by Nathan Pedde
“That’s it?”
“I’ve read your file. You’re eager, but I need you to get smart. I know you were conscripted into this by Captain Kusheeno. Most of us were.”
“Most…” Des said, then thought about her statement for a moment. “That meaning there are more of us?”
“Yes. But things aren’t good for us secret agents in the Jovian System.”
“The war?”
“Yes. The war… The truth is we’re losing and badly. It causes casualties in our ranks. I know of a half dozen agents getting drafted into the Jovian National Intelligence Service. For now, we need to concentrate on the defense of this station.”
“I agree, but what can I do?”
“I’m enrolling you in a basics class. It’ll be at the Jov 1-H Military Academy.”
“Won’t it defeat the purpose of being a spy if other people know who you are?”
“Kinda, but you’ll be using some facial differentiating technology, and an assumed name.”
“Will it be enough?” Des asked.
“All the students will be.”
Des thought about it for a moment.
“Listen,” Cryslis continued, “there’s three hundred thousand people living on this station spread out among twelve sectors. They’ll have a hard time figuring out who you are.”
“When will the class happen, because I have a busy schedule already.”
“Every day at 5AM at the academy,” Cryslis said. “I’ll contact you later to get you information on where to go. You’ll have a uniform and everything.”
“Great,” Des replied unimpressed.
This deal is getting worse by the moment, Des thought.
“I go to the academy as well. As a regular student though,” Cryslis said. “Don’t talk to me under any circumstances. Distance is our best protection at this point.”
“How are you going to contact me?” Des asked.
“Put this in your ear,” Cryslis said, handing him a small chip. “It’s waterproof and has an active camouflage. No will notice it. It doesn’t like electric shocks, however.”
The chip was dark colored, and smaller than Des’s fingernail. He put it in place.
“Can you hear me now?” Cryslis asked, her voice echoed in his head.
“How do I use this thing?” Des asked.
“Please don’t shout. I heard you loud and clear. You need to speak softly.”
“How’s this?” Des whispered.
“Good,” Cryslis said. “Get a wireless earpiece for your phone and keep it in your ear. It isn’t obvious you’re talking to yourself. That way if someone notices you acting funny, just tell them you’re on the phone.”
“That’s helpful,” Des said. “How do I not talk to you? I mean… when I don’t want… I mean.”
“Shush and stop stammering. I know what you mean. The chip is activated by thought. Think of anyone but me and you won’t talk to me.”
“Okay,” Des said. “Good.”
“I’ll contact you later,” Cryslis said.
Along a distant road, a tractor rolled by the edge of a field. The farmer who drove it stared at them, then stopped the tractor.
Des saw Cryslis freeze, noticing the man out of the corner of her eye.
“Shoot,” Cryslis said. “Don’t look, but we’re being watched.”
“What do we do?” Des asked, panic spreading across his face.
“Calm down,” Cryslis said. “Kiss me.”
“What?” Des said.
“Keep your voice down,” Cryslis said. “Become good at acting and kiss me.”
Des gulped slightly and leaned into a kiss. He felt awkward and silly. He aimed for her cheek.
“On the lips, you fool,” Cryslis’s voice echoed in his head.
Des blushed and leaned in to kiss her on the lips. Her lips felt soft, and lush and wet. He blushed fiercely and then stopped.
“Sorry,” Des said.
“Don’t worry about it.” Cryslis waved him off.
The tractor started up and turned around. It rolled away down the road the way it had come.
“Now, ride away on your scooter, and go the opposite way of me,” Cryslis’s voice said. “I’ll talk to you on the way back to the office.”
Des nodded, starting his scooter. The electric engine sprang to life, making a soft whine. He drove away down the dirt road. He looked over at the farmers in the tractor. Des could see them point at him as he drove by.
“Why did I have to kiss you?” Des asked Cryslis softly.
“Cause we’re wearing very recognizable clothing. Now they’ll most likely forget who they saw as they will only have seen the uniform,” Cryslis explained. “He’ll reject it as unimportant information.”
“I see,” Des said. “Blend into the environment.”
“Exactly. Now get the scooter back to the office and get some sleep. I’ll make the arrangements later tonight. You’ll be starting your training tomorrow morning,” Cryslis said.
An hour later, Des arrived at his uncle's house. A single light was on in the kitchen. It was too late for it to be Susan as she would have gone home by now. Des figured it was Sheemo, at the table. Des had gotten lucky with Sheemo out working on some school project until late the day before. Today, luck wasn’t on his side. In that moment, Des had the sudden urge to run. He had no intention of talking to him.
He took off his shoes and his jacket, hanging them in the closet. Des knew he was delaying the inevitable, but maybe if he waited until Sheemo was done, then he could avoid him. He pulled out his phone and went through the various menus. He went to the messenger application and opened a chat to Elsie.
You busy? Des typed.
A moment went by before Elsie responded.
No. But I can’t talk right now, Elsie replied. Mom saw the rip in my jacket and commented on why we missed getting to a shelter.
I forgot to ask if you got in trouble for all of it? Des typed.
