Two days passed, and Evann was beginning to grow tired of his quarters. He missed the smell of his room, the comfort of his sheets. His quarters provided him plenty; in the same way a person needed food or sleep, but none of the comforts which encompassed who he was. It was too professional, too businesslike.

  “You do not appear to like this room,” Avina commented.

  “Something like that,” Evann said as he looked for something on TV. His body was raring to go somewhere, do something. There was only so much entertainment one could find on a television. “A little too stuffy for my liking.”

  “You prefer a more haphazard approach to life. Fascinating.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t put it like that.”

  “Explain how you would put it.”

  Evann sighed. “You really are a curious one, aren’t you?”

  “It’s how I was designed. I am eager to learn of you and your world.”

  Evann drummed his fingers alongside the couch’s arm. “Another time, maybe.”

  As luck would have it, the doorbell to his room sounded. Avina had caught the hint that when others were around him—especially when it was just him and another—it was best to stay quiet. Evann came to the door, and a woman he recognized as Carol Lockhart answered, offering a salute similar to his own.

  “Commander Lara says that your interview is to take place in two hours,” Carol said.

  Evann gave her a casual version of his own salute. “Thank you. Dismissed.”

  Carol spun on her heel and continued down the hall. Evann shut the door behind her, then began to undress.

  “It is time,” Avina said.

  “Yeah, I guess so.” He wasn’t entirely thrilled about this mission. The others had been more straightforward, making extensive use of his greatest expertise—tactical combat. Now, however, he’d have to be considerably more careful. A single mistake, and he could kiss his career goodbye.

  “Your heartrate is accelerating.”

  “I know that,” Evann snapped. “Do you have to comment on everything?” The stress was getting to him, and he didn’t need some computer backseat driving.

  “My apologies, but I am concerned. My research has shown that humans often like to rely on one another when dealing with their emotions. Is there something you wish to express?”

  “Yeah. Shut the hell up. How’s that for an expression?”

  Avina went silent.

  Easy. It’s just a mission, like any other. Just get the job done.

  ---

  Sorts of Ports was every bit the tight, stuck-up company Evann had expected. Black, glossy floors with golden metallic walls dressed the main hall. At the center of the room was an enormous cross-shaped counter where receptionists were assisting others. Above them was a golden sphere with rods sticking out of it. Each rod bore a gentle light, though Evann found them somewhat irritating to look at for very long.

  “Hello! Welcome to Sorts of Ports,” a woman with long brown hair and dark green eyes said as Evann approached. She bowed at the waist, eyes closed. An implant that resembled the road on a circuit board traveled down her neck from behind her left ear. A standard issued drum recorder. He’d seen his fair share of these. The eardrum would double as a recording device, sending it to a secured hard drive on the network. Many—including Evann—found it to be invasive, but he was sure the pay had a way of shutting them up. “How can I help you?”

  “Hey,” Evann smiled, “I’m here for an interview. Seeing a Hector Sang.”

  “I understand. Can I have your name, please?”

  “William Shephard.”

  The woman’s fingers moved on the keyboard. Then she used her mouse, clicked a few items, then nodded. “You’re all set, Mister Shephard. Take the elevator to your left to the tenth floor. Then take the hallway to your left. Room 303. Mister Sang will see you now.”

  “Much appreciated.” He knocked on the counter, then made his way over to the elevator, his briefcase in tow. Even the elevator was fancy, with one half being made entirely of glass. As the box came down, the elevator dinged, and a few men dressed in similar suits got off, a couple of them talking on their phones. He moved between them into the box, taking great care not to brush shoulders with any of them. Many of them were wearing suits from popular brands, and he wasn’t about to piss one of them off. Pressing the button for the tenth floor, he clasped his hands in front of his waist and breathed easy when the elevator door shut.

  “Excellent,” Avina said. “You certainly know your way around the more intricate side of society.”

  “A strange way to put it,” he muttered. A camera in the corner of the room caught his eye. “You see that?”

  “Yes. We shall speak later.”

  She was getting better at that. Recognizing when was not a good time to speak. Judging from her tone, it seemed she was concerned about whether she was inconveniencing him. Part of him wondered if this might work out.

  The elevator came to the tenth floor. He stepped off while two older men in suits entered. Taking to the hallway on his left, he adjusted the tie around his neck. He could tie a tie as well as any other man could, but he rarely wore one. It felt tight around his neck, like a noose waiting for him to drop.

