by Jake Bible
The view shield changed views and became a holo vid of Sno’s perception of events on Egthak. He scrolled through the timeline quickly, from the moment he set foot on the planet, to the moment he was whisked away by Velly Tarcorf. Then Sno toggled back to the first minutes of the mission and let the vid play at normal speed.
Before the holo could progress too far, an alarm alerted him that he was about to exit trans-space. Sno paused the holo vid and returned the view shield to the swirling mass of trans-space that enveloped his ship.
In a blink, Sno was out of the wormhole portal and navigating quickly towards the next portal he’d need to use to continue his journey. He piloted around larger ships easily and raced to get into the next queue.
The wormhole portal was within sight when alarms began to blare. Sno scrambled to bring up his security interface, seeing almost immediately the threat his ship’s defenses had detected.
Skrang.
Three Skrang light fighters were on his tail. Sno banked right and put the ship into a steep, twisting dive to evade the fighters. The maneuver didn’t work. The Skrang stayed on his tail and matched him move for move.
“Ledora! Send a message to Division now!” Sno ordered.
“I cannot, Agent Prime,” Ledora replied. “All comms have been jammed.”
“How?” Sno exclaimed. “Light fighters don’t have that strong of tech.”
“I am uncertain, Agent Prime,” Ledora replied. “As you know, I am a simple house AI protocol. I can assist with minor tasks needed to maintain a household properly and to make your life more comfortable. Tracking the origin of comms jamming technology does not fall into the category of household maintenance.”
“It’d make my life a lot more comfortable,” Sno grumbled as he brought the ship up into a steep climb and activated the plasma cannons.
He set the cannons to auto and painted each fighter as an enemy. That left Sno to pilot the ship while the cannons waited for the perfect moment to fire. Unfortunately, auto for plasma cannons on an official Galactic Fleet ship meant that they would not fire unless it was absolutely certain that no civilian ships in the vicinity would be put at risk. There were plenty of civilian ships in the vicinity, all headed towards the wormhole portal that had been Sno’s original destination.
“Dammit, Ledora! Find a loophole in your programming and help me out here!” Sno shouted as the aft shields began taking fire from the Skrang fighters. “There has to be something in your protocols that can allow you to override your limitations if my life is in danger!”
“I am afraid not, Agent Prime,” Ledora responded. “An SSD agent is trained to evade capture and defend his/her/their self. Reliance on an artificial intelligence is against regulations and can be considered a breach of confidence.”
“Idiotic bureaucratic regulations,” Sno snarled.
The ship shook from several more plasma impacts. Sno checked his shields and was happy to see them holding at over eighty percent efficiency. That number dropped to seventy percent then sixty percent in less than two seconds as Sno was unable to avoid a massive barrage of plasma fire from all three Skrang fighters.
“To Hells with this,” Sno said and braked hard.
The ship slowed then came to an almost dead stop as fore thrusters engaged and halted all momentum. The Skrang fighters shot past the suddenly stationary ship as Sno took over manual control of his plasma cannons. The targeting system was still locked onto the ships. Sno didn’t hesitate. He fired all four cannons, sending blast after blast of plasma fire at the Skrang.
Two of the fighters took enough damage that they broke off from the third and retreated deeper into the system. The last Skrang fighter avoided most of the blasts sent at it and dove fast. Sno went to follow, but quickly realized his ship simply didn’t have the agility needed to keep up with the Skrang fighter. The enemy ship was suddenly back behind him and working at dropping Sno’s shields.
“Could have used that next-gen tech,” Sno snapped as he employed every skill he knew as a pilot to try to shake the fighter. But the Skrang pilot was too good and Sno didn’t come close to shaking the fighter loose.
“Alright, Ledora, the main task I need you to focus on is getting the comms back up,” Sno ordered. “Jamming tech or not, the comms have to be considered—”
“Comms are no longer jammed,” Ledora stated. “Once two of the three fighters disengaged, communications was restored.”
