Agent Prime

by Jake Bible

  “There,” Sno said, taking several steps back. “Enjoy the brandy without fear.”

  “Oh, I’m afraid I cannot do that, Agent Prime,” the old man said. “Fear is my constant companion.”

  “Isn’t it for all of us,” Sno said.

  The old man tilted his head then smiled broadly at Sno. He nodded and fetched the drink from the end table. Sno did not move a muscle.

  “Delicious,” the old man said after sipping the brandy.

  “No point in having it on hand if it isn’t,” Sno responded. “So… Who in all the Hells are you?”

  “Down to business…,” the old man sighed.

  “Your name,” Sno demanded in a quiet, firm voice.

  “Ah, yes, my name is Pol Hammon,” the old man said. “Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

  Sno tried not to choke on the sip of brandy he’d just taken.

  “I see you have,” Pol said, the smile leaving his face. “Good. Then we can skip the backstory. I need your help.”

  “Is that so?” Sno said. “A legendary dark tech like you needs my help? I’ve always assumed that the great Pol Hammon could manifest any help he needs. Why come to me for assistance?”

  “Because it is the Galactic Fleet that is after me,” Pol said. “Along with most of the galaxy. And the Skrang. Lest we forget the Skrang. I decided I’d go straight to the Special Services Division and cut myself a deal. Which I have. Care to listen?”

  Several pieces of the past few days clicked into place inside Sno’s head.

  “Sit,” Sno ordered. “Let’s start at the beginning.”

  “Yes, let’s,” Pol said and took a seat in the cushiony chair.

  13.

  Sno took his own seat in a short couch opposite Pol’s chair.

  By opposite, it was several meters away since the room was quite large. But it was still close enough for Sno to watch every single detail of the old man’s face. Sno needed to see the lies and the truth clearly and even as scarred a face as Pol Hammon had, it would give up both under Sno’s trained gaze.

  Sno sat rigid, rage coursing through him as Pol revealed what had been done. But Sno kept himself in check despite the nearly overpowering need to strip off all his clothes and hunt for the foreign object that had been forced on his person.

  “You thought you could use me as a mule?” Sno said, his voice even and cold.

  “A mule? Well, that is one way of putting it,” Pol replied. “And it was only for a short period. Your return trip to your headquarters. Luckily, despite the Skrang interference, you made it there alive and the transfer was complete.”

  A mission gone horribly wrong, the target asset dead, a Chassfornian hit squad, Trel’ali’s involvement, the swift ship pilot. Sense was being made of the chaos.

  But the main piece that suddenly found a home was the fact that General Gerber had come to see Sno personally and insist he take a holiday. After a botched job like Egthak, Sno should have been put on official administrative leave and been waiting for a hearing before the GF Sub-committee on Covert Affairs.

  All of that told Sno that the mission, the real mission, had actually been accomplished. Roshall Gor’bun had been a smokescreen. A fatal one for the man.

  “Who was it?” Sno asked.

  “I’m sorry?” Pol replied then held up his empty glass. “May I?”

  Sno nodded and watched the old man haul himself out of the chair and go to the drink cart. Pol poured a hefty amount of brandy into the glass then returned to the chair. He groaned as he sat back down.

  Sno didn’t believe any of it. The old man was more than physically capable. The groans, the innocent looks, the victim tone—all an act.

  “Who was it?” Sno asked. “The person that transferred the data to me? Who was it?”

  “I do not know his name,” Pol said. “But he was one of the security guards on the transport you were on with Mr. Gor’bun. A Gwreq maybe? A simple sub-dermal data patch on the underside of your wrist. Then everything went wrong and you know the rest.”

  “Went wrong? I almost died,” Sno said. “Those Chassfornians were not kidding around.”

  “Yes, that,” Pol said and grimaced. “We knew there could be issues with the Egthak terrorists, hence the transport station blowing up, but no one saw the Chassfornians coming. I didn’t even know they were still allowed to move about the galaxy in squads like that.”

  “They aren’t,” Sno snapped. “By GF law, they can never gather in groups larger than two.”

