by Selina Brown
“Corrected?”
“Eliminated we think.”
“Ah, this is why it’s not common knowledge.”
“Imagine it. Worlds would fear.” Marc glanced around at a noise but it was a machine turning off and on. “My security net will open up again. At the moment you just need to know you are an attaché for MBs. The rival race calls themselves the Vakar and they leave, we don’t know why, for long periods of time, return to refresh or maybe to breed, but upon returning from one of their pilgrimages they found us in the Core, and three other being states around the Core, closing up around it and they were not happy.”
“How do they travel around?” He needed to know what Marc knew.
“Life systems orbs, a bit like the Cardinal Unit but bigger. They reckon they number in the zillions but—”
Jamie laughed.
“—okay, billions. We don’t know if they live on the outside or inside or both of big arse balls. Weird huh? Anyway”—Marc sat up—“that’s the organic structure of species Artyris B. I’ll set you up and you can begin work.”
Great. Jamie already knew about the Vakar. Did the Aryan Military know and were testing him, or was it a coincidence? As it turned out, his work was stacking lab equipment and packing it away.
Over lunch one day, with his back to the wall where he could study the crew, Jamie said to Marc, “No one here seems to … fraternize.” He was slightly annoyed it might be because of him.
“You’re kidding, right? Didn’t you read the rules?”
“Yeah.” Jamie tried to control the heat rising so his cheeks wouldn’t color. He hadn’t read those ‘rules’. That told him something he had to address around the time he sorted out his skewed perspective that the whole crew ‘knew’ about him. He almost laughed. “No, not about relationships. I had no intentions of getting involved.” It sounded lame but Marc seemed to accept it.
“It’s simple enough. Don’t get involved with anyone, don’t look at them funny, and don’t wank in your rack thinking of anyone… The usual ‘you are a robot’ shit.”
Jamie laughed.
“That’s why we get a lot of planet downtime.”
“Ah.”
“Jamie!”
He turned to see Jen, who was smiling, leaning into the mess hall. “We’re all going planet side for some Avatara play. Want to join us?”
Jamie nodded. “Sure.”
Her excitement was contagious. “Hurry up then. There’s one shuttle left and I’ve saved you a spot.”
“Thanks.” He got up and glanced at Marc.
Jen stepped over the hatch rim and started pulling at his arm. “Come on, Marc never comes.”
He wondered why but then he didn’t actually know what Avatara fun was for MMBs.
“I’ll pack up your tray.” Marc winked. “You’d better go.”
Jamie headed down to the main hangar bay and sat in the shuttle next to Jen, feeling comfortable when her elbow nudged against his as she fidgeted with her harness. The hatch sealed and they waited for sealing, undocking, and the surge as they were shoved away from the Repco. The trip down was boring but as he stepped onto the rocky ground, with sparse shrubs, they walked over and Jamie saw they were on a cliff, the air was crisp, the winds up. Jamie stared as those around him started stripping off to their underpants. Most of the females wore some kind of fitting chest plate.
“Come on, Jamie!” Jen laughed at him as wings suddenly burst from her back and she launched into the air by running and jumping off the cliff. Jamie ran to the edge and stared and more were following. He stripped off, had to push a little, and triggered his wings to burst from his back.
“Nice wings, Jamie.”
He couldn’t make out who yelled but there were only a few left out of the thirty-six who had been undressing. It looked like two were under instruction and just practiced how to run, launch and skim along the plateau. He flapped and then ran, launching himself, allowing the current to help direct his path. Someone experienced had their wings folded back and dived past him screaming in sheer joy. Jamie adjusted his feathers and sailed with a few others around with the currents.
