Harsh storms and a perpetually grey sky set the scene for the returning raid team as they approached the port city from the western sea. Five highly trained agents had left the night before for a foreign island to the south west. Only three returned, one perilously close to death. It was still a success, they all knew, despite the losses.
Their superiors cared only that the task had been completed, the target captured, and indeed it had been done to perfection. The man in question, an energy researcher who'd staged his own death and defected from their nation three years before, had been found and seized as promised. They prided themselves on efficiency, if nothing else. That thought sustained them all as the coastline came into view.
The city of Merestan was rarely spoken of in favourable terms even by its most patriotic citizens, and there were few enough of those as it was. A prominent border city on the western edge of the Alvernian nation, it served as an industrial port and a staging ground for a sizeable military base in the small mountain range north of the city. Despite the importance of those features, the city was better known for its prominent industrial ghettos and sparsely inhabited mazes of brick and stone.
If not for the military Merestan would undoubtedly have been abandoned. Little else sustained the city's populace, the many factories uniformly abandoned with the exception of those that serviced the army. A comfortable life could be found in the embrace of the state military, and this was especially true in espionage. As it was their division focused on international espionage and domestic work that was best left unnoticed. With their only external enemies to the west, it was a natural base of operations.
After their return a great rush of bureaucracy immediately overtook them. Even that was a comfort after the trials of the island. Gail, the team's leader, had been rushed to the nearest military hospital on the verge of death. The unfortunate captive, Edward Kirk, was quickly taken away in the back of an armoured truck, and the remaining two, Rick and Regina, were dragged into a series of unending debriefings.
The procedures were followed without any semblance of abnormality. That was unusual enough for the Alvernian military. Often the paperwork would take weeks, shifted from one desk to another, one excuse following another. Not this time. It was all done with the utmost professionalism, enough for all involved to notice.
Before long both surviving agents had been released into the city and told to await further orders. For someone adjusted to a highly organised lifestyle, being released into a place like Merestan seemed a twisted form of punishment. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do, and no way to leave.
One of those agents, a tall woman with vivid shoulder-length red hair, found herself sitting in a small park under a miserably cloudy night sky a week after her return from the mission to Ibis Island. The first few days after a mission were always difficult. Insomnia was common, though that was always so, but paranoia, nausea, and fatigue weren't unusual either. It depended on the mission, she'd found, but always settled into a restless but dull tiredness before long.
Regina often resorted to wandering the streets; after a certain time they were sure to be deserted, and she found the opportunity for solitude too valuable to be missed. The events on Ibis Island had been particularly unsettling, and the aftermath hardly any less so. Aimless wandering brought with it a certain satisfaction. Isolation too could be appreciated, in time, and she learned this anew with each operation.
She preferred to think of herself as a patient person, but the decisions passed down from command had been little more than infuriating. Denied permission to see Gail, denied permission to see the prisoner she'd captured, and finally been told that any further information was above her clearance level. Ingratitude was the word, she thought, though she knew they owed her nothing, as Gail would undoubtedly have said.
She sighed, leaned back on the uncomfortable wooden bench and stared at the sky. The cool night air hardly helped with her mood, but the hotel room waiting was even less desirable. Ibis Island had at least been warm. This city managed to be cold in summer. The trees were twisted and dying, or so she thought. It was too hard to see, and far harder to care.
A seedy bar could be seen across the street, quiet and lifeless as the rest of the city. Before coming to the park she'd tried to drink her troubles away, but the liquor tasted of rotten fruit and the company was best left unmentioned. Even the tables had a thin coating of some sort of resin, proudly left for all to see. Substance abuse never had much appeal at the best of times. In Merestan there were few other pleasures.
Dried leaves crunched in the trees behind, and she felt her hand lightly brush over the pistol at her hip. The lack of light concealed most of the street, but that was how she'd preferred it. Her heart was racing already, a tinge of fear overriding her good sense.
Twisting herself around and out the seat, one boot on the chair, she drew her pistol and held it at her side. There was no real reason to be alarmed, she knew. It made no difference.
Someone did emerge from the trees; even in the low light she could make out his distinctive appearance. She sighed inaudibly, lowered the pistol and threw herself back onto the bench.
The figure stepped into the weak light of the nearby streetlamp, watching her with trepidation. "Happy as ever to see me, aren't you? Sorry I'm so late, but I'd have been later if I knew that was the welcome I'd get." Humour was a defence for him, and always had been. It didn't help, but she appreciated it nonetheless.
