The BETA Agency

by Maxwell Coffie

“Glybeans. We would have to go to the farmers’ market at the port really early in the morning though. Latest by the sixth hour. Otherwise all the gourmet restaurants will snatch them up.”

  I smiled, and nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Kattie gave me a smile—a smile that, I dare say, was genuine. Had my sister simply perfected her fake smile? No, this smile was real.

  I felt my heart flutter. My sister was stunning when she wore a smile.

  When Kattie went to sleep, I wasted no time in eliminating any darkness or silence. I asked DEB to increase the brightness of the ceiling lights. I put on the screen, and turned up some music, hoping I wasn’t disturbing Kattie too much.

  Then, I sat down, and hoped that all the light and music would keep my best friend away. Till morning came, I sat in front of the screen, unable to really pay attention to anything I was watching. Any and all unexpected sounds panicked me. I was infinitely scared that at some point, I was turn around, and find Evon bleeding behind me. Every single moment, I prayed that Evon would not come.

  When I heard Kattie open her door again, I let out a sigh of relief. Felt as though I’d been holding my breath all night.

  At half past the fifth, Kattie and I headed out to the port. It took us an hour to get to District 51, where the farmers’ market was located. Even at an early hour, the market blocks were busy.

  It took us over an hour to find a trader who still had glybeans on their shelf. I paid for one bag, at what I thought was a ridiculously exorbitant price. Then, I remembered that because of my job with the agency, I was actually supposed to have a lot of money now. Supposed to. I had confidently paid for food and utilities in the last few weeks, but I hadn’t actually checked my account balance yet.

  “Can I browse the other stalls?” Kattie asked me.

  I smiled. “Knock yourself out.”

  When I was alone, I logged into my bank account with my cell-comm. I waited for a few fractions, whilst the device authenticated me and retrieved my information. Then, with a soft chime, my balance appeared on the screen.

  My eyes widened. There had to be some kind of mistake.

  I counted the number of days I’d been with the agency, and multiplied it by the rate the Director had offered me. My result tallied with the number of the screen.

  I gawked.

  What was I going to do with all these credits?

  Somebody tapped me on my shoulder, and I turned around.

  It was one of the market traders, dressed in a plain shirt, a tie, and brown dress pants. Except this wasn’t just any shop assistant: this assistant was also wearing my former Sergeant, Reeth Crawer’s face.

  “What a pleasure seeing you here,” Crawer said, with more peppiness than I had seen him exhibit on his wedding day.

  “Crawer,” I uttered, dumbfounded.

  He waved a hand. “Ah, it’s just Reeth now. Bring it in.” He opened his arms.

  “Wha—? Oh.”

  We shared a very awkward hug.

  “What are you doing—uh, I mean, it’s very nice to see you,” I stammered.

  “You were going to ask me what I’m doing here, weren’t you?” he said.

  I pursed my lips.

  “It’s okay. Yeah, I’m doing the old fashioned eight to eighteen. Since I got fired from my last passion, I decided to follow my second passion: sun-berries.” He pointed at one of the stalls close by. It was loaded with jars of bright yellow jam.

  “Because you know,” Crawer said, shrugging, “my uncle at the governor’s office, the one who helped us out on that last case? Yeah, he got fired. He won’t be working anywhere in government ever again, is what I heard.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “He hates me now.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  Silence.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that,” I managed to mumble.

  Great Light, I was so sorry.

  “It’s really good,” he said.

  I blinked. “What is?”

  “The jam.”

  “I have no doubt, sir,” I said, regretting the ‘sir’ immediately after I’d said it.

  Crawer didn’t seem to notice. “You want a jar?”

  “Huh? Yes. Yes. Of course.”

  I followed him to his stall, and bought a jar. On second thought, I bought two more.

  “Kattie loves jam,” I explained.

  She really didn’t.

  “I’m doing okay.” He stuffed his hands into his pocket. “Not very exciting here, and I have to be extra nice to every moron who comes to my stall. Utter nightmare. But it pays the bills, you know what I mean?”