It had been too long since he had flown and never had he flown with others of his kind, the Avatara Venararii, the ones with wings. They were the mortal-long, most would live for two thousand years. Their brethren, the mortal-short, the Avatara Modernus, had no wings and lived five hundred years less. Wings were generally eye color so his were dark grey. But there were shades and tints of greens, blues, browns, grey, hazels and even one white. The sky was clear and full of laughing, screaming, and acrobats. For over an hour they flew until he spotted a few returning. He flapped to increase his altitude, banked left and landed with just a few steps until he stopped, neatly folding his wings in at the same time. He found his clothes pile, drew on his pants and looked back over the region they had flown over. The view was magnificent even from where he stood on the top of the butte. Jen walked over to him and pulled on her top. He averted his eyes, seeing her chest plate was off, and then watched as she yanked out her long hair. “Ready for something to eat?”
She eyed off his lean body with interest and for the first time he felt comfortable about that. He pulled on his own top with a smile.
“Starving.”
Nodding, she smiled. “Captain’s got a feast for us just down the other side of those boulders.” She began to stride past the shuttles, and down a hill where others walked and chatted. He was joined by a few of the crew and listened to the chatter, feeling easy in himself for a change. These were his people, the Eighth Race, but they were at the top of the Eighth Race in terms of matter and energy levels, but still much lower than the lowest Superor, the Fourth-Gen. A little bit of tribal pride filled his heart. But for Jamie the whole Earth experiment marred their cultural values despite the fact that the Avatara depended on the results for a new classification. They wanted to rule the Eighth Race as Fifth-Gens. But as Jamie found out more secrets, what would he find out about Earth? How much of what the media presented was accurate?
“Hey Jamie. We’ve got some wood for you!”
A few Avatara ran up to him and he studied the selection. They were all good pieces. “We’ve cleared it with Karr after that last debacle with the lice.”
Jen laughed. “At least it didn’t ruin her safety rating!”
***
He managed his mission with no problems and Marc said they were both due for specialized training. He stayed on board for a couple of years before being assigned to other rangers, space stations, planet installations, and satellites’ domed facilities. Most of the crew, and that included Karr, had received something from Jamie over the years. He had also made Karr a farewell gift. She stared at the carving, turned it this way and that. Jamie stood stiff and waited until the laughter peeled out.
“It’s been a pleasure having you on board, Jamie. I don’t think I’ll display this wood louse on my mantel but give it to my son. He’s into bugs.”
“Thank you, Captain—” Jamie relaxed “—for everything.”
Their eyes met and she smiled before she turned back to command. Having women in command and taking orders no longer bothered him. Their light mental brushes were almost welcome. He handled flirting better as time went on, more prevalent in the civilian institutions he had to work in. Now he had more training, more tests, and more missions.
Sub-Log IV
Iota Military Location Cradle
By one hundred and seventeen, he was accepted into black operations. He took a turn at leadership and training, at which time he finally received his new codename: “Spook”.
He was the youngest ever accepted and he hadn’t heard from Marc in a few years except to hear he had almost finished his training. For eighty years, he worked for specific warlords, Aryan Military Specialists, government, various privateers, and special services on several planets around the Horizon. He felt as though he’d had missions on every planet in the Horizon; if not every planet, he
had at least been to every single station, of which there were thirty-six universes. He had been to most galactic systems.
Mostly he travelled, planned missions, recruited, and modified, while the actual mission took little time. His handler often asked what he’d heard, smelled, seen, felt, and tasted after each mission. His senses were sensitive to many things. The only time he heard of the Three Empires and Grands again was when his handler told him to listen and observe. It was the best kept secret; he heard nothing.
When it was time for his final test, he was already assigned to Xoria Prime. He had to cross two planets in two different stations without being detected. He had three months, which meant standard ranger HaV was out. Aside from the intercepts on most space elevators, HaV was how all Aryans travelled. The science and technology was complex. Jamie laughed and thought about the operatives HaV cartoon they had to watch.
