Trickskin

by Amelia R. Moore

  (Don’t lie. You revel in it—their fear.)

  The assessment complete, he was finally given a tour of the compound, and he wondered if they knew that pointing out what buildings he didn’t have clearance for would only pique his interest. Filing away the places he most wanted to infiltrate, he was shown the medical, engineering, and astrophysics departments. Each had various levels of clearance, and he was told that if his ID let him into an area, he could assume he was free to explore it.

  As if he cared about permission.

  Finally, he was offered an official contract to sign. Much to the annoyance of his babysitter, he sat down and read through the entire thing. It outlined expected behavior, extracted a vow of secrecy, detailed his pay scale, and made him agree to follow Earth’s laws unless given special permission while in the field.

  There was nothing worth protesting (though he couldn't help but notice they gave him no reference for if the offered wage was fair) so he signed it. Afterwards, he was finally given an ID and dismissed to do as he pleased. He chose to return to his room to finish his latest literary conquest and scoffed when he realized that he’d already designated his room as the safest location on the compound. Of course, he’d thoroughly searched it with magic for so called “bugs” and found it clean. Before he’d finished reading a single chapter, a knock came at the door. Expecting to have to battle off Nora again, he was surprised to find Callum standing in the threshold.

  “May I come in?” he asked with his signature smile.

  Loken considered refusing him, bristling at the concern he could read in Callum’s eyes. He wasn’t a fool to be blinded by the lie that any of these men cared for him. They cared only for what he could do for them, and that he could understand. There was a strange comfort in knowing and understanding what was wanted of him.

  Of course, there was fun in subverting people’s expectations

  “Certainly,” he said flatly, stepping aside.

  “I came to see how you’re settling in.”

  Noticing that Callum seemed to be waiting for an answer, Loken offered an unenthusiastic, “Quite well.”

  “I won’t have the report on your assessment until this afternoon—”

  Loken raised a brow, wondering why the process was so slow. He’d given clear demonstrations. Were they simply deciding how best to utilize his abilities?

  “—to talk to you about something not in the contract. It’s not required, but we offer it to all field agents. A subdermal tracking device.”

  Though Loken was certain his expression properly conveyed his feelings on the matter—a wall of no—Callum did not falter.

  “You have no reason to trust us—and yes it could be used against you—but its primary purpose is your safety. It can be used to extract you from hostile terrain or find you if you are compromised.”

  “Be that as it may, I shall have to decline.” That it could be used to locate him, should he ever wish to disappear, was an unacceptable risk.

  Callum didn’t push the matter. “You’ll have a few days to settle in before your first mission. I suggest you take that time to familiarize yourself with the complex. Check out the paranormal research division. Don’t shut yourself away in here for hours on end.”

  “Is that an order?” Loken asked, unable to resist the wild urge to rebel, to challenge authority like a boy still trying to find his place in the world.

  Callum only smiled, not looking the least bit ruffled. “More like a suggestion. Think about it.”

  Loken inclined his head, not trusting what he might say if he spoke, and watched Callum leave. The paranormal research division? Did they think he’d be a willing test subject? That he’d beg for a chance to be studied and prodded? He would not eagerly grant them the means to decipher his weaknesses.

  Yet, working with them would grant him their trust. It wouldn’t be quick, but, over time… And what harm could it do? It wasn’t as if they could ever hope to understand and harness magic. They could not contain or control him. There was little risk and much reward, but he loathed the idea that Callum would think he could be so easily commanded.

  An hour later, his curiosity was still warring with his ability to focus. Rather than give in, he decided to explore the compound without a guide, and eventually he managed to find the training facility. He happened across the shooting range first. Guns were still foreign to him, and he had no intention of ever using them. The noise drove him off, and the next room he came across was large and filled with various equipment. A man was battling a bag hanging from the ceiling, giving one jab after another in a rhythmic pattern.

  Desiring solitude, Loken turned to leave.

