Agent Prime

by Jake Bible

  “I’m going to be a while,” Sno called over his shoulder. “Call me only if you are dying.”

  “Enjoy, love,” Sno heard Veben call as he closed his doors and began to strip his soiled clothes off. He headed straight for the lavatory and steam shower.

  21.

  “Food,” Pol said, his mouth stuffed with something red and fluffy as Sno came out of his stateroom. “You should try this.”

  “I’ll wait until dinner,” Sno said, adjusting his suit jacket.

  Black jacket, black trousers, and crisp white shirt. No tie, which would probably irritate Captain Loch considerably. It was custom to wear a tie when asked to dine with the captain of a ship, especially on a ship like the Mip. It was the little things that kept Sno sane sometimes when faced with dealing with imbeciles like Loch.

  Sno looked Pol up and down and realized that Sno’s intentional irritant would be overshadowed by Pol’s complete lack of decorum. The old man was dressed in ratty trousers, a worn work shirt, and a visor that was more holes than actual material.

  “No,” Sno said. “You cannot go to dinner dressed like that. You have clothes that are appropriate. Go put them on.”

  “They’re quite uncomfortable,” Pol complained.

  “This entire mission is quite uncomfortable,” Sno said. “Would you prefer I ditch you and go gambling down on deck thirty-four?”

  “Only if I can go with you,” Pol said then scrunched up his face. “Which would defeat the purpose of ditching me. I see that.”

  “They are only clothes, Pol,” Sno said. “Endure them during dinner then you are free to change when we return.”

  “Oh, my,” Veben said as she came out of her room, dressed from neck to knee in a shimmering gown of emerald green jewels. “Pol, love, do as Denman asks and get changed. I cannot have a ragamuffin escort me to the Captain’s Table.”

  “For you, darling, anything,” Pol said and bowed so low his forehead touched the carpet.

  “Eight Million Gods,” Sno muttered as Pol left. Then he studied Veben and grinned. “I only hope I have half your charisma when I am your age.”

  “Oh, love, you do not want to reach my age,” Veben said, waving off the compliment. “Too much work. Go out in a blaze of glory like so many in your profession do. Die a young patriot and be happy with that.”

  “I doubt I’ll be happy, V,” Sno said with a laugh. “I’ll be dead.”

  Veben shrugged. “One can be happy no matter the circumstances if one tries hard enough.”

  There was a light knock at the door.

  “That must be Osol,” Sno said. “He’ll be pleased to hear I’ve decided to share our true identities with him. Even though he already knows them.”

  “He does?” Veben asked as Sno headed off a servant bot and opened the door himself.

  “Osol,” Sno said and gestured for the man to enter the stateroom. “Come in.”

  “Thank you,” Osol said.

  There was a complete lack of servitude in Osol’s stride as he walked past Sno, through the foyer, and into the main room.

  “You look ravishing, ma’am,” Osol said to Veben. “You will be wasted on Captain Loch. Although he will not think so. Be sure to watch his right hand, ma’am. It can get…aggressive.”

  “Oh, well, thank you, Osol,” Veben said, giving Sno a side-eyed glance. “That is good information to have. Although, I can handle myself.”

  “No doubt, ma’am,” Osol said and nodded politely. “But I felt you should be warned.”

  Osol took a seat without being asked to and Veben gave Sno a full-on look, ditching the side glance for direct eye contact.

  “I should make the introductions,” Sno said. “I am Agent Prime. My given name is Denman Sno. This is Ms. Veben Doab. The man still changing in his room is Pol Hammon. But all of this you already know.”

  “I do,” Osol said curtly. “But it is good to hear you say it, Sno. Showing trust in me is a key step to me being able to keep all of you safe. I have to apologize up and down for the Tcherian incident. Sometimes amateurs are harder to deal with than professionals. I expected an assassination attempt on your life, followed by the kidnapping of Mr. Hammon, but not the moment you stepped into your rooms.”

  “Has Investigator J’gorla discovered the Tcherians’ identities?” Sno asked.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to interrupt,” Veben said. Her eyes narrowed and she stared hard at Osol. “Who are you?”

