Story #358 - Spied

Spied

“Welcome, Captain,” the base-commander’s voice was tight. “We’re pleased you could join us on such short notice.”

“I rather doubt that,” Trell Soriss said drily. “And I suspect we both know why I’m here.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” It was hard for Trell not to laugh at the man – straight-backed and iron faced, he was the soul of the Federated Territories, and about as bright as a stump.

“Of course you don’t, Commander.” Trell gestured to a nearby tent. “Why don’t we step inside and have a chat about exactly what it is you don’t know.”

A few steps across the threshold and two guardsmen had him by the arms while two others loosed their blasters and leveled them with dark eyes. The mission on Vorall had been a difficult one for the Territories, plagued by problems and setbacks, and those stationed on the small world had become hard, uncompromising. Word of a spy in the ranks had filtered downward from the General, talk of a shadowy figure in Federated clothing, one that could move unseen and disappear from plain sight.

That the Conglomerate had the capability to field such spies was no shock, but many good, Federated men lived with the foolish belief that lurking predators employed to destroy their way of life could not possibly have slipped into the army itself.

For twenty years Trell had worked for the Conglomerate, always sure and certain he’d be caught, exposed by a single mistake. It was a mistimed bombing op – not his fault, but that didn’t matter – and a fool who’d spoken out of turn that pointed straight to Trell.

“Don’t move,” one of the guards said. “We have orders to shoot if you so much as lift a finger.”

“Gentlemen,” Trell replied with a warm smile. “You’ve got me. I have no intentions of fighting you on this. Get your Commander in here and we’ll have a nice little chat.”

“I don’t think so, spy.” The Commander’s voice was hard as he swept in through the tent-flap. “Your lies hold no interest for me. Detention processing is your next stop,” the sharp-chinned man smiled, “and then I’m hoping a messy public execution.” He gestured to his guards. “My men need the morale boost.”

Trell knelt, hands at his sides, but the gesture of peace was lost on the already-raging guardsmen and they swept in, blows raining down. Blackness quickly followed.

***

“How long have you been active in the service as a spy?” The interrogators voice was smooth and pleasant; Trell had been cooperative thus far, giving the older man no reason to bring out any more aggressive tactics. He seemed disappointed – no surprise for a torture specialist.

“My entire career.” Trell said shortly.

“Which is how long, exactly?” The dates were well known and listed in every dossier sent around about his exploits, but conditioning to answer easy questions was a part of the interrogation process.

“Twenty years,” he replied. “I was trained at the academy on Kelbor before I ever applied with the Service.”

“Interesting.” The man’s voice was clipped. “Tell me more. I want names, dates, specific operations. All of it.”

Trell sighed. He had expected as much, but didn’t want to rehash the details of his career. Some of his ops has led to the deaths of significant Territory figures, while others had more subtle, long-term effects but all were intricate and precise and would take time to explain.

“No,” he said softly, and the other man’s face lit up.

The hours that followed were hazy, a mixture of narcotics and agony, and Trell was sure he revealed everything asked. His masters at the Conglomerate had been prepared for such an outcome, and while the information he gave revealed his part in plot after plot, he had no knowledge of anyone who’d worked alongside him or provided the orders that led to “terrorist” activities.

Finally lucid again, Trell could see the obvious displeasure on his captor’s face. A lack of resistance always meant a less satisfying session, and there were few spies as easy to torture as Trell.

“Your crimes are heinous,” the interrogator spoke softly. “And despite your willingness to speak the truth, deserve nothing but death.”

Trell shrugged. He’d known as much would be his punishment from the first moment of his career.

“I, however, cannot make that final judgment,” the man went on. “You are fortunate, spy, in that our law demands trial by the highest magistrate on a world, even for filth such as you. It will be your great honor to be given a sentence of death by Lord Ithos Reid, here to oversee operations and reclamation.”

***

“So you are the spy everyone speaks to me about – the Captain who has betrayed his people.” Ithos Reid’s voice was cold.

“Hardly,” Trell said jovially. “I’ve always been a Conglomerate man. That you didn’t know as much is laughable.”

A sharp smack from one of his guards set Trell’s head to ringing, but he kept the smile on his face.

“Do you know why you are here, spy?” Reid asked.

“For you to pass judgment.” He glanced around the small council room. No recording devices were present – what happened inside was clearly something the Territories want to keep a secret. Trell smiled.

“Yes.” Reid leaned in, wide face only inches from Trell’s own.

A sharp exhale of breath and the Lord stepped back, coughing at the foul breath that came his way. “Guilty!” He cried, “guards – take him away and make sure he does not see the sun rise again.”

Blows fells onto Trell’s head and back as he was dragged from the room to his death, but they didn’t matter. His capture had been arranged, his interrogation certain. That Reid was on-planet gave the perfect opportunity, and the tiny device Trell had kept concealed in his mouth would quickly begin to act on the Lord. Within weeks, the Conglomerate would own one of the most powerful men in the Territories, and yet be foolishly sure in the knowledge it had eliminated a threat.

Such was the life of a spy.


- D