  When he came upon the room labeled 303, he knocked using the middle of his pointer finger.

  “Come in,” came a gruff voice.

  Evann turned the brass knob and pushed. A small receptionist’s desk lay before him, with chairs to his right. A young man who looked to have recently graduated sat in the chair closest to him, bobbing his foot up and down.

  He’s screwed. His nerves are getting the best of him.

  He shut the door behind him and approached the desk. “Hi. I’m here to see a Mister Sang.”

  The man behind the desk—a portly fellow with gray hair and thick glasses—sniffed and moved his mouse around, clicking occasionally. “Name?”

  “William Shephard.”

  “Mm. Here you are. Take a seat.”

  Evann avoided frowning. From what he’d been told, he wouldn’t have to wait. He worried something might’ve gone wrong, but did as he was told and took the seat closest to the kid.

  “Here for an interview?” the kid asked, his voice trembling.

  “Yeah. How about you?” Evann asked.

  The young man nodded and hissed through his teeth. “Yep yep. That’s, uh, what I’m here for. B-But I don’t think they’re going to be super impressed with me.”

  “Let me fill you in on a little secret,” Evann said, beckoning him closer with his finger. “All they care about is money and whether or not you can do your job. Relax, kiss ass, and you’ll do fine.”

  “Kiss… what?”

  “Kiss ass. Tell them what they want to hear.”

  The kid leaned back and scratched his forehead. “But I don’t want to lie to them. I’m here because—”

  “You’re not going to get far if you aren’t willing to embellish a few details. Sorry.” He leaned back and crossed one leg atop the other.

  “Hey, I don’t think that’s true. What they want is—”

  “Shephard?” the man at the desk said.

  “Yes?” Evann said.

  “Mister Sang will see you now. Down the hall in front of you, first door on your right.”

  Evann nodded and patted the kid on the shoulder. “Good luck.” He took the door across from him, pointing down the hall for confirmation. The man at the desk nodded, and Evann shut the door behind him, striding across the thinly carpeted floor. He hated floors like these. It felt like he was striding through a cheap doctor’s office. He knocked on the door to his right, as he was told, and a voice told him to enter.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “Are you Mister Sang?” Evann asked as he poked his head through the crack.

  “Yes,” the man said, beckoning him closer, “come in, come in.”

  Evann rolled his shoulders, entered the room, and closed the door. As the man gestured to a pair of chairs in front of him, he took the one on the right, closest to the desk. Mister Sang was a weathered man, with skin suggesting decades in the sun. His skin was pocked with freckles and signs of skin grafting. Curly gray hair framed a face set with eyes so dark they appeared black. His nose was large, and a thick mustache moved with his lips.

  “So, you’re the one,” the man chuckled. “You have my condolences.”

  “You have my respect.”

  Hector Sang had been working as a double agent for the better part of two years now. Centurion was careful with those it worked with, and Sorts of Ports was just big enough, just important enough to be a thorn in their side if they so wished. Men—valuable men—like Hector were often placed inside the company to ensure proper understanding and cooperation. Now it was time for them to dance.

  “Then you know why you’re here,” Sang said. His voice was rough and gravelly, as if he smoked a few packs of cigarettes each morning.

  Evann nodded, not wanting to risk them saying something they shouldn’t.

  Sang pushed forward a small plastic box dyed black. Ports and wires stuck out of each side, two of which were a distinct yellow and red. “You know what this is?”

  “I do.”

  “Use it to rat me out,” he whispered.

  Evann frowned, unsure if he should say anything. “What do you mean? This is an interview,” he said in the off chance that they were being listened to.

  “I mean it,” Sang continued. “Rat me out.”

  What the hell is going on here? They said nothing out ratting out one of our own.

  “Gain their trust,” Sang said, smiling an ugly smile. “They can’t argue with results.”

  Evann looked at the device. It was modified to look less imposing, but the telltale signs were still there. Chips of gold chrome along the sides, the width of the cables, the giant M insignia above the ports. This was state-of-the-art tech, designed to break down firewalls, decrypt codes, and hack passwords. The device was illegal in every sense of the word, and getting caught with one of these was reason enough to land you in prison for life. But it was an implant, and he’d have to walk around with this weirdly shaped box between his shoulder blades.

