pair of fists. It was dangerous. ‘Stupid,’ Evon had called it. But by the end of the confrontation, I was fine. I couldn’t say the same for the robbers though.

  Then, there was that other time, about a week after Evon and I had become partners. There was a warrant out on one particularly nasty muck bag who had abandoned the sensible name of Kahl Warren, bestowed upon him by his poor mother, for the slightly less sensible street name: Rabies. Mister Rabies was wanted on several counts of assault, battery, drug possession, and most recently, murder, after his last drug deal had ended on a less than cheery note.

  Our problem was that, after we had finally found Mister Rabies, and initiated a thirty-moment game of chase down the rougher half of Crystal Lake, he ultimately chose to hole up in a sleazy little adult establishment called The Lust Factory. The Lust Factory might have been small, but it was a hangout for a significant number of crooks and baddies—significant enough to make even a pair of Metro State’s finest think twice about storming it.

  Evon called for backup, but I had heard about the Lust Factory’s underground escape routes. “No,” I said. “He’s going to be long gone by the time our backup gets here. We need to go in now.”

  For this reason, I had pulled out my blaster and marched to the entrance of the strip club. The manager was surprisingly cooperative; he gave up Rabies in a heartbeat. I thought it was very nice of him; though it might have had something to do with the unconscious bouncers littering his floor, and the blaster I shoved into his face.

  I sighed. Maybe Evon was right. Perhaps, I did sort of, maybe, kind of have a knack for crossing the line…a tiny bit.

  Now, I was playing with the idea of asking Evon out to an apology dinner. Not a date dinner. Just a normal dinner: like the kind best friends went on all the time, the kind Evon and I had been on so many times.

  I bit my lip as I pulled up in front of the station. I was annoyed at myself, because now I was nervous. Why the muck was I nervous?

  “Dammit Kattie”, I muttered.

  By the time I stepped into the lift, I had picked a restaurant. There was a quaint new vegetarian place only a few blocks away from my apartment that I’d been meaning to try out. I would ask Evon out to Emeralds, I decided.

  Then, I stepped off the lift, and stared slack jawed at my office. The place was swarming with grim agents in white and gold uniforms. My colleagues were glaring at them from their desks, helpless.

  Immediately, I knew what was happening.

  No, I thought. “No, no, no, no, no,” I whispered to myself, striding through the room, looking for the Lieutenant.

  Evon met me on my way. “Senior Intelligence is here.”

  “I see that.” I was still walking. “Where’s Lieutenant Blunc? Where’s the Captain? Where the muck are they?”

  Evon stopped me. “They got called to the City Attorney’s office. Someone leaked that we got Lunis Cegal.”

  “Somebody leaked it? How’s that even possible? We caught the guy like an hour ago.”

  “I’m thinking Shtump wants to make an example out of Lunis. Would look good when he runs for City Attorney again next year, don’t you think?”

  “But it wasn’t a hate crime. Lunis is a black-blood himself! And that’s if he even committed the crime, which we don’t know for sure.”

  “Yeah, well, one of the agents wanted to know who was in charge,” Evon said. “I told them you were.”

  I blinked. “You told them what?”

  “Detective Everglade?” a voice said behind me.

  I whirled around, and found myself staring at a belt. I looked up.

  The owner of the voice was a Bark man. And as all Barks were, he was a hulking tree of a creature—literally. Tough, dark, bark-like skin; moss over his arms; grass in place of hair on his head. His, essentially, was a race of walking, talking trees.

  The Bark man was wearing agency assigned pants and boots. But in place of the authorized shirt, he had on a fitting black tank top. Likely, he kept popping the buttons on his shirts.

  “I’m Agent Farlley Oak Quer, Senior Intelligence,” the Bark said, extending a hand. “You can call me Agent Q.”

  I gave him my hand. It fit entirely into his palm. “Good afternoon, Agent Q. I would welcome you to our station, but I have the unpleasant suspicion that you’re here to make things difficult for us.”

  “It doesn’t have to be difficult,” Q boomed. “Not if you don’t want it to be.”

  I smiled. “Good.”

  “Good.”

  “So, how can we help?”

  “You can hand over Lunis Cegal.”

  “Yeah…” I pretended to think about it. “Sorry. Can’t help you with that.”

  Q looked stumped. “Excuse me?”

  “I said: no.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  He stared down at me. I stared right back.

  “Do you know whom you’re talking to?” he finally asked.

  “No, but I bet you’re about to tell me.”

  “My boss pays the man who pays the man who can fire your boss.”

  I said as politely as I could, “Good thing you’re not the boss then.”

  I heard a few of my colleagues snicker.

