The Everglade
Tergan sat alone with a freshly poured glass of beer in an empty booth. The Everglade was ablaze with activity from dozens of Academy graduates celebrating the end of their studies, but despite the roar of company surrounding him, Tergan felt isolated. Only a mere few hours ago did he graduate at the top of his class, receiving the highest of honours—not something that was achieved particularly often by students of the Centauri Academy of Foreign Intelligence. The Academy was notorious for its programs that were designed to put potential graduates through five years of hell in order to earn their Marking—an imprint injected onto the underside of a person’s wrist, which when read by Academy scanners, identified the individual and their ranking, as well as what resources they had access to. As few as forty percent graduated the Academy at all, and those fortunate enough to do so typically only passed with a Level I, II or III Marking—mostly allowing them to work in mundane office or logistics based roles until they made their way up the chain.
Some students, however, exceeded all expectations—with Tergan able to count himself among them. Such students who distinguished themselves from the others by sailing through all exams and practical exercises with such efficiency were able to earn themselves a Level IV or higher Marking. The highest being Level V (for graduates, anyway). This allowed the students to be considered for placement into the Stellar Information Inquisitors—often referred to as ‘Stellars’—who were responsible for the investigation and infiltration of extremely high-risk terrorist organisations across the stars, with access to whatever they needed to get their jobs done. Their existence largely kept a secret and experts in subterfuge and intelligence gathering, they made sure the citizens of the Interplanetary Union were kept safe from large scale threats. Due to the exceptionally high-risk nature of the job, every member who joined the Stellars was effectively wiped out of existence—as far as digital footprints were concerned—to maintain maximum secrecy, their identities rotating constantly with each new mission to decrease the chance of discovery.
Around him, the graduation party raged on. Tergan should have been celebrating with everyone else. Instead, freshly graduated, he was silently panicking over a terrorist plot he had inadvertently stumbled upon.
Tergan felt like his body was surging with enough energy to sprint around the Academy campus one or two times after receiving the results of his final assessment—a resounding pass. Students who achieved such results were sometimes privy to a visit from Amber Ward, the most effective and notorious agent among the Stellars. These visits were a rarity as she was often busy with the riskiest assignments the galaxy had to offer, but she was known to attempt at making the time to congratulate potential Stellar agents. Tergan felt like his luck had hit an all-time high—graduating top of his class and getting to meet the Amber Ward? To his dismay, it hadn’t been a long affair, simply a congratulations and a shake of the hand. Nevertheless, even being in the mere presence of a legend such as Amber was enough for Tergan. Not many people would be lucky enough to steal a gaze, never mind shake her hand and be the target of her attention.
Still riding his high, he hummed to himself as he sauntered through the deserted halls of the maintenance wards on his way to one of the more poorly maintained rooms. Alcohol was strictly forbidden on the campus and living accommodations were often subject to surprise inspections, so being the good student that he was, Tergan had managed to smuggle in some whiskey from time to time and find a secret spot to hide it. He planned on going out to one of the nearby bars—likely The Everglade where most of the graduates were heading—but he wanted to commit one more rule-defying act before he left for good. His hums were cut short at the sound of someone else’s voice, causing him to stop dead in his tracks. It was Graduation Day, so no one had any reason to be down in maintenance—even the caretakers were off celebrating, taking any excuse they could find to bunk off work. The voices were quiet, but they sounded like they were nearby. Silently, he carefully edged forwards hugging the nearby wall, paying close attention to his foot placement lest he accidentally kicked one of the small stones or chunks of masonry lying around in the timeworn and unkempt hallways.
They’re in the same room as my stash, he thought to himself. Shit, they haven’t found it, have they? Please, not now, of all the times…
He was close enough to make out the voices now. They were, in fact, coming from the same room his stash was located, but cautiously peering through one of the brick-sized holes in the adjacent wall, they didn’t appear to be searching for anything—they were simply talking to one another. His eyes widened as he identified the source of one of the voices as belonging to Amber Ward herself. Not being one to miss out on potential gossip, he focused his ears and attempted to make out their exchange.