“Then get me some help!” Sno shouted.
“I have already put out a distress call to Division headquarters. It has been received and emergency assistance is on its way.”
“ETA?”
“Five hours. That is the fastest a Galactic Fleet ship can reach you.”
“There aren’t any GF ships in this system?” Sno shouted. “How is that possible?”
“This system is uninhabited, Agent Prime. There is no need for a Galactic Fleet presence,” Ledora responded in no different a tone than if she’d been reporting that the ship’s mess was out of lemons. “Five hours is as soon as a ship will arrive.”
“I may be of service,” a voice broke in.
There was a flash and Sno’s ship rocked slightly. All alarms and alerts went silent three seconds later.
“The Skrang light fighter has been destroyed,” Ledora reported. “You are free to approach the wormhole portal now, Agent Prime. I have called off the Galactic Fleet ship that was en route. I did report the incident to Division and was told that you are expected to file a full report once you reach Nab.”
“Who destroyed the fighter?” Sno asked. “Whose voice was that?”
“I am sorry, Agent Prime, but I do not understand the question,” Ledora replied.
“The voice that said they could be of service? The voice that broke into my comm right before blowing up the Skrang fighter? That voice!”
“I am sorry, Agent Prime, but there is no record of a comms interruption nor of another ship in your vicinity.”
“Check again, Ledora,” Sno snapped. “I heard a voice and someone blew that fighter out of space for me.”
“I have checked all systems and there was no voice interruption,” Ledora reported. “There is also no record of another ship firing on the Skrang light fighter.”
“Then how was it destroyed?” Sno shouted.
“It blew up, Agent Prime, for lack of a better term.”
“It did not simply blow up. Someone fired on it and blew that fighter up. I want to know who it was.”
“Understood,” Ledora responded.
Sno waited as he aimed the ship for the wormhole portal. There was no longer a queue as all ships in the system had quickly moved to as safe a distance as they could get from Sno’s unfortunate dogfight.
“Ledora?” Sno asked. “Have you found anything?”
“There is nothing to find, Agent Prime. The ship was not fired upon. It exploded on its own. My previous statements still stand.”
“Then what have you been doing this whole time?” Sno asked as he waited for the go-ahead to enter the portal and trans-space.
“I was remaining quiet so I did not upset you by repeating my statement,” Ledora said.
“Coward,” Sno muttered as the ship was granted access and shot through the portal, once again launched into the swirling chaos of trans-space. “We’re going to have to do something about your protocols when you accompany me in the field.”
“You know I am strictly forbidden to assist you in the field, Agent Prime,” Ledora said. “You are journeying home and that is why I am here to assist you.”
“Some assistance,” Sno growled.
He tried to relax, but his adrenaline was too high.
“I want all data from the Skrang encounter delivered to my household system for analysis later, Ledora,” Sno said. “I’ll look it over myself once I’m home.”
“Of course, Agent Prime,” Ledora said. “It is my pleasure to help.”
12.
Nab was the seventh pl
anet from the Tchor System’s star. It was one of four planets in Tchor that were habitable by the majority of galactic races. While considered “Earth-like,” when comparing it to the clean, livable Earth of many millennia ago, the topography and climate wasn’t anywhere near as diverse as ancient Earth.
In reality, Nab could be more closely compared to the long-gone Earth country called Switzerland. It was a planet of mountains and alpine lakes. There were no oceans for the fifteen moons to influence. The planet’s orbit around its star was equal to two and a half Galactic Standard years, meaning that seasons went on for months and months.
Sno was more than glad he was arriving in what was considered early summer for the area of Nab where his home was located. The time of year was paradise, despite the fact that the majority of homes around the lake would be occupied. But Sno had taken care of that. Almost.