“Now, geniuses, most of you ignore, get stomachaches or headaches thinking about this stuff, but you have to understand it. HaV is Horizontal and Vertical Dimensional Travel but”—their instructor sat on the desk with one knee bent and a smirk on his face—“just try to think of it like gophers… You jump in a ranger, travel horizontally along normal space to coordinates 1, you make a hole and drop, that is the vertical move, the hole closes up overhead, and once you reach coordinates 2, you stop and move along that dimension, called the Klados, horizontally, to coordinates 3…” While he talked, the cartoon was showing gopher creatures being generally goofy. “…there is nothing random about HaV, it is carefully mapped and all rangers have to submit ranger plans with routes. Traffic control is stringent. While the Aryan Space Service registers all rangers and controls mapping, it is the kings in each universe—or station depending on what you like to use—who police space. Don’t fuck this up, we won’t come and save you. Got it?”
“Got it, sir!” Behind him a gopher was in jail crying but drew a HaV portal and escaped.
Jamie scratched his head, thinking.
An inter-station HaV trip on a ranger would take nine months and he had licenses for several small and medium rangers. What he needed to do was obtain access to a specialized planet transportal, which used the HaV route as well, and the time for his trip would sit in the nine hours of hell range. There were only two public depots on Xoria Prime, which was a high tech civilization in Avalon. Avalon was ruled by the First Regional Queen Freda and she had exceptional security but had a soft spot for the Tal Monks. The other public transportal was on Ocelana, in the Talaria Station, ruled by Tenth Regional Queen Camila. Both queens were told to keep an eye on the competitors. To be fair, neither of those stations were supported by warlords, however, the kings attached to those systems were keen to test their warriors for their ability to run interference—subtle like.
They had a week to make preparations and were allowed to access—with some limits—the resources that would be at their disposal on a mission. The other requirement was that they had to employ other recruits so they could practice their specialties. Jamie considered all his acquired skills, including his hobbies—such as kayaking—and formulated a plan of sorts. It was a start anyway.
After a few days of planning he headed to logistics. “I’ll take a Ranger Marshal badge made up to these specifications,”—he pointed to his tablet notes—“a mimic module, and three months’ worth of ration pack coupons.”
The logistics member stared at him. “Is that it?”
He nodded. No need to give anyone an idea of how long he was going to take, let them think he needed the entire three months. The other recruits wouldn’t volunteer information but if asked a direct question they could decide to release information in exchange for other information. He’d been building up favors and owes on favors during the course by doing and owing favors, but never intended to use them. He knew that alone would throw some of them who would have included “what Jamie can give me” and “what might Jamie want that I can exchange something for”. He grinned to himself.
After planning, he ran through a few scenarios and felt he’d done all he could do. He stood with a small bag of items, his coupons, and few free credits. His handler visited, sitting on his single bed, and handed him the item he had to be custodian of, delivered unopened and safe. He was handed a pad and pen. Jamie stared at them.
“You can move out any time from the moment the door closes after I leave but I expect you out of the room by morning. Record your spotters and so on—you know the drill. Just make sure you record on this pad with this pen.”
“Yes, sir.” Jamie watched the door close, wondering why his handler didn’t ask Jamie why he was still in his cell. After all this time he didn’t know what the name of his handler was. Theirs was not a relationship, it was an arrangement, one that Jamie appreciated over the years. He stared at the pen and pad again, how retro!
He checked his bag and waited for dark.
It wasn’t just him being tested; others were tested at the same time, the same test. They couldn’t ally but they could get in each other’s way. Jamie had no time for that nonsense so he changed his entire MO. He snuck out via the underground tunnel system. They weren’t allowed to use any Aryan Military technology and were aware that they were watched with that technology, security monitors and such like. If they were picked up in transit, unless they were in disguise, they’d get points deducted.
Jamie ran to the ranger hangar and boarded a ranger due for take-off shortly. It was a low security ranger, didn’t even fly beyond the upper atmosphere and only had the minimal checks. There were only two columns with ten rows and a gangway down the middle. He sat on a seat halfway down, pretending that he had boarded with the other passengers, showing a fake security badge. The attendant scanned it and gave him a slight nod. Ranger Marshal Samson was conducting safety checks. Since his badge showed ‘AM-R’ it told the attendants it was a random check. They treated him like any other passenger and his name appeared on the flight listing. Jamie enjoyed a meal, stretched out his long legs, and thought ahead to the next move. He’d made a slight miscalculation because he couldn’t doze off as the “marshal”.
