Andrea turned to Andrew Jones. “Can you handle the Section 3 IDs?”
“Of course. Give me, say, an hour.”
“Alright. Get ready, people. We’re heading out for Europa as soon as we have everything cleared for this search.”
She left the room, and all at once everyone prepared for their portion of the mission. I remained where I was, thinking through how I would navigate the problem I faced.
Raven stopped halfway to her room and came back over to me. “You okay, Tycho?” She seemed genuinely concerned, although one side of her mouth was turned up in amusement.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I just overdid it a little last night.”
“I hear you. So did I. I’m just a bit better at hiding it, I guess.”
“No, you were dancing. I’ll bet I had twice as many of those Casablanca Sunsets as you did by the time we headed home.”
“Well, dance with me next time. You’ll feel a lot better afterward.” With this comment, she squeezed my shoulder and went to her room.
About twenty minutes later, Jones sent me a Section 3 ID over my dataspike. According to the card, I was a man named Angus Contralvo, ID number SFI3-5639.
I called up the Arbiter Force, using the extension for the Mission Coordination Department. The woman who answered the call had a familiar voice, although I couldn’t quite place it.
“Sol Federation Arbiter Force, Mission Coordination. Can I have your agency and ID number please?”
“Of course. Intelligence, Section 3, personnel ID SFI3-5639.”
“One moment… yes. Oh.”
“What is it?”
“My system is running slow today,” she replied. “It couldn’t find you at first, but then you popped right up. Angus Contralvo?”
“Yes, that’s correct.” Once again, the power of Section 9 continued to surprise me. We must have just added this completely fictional Section 3 agent to the official record system only moments ago.
“What can we do for you, Agent Contralvo?”
I thought back to what I knew about Section 3, and the few encounters I’d had with their agents. They were bookish types, if that’s the word for it. I decided to go for a bookish tone. “We’re currently in the process of obtaining a warrant to search a private vessel docked at Llyr Station in orbit around Europa. I was wondering if you might be able to supply an Arbiter Force team to help us conduct a search of the vessel.”
“Let me see, I’m not sure who we have in the area. Ah, yes. We do have an available drop team who can be assigned to this search. Can you forward me the warrant?”
“You’ll have it as soon as I do.”
“Thank you, agent. The Arbiter Force appreciates your cooperation.”
It was as simple as that. Fooling the elite law enforcement agency I had once been so proud to serve took me less than thirty seconds.
6
The plan was to execute the raid immediately after no more than a short briefing once the Arbiter contact picked us up from our transport. What happened wasn’t nearly so simple.
Fully armored, with my face obscured behind a tactical visor, there was little risk of being recognized by someone. It hadn’t been that long ago, but my time as an Arbiter already felt like a different life. I don’t mean it felt like something from a nearly forgotten past. It was more like a memory from a previous incarnation, a life lived by someone else entirely in a different place and time.
I stepped through the airlock and was immediately brought back to that final drop onto Venus with Gabriel Anderson. Tower 7 had gone completely dark. August Marcenn, commander of the tower law enforcement, had broadcast an incomprehensible but threatening message about dying with dignity. Gabriel and I geared up and jumped down into the planet’s poison atmosphere to stop him and save half a million people.
I didn’t know it then, but that was the last moment of my old life.
This ship didn’t look the same as the one we’d had back then, inside or out. They rarely did; it was better to avoid standardization to preserve the element of surprise. Still, despite the differences, I couldn’t help but feel that I was going back in time.
Andrea messaged me over dataspike. You okay, Barrett? You’re acting strange.
I wasn’t sure how she could even tell with the armor. I’m fine.
Glad to hear it. Keep it that way, yeah?
You got it, boss.
The drop ship Commander was waiting for us in the briefing room, hands folded behind his back. He had the same ramrod stiffness my old commander used to have, a mechanical quality to his movements from a lifetime of maintaining strict dress and appearance standards. His pale blue eyes fixed on us as we entered.
“Welcome aboard, gentlemen,” he said. “The raid has been delayed by a few hours, so you might as well take your armor off.”
With a single sentence, the situation had become magnitudes more complicated. What if one of the Arbiters recognized me? What if the Commander did?
I won’t let anything happen to you. If it comes to it, deny and disavow.
It was Andrea again. She was right, chances were slim anyone beyond a handful of people would recognize me. I dropped back through our ranks and slipped my helmet off with the others.
“Greetings, Commander.” Capanelli stuck her hand out. “I’m Amy Caplan. Section 3 thanks you again for accommodating us. What’s the cause of the delay?”
“Sector Command wanted to double-check the warrant. The target seems to be owned by David Kote.”
“That’s correct. We suspect him of involvement in human trafficking.” She put a slight emphasis on those last two words. The last thing we needed was for the Arbiter Force to second-guess our warrant, and emphasizing the crime was one way to discourage that.
“Understood, but he’s a citizen of outsized influence. There’s bound to be pushback, and we want to be sure the warrant is airtight before we launch.”
I wondered if our documents could hold up to that kind of scrutiny. Section 9 had seemingly infinite resources, but a lie is still by nature a divergence from the truth. That space between fact and fiction was always there, no matter how small. Would they see it?
“Of course,” Andrea replied, as smooth as silk. Even as she said it, she sent all of us a dataspike message. Be ready. This is a problem.
“While we wait, you’ll have the opportunity to formally meet the two Arbiters you’ll be working with on this mission. They’ll be joining us in a moment for the brief. The Senior Arbiter is Li Fei, and his partner is Mike Mitchell. I’ve led six missions with them, and they’ve consistently demonstrated exceptional skill and professionalism. You’re all in good hands with these men. Please have a seat. They’ll be right out.”
Li Fei and Mike Mitchell. Mike’s name was not one I recognized, but Li Fei was known to some of the other Arbiters I’d worked with. He was supposed to be reckless, a bit of a rogue element depending on who you asked. That didn’t completely wash with what this Commander was saying, but then it’s a poor leader who criticizes his subordinates in public.
Jones sent a message. Tycho, do you know any of these people?
No, but I’ve heard of Li Fei. Hard to predict.
A door opened behind us, and a young man stepped through, shaking his head as if to clear the cobwebs. “This is awful, sir. Waking up in space doesn’t get any easier.”