  “Hey, wait!”

  He froze at the unexpected voice and turned to find the man had abandoned his combat with the bag.

  Wiping his brow, the stranger walked forward and offered his hand. “Patrick Amaral, but I guess you already knew that.”

  Loken stared blankly, surmising that this Patrick must be someone important—or, at least, arrogant if he assumed others could identify him on sight. Yet the man looked almost sheepish at possibly being recognized. Regardless, there was nothing extraordinary about his dirt brown eyes, golden-brown hair, or sweaty uniform. His height was average, and although he was built like an athlete, he held himself self-consciously. Loken couldn’t imagine why this seemingly ordinary man might be important.

  “No.”

  Realizing Loken had no intention of shaking hands, Patrick let his fall to his side. “Oh. Don’t watch a lot of news, huh? Yeah, me neither.” He gave an awkward smile. “Anyway, I just wanted to say that if you wanted to use the room, I’m almost done. So. Feel free.”

  Loken looked at the room. “I don’t see the appeal.”

  Patrick didn’t seem to know how to reply to that. “It’s...I mean...You’re an agent, right?”

  Was he? He supposed so. “Yes. Are you as well?”

  “Uh, more of an asset, I guess.”

  An asset? This man? Perhaps he had valuable connections. “Fascinating. I’ll leave you to your training now, shall I? I’ve much more of the compound to explore.”

  Patrick’s eyes lit up. “You’re new? Me too. To this division, I mean. Well, hey, if you ever want to spar or something, let me know.”

  Loken didn’t bother explaining why that was a poor idea. In time, he assumed most of the men on the compound would know of his extraterrestrial status, and they’d avoid him. If not for the strangeness of his origins, then for the oddities his magic granted him. “Perhaps I shall.”

  With that noncommittal answer, Loken continued his exploration. The paranormal research department wasn’t difficult to find, and he stared through the glass wall with interest. Men and women worked, some collaborating and some bent over their stations alone. He veiled himself and watched them, able to hear through the thick glass to eavesdrop on the conversations. To his amusement, one of the women had apparently been present at his evaluation, per request of some higher up. She was adamant that what she’d witnessed lacked scientific explanation for now, but she vowed to make sense of it to the man scoffing at her eyewitness testimony.

  Loken grinned mischievously, toying with various pranks he could play on these scientists.

  Time slowed to a crawl when he turned towards the sound of footsteps and watched as Nora walked towards him. Still veiled, he watched from the metaphorical shadows as she strolled passed him and into the room, waving to the pair he’d just been observing.

  She was working for ALPHA?

  (She sold you out.)

  Loken left, betrayal and bitterness swirling inside of him like a hurricane.

  Chapter 3

  It turned out that aeroplanes were even less enjoyable than cars, but he had no other way to get to his first mission without revealing his ability to teleport. So he suffered through the indignity of the inefficient transportation, reading the file on the upcoming mission. It would take them a few hours—hours—to arrive, so he studied t
heir target. This was strictly a recon mission, which was a disappointment, but he knew he’d have to prove his competence before they trusted him with more.

  It had only been four days since his evaluation, but it felt like an eternity. Mostly, he kept to himself. He stayed in his apartment, reading and working out in solitude. Though Nora had come knocking at his door, he hadn’t let her in since their fight, and he'd hardened himself to the truth that a clean break with her was best. There would be no more opportunities for betrayal, no more information she could pass along to ALPHA about him. He’d lived near a millennium without friends for this exact reason. There was always someone who sought to use him for his position or his power, and Nora had been no different, in the end. A new job with ALPHA had likely been too tempting, and honestly, Loken wouldn't have expected her to turn down such an opportunity for an alien she’d met only months prior.

  However, that didn’t mean he intended to let her get away with what she’d done.