That’s why I can’t talk right now, Elsie typed.
Des closed the menu and stared for a moment. He took a deep breath, summoning his courage. He knew he could take on people like Diplin, Mr. Anderson and Captain Kusheeno. However, his brother was another story. The palms of his hands started to sweat. He took a second, deep breath. The dreadful conversation Des knew would come was about to begin.
He walked into the kitchen to meet his fate.
The kitchen was small, no bigger than a hallway. The cabinets were painted a pale blue. The appliances were built out of shiny steel. On the other side of the kitchen was a small dining room.
Sitting at the table, with books strewn about, was Sheemo. He was two years older than Des but looked like he was at least three or four years more. He was built like a tank, with broad shoulders and muscles from continually working out. Des, however, was tall for his age and resembled a twig in comparison.
“Sit, dear brother,” Sheemo said not looking up from his books.
“I need to get something to eat,” Des replied. “I’m starving.”
Des walked over to the fridge.
“I need to talk to you,” Sheemo said.
Des grabbed a small container of week-old leftovers, “I thought so when I saw you on the train station, but I was late, so I had no time to talk.”
He threw his food in the heater. After a few seconds, it was done. With his food in his hands, Des walked over and sat at the table.
“What’s up?” Des asked, eating his food.
“Why did you get called to the Captain’s office?” Sheemo asked.
“Misunderstanding,” Des replied.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I was goofing off with Elsie, and we got caught too far away from an empty emergency shelter.”
“Goofing off?” Sheemo said. “Right. Fillip said you took Elsie into the Undercroft again.”
“I would’ve taken him too, but he was too chicken to go in.”
“Really Des. Did you get caught?” Sh
eemo asked.
“No. He questioned me on our failure to make it to a station, and that was that.”
“And why didn’t you go to work today?” Sheemo asked.
“Kusheeno punished me by transferring me to a different company.”
“What company?”
“Courier one.” Des finished his food.
“You got to be fucking kidding me,” Sheemo said. “That’s not a punishment.”
“Yes, it is,” Des said. “It gets me farther from getting into doing something with meaning. I’m a mindless grunt walking back and forth across the station delivering people’s love letters.”
“I won’t tell uncle about your punishment if you apply to the Military Academy,” Sheemo said.
“Not this argument again,” Des said, rolling his eyes.
“Yes, this argument again. Just think. If you keep your grades up, not only will you not have to work, you’ll be exempt, but you can become the Astrogator like dad wanted. Like I know you want.”
“I’m sixteen,” Des said. “Why do I have got to choose what I want to be now? Why can’t I wait till I’m older?”
“Cause there’s a war on.”
“Cause there’s a war on,” Des said. “That’s been everyone’s excuse for the last five years.”
Des picked up his bowl and put it in the dishwasher.
“I’m not done talking,” Sheemo said.
“I am. I have homework to do.”
Des shut his door a touch harder than he intended. The echo from the slam rang around the small townhouse. He was sure the neighbors heard the slam of his door in their unit. Not that he cared too much about what anyone thought about him.
He shuffled into his room over top of the piles of dirty laundry and to his computer chair. Des was still hungry, but he had no intention of going back to get yelled at by Sheemo.
Fuck. He’s right. I do need to join the academy, Des thought.
It would keep him out of the war for another three or four years and would allow him to become whatever he wanted. He had the grades for it and would do well in the entrance exam. If he even had to take it.
But Des was unsure what he wanted. To him, it seemed like everyone else knew what they were going to do for the rest of their lives. However, he still floundered along playing at being a spy. If that’s what he was doing.
Son-of-a, Des thought.
He would have to either make a decision on his own, or someone somewhere will make his decision for him. Like his brother was doing to him, but he wouldn’t have the ability to say no. He understood Sheemo was correct. He would have to take the plunge sooner rather than later. Sheemo would never let him hear the end of it.
“Damn it,” Des said, making his decision.
Des pulled out his tablet. It was an older M43a model he had taken apart, removing the wireless hardware. It survived the operation and functioned offline. He used it to record and document things he didn’t want anyone else look at. It was where he recorded his thoughts of his trips into the Undercroft.
He flipped through the different menus and applications. A moment later, he opened the recording he took yesterday. He examined its contents, looking for signs of where he gotten so lost in the undercroft. He never gotten lost before, and it worried him.
Des plugged the different data points into another program and waited while it compiled. Des collected interesting facts he saw during his incursions. He thought it would give him some type of picture, but so far, it was for nothing. The program finished, and he still saw no patterns besides the few areas which he knew were maintained by station employees.
Then the messenger program buzzed on his personal phone. He pressed a few buttons, and the tablet switched off and secured itself.
Des pulled his phone out of his pocket, staring at the message. It was from Cryslis on where to go in the morning. Beside it, there was an older message from Elsie he had missed.
He opened the message, and it flashed on the screen.
Sorry, Elsie’s message said. I only got talked to. No real trouble. My mom hates you though…
No worries, Des replied. I’m your friend. Not hers.
Des glanced at the time. He opened his homework and start on it.
A message came back from her, it was an automated response.