“…operation was a resounding success. The Academy will believe any bullshit I feed them, they didn’t even suspect any foul play in my report,” he heard Amber say.
“Don’t get too cocky. You fucked up by blowing up the chemical plant. You’re lucky most of the bodies were vaporized,” the other voice said.
Chemical plant? Tergan thought to himself. They aren’t talking about Stureon, are they? A couple of days ago, the news stations had been ablaze with reports about a terrorist attack on the Stureon chemical plant in the nearby Antares system, killing several hundred workers and injuring even more. Not to mention the effects of toxic chemicals being released into the atmosphere, which would inevitably add to the existing body count.
“Oh, relax.” She waved her hand dismissively. “They bought my story, I fed them some bullshit about how I compromised an ongoing terrorist operation, and they decided to blow the whole joint.”
The other voice grunted. “In any case, it was an unnecessary risk. Exposing our operation would ruin everything we’ve worked towards.” Tergan heard the shuffle of heavy footsteps as the owner of the voice began to leave the room. “Next briefing in two days. Same spot. Don’t be late.” He had to force himself to move, too absorbed in the conversation for his body to react properly. He darted around the corner just in time to see a heavy-set man in a long, dark trench coat leave the room, thankfully heading in the opposite direction to himself. Amber wasn’t long after him, though she seemed to linger in the hallway for a moment before heading off in a separate direction.
What the fuck was that about? he thought to himself, his heart racing.
Tergan stared at his drink, trying to digest the encounter he’d witnessed earlier. He couldn’t help but wonder what on earth the best Stellar the Academy had was doing talking about the recent terrorist attack like she herself had instigated it. He mulled over the words she spoke in his head, picking them apart over and over again in an attempt to digest their meaning. Surely it had to be subterfuge? A meeting with a target in her investigations she was working towards getting close with?
But it sounded like the explosion was caused by her, he thought to himself. She wouldn’t actually kill hundreds of innocents just to advance a case, would she? He took a swig of his drink and realised that making such speculations was fruitless as he didn’t actually know the woman. He had no idea how she operated or how ruthless she could be under that friendly, approachable facade she presented to the world. After all, spycraft was her profession, and she didn’t rise to the top through friendliness.
The bearish man she was with had mentioned another meeting in two days. A shiver ran down his spine at the mere thought of considering attempting to eavesdrop a second time to obtain more information. As a prospective Stellar, one of his traits that got him this far was his lust for seeking out as much detail as possible—he just couldn’t resist arranging his own intelligence operation. Could he do it? Should he even do it? He had absolutely no idea what would happen if he got caught. If she truly had gone rogue, she might kill him on the spot. Though she might kill him anyway if he blew her cover—if she was indeed undercover. He slammed his drink down on the table, the decision made. He would go back a second time. After all, he just simply couldn’t resist.
Tergan made sure he arrived an hour before the second meeting was supposed to take place, taking the time to properly scout out the area in case he was caught off guard by any surprises. With Amber being the best there was, he was sure she had established safeguards, though due to his lack of experience, he had no idea what to even look out for. Fortunately, there were several cleaning closets scattered all over the hallways, so he picked one whose back was against the meeting room and was sufficiently deteriorated enough to contain several small holes within the brickwork—perfect for keeping himself concealed but allowing some sound to travel through. It wasn’t particularly comfy, but he settled himself down to wait.
Not long after, he was taken completely by surprise when the door of his closet slowly creaked open. Jumping out of his skin, his head jolted around to see Amber casually leaning against the door frame, her arms crossed.
“Well, hello there… Tergan, is it? Thought you could eavesdrop a second time?” she asked, casually grinning at him. “And before you open your mouth, don’t even bother making up some pathetic excuse for why you’re in here.”
Tergan’s mouth lay open in shock. He wasn’t even sure what he should say—or do—though he didn’t get much of a chance to think of anything before Amber’s friend stomped into the closet and knocked him out cold.