  “GF law…” Pol snickered. “Quaint.”

  “This data that you transferred onto me,” Sno said. “It was retrieved at headquarters while I was in the med pod.” A statement. Pol nodded. “And what is this data? What was I transporting for General Gerber?”

  “He didn’t tell you?” Pol asked.

  “No.”

  “Then it is not my place to either.”

  Sno laughed. “You are in my house, drinking my brandy, and telling me a story that is a little hard to believe. If there was ever a place to tell me what that data was, this is that place. Unless you want me to call the local authorities and have you arrested for trespassing.”

  “I’d prefer that did not happen, Agent Prime,” Pol said. “We both know that as soon as I am in the hands of your local authorities, everyone in the galaxy will know of my whereabouts. Your local authorities are, shall we say, bought and paid for?”

  “I do not doubt it,” Sno said. “So tell me what I want to know and you can avoid all of that.”

  “Perhaps you should contact General Gerber.”

  “Perhaps I should. I need to report my run-in with three Skrang light fighters, anyway.”

  “Oh, yes, the Skrang fighters.”

  “Yes. Oh. Skrang fighters. You didn’t happen to have anything to do with one of them blowing up for no reason? Hack the fighter’s engines remotely? That’s something you can do, if your reputation is even close to reality.”

  Pol shrugged. Sno glared.

  The two men watched each other for a few moments then Sno activated his comm.

  “General Gerber,” Sno said. “Secure signature. Agent Prime authorized.”

  Sno waited as the comm signature went through a thousand protocols in order to ensure a secure connection. Pol only watched with indifference. That told Sno plenty. The old man wasn’t even twitching in his seat. If he’d been full of crap, he would have been nervous for Sno to call Gerber.

  “Agent Prime,” General Gerber answered. “Have you met your guest?”

  “He’s here in my sitting room with me,” Sno replied. “Enjoying my brandy.”

  “Has he told you what your mission is yet?” Gerber asked.

  “My mission? No, he told me I was a mule for a secret mission on Egthak.”

  “Your word, mule, not mine,” Pol said and sipped his brandy.

  “What’s this about another mission?” Sno asked, ignoring the old man.

  “I need you to transport your guest safely to Galactic Fleet main headquarters,” Gerber said.

  “So much for a holiday,” Sno said.

  “Did you truly believe I would send you home on holiday, Agent Prime?” Gerber laughed. “Perhaps those Chassfornians knocked a few brain cells loose.”

  “Time frame?” Sno asked, ignoring the dig.

  “ASAP,” Gerber replied. “Take a day or two to rest up from your journey home. Fighting Skrang is never relaxing.”

  “You know?”

  “I know.”

  “And?”

  “And not surprising. Once you have delivered your guest to GF main headquarters then you will be filled in on the whys and whats that you are authorized to know.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “I don’t have to fill you in on anything, Agent Prime, so drop the sarcasm.”

  “I like to consider it more wit than sarcasm.”

  “You’ve considered wrong.”

  “My apologies, sir.”

  “Deliver your
guest ASAP, Agent Prime. That is your priority from this moment on. Are we understood?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll have him to main headquarters by the end of the week.”

  “Sooner.”

  “I’ll assess the situation and try, sir, but no promises. Delivered alive and in one piece is the goal, yes?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I’ll make sure that happens. If I can get the guest to main headquarters before the end of the week, then I will. Otherwise, I’ll do what’s needed to keep him alive and in one piece. Is that fair enough, sir?”

  “This mission has zero room for error, Agent Prime. Get the guest to the destination. If you fail, there will be consequences well beyond the end of your career.”

  “I will complete the mission, sir. Is there anything else I need to know?”

  “You have all you need, Agent Prime.”

  “Then thank you for the mission, sir. I will alert you when it is completed.”

  “Goodbye, Agent Prime.”

  The connection ended and Sno sighed.

  “How much can you tell me?” he asked Pol.

  “I can tell you everything,” Pol said offhandedly. “But it is best you know nothing beyond what you already do.”