  “Osol Clemov,” Osol said. “Head of Security for the GS M’illi’ped. Did Sno not inform you?”

  “No, Sno did not inform me,” Veben snapped. “And Sno will be hearing several words on that subject later.”

  “I needed a proper steam, V,” Sno said. “Let a man have his small pleasures, please.”

  “Unfortunately, love, one of your small pleasures includes playing me for a fool,” Veben said.

  “I am fairly certain that is a game that you are well matched in, V,” Sno said.

  “This,” Osol said, waving a hand back and forth between Sno and Veben. “This is cute. You two have known each other for a long time. I can tell. Does your mother always accompany you on missions, Sno?”

  “For Head of Security, you have just made a tactical error, sir,” Veben said in a calm, deadly voice.

  “I am playing, Ms. Doab,” Osol said. “No offense meant. The barb was intended for Agent Prime, not you.”

  “How about we try for no barbs and focus only on compliments, Osol?” Veben said then frowned. “Or do I call you Mr. Clemov?”

  “Osol is fine,” Osol said. “When we leave this stateroom, and are out amongst the guests, calling me Osol will retain my cover.”

  “Is this how you operate?” Sno asked. “Pretend to be a porter?”

  “Or waiter, or server,” Osol said. “I once had to keep an eye on a couple that were gambling addicts. I learned to deal every card and tile game imaginable. They never left the tables which meant I could never leave the tables. It came to a point where I had their cocktails spiked so I could get some sleep while they were unconscious. Otherwise, they would have continued to inject stim and play tiles the entire week-long journey, non-stop.”

  “Stim gives me such a headache,” Veben said.

  “Investigator J’gorla,” Sno mused. “Trustworthy?”

  “Is anyone?” Osol countered.

  “Oh, Osol, good,” Pol said as he came out in trousers too long and a shirt only halfway tucked in. “This pudding that was delivered. I have to know the origin so I can get some on my own. Can you send me the name of it?”

  “I’ll have one of my people send you the name,” Osol said. “I have no idea what the pudding is. I only know it was tested thoroughly before being allowed into your room. Wouldn’t do to have you all poisoned before we could talk.”

  “I have missed something here,” Pol said. “Anyone feel like filling me in?”

  “Later, darling,” Veben said, taking Pol by the shoulders and turning him around to face his room. “Let’s finish getting you properly dressed. Apparently, it is not a task you are capable of handling on your own.”

  Veben pushed Pol into the room then turned and closed the doors, giving both Sno and Osol a wink.

  “Game plan,” Sno said as he went and fetched a drink from the wet bar. He glanced at Osol, but the man shook his head. “The invite to dine with the captain tonight is an obvious panic decision by Loch. He is nervous that someone else will attempt to kill me and take Pol away before whoever has paid him gets a chance.”

  Sno turned and leaned against the wet bar. He sipped his drink, but kept his eyes on Osol over the rim.

  “Maybe I should have one,” Osol said. “Not too strong. Have to keep my wits about me.”

  “Condition yourself, Osol,” Sno said as he faced the wet bar once again and poured a stiff drink for the man. He turned and crossed to Osol, offering the drink as he took a seat in the chair across. “One of my greatest talents is to drink my target under the table w
ithout losing my edge.”

  “Something to be proud of,” Osol said and raised his glass.

  Sno returned the gesture and waited. Osol sipped his drink then shook his head.

  “I’m not sure you are right about Captain Loch,” Osol said.

  “I am,” Sno stated.

  “I have known the captain for a long while,” Osol said. “I believe what you are mistaking for duplicity is simple incompetence.”

  “Could be, but I do not think so,” Sno said as he leaned back in his chair. He crossed one leg over the other and drank deeply then set his almost finished drink onto a side table. “Were you observing our interaction via surveillance?”

  “I was,” Osol said.

  “And his body language didn’t alarm you?” Sno asked.

  “That is Captain Loch,” Osol said with a sigh. He set his drink on the side table next to his chair then leaned forward, fingers steepled as he rested his elbows on his knees. “The man no more knows who I am than anyone else on this ship. Other than Investigator J’gorla, and my guards, your little party are the only ones that know my true identity.”