  “Take it,” Sang insisted. “Wait a few days. Don’t be too obvious. Ask questions. Bring it up as a concern. Look stupid and unsure.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

  Evann observed the man. His shoulders slouched, and he crossed his hands on top of the desk. The rims of his glasses were dirty, and brown spots colored his otherwise immaculate suit of white. This was a man who’d grown tired of the song and dance and wanted desperately for a release.

  Taking the device, Evann slipped it into his inside suit jacket, then nodded.

  “Thank you,” Sang sighed with obvious relief. “You know what you have to do, then.”

  Evann nodded. “Yes. Thank you for the opportunity, sir.” He stood and extended his hand. “I’m looking forward to working alongside you.”

  Sang clicked his tongue and set a key on the desk, pushing it toward Evann. “Your room’s down the hall, room 309.” He waved him away. “Now, get out of here.”

  Sang’s refusal to shake his hand didn’t bother him. He did as he was told and exited the room. Once the door clicked behind him, he made his way down the hall and stopped at the room labeled 309. He found it strange that a company that prided itself on implants and innovative technologies still used metallic keys and locks. Perhaps the founder was more traditional than he thought.

  Evann turned the key, and the door clicked open. When he opened the door, he was welcomed by a room as clean, dull, and gray as Sang’s. A desk with two chairs waited for him. A leather swivel chair was behind the desk, waiting for him.

  Time to make sure I’m alone.

  He shut the door behind him, then set his briefcase atop the desk. “I’m going to search the room to make sure it isn’t bugged,” he whispered.

  “A wise decision,” Avina said.

  Evann checked anywhere and everywhere. Behind his desk, beneath the legs, under the carpet, and even inside the electrical outlets. Not a single hint of a bug or recording device stuck out to him. As he screwed the casing back onto the outlet, he whispered, “What do you think?”

  “I find it unlikely that you are being listened to. Are you going to check the light fixtures?”

  Evann looked up at the beams of LED lights. “Yeah.” Sure enough, there was nothing he could find within the fixtures, either. It seemed he was truly alone. “I’m relieved, but somehow also… nervous.”

  “From the brief research I have conducted regarding the company, they pride themselves on giving their employees proper privacy and benefits.”

  Is she really that na?ve?

  “They can easily make that stuff up. Pay people off. Happens all the time.”

  “I am aware. However, it is statistically unlikely that they have managed to maintain this reputation without a single incident.”

  “That we know of,” he chuckled.

  “Is something funny?”

  “I’m starting to realize that you really don’t know how humans work, do you?”

  Avina paused. “I am learning.”

  Admittedly, that was somewhat charming. Despite being some supercomputer intelligence, her information regarding humans was obviously lacking. “I can tell. Just keep in mind that we’re rarely what we seem. There’s lots of us that got all kinds of things going on.”

  “What of you?” Avina asked. “Would it be inappropriate to ask whether you have been truthful with me? Candid?”

  Evann paused and replaced the last of the light fixtures. He carefully got down from the desk—which he’d used to give him the boost in height he needed—and patted his hands. “Even if I answered that, you have no way to tell, right? You’re not a mind reader.”

  “No. I suppose not. Forget I said anything.”

  Evann gave a small grin, “Sure.”

  A bout of silence passed, not that Evann minded so much, and he popped open the briefcase. Inside were various tools and weapons, including a small earbud to allow Commander Lara an opportunity to listen in when the occasion required it. Right about now she’d be wanting an update. That would need to wait. Now that he was almost certain that the room wasn’t bugged, he’d need to check the walls to see what level of noise prevention was in place.

  Removing a disc-shaped device from within, he turned one of the levers to the right. An electronic hum came from the machine, and Evann moved to the wall closest to Sang’s office. Placing the machine against the wall, he pressed another button on the face, and the machine’s suction cups took effect, adhering itself to the wall.

  Evann carefully removed his hands and held them forward, palms up, just to make sure that the device wasn’t about to fall. “Good,” he muttered, then pressed a translucent red button on the surface. Another hum emanated from the machine, and a series of clicks followed. Evann crossed his arms while he waited for it to perform its magic.

  Seconds later, the machine came back with a reading of 102.3 decibels. Considerably higher than what Evann had been expecting. He hummed in disbelief, then removed the machine to try it against the other walls.

  “Were you expecting something else?” Avina asked. “I expected a comment.”

  Does she not understand the gravity of the situation?

  Evann ignored her, and Avina went silent. Once he was done with the walls, he completed the test using the ceiling. Each of the walls, including the ceiling, came back with no more than a .1 difference in decibel readings. He could yell, and there was a good chance many wouldn’t hear him.