She watched as Rick walked over and threw himself next to her. Eyes bloodshot and expression grim, he still looked up at her with a slight smile. The warm smile reserved for his closest friends was there as ever, but there was a clear weariness to it that hadn't been there a week ago.
"Could have met in the bar, but it's not your scene. Too expensive," Regina replied, eyes staring directly ahead but seeing nothing.
Rick glanced over at her. "Don't give me that. You pulled a gun in there too and they kicked you out, right?" His tone was harsher than she'd expected, but the concern was there. To her surprise, she realised it was a valid question.
"We're trained for caution." It wasn't enough, and she let out a long breath. "I thought I was being followed earlier. No, I know there was nobody there." A light breeze picked up as they spoke, rustling the leaves of the nearby trees. "I never seem to get used to it, you know?" she said, meeting his eyes for the first time.
"None of us do. You know what it's like out there. Then they bring us back, send us out here," he said, one hand waving at the city around them. "I think we signed away our right to a normal life a long time ago."
She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket. "Maybe you're right." She hadn't slept properly for days, but he'd guessed that. "Doesn't make it any easier, not when they treat us like we haven't earned any respect at all. I thought after a few years they might open up, tell us what we're doing and why. It won't happen."
Rick leaned back in his seat and sighed. "Seems like we always end up like this. Mission complete, escaped certain death once again, and where are we? Sitting in some shithole corner of yet another place we can't wait to leave. But that's the life, right? We'll all end up like Gail, you wait."
She barely heard his words, watching as an elderly man stumbled out of the bar and slipped into a side alley. It wasn't hard to guess why. Two soldiers approached from the other side, clad in the deep blue Alvernian uniform. One stumbled as he walked, laughing as his partner spoke. They entered the bar without any shame at all, as was quite common.
Despite its ugliness, Merestan served an important role in the Alvernian defence grid. The city manufactured a great deal of weaponry, and she knew a lot of the city's most inconspicuous buildings concealed darker secrets. Policing was handled by the military, as were many other basic services. Unfortunately for those in her position, espionage against the Borginians was also one of many duties handled in Merestan. What the state military didn't outright own it controlled in all but name.
A firm hand on her upper arm shook her back to reality. "I haven't seen you like this for years. Is it Gail?"
Her fist clenched in irritation for a brief second. That too was frustrating. Impulse control was something she'd mastered long ago. "Gail doesn't need us worrying about him," she finally said, more harshly than she'd intended.
"You think so? Last we saw of him he was barely even conscious. I just don't get it. Why does he put up with this?" he said, rubbing his face in exasperation. Realising she wasn't going to speak, he changed tactics. "How'd you go down at the port office?"
"Apparently I don't have clearance to access the Ibis Island data. Doesn't matter that I found that data, read half of it, and could have just copied it then if I'd known they were going to do this. Orders from the boss himself, they said, and he's a colonel."
"So that's why you had me meet you here, right? What's the plan?" he asked, throwing a hand over her shoulder.
Optimism was frustrating. "What plan? Gail might have had a shot; I hear he and the colonel are close, but whatever they're doing, we're just going to have to wait." She stood up and shrugged. After all, she thought, that was Gail's philosophy, and he'd survived nearly twenty years in the military without falling into despair.
Rick stood up with her, taking a cautious step back. "Okay, okay. So if you could do something, what would it be?"
"I couldn't tell you. What I do know is that Kirk was only half the reason they sent us to that place. He told me himself, but I didn't push it any further. Wonder where they're hiding him?"
She saw him watching her from the corner of her eye. Rick was almost excessively loyal, but she found it far easier to trust him than anyone else she knew. They'd met in the military exam hall back in the capital, and worked together since graduation, one of the few constants in her life. Still, looking at him now he was almost unrecognisable from the passionate idealist she'd met five years before.
It had been a slow transition. As the years passed more and more cynicism crept into his thoughts, tainting his ideals, though he hadn't once let that stop him from doing what he decided was right. Still, she often got the impression that his optimism had become an act, more for their benefit than his.
The deaths of Tom and Cooper, the last two of their five man squad, had hit both of them hard. Rick's failure to save Tom still haunted him, she was sure. In truth, neither of them ever mattered half as much to her as he did. Perhaps it was his nature after all. What business did a man like that have in the military?