  “I find it hard to believe that the captain of this ship is in the dark,” Sno said.

  “Yet he is,” Osol replied. “And that would explain his body language and entire attitude when you asked him to reveal my name. The moron doesn’t know. How embarrassing for the captain of a luxury liner to have to admit he doesn’t even know who his Head of Security is.”

  “Is this a general policy or a specific one because of Loch?” Sno asked.

  “Specific to Loch and those in power that are like him,” Osol said. “They work perfectly as hosts, but lack a certain moral compass that can truly ensure guests’ security and privacy. Give a man like Loch my name and soon half the ship will know it because he can’t help but brag.”

  “Ah, yes, those beings,” Sno said and nodded. “I have worked for men and women like him before. Eventually, someone dies because of their idiocy.”

  “Precisely,” Osol said. “If the guests under my protection die, then hundreds, thousands, sometimes millions of beings across the galaxy are affected. Corporations go under, fortunes are lost, entire industries are dissolved overnight. I know my job and my duties, Sno. They are much larger than this silly ship.”

  Sno grinned. He had liked Osol when he was a porter. He liked the man even more as a Head of Security. Osol understood the true currents of how power flowed in the galaxy.

  “Pol Hammon,” Sno said.

  “Yes. Him,” Osol replied. “I could retire forever, leaving enough for six generations of Clemovs, if I sold his whereabouts to half a dozen interested organizations. And before you worry about my integrity, I am paid handsomely. Enough that I cannot be bought. It would be more trouble than those credits would be worth.”

  Sno nodded and Osol continued.

  “The problem with Hammon is I don’t know specifically why he’s so valuable. His reputation as the galaxy’s premiere dark tech expert notwithstanding, the buzz is he has something that could change the balance of power forever. I don’t know what.”

  “You keep your ear to the right buzz,” Sno agreed. “And I am in the dark as much as you are. My superiors have not educated me as to what this new tech might be.” He held up his hands to take in the massive room. “All I know is it has landed me here and my only priority is to get Pol to GF main headquarters alive.”

  “And there we might have a problem,” Osol said.

  “I was afraid you’d have bad news once we were on the level with each other,” Sno said. “Out with it?”

  “We are not going anywhere near GF headquarters,” Osol said.

  “Right. The ship’s destination is—”

  “No, the original destination was changed just prior to your boarding,” Osol said. “We are headed for a new destination.”

  “Which is?”

  “We are going to the Bgreete System.”

  “Bgreete? There’s nothing to see there,” Sno said. “And guests are alright with this?”

  “The guests do not know,” Osol said. “They will be informed, and I am sure Captain Loch has some brilliant excuse already that he can tell everyone, but until then, the guests are oblivious. Not that they care much. You do know the Mip’s reputation, yes?”

  “As a singles cruise?” Sno chuckled. “I was informed.”

  “It is so much more than that,” Osol said. “I’ve watched disinterested heirs become infatuated with each other, bringing together fortunes that neither of us can even conceive of. The GS M’illi’ped is probably more responsible for the consolidation of wealth in the galaxy than any corporate merger can take credit for. This ship could be headed for the center of the black hole in the Mlo System and the guests wouldn’t let that reality spoil their matchmaking.”

  “I’d be lying if I said that didn’t make me somewhat nauseous,” Sno admitted.

  “And I work with it daily,” Osol said.

  “Bgreete has two suns,” Sno stated. “Two suns that create an energy flux, making it hard for ships to leave the system without special shielding on their engines.”

  Osol nodded and raised an eyebrow.

  “The outside attack will come then,” Sno said. Osol nodded again. “When do we arrive?”

  “Three days,” Osol said.

  “They moved the timetable up as well,” Sno said.

  “That they did. Which means we have three days to watch for the internal attack,” Osol said. “There will be at least one more attempt to wrest Pol from you before we arrive in Bgreete.”

  “To your knowledge, how many factions are after Pol?” Sno asked. “What does your buzz say?”