  I nodded, numbly.

  His eyes fell on my bag full of bloody expensive beans. “You look like you’re doing alright.”

  I squirmed. “I’m working with some people. It’s a…government thing. They pay me alright.”

  He nodded, his eyes still on my shopping.

  More silence.

  Someone came to Crawer’s stall to buy, and I thanked the gods of every religious movement.

  “Well, it was nice seeing you,” I said, quickly.

  He didn’t say it back. He just sort of waved, and attended to his customer.

  I rushed away to find Kattie, as my shame sunk in. For the first time, it occurred to me how truly fortunate I was to be working with the Beta agency. Maybe things weren’t going fantastically, and it probably wouldn’t last very much longer.

  But I was fortunate.

  On Mundae, I went to the Director’s office and asked a favour.

  “You want me to get your friend his job back?” she repeated, her expression slightly nonplussed.

  “I do,” I said.

  “That was not part of our initial agreement.”

  “I know.”

  She stared at me. I stared back.

  “I shall see what I can do,” she finally uttered.

  “Thank you.”

  Without another word, she lifted a suitcase off the floor, placed it on the table, and slid it over to me. I opened up the case, and took a look at the gleaming pair of short blades.

  Tundra II.

  “Are you ready?” she asked.

  I nodded, and closed the case. “I’m ready.”

  CHAPTER 46

  It was the kind of week nightmares are made of. Po had intensified her training strategy, and I was struggling to keep up. I missed Kay’s careful methods immediately.

  We began our sessions as early as the seventh hour, and didn’t leave ABBY’s chamber till the twentieth. We only took two breaks, each barely an hour long. Yet, I didn’t seem to be making much progress, particularly where flash manoeuvring was concerned.

  “Flash manoeuvring is the ultimate test of your mana control. Flash flitting, for instance, is made up of three essential processes,” Po had explained at the start of my second week of training. “Swaddling, burrowing, and propulsion. Swaddling refers to covering yourself in a protective layer of your own bio-mana energy. Why?

  “You see, burrowing means using mana manipulation to create a temporary, short-distance vacuum between your current position, and your target position. It removes all resistance entirely from your chosen path of movement, increasing your velocity significantly. But a vacuum has no external pressure. That’s why you need to swaddle properly—to create an artificial external pressure against your body, and balance out the internal pressure pushing out from your body. The damage incurred without a proper balance may not seem very significant at first: you might feel some discomfort, maybe suffer some light swelling, numbness. But after carrying the process out repeatedly, it could compromise your fighting ability.

  “The third process, propulsion, is utilizing external mana to thrust your body through said vacuum. It must be done subtly, just enough to help you glide from Point A to Point B. This step is the most important step. Overindulge in propulsion,” she said, darkly, “and you will bear the semblance of an overly nuked sausage.”

  I nodded, understanding most of what she’d sai
d.

  In no time at all, I got swaddling down. It was the easiest of the three processes. All I had to do was summon some bio-mana, and wrap myself in it. Burrowing however, was trickier. I couldn’t seem to build the right distances for my paths; they were either too long, or much too short. And as for propulsion, I was useless at it. No matter how hard I tried, my propulsions were always a tad too powerful. I always sent myself flying across the training grounds. More often than not, I ended up on my rump.

  My lessons were frustrating, and little else.

  I booked earlier and later times with the simulator—just to train on my own. Every time, I walked in on Kaz, the Eraser, enduring some new form of torture: heat, cold, electrocution, needles, even blinding lights. I would ask ABBY to partition the simulator, and then try to pretend like I was alone.

  During those solo training sessions, I tried to get a better handle on my instruments. I was clumsy with them at first. But soon, both my hands improved in dexterity, and I could twirl and swing them independently of each other.

  At the end of the second week, I stepped into the simulator to find Po in a tight fitting tank, denims, and combat boots. She was resting a jet-black staff on her shoulders, about five feet long.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, eying the staff uncertainly.