Set on the edge of a two-hundred-foot cliff overlooking one of the grandest alpine lakes on the planet, Lake Go’Ilve, Sno’s home had been in his family for generations. Nab wasn’t where he was born, and wasn’t considered his ancestral planet, but it was where he had spent a good deal of his childhood. So when his parents passed and all familial holdings were left to him, he liquidated most assets, but ended up keeping the Nab estate as his primary residence.
More than a few visitors had asked why he didn’t quit working and live on Nab full time. The majority of those visitors had no idea what Sno’s actual employment was, they simply believed the story he told them that he was a former soldier turned GF bureaucrat that now worked as a business consultant. If that was his real job, Sno probably would have quit and retired to Nab. But the lure of being Agent Prime meant he would most likely die in service to the GF before he had a chance to retire.
Sno was fine with that outcome.
The landing pad next to Sno’s estate house had just finished rising from the subterranean hangar and was barely locked into place when he set his ship down. Several servant bots approached the landing pad, waiting for their master’s orders.
“Ledora, I’m going to need a soak,” Sno said as he opened the ship’s side hatch and walked down the steps to the landing pad.
“Of course, Agent Prime,” Ledora responded in his comm. “I will prepare the tub immediately. Would you care for food and drink as well?”
“Yes. That would be perfect,” Sno said as he walked to the landing entrance of his estate house.
The sky was a brilliant blue, almost as clear as a flawless sapphire, and the sun’s rays glinted and sparkled off the vast lake far below the estate. Sno took a brief moment to take in the view then proceeded inside.
He’d only managed about three steps into his house before he knew he wasn’t alone. Even if the smell of cooking and the sound of soft music hadn’t given away the occupancy, Sno would have known. His house had a feel to it when it was empty, a feel he’d known most of his life. That feel was absent.
“Denman? Is that you, love?” a voice called from the kitchen. “I’ve cooked! Come try!”
Sno was not surprised to hear the voice of Ms. Veben Doab.
He made his way through the side corridor that connected the landing pad entrance with what his father had called a “mud room.” The mud room was almost as big as Sno’s residence back at Division headquarters. Sno stripped off his flight jacket and removed his boots, setting both in their appropriate places on the wall, before taking a deep breath and continuing his journey to the kitchen.
Sno walked through a massive pantry, fully stocked with almost every delicacy available on Nab, and came out into a steam-filled kitchen. The steam was pungent, causing Sno to sneeze instantly.
“Oh, this spice will do that to you,” Veben said, tipping a wine glass in Sno’s direction as she busied herself at the twenty-burner range set against the kitchen’s opposite wall. “Careful not to open the cooker. If the spice doesn’t cook fully down, then it can be caustic to humans.”
“Lovely,” Sno said as he gave the cooker on the counter to his left a perfunctory glance before navigating his way around the huge center island and over to the beverage counter set up close to the massive farm sink that took up half of one of the kitchen’s walls. Sno found the opened bottle of wine and poured himself a glass. “You got my message, I see.”
“Of course I did, love,” Veben replied, stirring something thick and brown in a large cook pot. She turned, took a sip of her wine, and gave Sno a wide smile. “Load of shit that message was, love. Never tell me what to do. You know that.”
Stunningly beautiful, the woman was in her late seventies. She had eyes that could pierce the most inhospitable planet’s crust. Those eyes twinkled with mischief as she sipped at her wine then turned back to her cooking.
Ms. Veben Doab was human…maybe. Sno suspected she was a Jirk, a race of beings that killed and skinned other races, taking their victims’ forms by sliding inside the corpses’ removed skins. Jirks were a race despised by almost the entire galaxy, including the Skrang.
But Sno had never shared his suspicions with anyone, not even Veben. If she was a skintaker, then she had taken her skin decades earlier and settled, never bothering to acquire a new one. While the original acquisition was murder, Sno never brought it up since Veben had been nothing but kind and wonderful to him his whole life. There wasn’t a memory of the house that didn’t include the woman.
And Veben knew it, obviously, since she helped herself to the estate house as if it were her own.