  “Which is zero,” Sno said. He glanced down at his empty glass, but set it aside on an end table instead of getting up to fill it. “Sounds like you and I are taking a trip together.”

  “Excellent,” Pol said and finished off his brandy.

  “You’ve had enough,” Sno said as Pol moved to stand up. He thought for a moment then continued. “My ship has already been clocked by the Skrang, so it is too hot to take. Do you have a ship?”

  “I do not,” Pol said. “Transportation is up to you, Agent Prime.”

  The smirk on Pol’s face infuriated Sno. But he tamped down the anger and took a few deep breaths. Pol’s smirk widened until Sno locked eyes with the old man. He must have seen something in Sno that he did not like because the smirk died away fast.

  “It could take me a day or two to figure out how to get you from here to GF headquarters.”

  “Main headquarters,” Pol said.

  “Yes. That’s what I was told.”

  “Good, because only the GF main headquarters will do. If you take me to any of the regional headquarters, then I will most certainly end up dead within twelve hours of landing. You, Agent Prime, have a bit of a traitor problem, evidenced by the Skrang attack on your ship en route to Nab.”

  “A valid theory,” Sno said and rubbed at his eyes. “But until proven, it’s only a theory. I refuse to consider someone in the Special Service Division is working for the Skrang until I see detailed evidence to the fact.”

  “I do not blame you,” Pol said. He closed his eyes and smiled. “Mmmm. What a delicious aroma.”

  “Boys? Food is ready,” Veben called from the sitting room doorway. “It is a lovely evening. Shall we eat out on the veranda? I do love to watch the boats on the lake when I eat.”

  “A great idea, V,” Sno said and stood up. “I can always throw Mr. Hammon here over the edge if he annoys me.”

  “Please, call me Pol if you’re going to threaten me with violence, Agent Prime,” Pol said, the smirk back.

  “Then you can call me Sno,” Sno said.

  “No Denman?” Pol asked.

  “Sno will be just fine,” Sno replied and waved an arm, indicating for Pol to take the lead.

  “Oh, you two are going to be highly entertaining at dinner,” Veben said with a full, throaty laugh.

  14.

  Dinner was eaten and finished with minimum hostility. Veben looked disappointed.

  “Dessert?” Veben asked as bots rolled around the table, clearing empty plates and partially finished platters and dishes of food. “I made the most exquisite TLonga Squid cheesecake.”

  “Oh, I had a slice of that when I visited Jafla Base once,” Pol said, patting his belly. “Delicious.”

  “Mine is better,” Veben said and snapped her fingers. “Coffee?”

  “I would love a cup,” Pol said.

  “Denman, love?” Veben asked Sno, who was busy staring out at the lake as the sun dipped below the horizon.

  “What was that?” Sno asked, slowly returning his attention to the dinner table. “Oh, yes, I have been to Jafla Base many times.”

  “That was not the question, love,” Veben said with exaggerated pity in her voice. “Poor thing. Nearly worked into a stupor.”

  “My apologies, V,” Sno said, giving her a small smile before turning his gaze to Pol. “I was trying to figure out how to get this man to GF headquarters safely, securely, and without incident.”

  “I appreciate the mental effort,” Pol said.

  “Yet, the question still stands, love,” Veben said to Sno. “Would you care for dessert?”

  “No. Thank you,” Sno said and pushed his chair back. He stood and snapped his fingers. A bot appeared with a tray holding a cigar box, lighter, and snifter of brandy. “I’ll have this and my thoughts.”

  “Your thoughts are hardly as good as my cheesecake, love,” Veben said.

  “I am quite aware of that,” Sno said. He took a cigar, pocketed the lighter, lifted the snifter of brandy, and glared hard at Pol. “Cigar by the railing, Mr. Hammon?”

  “Pol, please,” Pol said. “No need to be formal if I am partaking in your personal supply of cigars. I can smell Blaveon tobacco a kilometer away. Not exactly legal, Sno.”

  “Family stock,” Sno said and handed Pol a cigar as the old man got to his feet.

  “Are you two leaving me to eat my dessert alone?” Veben asked, feigning offense. “Oh, the shame of it.”