This user is away from the phone due to the need for uninterrupted study time. She’ll contact you later.
Chapter Seven
The night passed slowly. Des puzzled through his data looking for patterns and events. He figured if he could find the culprit in a day or two, then his life could go back to some semblance of normal. If he could figure out what normal was.
It was very early when a loud screech echoed in his ear.
“Get up,” Cryslis said through his earpiece. “You’re going to be late.”
Des looked at the time. He had gone to bed just after midnight. It was now three-thirty in the morning.
“I don’t have to be there until four,” Des muttered.
“You have to get to the safehouse to get your uniform, and your disguise,” Cryslis said.
“Son-of-a…” Des muttered. “I’m up,”
“I’m on my way to pick you up,” Cryslis said. “Get to the street corner in ten minutes.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
Des pried himself out of bed, took a quick shower and was out the door in five minutes.
The trip to the safehouse was uneventful. No one up at this hour. Des dressed in his uniform. Cryslis made sure he understood how to wear it in the right manner. She also gave him a quick lesson on how to carry himself as cadets walked and acted in their own distinct style.
“If you see your brother,” Cryslis said, “you can’t let him know it’s you. Do you understand?”
Des nodded.
The walk through the streets at four in the morning was dead. The air had a crispness to it which made Des feel refreshed and alive, even though he only had a short three hours of sleep. He found it weird recycled air could be crisp, but he had been told it was something to do with the size of the vast station.
A short while later, Des investigated the mirror in the boy's washroom of the Military Academy illuminated by the bright fluorescent lights. He was dressed in the standard issue, Jovian Armed Forces Cadet Uniform for the Jov 1-H Military Academy, which was the same as Sheemo’s. The Kepi Hat sat low above his eyes. Des wore a small device in the form of a necklace causing him to appear to have a different face. His new face had a long hawkish nose and large overgrown eyebrows. His smaller chin made his face look slightly comical.
Des wore the face of Ryder Fly. An imaginary boy Cryslis constructed for him with a background and a history built that would fool any curious searchers.
He threw his backpack over his shoulder, exiting the bathroom. He felt a touch weird at what he was doing.
Am I doing the right thing? Is lying to everyone I know the right thing to do? Des thought, sighing through his nose. Ugh, this sucks.
Des walked down the central corridor of the Academy. It overlooked the entire sector of the station from its home on a gently rising hill. The Academy stretched five stories tall and was covered in gray painted stucco which gave it a boxy feeling.
He found his classroom, but no one waited outside the door. He was too early. Des jingled the door handle. Locked. He walked around the halls of the school and gazed at all the objects, or the lack of objects on the walls. There was no posters or artwork, only a single line of lockers. The lack of decor gave the school an uneasy feeling of uniformity Des wasn’t used to. He investigated an open classroom. The desks were in neat rows with their chairs stacked on top looking very much like the halls. They were devoid of anything interesting to look at.
Des glanced down at his watch. He still had twenty minutes to go before his class started.
“Can I help you with anything?” Sheemo asked.
Des panicked inside. He turned around and Sheemo stood beside him with his arms be
hind his back. Sheemo looked smart in his fancy uniform. It fit him perfectly.
“I said, can I help you with anything?” Sheemo repeated.
“No,” Des said, reminding himself he wore an academy uniform and a different face. “I’m just waiting for my class to start.”
Sheemo perked a brow. “What’s your name cadet?”
“My name is… umm.” Des stumbled on his words.
“Umm? Your name is Umm?”
“No. Sorry. I got lost in thought for a second. My name is Ryder Fly.”
“Ryder Fly?”
“Yes. I hate my parents,” Des said with an uneasy grin.
“Stand by your door. Don’t wander around the school at this early in the morning. If an older student sees you, he’ll beat you.”
Sheemo turned, marching away through the hallways, his boots clattering on the floor. Des shrugged his shoulders and wandered back towards his classroom. He was suddenly unsure if going to the academy was a smart idea. He was uncertain he wanted to get involved in this place.
When Des arrived at the classroom door, he found it was now open. A couple of students sat at their desks in the classroom in the same Academy uniforms. Des picked a seat in the middle of the room and sat down.
A student who sat in the desk across from him leaned into to talk to him. The student was tall and looked to be at least eighteen. He was old enough to have to shave once every couple of days.
“First time in this course?” the student asked.
“It’s a course,” Des said, “shouldn’t you only have to take it once?”
“Sure okay,” the student said. “Nerd.”
“Excuse me?” Des said. “What did you call me?”
The student didn’t say anything.
Fifteen minutes later, a teacher walked into the classroom. He was dressed in a crisp military uniform. Des knew his uniforms. The teacher had to be from the Jovian Aeronautical Force. The rank insignia described he was a Major. The colored ribbons decorating his chest regaled the Major had combat experience and been wounded at least once. Of course, Des also understood he was in a spy class. The uniform and ribbons could be lies.
“I’m Mr. Smith,” the teacher said. “I’ll be your ‘Home Economics for Beginners’ teacher. I’ll begin by taking roll call.”