Again she felt his hand on her shoulder. "Look, I don't know what they're up to either, or even what to do about it, but staying here all night's not going to help." Standing there at that hideous park bench, she was grateful for his support, but knew support was all he could give.
Kicking the gravel, she looked back at him. "Yeah, you're right as usual. Still, it's not like anywhere in this city's any better. I'll see you tomorrow, right?" Flashing a brief smile to reassure him, she began the long walk back to her hotel through the empty streets. The rest of the night passed slowly and painfully, sleep eluding her until the first hints of light appeared in the east.
After waking from that unfortunately short rest, she'd found the note on a flimsy table next to the hotel room door with a box of sedatives. Rick had a key, and she assumed he'd stopped by while she was unconscious. She had the spare key to his room too, though he'd chosen a nicer establishment on the eastern side of the city. It was a relief, to have a friend like him, even if it wasn't enough.
Seeing the sedatives she had to smile. She preferred to only resort to those measures when the insomnia became too much to bear. As Rick had guessed, it was a good time for medicinal support. She tried to eat a late breakfast, but the sight of the flavourless cereal floating in milk was too much to stomach, and most of it was washed down the sink.
His note was short and frustratingly vague. Rick wanted her to meet him, and as soon as possible, to discuss an idea. Why? He refused to put it in writing. That was hardly unusual, but still frustrating. Everything was frustrating, she was beginning to realise, and the note should have been cause for excitement.
They'd been meeting most days if only to relieve boredom, but this had a different tone to it. She read it twice and took an official call before pulling on some clothes and leaving the dingy room for the day. That the military had known where to find her wasn't unusual. They always knew, and the more important you were the more effort they put into finding you.
The dull afternoon sky above was hardly a motivating sight, but it was still preferable to the lifelessness that so often set in after sunset. A light rain had swept over the city early that morning, never fully committing to a rainstorm but still emerging sporadically until noon. It was a shame. She appreciated the rain. The harsh, natural smell of it, the feel of the water on her skin. It was something to be enjoyed.
Watching the darker storm clouds moving east, Regina stepped out of the lobby of her small hotel. Located in the centre of the western district, coastal, poverty stricken and lightly populated, it was always her first choice of boarding house, though the military living allowances would easy pay for better. Mere habit or grudging appreciation for the ancient stone architecture, she'd never quite known.
A light breeze blew through her hair as she closed the door and jumped down the small steps to the street below. Passing an armed guard patrolling the sidewalk, the man shooting a curious glance at her, she headed for the south end of the street.
"Report to the western command centre," the woman on the other end of the phone had said, refusing to specify more. Western command was in the centre of the city, an enormous fortress overlooking them from all sides. To her surprise a warship had been docked upon their arrival, though it was to be expected. Alvernia was fond of its military, and put it to use as often as it could. The western district was unofficially the military's headquarters, she knew, and that explained much of Merestan's local culture.
An armed convoy passed by, and a young woman next to her stepped back into the shelter of a shopfront until the heavily armoured vehicles turned into the next street. They were headed for the port, Regina suspected.
Watching as they left, she realised not for the first time that her nation was changing, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. Turning to head west, she knew that assumption was a dangerous one. Had the nation changed, or had she started to see it for what it was, and had always been?
Even when she'd been recruited a series of border wars in the north were used to justify the expansion of the military's influence even further. The rumours she'd heard had never been forgotten, nor the stories of the fate that befell the northern region's inhabitants when they defied their larger neighbour.
"I never seem to get used to it," the woman to her side said, stepping back onto the sidewalk. Her voice was shaken, ever so slightly, but Regina recognised the fear.
"It's just a few supply trucks. What scares you?" she asked, watching her reaction curiously.
She looked down at the pavement. "I moved here from Borginia," she murmured, almost ashamed. "We heard stories, and our army was so small. You'd never see armed soldiers on the street like this at home. It's silly, I know. I'll get used it."
"It doesn't hurt to be cautious. Still, I don't think you have much to worry about. They make the civil servants wear the uniform too, if that helps. They're not all soldiers."
"Yeah. You're probably right. Have a nice day, alright?" She picked up her shopping and quickly left for the southern end of the street. Not much of a success, but what else could she have said?
Watching the young woman leave, Regina couldn't help but think of herself as one of those soldiers. She liked to think her work was of some use, even if most of it had nothing to do with the wellbeing of the populace. It was a comforting thought, true or not. Trying to smooth her untidy hair with one hand and failing, she kept moving, intending to reach the command centre before the rain returned.