  “I would think the SSD would have already given you that information,” Osol said.

  “The SSD is flying blind with a lot of this operation,” Sno replied, picking at the arm of his chair. “That’s why I’m here. Intel was shady or unconfirmed. At least to SSD standards. I will have to rely on those working the field to get me usable information.”

  “Six. Maybe seven,” Osol said and shrugged. “Could be more. And that doesn’t count the Skrang.”

  “It never does,” Sno said and rubbed his face. “Six or seven? Maybe more? I’m thinking SSD knew of my house AI issue and is punishing me by putting Pol into my hands.”

  “Strange punishment since they want Pol Hammon delivered alive,” Osol said.

  “He’ll be there alive,” Sno said. “That isn’t the point. The point is I’m being tortured. You have to love bureaucracies and their perverted sense of internal justice.”

  “Which is why I work in the private sector,” Osol said.

  “Yes. Good on you,” Sno said and sighed. “So, what is the plan for the evening?”

  “I’ll deliver you to Captain Loch,” Osol explained. “You’ll endure dinner with him while I have a minimum of eight guards stationed throughout the dining room, their sole jobs to keep eyes on Pol Hammon. Another eight will be watching the guests at other tables for signs of interest beyond simply wishing they were at the Captain’s Table for the attention that brings.”

  “Sixteen guards. Seems adequate,” Sno said.

  “Too few, in my opinion,” Osol responded. “As you know, Pol Hammon’s true security rests in your hands, Sno.”

  “I am gravely aware,” Sno said as Pol’s room doors opened.

  “Much better, yes?” Veben asked as she escorted Pol out.

  He was dressed in a mini version of Sno’s outfit. That wasn’t a problem since the majority of the beings in the main dining room would be dressed similarly.

  “A prison in cloth,” Pol muttered.

  “Shall we?” Osol asked as he stood up and gestured to the foyer. “Please know that when we leave these rooms, I am Osol, the porter that is here to serve you. Act accordingly. Your lives do depend on it.”

  “Role playing,” Veben said, clapping her hands together. “Such a turn on.”

  “Before we go,” S
no said to Osol. “I will need a weapon.”

  “There will be one waiting for you at your assigned seat,” Osol said. “Feel under the table. I didn’t want to risk you having one that can be scanned as we travel from here to the dining room. Will that do?”

  “It will have to,” Sno said reluctantly.

  22.

  The dining room was slightly disappointing to Sno. Yes, it was superbly decorated, and the smell of the many appetizers and cocktails being served was tantalizing, but the Captain’s Table was considerably less intimate than Sno had thought it would be. Of course, with what Osol had said, less intimate was probably a good thing considering the captain’s lack of intellectual prowess.

  However, there was one pleasant surprise and Sno had to struggle to maintain a neutral look on his face.

  Seated at a table four over from the Captain’s Table, with her back to Sno, was the swift ship pilot, Velly Tarcorf. That bright orange skin was unmistakable. She was dressed elegantly, a nice switch from her flight suit, in an off-the-shoulder dress made of a material that looked to change colors depending on the light, but always matched perfectly with her skin tone. Her hair was a short bob of ebony curls.

  “Ah, she is lovely,” Veben whispered to Sno as they were shown their seats at the Captain’s Table. “Do you know her, love?”

  “We met briefly,” Sno replied. “Under very different circumstances.”

  “I am sure,” Veben said. “Too bad you won’t have time for socializing, love. Gotta keep me safe.”

  “I’m here to keep Pol safe,” Sno said.

  “And I don’t intend to leave his side for the rest of the trip, so you’ll be keeping me safe as well,” Veben said as Sno pulled her seat out for her. “I have become fond of the little troublemaker.”

  “Speaking of me, are we?” Pol asked as he took the seat Sno had pulled out for himself. “Thank you, Mr. Shaw.”

  “Of course,” Sno growled as all seats facing Velly’s table became occupied. He thought about asking someone to move, but decided against it when he realized he’d have the best view of Pol’s seat. Velly Tarcorf was not a priority no matter how lovely she looked.