Story #218 - Take Me

Take Me

“Take me to the Captain.” The man’s voice was hard, an accomplishment considering that he was surrounded by three of my men, all with blasters leveled at him, though that was part of his training. Agents weren’t known for their humility, and most could handle their share of pressure, but I’d broken more than in few during my time as head of security operations for the Orkana.

This Agent, though, was something else – a cut above the kind I usually ran into. His dark hair and thin build put him right in line, physically, with the rest of his brethren, but his attitude was arrogant even for one of his kind. In a way, I found him amusing.

“I demand that you take me to the Captain,” the Agent said again, glaring up at me. “This treatment violates both Conventions.”

“Does it?” I whispered, leaning in close to the man. “And why would that matter to you?”

“I’m just an honest merchant!” The man cried in an almost-perfect imitation of chagrin. “You’ve seen me selling my wares every day you’ve been in port. I haven’t so much as glanced at your ship!”

“Exactly,” I said, motioning to one of my men, who pulled out the neutralizer he had stored in his belt, “and yet we found this among your possessions.” The long silver cylinder was unmistakable as anything else – one touch of the rounded end of the device to the head of a target, combined with a light thumb-press of the button at the other end, and their mind was blanked. Neutralizers left the body intact for mission-completion purposes, but once touched, there was no coming back from the electro-scattering of the device. They had been outlawed in the Far Reaches for the better part of a decade, and only the most hardened criminals carried them, along with the few Agents sent to do the Republic’s dirty work.

The tall man frowned, managing to look surprised and indignant at the same time. I was impressed, I had to admit – most of the Agents they were training at the Academy these days were pure arrogance and vitriol. This one had learned a number of other, useful skills, like how to hide in plan sight.

“What is that?” The Agent asked, moving forward slightly in his chair. I put a not-so-gentle hand on his chest to stop him, and stared down at him until he relaxed.

“Really, Agent?” I said with a smirk. “You expect us to believe that you were carrying a neutralizer and didn’t know what it was? That you are so stupid you do not recognize your possession?”

“Why do you call me that – Agent? I am no servant of the Republic!” The dark-haired man tried to stand up from his chair, but I set him down firmly. His performance, while convincing, would yield no results.

“The Captain will be coming to see you,” I said once he was sitting and calm, and I could see his face brighten, “but I doubt that you will like what he has to say any more that what you’ve heard from me.”

The Agent’s face darkened again, and it took great restraint on my part not to laugh. Whoever had done his training was skilled, but had given him the unfortunate habit of over-acting the part.

I turned to Malcom, the best of my men and the only one I’d trust to hold the neutralizer. At my motion, he passed it to my hand.

“While we wait for the Captain to arrive,” I said softly, “let’s talk about this device you supposedly know nothing about.”

The Agent said nothing – the first smart choice he’d made since I’d dragged him into the room and given him a seat.

“One touch with this, Agent, one press of the button, and I can erase everything you know, make you into a shell of your former self, a hollow container that doesn’t contain a damn thing of who you are. Does that sound appealing?”

The man shook his head, a feigned fear large in his eyes.

Grabbing him by the collar, I lifted him off of the chair and slammed him hard into the wall.

“Are you sure?” I bellowed at him. “Are you sure that doesn’t sound like something you may have known, carrying this weapon with you, all this time?”

“No,” he said softly, “it sounds horrific.” His body went limp in my hands, and I threw him back into his chair. Malcom, Dern and Ceri all looked at one another, and then at me. I could see it in the eyes – they weren’t sure that we had the right man, now. They were starting to believe his lies.

A tap at the door told me that the Captain had arrived, and I motioned to Dern to let him in. He’d want to see the Agent in person, before we disposed of the body. A quick look at Ceri and a nod let me know that the cameras in the room had been disabled. No one would know what transpired here – always a good idea if the Merchants Association ever found itself in a position to bargain with the Republic.

The door swept open to admit Captain Wheler, a veteran of the Merchant Fleet and one of the most outspoken opponents of Republic control in the Far Reaches.

“Well, well,” Wheler said, moving around the desk to stand beside me, “what do we have here?”

I moved before he had a chance to react, not that he would have seen it coming in any case. A quick jab with the neutralizer, a button press, and the Captain went down in a heap. Three quick blaster shots left Malcom, Dern and Ceri on the floor with holes in their chests, and I felt a twinge of regret. They had been good men.

Indo smiled at me from his chair. He had played his part perfectly.

I smiled back, and I could see him recoil quickly. He’d been told by Republic higher-ups that this was the start of his training, but the truth was he was just a wash-out, a would-be Agent that couldn’t make the grade. Indo struggled briefly, but his fate was sealed, and his body joined that of the other four on the ground.

Dashing to the door, I thumbed the control panel and started screaming for reinforcements, jamming the alarm once I’d made it into the hallway.

A true Agent existed where he was least expected – acted when others wouldn’t dare.


- D