Agent Prime

by Jake Bible

“How’d you know…?” Sno asked and grimaced at the thousands of stabs of pain in his chest.

  “Know it was yours?” the pilot finished for him. “I guessed. Nice ship. Way nicer than the lot that occupy the other ports. I figured it was the perfect ship for an FIS agent. SSD, right?”

  Sno didn’t respond.

  “Don’t bother denying,” the pilot said as she leveled out the swift ship’s trajectory once they’d cleared the planet’s stratosphere. “I’m never wrong about ships and their owners.”

  “The Chassfornians,” Sno said quietly.

  “What about them?” the pilot asked.

  “They…were there…with someone,” Sno said and shivered with pain.

  “Obviously,” the pilot replied. “You ever see a Chassfornian fly a ship? No, because no one has. They’d ram the damn thing into the first ship that pissed them off. Yeah. Someone flew all four of them to Egthak and for a reason.”

  “Me,” Sno said. “Bounty.”

  “A bounty on an SSD agent?” The pilot whistled low and slow. “What did you do to get that kind of heat?”

  Sno shook his head as he closed his eyes. “Don’t…know.”

  “Better think hard,” the pilot said as the swift ship fully left Egthak’s orbit and shot across the system towards the closest wormhole portal. “I took a risk helping you, and only because I’m hoping to earn some brownie points with the FIS. Maybe land some courier contracts here and there. But if you’ve got bounty heat on you, then I better drop you at the closest Galactic Fleet station and wash my hands of you.”

  “Get me to…”

  Sno tried to finish his sentence, but he couldn’t manage through the pain. He took slow, shallow breaths and tried again, but his ribs would not cooperate.

  “Get you to what, spy boy?” the pilot asked.

  Sno managed to activate his implant and swipe a set of coordinates up to the pilot. She huffed when she received the coordinates and glanced over her shoulder at Sno.

  “You’re sure?” she asked.

  Sno nodded, but even that hurt. There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t hurt.

  “It’ll take about fourteen hours,” the Pilot said. “Maybe longer. Probably longer. We’ll have a couple of checkpoints to get through.”

  “No…checkpoints,” Sno said and gasped. He struggled to swipe a data file towards the pilot. After three feeble attempts, he gave up.

  “Use the interface by your arm,” the pilot said as she banked the swift ship down and around a pair of freight cruisers that were approaching the queue of interstellar vehicles waiting for their turn to go through the system’s wormhole portal. “It takes a bit longer, but I’ll get whatever you’re trying to swipe my way.”

  Sno nodded again, winced at the pain, and slowly, carefully moved his right arm into a long groove next to the jump seat. Instantly, his implant activated and he was able to transfer the data file into the ship’s system.

  “Huh,” the pilot said. “These travel docs legit?”

  Sno didn’t answer.

  “I just need to know if I’ll catch flack at a checkpoint for these,” the pilot pressed.

  Sno didn’t answer.

  “Fine. I’ll use them if needed.”

  The swift ship was up next and the pilot aimed directly for the center of the wormhole portal. The view of stars and twinkling far-off planets became a swirling mix of a thousand different lights, all strobing together into one brilliant burst of illumination before settling into countless streams and bands of color.

  “Rest while you can,” the pilot said. “The more sleep you get, the shorter your stay in a med pod will be.”

  Sno grunted and closed his eyes again. A wave of nausea hit him and his eyes popped back open. He concentrated on the bands of color that swirled around the swift ship’s cockpit instead. After a few minutes, his eyes closed on their own and he was finally asleep.

  A proximity warning brought Sno awake instantly and he slapped at his side for a pistol, crying out in pain at the sudden movement.

  “Relax, friend,” the pilot said. “We’re coming out the other end to the first checkpoint. The GF sure does like hassling travelers around these systems. Almost wish I could live out with the Edgers and not see another GF blockade ever again.”

  Sno snorted and shook his head.

  “You think…it’d be better out there?” he asked, surprised he didn’t convulse with agony over such a long sentence. The couple hours sleep did help. Some. “It’s not.”

  “You’ve been out to the Edge?” the pilot asked. “How far?”

  “All the…way,” Sno said.

