God Gems are Forever — Scene 4 (TEXT) (Patreon)

Andrew mentally cursed his parents as he followed the pretty swaying hips of X’s secretary down the back hallways of NAFI HQ to the basement. On the plus side, at least his boss had used just the initial of his middle name, rather than the name itself. Somehow, that would have been even worse. Presumably, there were limits to the straight face that even the legendary X could keep.

They were passed through an additional two layers of security as the pair reached the bottom stairwell and Andrew belatedly realized the upholstery and furnishings had changed, from rich warm opulence to cold, clinical functionality.

Entering the labs felt like he’d just walked into a combo car mechanics shop, technical drawing room, and firing range. Everywhere he looked was cram-packed, either with finished gadgets or with the tools to make them. A skeleton crew of young fellows—for whom the concept of sunlight was probably something they were quite familiar with because they’d read about it in books—moved with purpose around the space, soldering away at desks or tapping away on pocket calculators. More than one of them had a pencil stored behind his ear.

And in this cathedral to technical prowess and accomplishment, pride of place had been given to a brand new, fresh-off-the-line, four-wheel drive, NL8 Subsubtle Super Sport — over two tonnes of perfectly precisioned aluminium, steel, chrome, rubber, and glass, panelled in mahogany and upholstered in allosaurus leather. 

Andrew recognized it at once, and, if only for a moment, was transported back to an earlier time in his life — before he’d spent years training at the academy. Back to the Andrew Deep who’d decided that, yes, signing up for the country’s international espionage program was a truly wizzo idea, because spies were classy ladies men who drove around in cars like this. That was before reality hit and he realized that most spies, especially new spies, were actually just glorified consular staff with slightly more remit and rather less job security.

Or so Andrew had been taught to expect.

Now, standing before this incredible machine, it suddenly dawned on him that for his first mission, he’d been handed the exact thing his younger, and rather more immature, self had dreamed of. Probably because dreaming was not actually the same thing as thinking.

“Young man?”

The voice shook him out of his musings. Andrew looked away from the NL8 to find only the second most notorious man in the building standing behind him. Trace—just Trace, Andrew wasn’t sure if the man even had a last name—was the nerd of all nerds. He held that special quality that made it very difficult to tell his age, but Andrew was pretty sure he’d been a fixture at HQ ever since it had been founded. Hell, he might have come with the building for all he knew. Unlike X, Trace was seen around the place. It was hard not to spot him when he had a tendency to burst into random offices waving blueprints about while excitedly explaining this new idea he had to a bunch of startled interns who hadn’t even gotten their first-level clearance yet.

There was a persistent rumour that the reason HQ had so much security—security that was hardly seen anywhere else, even in other government buildings—was not so much to keep bad actors out, but rather to slow down the force of nature that was the department’s head of engineering, procurement, and requirements.

“Mister Deep! Yep, that is you. You’re here! Good. Good. Come. Come. Haven’t got all day. Or night, I think. Thank you, Susie. Now, this way. I think you’re going to like what I’ve got for you.”

Andrew allowed himself to be forcefully led from what turned out to be only a single office room (Trace was surprisingly strong), through a massive warehouse full of high-tech military equipment, including what to Andrew’s awe looked like prototype mechs (“You’ll get your briefing on those soon enough”), and into another office filled with electronic equipment, guns, and other devices he hadn’t a clue about.

“You’ll have your standard load out, of course,” Trace began, handing Andrew a Green and Baker BGG, by far his preferred sidearm, much to his delight. “But also a few nifty things I think may come in useful. Look at this.”

“A fountain pen?” Andrew asked, slipping on a shoulder holster over his button-down that had been laying on the table.

“Not just a fountain pen. This is a two-part surveillance deployment and relay device. Simply stab it into a wall, rotate this knob, hold it firmly, and the pen will self-drill into anything up to the toughness of concrete, leaving a very difficult-to-notice fish-eye camera. It has three modes—standard, night-vision, and heat vision—and relays images and sound back to this compact mirror. It’s a bit grainy, but it’ll do in a pinch.”

Andrew regarded the mirror as he chambered and holstered his sidearm. “One of the girls get a reassignment?”

