“You have managed to get all three of them to Earth this time,” he says. “Very good work. You’ll be receiving a commendation for this.”
“Three who, sir?”
“One moment,” he says. “We’re restoring the rest of your memories. Just… one… second… I always forget the last code. Sorry. Let me see. one, two, three… oh four. I should really remember that. And then the hash key…”
There’s an audibleclickinside my skull, and all of a sudden I remember everything.
I remember a briefing room the day before my boss tried to have me killed years ago. I remember this man. I remember that his name is Mr. Brown, and that’s not his real name, but it’s the only name I will ever know him by.
I am wearing a polyester blouse and slacks and shoes that are sensible. My hair is tied back in an efficient ponytail. When I look down, my nails are nicely manicured in a way that makes it look like they haven’t been manicured at all. Short French tips. Classy. Modest. Very professional.
Mr. Brown has called me into the briefing room where there’s usually a dozen people at the very least, and at a hundred at the most. It’s just me today. I sit three rows back, because that strikes me as slightly funny.
I am an annoying little fucker, I realize.
Mr. Brown briefs me without commenting on my choice of seat.
“Tomorrow, you’re going to be subject to an assassination attempt that will not work. You will flee this attempt and stowaway on a ship. This ship will take you to an alien station where several women will be illegally sold. Your job is to…”
I mentally fill in the blanks. My job is to stop the sale, and bring the aliens to justice. This is a sting. We’re letting the aliens steal some human women in the effort to shut down illegal smuggling.
“These three alien mercenaries have interrupted our trade routes on multiple occasions. We need to neutralize them without simply killing them. They are all connected in important ways, and the loss of any of them would be the cause of much suffering. What we need is to either get them under our control, or have them in captivity.”
The projector hisses, and three faces are displayed on the screen in front of me. There’s a cow, a snake man, and a male model.
“They don’t look like people,” I say, deadpan.
“They’re not people. They’re alien mercenaries.”
“But why male models?”
My superior gives me a dubious look. “I’m going to need you to take this seriously, Melanie,” he says.
“Of course. It’s obviously very serious,” I say. I bite my lip so as not to ask why we’re enabling illegal human smuggling.
“Why are we enabling illegal human smuggling?” Fuck. Well. I tried.
My superior’s face goes flat. His mouth goes into a thin line.
“You don’t understand the wider complexities of this issue,” he says. “The powers that be know what they are doing and are operating well within corporate law.”
“Oh? I thought the law protected all the citizens in the coalition of corporations?”
“It does. But Earthbound humans are not protected because they are not subscribers to any corporate territories.”
“Oh. So we’re selling the women who live down there to support the populations up here, and we’re mad that those three are getting in the middle of this?”
“Yes,” he says. “Now. Because of the extreme sensitivity of this mission…”
“Yes,” I say.
“Because it is important to keep it top secret…”
“Of course,” I say.
“Because you will have to maintain true deep cover…”
“Mhm.”