  “I hadn’t expected the walls to be as soundproof as they are,” Evann admitted.

  “Why does that surprise you?” Avina asked.

  Evann put the machine back in the briefcase and pocketed one of his hands as he leaned against the deck. “I’m not surprised. Just strange that I could yell, and a good portion of people outside wouldn’t hear me. Seems like overkill to me.”

  “Surprise: To cause to feel wonder, astonishment, or amazement, as at something unanticipated.” Avina paused for effect. “Forgive me, but this seems to fit the definition of ‘surprise’ most adequately.”

  Evann rolled his eyes. “All right, I need you to be quiet for a minute,” Evann said as he took a seat in the swivel chair and reached for the next tool in his kit—a tiny earbud. He tore the protective plastic off of the device and tucked the bud into his ear. It was a snug fit but was much smaller than he anticipated. It’d been some time since he last wore one of these. The briefcase had a mirror installed in the inside, and he used it to check if the bud was visible. It wasn’t difficult to see, but you’d have to be looking for it to notice.

  Retrieving a small black sphere from inside the briefcase, he flipped the switch on the side, then rotated a few of the plates until a clicking sound emerged.

  “Power on,” a female voice said from the earbud. “Connecting.”

  Evann leaned back in the swivel chair and drummed his fingers along the desk’s edge while he waited for it to make contact with Commander Lara’s paired device. The sphere he used was a remote connector, paired with a device of the user’s choosing. The plates were an extra security measure to prevent tampering. Rotate the plates in the wrong way, and a circuit would complete within the device, frying the hardware. Evann had made sure to commit the proper rotations to memory, as no two devices were ever the same.

  Moments later, a blip came from the earbud, and a feminine voice sounded over the intercom. “Name, rank, and code,” the woman said.

  This part always made Evann a little nervous. The speaker would never identify themselves until the proper credentials were stated.

  “Andvari. SPECTRE,” Evann stated in a hushed tone. “Code A-M414679.”

  “Received. Commander Lara speaking. Status report.”

  “I spoke with Hector Sang regarding the operation and have received the necessary items to continue with the operation.”

  “Excellent. Good work, SPECTRE.”

  “Turn off the device,” Avina said suddenly. “Now.”

  “What are you talking about?” Evann asked.

  “SPECTRE?” Lara said. “SPECTRE, what’s going on?”

  “N-Nothing,” Evann said.

  “Now!” Avina demanded.

  Evann hated to cut the channel short, but Avina had never used that tone with him before. It’d be difficult to explain later, but he did as Avina asked and cut the connection. He plucked the bud from his ear and hissed, “What the hell was that about?”

  “I sensed it when you established the connection with your commander,” Avina said. “Sorts of Ports is aware of you.”

  Evann’s fingers curled. “What are you talking about? Aware of me? How?”

  “Not you specifically. Aware, just as Hector Sang said earlier. They know that there is a double agent within their ranks. They are using a wave distributor to detect any anomalies regarding remote communication.”

  Evann had his doubts. “I thought you said you couldn’t do anything without the proper tech installed into my implant.”

  “That is correct. However, I did also state that our senses are linked. This includes waves and energies that you are subconsciously receiving but are unable to process with the conscious mind. It is fortunate that I was here today. If you had proceeded with that call, they would surely be knocking on your door now.”

  Evann pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He drew a deep breath, then slowly exhaled.

  “I am afraid not. I apologize, as I was not aware of them earlier. The waves are constantly in motion, so I did not sense anything before. Once the connection had been established, however, the waves closed in, and they became easier to detect. We must practice caution.”

  “So, I won’t be able to reach my commander,” Evann whispered.

  “Not without, as you humans say, ‘blowing your cover’.”

  Evann tossed the bud back into the briefcase and cursed under his breath. This wasn’t some minor setback. Without access to the databanks and information held by Commander Lara and Centurion, his hands would be tied if his knowledge didn’t meet Sorts of Ports’s requirements. He wasn’t some accountant or pencil pusher. He was a secret ops officer, a SPECTRE. Designed for combat and reconnaissance.

  “Calm yourself,” Avina said. “I will assist you.”

  “How do you plan on doing that exactly?”

  “We are going to use the tool Mister Sang provided us.”

  “How so?”

  “I am going to infiltrate their systems.”