“Made for a mission that never took place. You can tell anyone it’s your wife’s if they ask.”

“Wonderful,” Andrew said, taking the pen and mirror and slipping them into his pocket. “I suppose I should be glad the pen wasn’t a neon-pink vibrator.”

“Well, if you twist the other knob—”

“Okay! I think I get the idea,” Andrew interrupted him. The pair had wandered over to another workbench on which rested what looked like a pair of electric hair straighteners. Andrew regarded them with a certain degree of suspicion. He was starting to see a pattern here. “And what are these for?” he asked.

“Document copying and envelope re-sealing device. Just pass the original document through the tongs, along with a blank piece of paper, and a very faint copy of the original will be produced. Also reseals envelopes. Hence the name.”

“Fascinating,” Andrew picked up the device. “How does it work?”

“Oh, you don’t need to know that.” Trace literally hand-waved his question away. “Just try to bring it back in one piece, okay?”

“Only I can’t even begin to imagine the technology needed to—”

Trace coughed loudly. “And it can also be used to straighten your hair.”

“I wear my hair short.”

Trace glared at him. “You’re the highest-scoring seduction specialist the academy has produced since the program was founded. I’m sure you can find some use for it.”

Andrew let the ‘seduction specialist’ comment slide without putting up a fuss. “If I want to broadcast to the lady that I’m sleeping with other women, sure.”

“Oh, you’ll sort that out no problem. They usually do. That or they get shot by a jealous lover. Seen that happen more than once.”

Trace was moving off again towards the next workbench, but Andrew had just seen an opportunity for a bit of career advice. It dawned on him that this man had been around agents like him probably longer than he’d been alive. “How, exactly do they do that?” he asked. “I mean, someone like you must appreciate the difference between theoretical knowledge and practical knowledge, right?”

Trace turned and regarded Andrew as though only now bothering to really get a good look at him. It was like being dissected. Eventually, and with a solemnity the barmy engineer hadn't shown up till now, he answered. “Do you know why I work here, Deep?”

“No, sir.”

“I used to work for a pretty nasty group of people. But one day, a beautiful woman waltzed into my life and I switched sides.”

Andrew’s eyes widened. “You were a mission target.”

“Actually, I was a convenient tool, but that convenience quickly turned into something deeper. She was amazing, and I was young and a lot more… vigorous, than I am now.”

Andrew suppressed a snort of amusement. This was the man who normally exuded such high-octane enthusiasm for everything he did that entire security systems had been installed just to slow him down. He didn’t want to imagine what the guy had been like before. At the same time, his mind was racing ahead in the conversation. Given what they’d just been talking about, there was one obvious conclusion to be drawn. “She took another mission and another lover?”

Trace smiled with a twinkle in his eye. “No. She didn’t. She retired.”

That brought Andrew up short. “She did?”

“She did. And she worked with me here in the lab for thirty years.” The twinkle faded a little. “At least until she died of lung cancer. Turns out circulating copious quantities of tar molecules through your lungs for years on end isn’t good for you. Who knew?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Life happens. The time we spent together was time well spent. And your condolences aren’t why I brought this up. You asked me for advice, so here it is. Treat your job as just another form of dating. Go after the ones you like, dump the ones you don’t, possibly into a river, and when you find one you really click with, get out of the game.”

Andrew nodded slowly. “And if I find more than one amazing woman? Or even more than two?”

Trace smirked. “Then you’d better be both really good and really lucky. In all the time that I’ve been here, I’ve yet to see a natural harem. Most agents in your line just string their old conquests along until they finally give up and move on.”

“I don’t like the idea of that.”

“It’s more realistic than the alternative. Harems are fantastical. And the world is decidedly low on magical elements.”

Andrew chuckled. “No secret section of HQ where all the unexplained stuff is kept in a secret vault? Like that one TV show with all the odd goings-on that the protagonist has to piece together, leading to a massive conspiracy that the government is hiding?”

Trace shook his head, “No, this world is as mundane as it gets. Trust me. I’ve checked. Now, let’s finish up this, shall we? Observe closely.” The man held up what looked like a small hair dryer, but if that was all it was, Andrew would go buy a hat so he could eat it.

“What is it?”

“Flare gun launched LSD bomb.”