  “Is it as dark and empty as they say?” the pilot asked.

  “Darker,” Sno replied. “Emptier.”

  “Hells,” the pilot responded and whistled. “Why those Edgers fight for independence out there, I can’t figure out.”

  “Me…neither,” Sno said. “But…they do.”

  The pilot slowed the swift ship as a good-sized Galactic Fleet cruiser moved into position to block the way. A holo popped up in front of the pilot, a frowning Tcherian GF officer staring blankly out of the vid. Tcherians were a chameleon race able to camouflage themselves to fit their surroundings. This one simply looked bored.

  “Travel documents,” the bored GF officer said. “Please transmit now.”

  “Here we go,” the pilot said and swiped at the holo.

  The GF officer nodded, glanced down then looked back up quickly. He cleared his throat, swiveled one of his eyes to look off screen then forced a smile on his lizard face.

  “Yes. Sorry about the delay,” the GF officer said. “I have put in a clear right of way request for the next checkpoint. Simply swipe your credentials to the Fleet ships you encounter and they will let you pass without stopping. Have a nice night.”

  “You too, officer,” the pilot said as the holo disappeared. She waited until the GF cruiser moved then engaged the engines and steered towards the next wormhole portal. “Care to tell me what that was about?”

  “I carry…good papers…with me,” Sno said.

  “Uh huh…”

  Sno felt his eyelids grow heavy again, but before he passed out once more he said, “What’s your name?”

  “Not sure I want that on record anymore,” the pilot replied.

  “I’ll make it…worth your…while,” Sno replied.

  The pilot thought for a few seconds and Sno had to struggle to keep his eyes open.

  “Velly Tarcorf,” the pilot said.

  “Denman Sno…” he said before drifting off.

  7.

  “Eight Million Gods damn, Sno,” a voice bellowed, shaking the lid of the med pod as it slowly began to rise. “You care to tell me how that mission went so very, Eight Million Gods damn wrong?”

  Sno opened his eyes, but didn’t need the visual confirmation to know who was speaking to him.

  “B’urn,” Sno said as a massive paw reached into the med pod and grabbed Sno by the shoulder, lifting him into an upright position like Sno was made of tissue paper. “You trying to break me all over again?”

  B’urn Sc’oll was a crazy mix of races. Part Gwreq (a four-armed, stone-skinned race that were over seven feet tall and tough as titanium), part Leforian (another four-armed, seven-foot-tall race that looked like a mix between a Dung beetle and a Great Dane), Urvein (a bear-like race that usually topped eight feet, covered in bristly fur, and built like a space freighter), and human. Despite having the genetics from two four-armed races in him, B’urn only had two arms. But they were very impressive arms and no one ever chided him for not being part of the quad-appendage club.

  B’urn’s eight and a half foot frame towered over the med pod, his stone-skinned, fur-covered face glaring down at Sno. He shook that massive head and rolled his eyes up.

  “Eight Million Gods,” he said to the ceiling.

  “Yes. You mentioned them already, B’urn,” Sno said. “Care to step away so I can get out of this pod and get dress
ed?”

  “Sure, your highness,” B’urn replied, stepping aside as he swept his arm down and gave an exaggerated bow. “My apologies, your lordship.”

  “Clever,” Sno said as he set his bare feet on the ice-cold metal alloy floor of the med pod bay. He looked about, noting the rows of other med pods, only a few in use, and looked about for a cart that should have his personal effects on it. There was no cart. “B’urn? My clothes?”

  “Here,” B’urn said, straightening up and tossing Sno a thin robe. “Your clothes, what was left of them, are in the lab. Gerber ordered the tests himself. He wanted any trace evidence studied and logged.”

  “Gerber’s here?” Sno asked. “Gerber rarely comes here.”

  “No shit, buddy,” B’urn replied. “Your Egthak mission has caused a shit ripple in the SSD. I guess, and I know this will sound nutso, but I guess when Agent Prime is involved with a terrorist bombing then a fight with some mercenary Chassfornians, all in the same day, that shit gets noticed. Crazy, right?”

  “Wasn’t in the same day,” Sno said as he took the robe and threw it over his naked body, tying the belt tight at his waist. “Took two days to accomplish all of that.”