  He’d always taken revenge when it was due. As a child, it quickly became well-known by his peers that Loken would not suffer humiliation and would retaliate in cruel, creative ways when wronged. He’d been doing so since he was old enough to craft a spell. After cursing one of his classmates to mewl like a meoc for a day, rumor spread that he could transform people into animals. He’d fed that gossip with vicious satisfaction.

  “What’s this?

  “Pop-Tarts. Trust me. They're a Godsend for people on the run.”

  He disregarded the memory of Nora’s reassuring smile as she showed him the box of breakfast pastries. Her betrayal had cut deeper than it should, and that’s why he couldn’t let it stand. Not wanting the prank to be traced back to him, he’d slipped into the room he’d discovered was hers and left her a surprise in her bathtub. Though a magical construct, an extension of himself and his magic, the little lizard was real to every sense. It would do nicely to startle her but was otherwise harmless. He wouldn’t risk his future in ALPHA over some fickle human woman.

  He looked up from the mission file, torn from his memories when a man took a seat across from him. The first thing Loken noticed were the dual holsters he proudly wore around his waist, openly displaying his weapons of choice. He styled what appeared to be black and grey body armor. It was molded flawlessly to his form, likely custom made. A soldier. Everything from his short-kept, sandy brown hair to his combat boots confirmed it. Despite that, he leaned forward with his hands clasped, betraying an eagerness that Loken assumed had to do with his status as an alien.

  “You’re the guy who Jedi-mind-tricked Rollins and Freeman?” Grey-blue eyes scrutinized him.

  Loken deduced he meant the agents he’d used suggestion on, though he had no idea what a “jed-eye” was. “Please. Tell me what I’ve done to give you the impression I would welcome company? I’d like to rectify it.”

  The gunman didn’t react. “I got to see the mess you left behind when you rescued those kids.”

  That wasn’t the response he’d expected. Loken opted not to reply, to see what, if anything, the man would say next.

  “You could have done the same to the agents, but you didn’t,” the gunman continued, clearly appraising him. “That doesn’t mean I trust you.”

  “You’d be a fool to.”

  The man snorted, stood, and offered his hand. “Well, we’re partners on this mission, so I’d like to think I can at least trust you to do your job. Name’s Eloy Bowen.”

  “Agent Lyall Locke,” he replied without accepting the handshake. What was with humans and touching hands? He understood the cultural significance, but he didn't care for it.

  Eloy didn’t seem fazed. “This is your first mission?” he asked as he settled back into the chair.

  “In a way.”

  It wasn’t. Not by far.

  Loken was the second son of the General of Rellaeria, and he’d been on countless assignments for the crown—both diplomatic and clandestine. He, Sanjay, and their cousin, Zakir, shadowed the General as soon as they were able to hold their own on the battlefield, and they’d been trained for war as soon as they could hold wooden swords. While Sanjay and Zakir outshined him in brute strength, Loken flourished when it came to politics—a skill that his father nourished because it complimented Sanjay’s brash nature.

  Loken and Zakir had grown up knowing that Sanjay was destined for the throne. The children of both the General and the King were scions, but the position of heir always went to the eldest child between the two. The General would be the second oldest. Such was the way of their people—not your people—that Sanjay was next in line.

  He was everything the Evoir valued, and Loken was a failure.

  Despite being mediocre with larger weapons (on a planet that prized physical prowess), Loken had tried endlessly to overcome his shortcomings. More often than not, his efforts ended with him covered with mud and enveloped in humiliation. His trainers had been as frustrated with him as he’d been with them, and he’d crawled into bed many nights with more bruises and cuts than he could count. It wasn’t until one particularly bad session that ended with him in the healing hall for three days that his mother had taken a stand and pulled him out of sword training with his peers.

  From then on, she’d trained him in an entirely different style of fighting, one that took into account his stature and maedir. She taught him the art of the dagger, of fighting that focused on defensive techniques when faced with larger, more powerful foes, trading brute strength for precision. She’d ingrained into him the wisdom of utilizing your surroundings in every battle and the idea that anything within reach was a potential weapon.