  “Look,” I said quickly, in case I had just started something and didn’t know it. “I couldn’t let you take him even if I wanted to. My bosses aren’t here, and I don’t see you holding any kind of warrant.”

  Q looked annoyed. “I suppose I was foolish for thinking that the power of the Senior Intelligence would be apparent to some mere lady detective.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Call the governor’s office. Our captain and lieutenant are there. They give you the go ahead, Lunis Cegal is all yours.”

  Q firmed his jaw. I looked him squarely in the eye.

  I knew that if he
wanted, he could simply shove me out of the way, and have his team take Lunis away. There wouldn’t be a damn thing I could do about it. He must’ve known it too. Yet, after a glaring match that felt like forever, he whipped out his cell-comm, and started to dial.

  His smile was tight. “I’ll be back.” He ambled into one of the empty offices.

  I released the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

  “Great Light, what was that?” Evon gushed, her eyes shining with admiration.

  “I don’t know,” I said. My voice was trembling.

  “That was amazing. You’ve got king-sized stones, that’s what you’ve got!” Evon laughed.

  I looked around, and realized that my fellow enforcers were all throwing me impressed grins. The intelligence agents, however, looked like they wanted to punch me in the throat.

  “I have no idea why I just did that,” I mumbled. “He’s going to get his permit, and I’m probably going to get a suspension. I don’t know. I just…” I thought of Kattie standing up to the bully at her learning centre. “I just responded appropriately to injustice.”

  I could tell Evon didn’t completely understand what I meant. It didn’t matter. I would tell her about it later.

  One of the intelligence agents walked up to me. “Miss, I need to go and prep the prisoner for transfer.”

  I readied some sarcastic remark. Then, I sighed. “Fine. Go.”

  Evon smiled. “Wow, you dropped those stones fast.”

  “Turns out they’re heavy accessories.”

  We laughed, and then sighed.

  “Hey,” I said, nervous all of a sudden.

  “Yeah?”

  Her limpid brown eyes met mine, and I felt a flood of nerves seizing me. “Um…” I muttered, “I wanted to say I was sorry. You know, for the whole recklessness thing. You were right. I do take too many risks in the field.”

  Evon’s smile seemed reluctant. “Well, to be fair it’s what makes you so amazing at this job.”

  “No, no, when I take those kinds of risks, I put my life, and the reputation of this entire force, on the line.” I sighed, and nodded at the Senior Intelligence agents around the room. “They can have this case. It’s not for us.”

  Now, Evon’s smile was genuine. “Thank you.”

  “Also,” I said, after taking a deep breath. “I wanted to ask you something.” I stopped, trying to find the right words to say. I could feel my face begin to burn, and I was infinitely grateful for the discretion my dark skin provided.

  Evon looked perplexed, but amused. “What’s wrong with you? You look like a bloody teenager.” She grinned. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were asking me out to prom.”

  “Well,” I muttered. “Not prom.”

  Evon looked confused for a moment. Then, her face relaxed into an expression of understanding. “You’re…asking me out? You’re asking me out.”

  “Yes.” I paused, and then added, “And not as a friend. I mean, I’m asking you out. On a date. To Emeralds.”

  “I’ve always wanted to try that place.” Evon was beaming, and I had never seen that smile before. She looked away and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. I laughed in my own head. Now, she was acting like a teenager.

  She looked up at me, into my eyes. “Yeah. Of course I will.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. “Oh good.”

  “What did you think? That I was going to say no?”

  I shrugged, too happy to care about previous possibilities.

  Evon touched my arm. “This is going to be great.”

  I nodded. “It will.”

  She looked around the room, and shook her head at the uniformed men. “These guys are ruining the moment. I need a kho’late. I’m going to the break room. Do you need anything?”

  I nodded. “The same. Thanks.”

  She left, and I waited alone. The mood was heavy in the room, but in my heart, there were rainbows and grassy fields. Selfish, I know. Corny, certainly. But I was happy.

  I was happy.

  A loud voice floated from the vacant office, and most heads turned in its direction. We could see Q through the office window. He was talking to someone on his cell. He looked grim. Maybe he was finding an impromptu permit a little harder to come by than he’d anticipated. Maybe the Captain and Lieutenant were fighting for us. Maybe.

  Finally, Q came out. He stuffed his cell into his pocket, and smiled. “Where’s Lunis Cegal?”

  My heart sunk. But then, what had I expected? “He’s in lockup,” I answered reluctantly. “You can just wait here. One of your guys already went down to prep him.”

  Q looked up. “One of my guys did what? Which of them?”

  “Huh? I don’t know their names,” I said, crossly. “Ask your guys.”

  Q turned around. “Which of you went to prep Lunis Cegal?”

  The way he uttered ‘prep’ made me uncomfortable. Was prepping prisoners not a thing they did?