  The two walked to the end of the med pod bay and waited for the security protocol to scan and log their credentials before opening the double doors. The doors slid apart and B’urn gave another bow for Sno to go first.

  “How’s Crush handling this?” Sno asked as they walked down the corridor towards a set of lift doors.

  “Crush is raging pissed, buddy,” B’urn replied, shrugging his huge shoulders like it was an everyday thing to have the division head raging pissed. “You know Crush.”

  “So he’s quiet and barely blinking all those eyes,” Sno stated. He’d been around Special Service Division Commander Crush long enough to know what raging pissed looked like.

  “Not blinking any of those eyes,” B’urn said.

  Sno gave B’urn a side-eyed look of alarm then took a deep breath and stepped onto the lift as the doors slid open.

  “Agent Prime.”

  “Agent Prime.”

  Two human techs nodded at Sno. He nodded back.

  “Nothing for me?” B’urn growled.

  “Agent Reign.”

  “Agent Reign.”

  “Eight Million Gods damn right,” B’urn replied, making sure to smile wide so the two techs got a good look at his razor-sharp canines. “Don’t forget it, kids.”

  “Leave the techs alone,” Sno said and waved his wrist over the lift interface.

  “Level Eighty-Six access granted,” an electronic voice chimed.

  “You two can’t come,” B’urn said to the techs. “Off limits.”

  “Leave the techs alone,” Sno said again then turned to the techs. “Sorry about my colleague’s behavior.”

  The techs nodded and smiled at Sno, their eyes never straying to B’urn.

  The lift chimed and the doors opened. The two techs exited quickly. The doors slid closed and the lift continued on its journey to Level Eighty-Six.

  “You wanna tell me what happened?” B’urn asked.

  “Can’t,” Sno said. “Have to debrief with Crush first. Once he gives the all clear then I’ll fill you in on what I’m allowed to.”

  “Not even a nibble? A morsel?” B’urn whined. “Come on, Sno. Give me something.”

  “Trel’ali was there,” Sno said after a couple seconds consideration. “He saved my skin by hiring that swift ship pilot. She saved my skin by getting me out of the docking ports before I was torn apart by Chassfornians.”

  “Chassfornians,” B’urn said with a shiver. “I can crush rock with my bare hands, but those beings scare the living shit out of me. I hope the med pod left a couple scars for you to show off. Surviving a Chassfornian attack is an Eight Million Gods damn miracle.”

  “Yes. I am fully aware of that,” Sno said and took a slow, deep breath, beyond thankful his ribs were no longer splintered and trying to tear through his lungs.

  The lift chimed and the doors opened onto a good-sized foyer. It was tastefully decorated, nothing too fancy, but there were a few classic prints hanging on the walls, framing a set of double doors directly across from the lift. Sno stepped out and gave B’urn a wry smile.

  “You coming in, chum?” Sno asked.

  “No, since you aren’t going to tell me shit,” B’urn said. “Catch up later?”

  “Yeah, we’ll catch up later,” Sno said as he placed a hand against one of the double doors. There was a beep, but it didn’t open right away. “Drinks in the observatory?”

  “Fair enough,” B’urn said. “2100. I’ll have the first round waiting.”

  “Sounds good,” Sno said and waited for the lift doors to close before he pushed on the door. It slid wide for him and he walked into his apartment.

  Large, yet understated with sparse furnishings and nearly bare walls, the apartment was Sno’s home away from home. Being Agent Prime, he could have the pick of the residences set aside for the elite agents of the SSD. There were plenty that were far more extravagant than the one he chose. But Sno liked the simplicity of the apartment.

  He first made his way to his bedroom, ignoring the cleaning bots that were busy removing the dust that had accumulated in the apartment during Sno’s absence. An electronic voice called from the kitchen, then repeated in Sno’s comm, “Would you care for breakfast, Agent Prime?”

  “No, thank you, Ledora,” Sno said. “I’m not hungry at the moment. Going to have a steam then get dressed before my debriefing with Commander Crush.”

  “I shall have the bots lay out your clothes while you bathe, Agent Prime,” Ledora said.