  “Surprise test,” she said. Her eyes were cold. “Get out your instruments.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Do you see me laughing?”

  I was incredulous. “You can’t test me now. We’ve only just covered the basics of weapons combat. And I still can’t even flash flit properly. This isn’t fair. You realize I’m just going to fail this, right?”

  “Then at least, fail with some dignity,” she snapped, “and stop whining like a baby. I won’t say it again: get out your instruments.”

  Reluctantly, I put down my case, and took out Tundra II. My jaws were tightly clamped when I stood back up; I was peeved.

  If it was a fight she wanted, it was a fight she was going to get.

  “ABBY,” Po commanded. “The Pit simulation.”

  ABBY announced the activation of the simulation, and the white around us swapped places with tiles of the lightest grey. We were standing on a great circular floor, with walls that seemed to stretch up with infinitude.

  Po twirled her staff between her fingers, and the rubriq on its surface began to glow electric green. She was using an instrument.

  I had never seen Po’s instrument before. Not till now.

  “Think fast,” she said.

  The thwack against my chest was so loud, it echoed at least five times. The force of her hit threw me across the floor; I slammed against the opposite wall. Hard.

  I slid to the floor, coughing, dazed.

  “Stand up, Everglade.” Po had never sounded so icy. “Are you a beta, or aren’t you?”

  I stumbled to my feet, and regained my breath. Then, I assumed a stance, and took careful, calculated steps towards Po.

  Po didn’t move. She only stared. She wasn’t even standing in a fighting stance. My opponent looked anything but threatened.

  “Think fast,” she said again.

  This time, I ducked when she swung her staff. She swung again, and I blocked her off with my blades. I sidestepped one downward swing. Another. Another. She spun the staff in one hand, then around her body, using her curves like pivots. She spun, she twirled…she lunged. I leapt back.

  Mistake.

  The staff shot out in length, digging painfully into my chest. And then, it electrocuted the muck out of me.

  I screamed, before the current tossed me back into the wall. I slumped to my knees, quivering uncontrollably. I spat out blood, put a trembling hand to my chest; it burned.

  I looked up at Po. She had shifted her weight onto her instrument, her expression unimpressed. She wasn’t even trying.

  “Bat,” I said.

  “I heard that.”

  “You were meant to,” I growled.

  “I hope I don’t need to tell you that you’re already failing this test.”

  “Am I? Guess I better kick it up a notch.”

  And without thinking, I swaddled, burrowed, and propelled myself towards Po. My mana-laden punch found her chest, and sent her spiralling towards the wall. In that fraction, I felt an overwhelming satisfaction.

  But my satisfaction was short lived: Po flipped mid-air, ricocheted against the wall with her feet, and rolled upright from the ground. She spat out some blood.

  “That the best you can do?” she asked.

  “Why don’t you come over here and find out?”

  I lifted my blades, and just in time. Po had flitted towards me, swinging her staff at my head. I barely parried it. She spun around, and delivered a kick to my mid-section. I recovered quickly, and released a barrage of mana bolts.

  I singed her hair, but that was about it. She flitted between my bolts, and swung at me again. I rolled out of the way, and swung up at her, pressing my trigger in the process. She blocked with her staff, but a thick layer of ice immediately formed on its middle.

  Po flipped back, and smashed her staff against the ground. The ice broke off.

  She attacked again, this time approaching with multiple somersaults. I tried to throw her off with some well-aimed mana bolts, but she flitted out of view just in time.

  Before I could blink, she was at my side. She calmly pressed the end of her staff against my knee, and…

  I cried out, as electricity travelled up my bones, and through my entire body. I fell to my knees, just in time for her upward swing to meet my jaw.

  I toppled onto my back, twitching and jerking.

  “Get up, Everglade.” Po tapped me with her foot. “As it stands, you barely have a twenty per cent score. You need a sixty to pass.”

  “G-g-go d-drown your s-s-self,” I gasped, still shaking from the shock.