By the time Jamie reached Xoria Prime, eight hours later and the next continent over, he exited the ranger, yawned, and slipped into the busy space port bathroom, having followed two monks into the toilets. He leaned over the top of a stall and sprayed a concoction they’d been taught how to make. He repeated the action in the other stall. He exited a monk from the southern continent. He was allowed to keep his hood up on his beige robe, and joined in the line of monks. They had taken a vow of silence. He ambled behind as, one by one, they stepped through to Talaria. He triggered his mimic DNA module connecting to the person in front. It lasted only five minutes. He hoped that while in HaV it wouldn’t interfere with his exit. He was scanned and waved through by a bored looking guard. Terrible security despite attacks being rare and evidently they didn’t have a body count to tell them they were one short. Stepping through, he suffered the trip of nine hours before stepping out onto Talaria, saw the monks pulling out bags and puking, so he did the same, feeling much better for the purge. He stood with the other monks for a moment before they ambled off in the rain. Jamie checked the time. He’d arrived in what could only be described as a ridiculous early morning.
They entered a forest to head to their village that Jamie found during his research but he speared off and dumped the robe, hanging it on a tree branch. Now it was hard and fast. He ran through the forest and to the city. His tracker would be telling the controllers he was now heading toward the northern part of Talaria. The forest soon became farmland, which soon became outer suburbs. He jumped on public transport and tried to slow his breathing. Finding an empty seat, he wiped the sweat off his face as he travelled to the city central. Talaria was a tall city with narrow buildings and spires. He sat near the front watching the housing, mostly with gardens, give way to tighter packed homes and then gradually they became two storied then three, and four and so on. City planners de
signed the entire city and suburbs to look like an ascending spire, it was impressive.
Jamie watched as the street appeared to just end, right before a park, but it dipped into one of the hundreds of tunnels underground. There was a world under the city where all vehicles drove and parked. The bus stopped and started until it reached the main terminal and he stepped out, surprised to find the air quite clean and fresh in the tunnel. The hum of the air processors actually dampened the noise of the vehicles. Around him people walked to and fro, many walking to the escalators or steps that led to the paths above. He strode up the nearest steps, stopped to check for directions, and then headed into a large camping and outdoor store. He purchased a breathing unit and tunnel tracker. He grabbed a takeaway meal, and headed back down the tunnels to find the public transport that led to the main ocean while he munched on his salad roll. What he really wanted to do was take a nap.
By the time he sat on a transport vehicle he identified a tail he needed to get rid of. When his handler decided he had it too easy he would run interference. An operative could accept it and deal with it, or move to intercept, or run away. Since it was a test, he chose to run away. He’d already proven his combat, covert, and mission skills. This was about identifying enemies along the way and making decisions. He added to his list: “One female, approx. 26, red hair, blue dress with little red love hearts, three shopping bags, ‘Macquary Camping Supplies’ Talaria City Central”. Since he made her it meant she was “dead”, there’d be a replacement but the time factor was critical to his type of movement.
As they neared the exits to the outside world, he checked his bearings and once they hit the coast he got off and headed for a store selling canoes and other water vessels. Using the last of his money, he bought a wetsuit, hat, and waterproof bag; he stole some flippers and dragged his sea kayak with closed deck out, ignoring several warnings of a storm approaching. He packed his kayak and closed the hatch on the deck, launching into the choppy ocean. Immediately, he paddled out, pausing to seal himself into the kayak with the spray squirt so any water drained away. After a good half day of paddling, he hit the first island. The storm cell had eased but renewed by morning. Jamie stood on the sandy shores of the small island, thinking.