  Ledora was Sno’s house AI. With a female voice, Sno referred to it as a she, but in reality, Ledora could pick any of a million different voices, languages, or dialects and her core personality would remain unchanged. She was not an advanced AI, never close to achieving sentience, but she performed her duties of maintaining Sno’s Division apartment as well as his personal home on the planet Nab, an Earth-like planet in the Tchor System.

  “Ledora?” Sno asked as he tossed the med pod bay robe aside and walked naked into the lavatory. “How is Commander Crush’s stock of Klavian whiskey at the moment?”

  “I will ask his AI attendant,” Ledora replied. Barely a second passed and she said, “He is quite low. Apparently, his ex-wife’s family is no longer sharing their stock with him despite it being part of the divorce agreement.”

  “That’s the information I needed. Thank you, Ledora,” Sno said as he turned on the steam jets and waited for the shower to fill with moist heat. “Will you have a bottle of my personal stock ready to take to him? I don’t want to go into this debriefing empty-handed.”

  “Your personal stock is low as well, Agent Prime,” Ledora said.

  “I can get more,” Sno said as he stepped into the steam shower and sighed.

  “Klavian whiskey is not easy to acquire these days, Agent Prime,” Ledora said.

  “Ledora? What’s the rule?”

  “No comm chatter while you are in the shower.”

  “Exactly. We’ll talk once I’m dressed.”

  “Of course, Agent Prime.”

  Sno waited for that tell-tale silent void in his ear that said the comm connection had truly been severed. He sighed again and turned his face up to the closest steam jet, letting the heat seep into his skin. No matter what miracles the med pods performed, the med pod bay was always ice cold and Sno hated the cold. He’d been trained and conditioned to handle all extremes of weather and climate, but he never got used to being cold.

  Over a decade in the SSD, Sno had been through more extremes than he cared to. He’d been in nearly every habitable system in the galaxy and more than half the uninhabitable systems. He had contacts on close to every planet and station within the Galactic Fleet’s reach and more than a few contacts within Skrang Alliance territory.

  As soon as he got done with his debriefi
ng by Crush, Sno planned on calling a few of those Skrang contacts to find out what in all the Hells was up with a Skrang ship being used by a team of Chassfornians.

  A team of Chassfornians…

  Sno had a hard time wrapping his mind around that. Even with a decade of SSD status under his belt, he’d never seen a team of Chassfornians before. Yes, back in the War, he’d witnessed a squad of them take out village after village, station after station, but that had been a military setting and each squad had a set of non-Chassfornian handlers at the ready to rein in the beings if they got out of control. Or to terminate them if they went completely berserk.

  Skrang ship and a team of Chassfornians trying to collect a bounty on him. On an SSD agent. A bounty.

  Intel on that situation was well worth spending some contact capital on. Even if the mission was dead and Sno wasn’t supposed to pursue it, which he was more than certain would be Crush’s orders, Sno had no intention of dropping it. He’d get a serious chewing out by Crush if the commander found out, but Sno wasn’t one to let a situation like that go.

  Skrang ship and a team of Chassfornians trying to collect a bounty on him. Sno shook his head as he turned around and let the steam dig deep into his shoulders.

  Close to an hour later, after several alerts from Ledora that Commander Crush was growing impatient, Sno finally stepped out of the steam and dried himself off. He dressed, checked his suit over several times to make sure the cut was right, then grabbed up the waiting whiskey bottle and headed out of the apartment.

  “Will you be returning this evening, Agent Prime?” Ledora asked over the comm. “Shall I have dinner waiting?”

  “I’ll let you know, Ledora,” Sno said, activating the lift. “If you don’t hear from me, then don’t bother with dinner. I plan on having drinks with Agent Reign in the observatory later, so I may grab something to eat then.”

  “Very well, Agent Prime,” Ledora responded. “Please enjoy the remainder of your day.”

  Sno doubted enjoyment of any kind was on the agenda.

  8.

  Special Service Division Commander Crush was a Klav. In essence, he was a ball of eyes with several long tentacles sticking out from the flesh that wasn’t occupied by eyes. Klavs were known for their brilliant minds, making them some of the best scientists in the galaxy. They also made exceptional whiskey which was prized almost religiously within the Klavian culture.