  “And now, you barely have a fifteen per cent score. Want me to cut it lower?”

  I wobbled to my feet, and laughed a soft, weak laugh.

  “What are you tittering about, Ruby.”

  “Just what I’m going to do to you the next time you swing at me.”

  I looked Po in the eye, pleased that she looked slightly miffed.

  “This session is over,” Po said, finally. She lifted her staff to strike. “And you failed.”

  This time, I didn’t move. In the time it took her to bring her staff down, I fuelled my left hand with so much mana that it felt like it was on fire. Then, dropping my blade, I lifted that hand…and caught Po’s staff. My fingers tightened around the weapon and, as I suspected, my mana coating greatly buffered the current.

  “Hello Po,” I said, wryly. “Think fast.”

  And with that, I yanked her towards me and plunged the other half of Tundra II into her left thigh. I squeezed the trigger.

  I had never seen ice build up on an organic substance so quickly before. In mere fractions, Po’s entire leg was encased in a frosty block of glistening ice.

  I head butted her, and shoved her away. Then, I delivered a spinning kick across her face. As she fell to the floor screaming, I picked up the blade I’d dropped and staggered away.

  Behind me, Po began to make a strange heaving sound. At first, I thought she was crying. Then, I realized she was laughing.

  “Not bad,” Po breathed. She pulled out the blade I’d left in her thigh, and shattered the ice with a fist. “Now, you’re at thirty per cent. Want to bring up that score?”

  I tightened the grip on my half of Tundra II, and leapt at her.

  Suddenly, I wasn’t in the simulator with Po. The white walls turned dark, into crumbling walls and shattering glass. Ceiling lights exploded, raining down sparks, and office desks tumbled around me.

  I was in my enforcer station, and I was falling through the floor.

  A fire ball ignited above me, and its edges curled towards me in slow motion, fingers of burning light. A silhouetted figure reached out of the flames wi
th an outstretched hand.

  I already knew who the figure was.

  “Evon,” I said, unable to hide my anger. “What the muck are you doing? Why are you doing this?”

  “I promised I would stay with you,” she whispered in my head, her dark emerald lips unmoving. “I’m going to be with you forever. Forever, Arra.”

  Green arms wrapped themselves around me, as the fire engulfed us, and took away everything.

  I blinked, and I was on the floor of the simulator, shrieking uncontrollably, flailing wildly at the air. I wanted to stop. But I couldn’t. I was no longer in control of myself. I felt hot tears trailing down the side of my face.

  “What happened? What did you do?” King’s voice.

  “I didn’t do anything.” Po. “We were sparring. She was doing fine. Then she just—freaked.”

  King’s face popped into my field of vision. “Can you hear me?”

  I rambled fast, panicked gibberish.

  I felt King’s hands tuck beneath me, and scoop me up from the floor. I felt small in his arms. Hot too. His body was too warm. My face was buried in his shirt, and the subtle blend of scents—citrus soap, kho’late, and skyweed—helped to calm me.

  I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I was in the infirmary. I stared at the fan spinning lazily from the ceiling. I hadn’t been here since my first day in Beta.

  I turned my face to see King sitting beside me. There was worry in his eyes, and at the corners of on his lips.

  “You’re back,” I murmured.

  “I am.” He paused. “I spoke to Kay. He tells me this has happened before, in a lesser capacity.”

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “The bleak you are,” he said.

  “I don’t need your help,” I said, inexplicably mad at him. I didn’t want his attention—not like this.

  He leaned back in his chair, and said nothing for a while. Squeak, squeak, squeak, went the ceiling fan.

  “How long have you been aware of your beta status?” he asked.

  “As long as anybody,” I muttered.

  He stared.

  I sighed. “About two months.”

  “And are you aware of your bane yet?”

  “Again with the bane thing.”

  “Every beta has a bane, Miss Everglade,” he said, folding his arms. “A beta agent who does not acknowledge that and manage theirs is simply being foolish.”