  “Go ahead and cut me a slice, V,” Sno said. “I’ll have it later before bed.”

  “And ruin that physique? I think not, love,” Veben replied. “You can have it for breakfast.”

  “That’s better how?” Sno laughed.

  “Science, love,” Veben said.

  “I would still like a slice,” Pol said, rolling the cigar in his fingers. “And some more of that brandy, if it is not too much trouble.”

  “That is why servant bots were invented,” Veben said. She stood up and gave an elegant curtsey. “I’ll let you two talk while I freshen up. Then cheesecake as we watch the twilight on the lake. I truly love this time of evening.”

  Sno waited for Veben to leave then lit his cigar and walked to the veranda railing. The sun setting over the lake was brilliant, an explosion of colors from all parts of the spectrum. He watched as the light faded and the many, many moons of Nab began to rise, filling the night sky with orbs like jewels.

  “A true paradise,” Pol said as he smoked his cigar. “Must have been a great place to grow up in.”

  “What’s the tech?” Sno asked. He puffed on his cigar, bringing the end to a glowing bright red. “How badly do the Skrang want it?”

  “I can answer that second question,” Pol said. “They want it bad enough that they’re risking destroying the peace the War Treaty has brought us for so many years. They will plunge the galaxy back into violent chaos for this tech.”

  “What is it?” Sno asked again.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Would I ask if it didn’t?”

  “I don’t know you well enough to answer that question.”

  Sno finished off his second glass of after-dinner brandy. A bot rolled up to pour him more and he shook his head, placing the empty glass on the tray instead.

  Pol began to open his mouth, but Sno took the man’s empty glass and set it next to the first one on the tray. The bot waited a half-second then turned and rolled off.

  “Ah. We are back to business,” Pol said, watching wistfully as the brandy was whisked away by the bot.

  “We never left business, Mr. Hammon,” Sno said. “What is the tech?”

  “I cannot say,” Pol replied. “I am sorry. But the terms of my protection are contingent upon my silence.”

  Sno didn’t hav
e to ask the question that hung there, “How will the GF know if Pol doesn’t stay silent?” He knew the answer and frowned as he kept himself from grinding his teeth in frustration.

  “Who put the lock on?” Sno asked.

  “That I can answer,” Pol said and smiled. “A wonderful doctor by the name of Klejg. She was able to isolate the plans to the tech inside my mind. I am still in awe at her abilities.”

  “If you try to tell me what the tech is, all traces of it will be wiped from your mind,” Sno stated. “Making you worthless to the GF.”

  “And worthless to everyone else,” Pol said, tapping his temple. “I believe I will hang onto this bit of information until the lock is removed at GF headquarters.”

  “Where you will build the tech for the GF? And then what?” Sno asked.

  “The lock cannot be circumvented, Sno,” Pol said. “You cannot come at it from a different angle. The entire subject is isolated.”

  “I guessed as much,” Sno said, puffing on his cigar. “Klejg is very good at her job.”

  “That she is,” Pol replied. “I was fascinated by her techniques. Once this ordeal is over, I may have to look her up and study her work more.”

  “By look her up, you mean you’ll hack her systems and spy on her work,” Sno stated.

  Pol shrugged. “Hard to unlearn a lifetime of behavior.”

  Pol puffed on his cigar then turned to face Sno. Sno continued to watch the fading light play across the lake. Pleasure boats were out for night cruises and running lights began to pop up here and there all over the lake.

  “Speaking of unlearning a lifetime of behavior. How do you propose we travel?” Pol asked. “We cannot take your ship. The Skrang have already tagged you.”

  “And if there’s a spy in the Division, then even switching ships will be an issue,” Sno said. “Any official vessel will be spotted. Same with any of my personal vessels. We have to log those into the Division mainframe when becoming Special Agents.”

  “Public transport is not an option,” Pol added.

  “Neither is hiring a ship. We have no idea who can be trusted. Even sources and contacts I know would never betray me may have already been compromised without their knowing,” Sno said. “This is a galactic cluster fuck, to be blunt.”