  So, while Zakir and Sanjay advanced in weapons training, Loken was sent to learn magic from their allies. He’d spent many summers away from his family, off world on Vasku, holed up in a school with a master of magical arts.

  Yet no matter how much he learned, how much he excelled, his father never acknowledged his achievements. It sickened him to look back and understand why his cousin and brother had been able to get away with so much, whereas Loken’s every misstep had been treated as deliberate rebellion.

  (It always comes back to fear, doesn’t it?)

  Not here. On Earth, I can be remade.

  But could he ever outrun his actions? Outrun his very nature?

  His musings put him in a foul mood for the rest of the flight, and he pointedly ignored Eloy’s attempts to converse until the man gave up and switched seats. He didn’t join ALPHA to make friends. This was a job, and he’d busy himself by basking in the numerous ways he was likely to outshine the humans—both his allies and his enemies.

  Work would be his purpose, as if each successful mission would bring him one step closer towards contentment—as it never had on Rellaeria.

  Loken summoned his traditional Evoir armor as soon as they were ready to deploy, a blend of blue and black leather that had been tailor made in his family’s colors and paired with a blue and gold cape. It covered his entire body. Fingerless gauntlets gave him protection but allowed dexterity, and the thick leather pants and tunic offered more protection than one might assume at first glance, enchanted as it was. It wasn’t sentiment but practicality that had him choosing the familiar raiment. He’d fought countless battles in his Evoir armor, and although he didn’t anticipate a worthy battle (or a battle at all), he refused to be caught off guard on his first mission.

  That and the look on the agents’ faces was more than worth it.

  Eloy raised his brows as Loken descended from the aircraft. “Gettin’ ready for the Renaissance Fair? Little late for that this year, but you do you.”

  Loken only smirked as if he knew what that was and returned the gibe with one of his own, gesturing to the crossbow in Eloy’s hands. “And here I thought all humans had an aversion to real weapons.”

  Truthfully, Loken was more familiar with arrows than bullets, and he very much approved. After all, a crossbow was quieter than a gun.

  For a moment Loken wo
rried he’d slipped up by verbally excluding himself from humanity, but Eloy finally grinned and proudly declared. “If I can shoot it, I own it.”

  So, this agent was a ranged weapons expert. Loken filed that information away and focused on the task at hand. He’d memorized the provided map during the flight and had a general idea of their scouting route. The jet that had brought them in was stealthy, but they’d landed a good distance away to ensure that they wouldn’t be detected. With his crossbow held at the ready, Eloy led the way, and they moved swiftly at a light jog.

  The sun finished setting as they traversed the forest. It appeared that Eloy had studied the provided map as well, and they stayed on course, heading north at an intolerably slow pace. Loken assumed the moon provided enough light for even Eloy to see, but his senses were only human. Comparatively, Loken’s senses were remarkable. He stayed alert, listening for danger.

  With each step he was reminded of a different trek through another dark forest. Once, years ago, they’d been tracking down Sanjay’s friend (who’d managed to get himself kidnapped by minotaurs). Sanjay and Zakir had often dragged him along on hunting trips with them off world; caught in that awkward phase between men and children, they’d taken to questing to quell the restlessness. Though he didn’t particularly care for hunting, he’d tagged along because he loved exploring.

  The Evoir were the most powerful race in the Alatheia System, and as such, Loken and his family were relatively safe wherever they went. Fear was a powerful deterrent, and Rellaeria was well-known for being proactive with their military. Protectors of Alatheia, Sanjay proudly declared, echoing King Balan’s mantra.

  The minotaurs were a lesser race and clearly didn't recognize who they were dealing with. They’d attacked in the middle of the night, catching them unaware, and though their hunting party managed to fight off the beasts, one had gotten away with Filverel, his brother’s friend. They’d tracked him through a brisk night like this.