  Now, everyone in the room was a different kind of uneasy.

  “Which one of you went to get the damn prisoner?” Q roared.

  His agents looked flabbergasted. One of them finally admitted, “Sir, none of us recognized him. But he rode with us here in the carrier. We—we thought he was with you!”

  Q swore, and turned to me. “Where’s lockup?”

  “Two floors underground,” I said. “Follow me.”

  We ran to the lift. A few of his and my guys came with us. The platform had barely touched ground, when we leapt off, and started to march. The corridor echoed with the sound of weapons being armed.

  A few of the cells flanking us were occupied, and their prisoners pressed against the glass windows, banging against the steel doors. We kept marching till we reached the end of the corridor, where we always kept our most dangerous prisoners. The light above the door was green. Somebody was inside.

  We lifted our weapons, and I tapped the ‘Open’ button.

  The door slid open.

  “Put your hands up, put your hands up, drop your weapon, put your hands up, do it now, now, now!” we cried.

  The man inside—the man who had spoken to me on the ground floor—was hunched over a body. A violently convulsing body. Lunis Cegal’s body.

  The man stood up. His white uniform was bloody. The knife in his hand too, was bloody. The floor was bloody. Oh Great Light, everything was so bloody. So bloody.

  “Drop your weapon!” I screamed.

  The knife clanged against the floor.

  “What’s that in his other hand?” someone asked.

  There was a lumpy mess of dripping redness in his other hand. My eyes glanced down at Lunis Cegal’s body. At his face. Or rather: his lack of one.

  “Oh pitch-muck!” someone else cried. I heard vomiting behind me.

  Nobody was saying anything. The horror in the room was tangible, overbearing. I was grateful when Q ordered, “Get. On. Your knees. Now.”

  The man smiled, got on his knees, and lifted his hands in surrender. Or I thought it was surrender.

  He was pointing at the ceiling.

  Q and I looked up. There was a set of bars, bundled in tape and wiring. A display screen was counting down: 57…56…55…

  I looked back down in horror. The killer grinned. And winked.

  “Bomb!” I cried. “Bomb!”

  Everyone run, but Q. I stopped to turn around. “What are you doing? Let’s go!”

  Q fired his blaster, and I heard the killer scream. Q turned, and holstered his weapon. “Now we can go.”

  When we exited the building, I was relieved to see so many outside already.

  “Get back,” Q ordered agents and pedestrians alike. “Everybody get back now.”

  As we migrated to the next block, I looked around, and started to panic.

  Where was Evon?

  “Evon?” I called, searching the crowd. “Evon?”

  My panic escalated.

  “Evon? Evon?” I looked around, desperately. “Has anyone seen Ev
on? Excuse me miss, have you seen a green woman with straight black hair? Sir, have you seen my friend? She’s Phyllian, about my height?”

  I looked back at the station building, and I thought I would pass out. There was a woman in the fourth floor window.

  She was green.

  “Evon?” I cried. “Evon!” I started running back to the building, pushing through the crowd. “Evon, I’m coming! Ev—”

  I felt rough arms snatch me off the ground. I didn’t need to look to know it was Q, and I was furious.

  “Let me go!” I shrieked. “Let me go you flaming chunk of wood! Evon!”

  But Q would not let me go. Then, the ground trembled, and our station collapsed into itself, spewing flames and twisted metal.

  There was a piercing sound, almost as loud as the thundering of concrete and shattering glass. I didn’t realize till a moment later that the piercing sound was coming from me.

  I was screaming.

  CHAPTER 13

  “Arra?”

  Silence.

  “Arra, are you up?”

  Silence.

  “Arra…”

  “What is it, Kattie?” I murmured.

  “It’s time for you to eat.” Her voice was small, cautious.

  I turned over, and looked up at her from my bed. My sister was standing over me, dressed for the learning centre. Ah yes, I thought. Her academic suspension ended today. In her hands, she had a tray of food: a bowl, a bottle of milk, a box of instant porridge, and a plate of grain cakes covered in berry syrup.

  “You have to eat,” she droned.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You have to eat or you’re going to die,” she said.

  I stared up into her unapologetic eyes, and wondered if she felt sorry for me. Was sympathy an emotion? Could my sister even begin to fathom what I had endured in the last two weeks? Maybe she could—in the farthest reaches of her mind, maybe there was a shadow of a shadow of an inkling.

  “Thank you,” I mumbled, as I sat up and received the tray.

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “Are we going tonight?”

  “Are we going to what?”

  “The funeral.”

  Funeral. The word twisted me up inside. She had been mentioning a ‘funeral’ for days now, but I knew that Evon did not have family. Not in the traditional sense anyway. Who was organizing her ‘funeral’?