Veben’s own house was modest in comparison. A small villa about two kilometers down the road. Veben’s estate bordered on Sno’s, but just like the villa, was a fraction the size. But Veben lived alone, had for as long as Sno knew her, and always said that if she needed more space, she’d simply come visit the Sno estate.
“How has work been, love?” Veben asked.
Sno’s hand paused as the wine glass was almost to his lips. He eyed Veben carefully, noting the tone in her voice.
“Why do you ask, V?” Sno responded.
He had a small pistol, a Defta Stinger which shot poisoned flechettes instead of plasma, on his right hip. He always carried it when traveling. His hand instinctively wanted to go for the Stinger, but that would have been ridiculous. He was in his own house, enjoying a glass of wine, while one of his most trusted friends cooked in his kitchen.
“Relax,” Veben said, turning to give him a grin. She looked him up and down. “Love, would I allow any threat or harm come to you?”
“I should hope not,” Sno said. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“You mean, what haven’t I had time to tell you,” Veben stated. “We’ve barely exchanged pleasantries.”
“V…”
“You have a guest in the sitting room,” Veben said and waved a hand at Sno. “I’d go introduce you, but the little man keeps undressing me with his eyes and it’s most…distracting.”
“Not offensive?” Sno chuckled.
“At my age, love, a man, any man, undresses you with his eyes and you do not get offended,” Veben said. She held up her glass of wine. “You drink and hope for an evening of intense pleasure. Been a while since I’ve had one of those that wasn’t assisted by a bot.”
“A delight as always, V,” Sno said, setting his glass down. “Sitting room, you say?”
“Sitting room, I say,” Veben said and gave Sno a dismissive wave. “Go socialize while I get dinner finished. It’ll only be a few more minutes.”
“I thought the spice in the cooker had to cook down a while more?” Sno replied.
“That’s for tomorrow’s lunch,” Veben said.
“Will you be joining me for lunch?”
“You’re home, silly boy,” Veben said with a laugh. “You know you can’t get rid of me.”
“I may have work,” Sno said.
“You’re supposed to be on holiday,” Veben said then gave one more dismissive wave. “I have my sources, love. Go chat with the old man then wash up for dinner.”
�
�Yes, ma’am,” Sno said as he left the kitchen and moved at a brisk pace to the sitting room.
The Sno estate’s sitting room was a good deal larger than most of the conference rooms back at Division headquarters. But the headquarters conference rooms did not have bookshelves filled with ancient, rare books, nor a view out onto a gorgeous lake.
Sno found a short, hunched over old man with a heavy backpack standing at the main picture window, staring out at the lake.
“Hello?” Sno said.
“Oh, Mr. Denman Sno. Agent Prime. You have arrived,” the old man said, turning to face Sno.
“It is my house,” Sno said.
The man had to be in his late seventies, or maybe early eighties, with a heavily scarred, weathered face. But, despite his hunched nature and wizened features, the old man’s eyes sparkled with life and danger. Sno knew that look. It was not a look to take for granted.
“You are?” Sno asked, walking to a drink cart across the room. “Cocktail? Wine? Beer?”
“If you have wubloov, that would be great,” the old man said. “I know it is strong, and can cause hallucinations if consumed in too large of quantities, but it sure would hit the spot.”
“I don’t keep wubloov on hand,” Sno stated. “Tarmelian brandy?”
“Oh, decadent,” the old man said and clapped his shriveled hands together.
Sno smiled, poured two glasses of brandy, and crossed to the old man. He held out one of the glasses and waited for the man to take it.
“I mean you no harm, Agent Prime,” the old man said, eyeing the offered glass.
“I do not think that you do,” Sno said.
“Yet your body language tells me that as soon as I take hold of that glass, you will take hold of me,” the old man said. “I believe you would win in a physical contest, Agent Prime. No need to get grabby.”
Sno set the glass down on a small end table next to a large, cushiony chair that was angled perfectly to catch the picture window’s natural light. An excellent reading spot, Sno had always thought.
