Prologue
The lifeless body of his fellow agent on the bed confirmed the undercover operation was thoroughly busted.
“Crap,” Agent Andrew Espinoza, Dominion Intelligence Bureau, said as he stepped fully into the dimly lit room and carefully made his way to the filthy bed in which his fellow agent lay. He turned away from the ruined body of his friend and scanned the room for any sign of danger. Seeing none, he quickly walked back out of the room to where the slaves he had rescued earlier were waiting.
“Okay, let’s keep quiet now,” he reminded them. “I’ll go first, and you follow me. I don’t think there are any more slavers in the warehouse. Understand?”
They all nodded. He offered them a smile of confidence, though he had lied. He knew there was one more slaver in the warehouse, hiding near the side exit they were about to use. He had a plan to deal with that person, however. First he had to get the slaves to safety.
He led the way, his pistol up and ready as he guided the women through the dank and musty halls of the old, rundown building. It had been abandoned years before, and the slaver ring had managed to get it for a song. In fact, they had even qualified for a tax-exempt purchase due to the condition of the neighborhood around it. The local constable had wanted the property sold, and the slaver ring had stepped in and offered him a cut if he gave it to them. The constable had readily agreed, and the slavers had turned the warehouse into the processing plant for the sex slaves they sold throughout the Dominion. Andrew knew all this because he had been the one to help set up the purchase in the first place.
Now, though, he wished he had chosen another locale.
He stopped the following slaves as he came to the opening which led into one of the warehouse’s spacious storage areas. Beyond that lay their final destination, and he was dreading the confrontation with the last slaver. He checked his gun and grunted in surprise as he saw he had two fewer rounds left than he had thought. He shook his head and charged the pistol.
“Stay here and wait for my signal,” he told the rescued slaves. They nodded in unison.
He took a deep, calming breath. No matter what happened, he had to get the slaves to safety. He owed them that much. His sworn duty was to protect the Dominion from people like the slavers, and someone along the way had failed these poor women. He exhaled slowly, crossed himself and prayed to God, the Emperor and any other person who might have been paying attention.
He charged into the room, his footsteps loud on the concrete flooring. He had his gun up as he ducked behind a small, empty crate. He peeked over the top and snarled; he had been hoping against hope the slaver was facing the other direction.
Apparently Murphy is still a stronger presence in my life than God, he thought as he locked eyes with the last slaver. The woman’s eyes widened in recognition and shock, and he knew he would only have one chance before she killed them all.
He dove to the right of the crate and rolled, letting his momentum drag him out of the slaver’s immediate line of fire. He struggled to his feet as her gun swung up and began to track him, but he was already moving, sprinting back to the left while closing in on her. She fired twice, both shots ricocheting off the floor and embedding themselves in the wall behind him.
Andrew skid to a stop and took careful aim. It was a race, the slaver bringing her gun around as his own came to bear upon her. The muzzles of both guns flashed simultaneously, and Andrew grunted as pain flared in his shoulder.
A second shot punched him in the gut and he fell, shocked the woman had managed to get him. He lifted his head and saw that while he had hit her, her wound wasn’t nearly as bad as his. He had merely clipped her collarbone and, while it would smart, it was in no way fatal. She took aim on him and smiled coldly.
Andrew swiftly brought his gun up with his working arm and fired one final time. The round struck true, burrowing itself right between the slaver’s eyes. She fell backwards and lay still, dead. He groaned and dropped the gun, pain blossoming in his stomach. He rolled onto his back and stared at the old warehouse’s ceiling.
That sucked, he groused. He closed his eyes and let out a long, painful breath.
“Terminate simulation,” a cold voice barked, and suddenly the warehouse, slaver and all the slaves disappeared. The pain in Andrew’s arm and stomach vanished, leaving him with only a trace amount of phantom pain from where he had been “shot.” The dull, throbbing pain in his knee from when he had dove earlier did not, though. He groaned slightly as he remembered he was not about to die and opened his eyes.
The harsh, sharp face of Anji Kürze, the local section chief of the Dominion Intelligence Bureau, was looking down at him, her graying hair pulled back tightly. Her eyes were cold, though he knew from long experience the look was not meant for him. She wore no garish makeup or jewelry, and her suit was perfectly pressed. It was her natural look, one she had taken great pride in cultivating over the years.
Andrew knew that she was a kind woman at heart, but didn’t dare say anything lest he ruin the image she had so carefully cultivated. He shifted his gaze slightly. Next to her stood the man who wanted to end Andrew’s career so very badly.
“She killed you that time, agent,” Chief Kürze pointed out. Needlessly, in Andrew’s opinion.
“It doesn’t matter how many times we run through it,” Andrew said, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice as he picked himself off the ground. He shot the man next to his chief a calculated look. “That was the twelfth run. I actually made it into the main warehouse this time before I got gunned down, and that was with us cheating on the sim and knowing where everyone was when the raid started!”
“I’m inclined to agree with the agent,” the station chief said with a pinched look about her. She rubbed her eyes tiredly. “The question whether Agent Buckley could have been saved without compromising the undercover identity of Agent Espinoza has been answered definitively. I find no fault in Espinoza’s actions, and recommend no marks go into his permanent duty record at this time.”
“Ma’am!” Senior Agent Vijay Tendulkar protested loudly and threw his hands into the air. “He could have gone back at the midway point, before he engaged the two guards outside the slave pen. The evidence is there. We can see it!”
“You are seeing ghosts, Agent Tendulkar,” the chief growled in a low, dangerous voice. “Agent Buckley was a damn fine agent, but there was no way we could have achieved what we did if Agent Espinoza had grabbed him first or even midway through the raid. Forty-six hostages and an interstellar sex slave ring brought down in exchange for the unknown whereabouts of one agent? As callous as I may sound, Vijay, that’s a price I’m willing to pay. It’s unfortunate Agent Buckley died, and I hate losing any agents at all, but it was in no way any fault of Agent Espinoza’s. The Bureau will agree with me on this one, and that’s the last I want to hear about it. Is that understood, agent?”
“Yes ma’am,” Vijay sighed. The chief nodded.
“It’s been six months, Vijay,” she said in a soothing tone. “Let it go. Agent Espinoza, I believe you have some accrued time off coming up. I suggest you take all of it, because I fear your next assignment is going to take away any free time you might have thought you had for the next few years or so.”
“Understood, ma’am,” Andrew nodded and hid his smile. He hadn’t seen his family in a long time, and he was eagerly looking forward to spending the holidays with them on his home planet. If not for the senior agent, he would have been gone weeks ago.
Such is the life of a Deeb, he thought as he walked out of the simulator and into the locker room.
* * * * *