A/N: It's a slow-burning story which will feature multiple OCs and a whole different universe before we reach the events of Mass Effect trilogy. It's both creative outlet for me, as well as an exercise in world-building and character creation. I wrote it as a SI, because it allows me to present the events from more familiar perspective and because I'm too lazy to design a whole new main character. The SI is author avatar, but as time goes by he will become his own person, with his own goals, morality and skills. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing!

My Beta is the one and the only Redentor


Multiverse Effect: The Silent War

Summary: I was taken from the comfort of my life and recruited to fight someone else's war, because I was greedy, ruthless and selfish. At least that's what they told me. The question is – do I really want to prove them wrong?

Chapter 1 – Displaced Person

Those who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety.

Benjamin Franklin


In retrospect, it must have been the unnatural white light that woke me up. It was so foreign and strange that my brain registered it as an oddity and alerted my whole body.

When I awoke it felt very different. I expected to wake up in our comfy bed in the apartment that we've been renting for the last couple of years. I could not hear Erica but that in itself was not strange as she often worked earlier shifts than I did and she was nice enough not to wake me up in the morning. What I did register though, was that I could not hear my alarm clock and that gave me a pause.

Alarm feature on my mobile phone had been equally a lifesaver and bane of my existence. I hated the preset sound, but at the same time I understood the need to use it lest I miss my appointments for the day. Sudden absence of the thrice cursed Nuclear Alarm Horn ringtone caught my attention and actually reinvigorated me. Usually, lack of alarm sound meant that I either turned it off or never set in the first place and that could only result in one thing – I was late for work.

But the room that I saw when I opened my eyes was not the room that I went to sleep in last night. It was incredibly strange in this retro-futuristic style that was oddly reminiscent of the 60's sci-fi series like the original Star Trek. There was a plastic-like grey bed I was lying on. Next to the bed was a nightstand of similar make which short inspection revealed to be empty. Walls were white and fluorescent and so was the floor. For some inexplicable reason one of the walls had a large mirror in it. Whole room was fairly spacious – 10 meters by 10 meters give or take. I had no idea how many square yards that would be. I never bothered to learn Imperial system as we never used it in Continental Europe.

It felt like a dream, but I was certain that I was not asleep. When I slept I was never actually aware that I've been dreaming until I actually woke up. I've read before that some people could dream consciously and shape their environment in dream scape. Perhaps I should have looked into it. Oh well...

I took a few steps toward the middle of the room. The retro-futuristic thing was getting creepier with every passing moment. It vaguely reminded me of the towns the Yanks had built in the desert back during Cold War to test the damage done by nuclear devices. To think I actually enjoyed checking out 60's sci-fi artwork in my spare time. Where the hell was I anyway? Did I wake up on the old set of 'Forbidden Planet' or something? I've done some crazy shit in my college years, but I don't recall being drunk yesterday.

In fact I didn't recall yesterday at all. Was I at home with my girlfriend? Were we visiting my parents? I couldn't say. I tried to focus on the last memory of home, but all were absolutely hazy.

I looked in the mirror and I did a double take.

'I look different' was the very first thought. I tried to keep in shape, I really did. But my sedentary lifestyle, my girlfriend's delicious cooking and considerable amounts of beer that I consumed with my friends made fighting against encroaching beer gut harder and harder. While I was still muscled and not visibly overweight, I was resigned to the fact that I was losing my lean and youthful physique.

The person who looked at me curiously from the mirror looked like a younger, fitter and better version of me. I had some snugly fitting gray coveralls which accentuated my body. My shoulders were as broad as usual, but there wasn't a gram of fat on my body. My stomach was flat and I even sported a six-pack which I didn't have since I was 21 years old and working out in the gym on a regular basis. Previously my body was nothing to sneeze at, but now I looked like a lightweight sports champion. It definitely looked nice but was deeply unsettling at the same time.

I blinked and noticed another thing. I didn't have my contact lenses on, nor was I wearing my glasses. Yet amazingly everything looked razor sharp as if I didn't have myopia in the first place. I wasn't sad to see my short-sightedness gone as I was planning to have eye surgery sooner or later. Nevertheless it was rather sudden and suspicious.

I took another look around the place I was in.

'Curious', I thought. 'It looks like some sort of interrogation room'…my brain trailed off, now taking in so many details about my surroundings that I no longer had space for conscious thought.

That was the best guess I could make, but the large mirror was sort of giveaway. Honestly, whoever designed this room could not be more generic. The 60's style furniture, large mirror, fluorescent walls – only thing missing was beeping vacuum tube computer. I could easily imagine that behind this Venetian mirror there was couple of guys with short-cropped hair dressed in vintage US military uniforms and crazy-looking scientist fellow with vaguely German accent. They would be all gathered in small observation room surrounded by multitude of cameras, tape recorders and rotary-dial telephones.

To be honest, if I was still in Poland they would probably look more like severe communist officers with peaked caps and every one sporting a Zbigniew Boniek mustache. Also, there would be two muscled non-coms in white t-shirts, dark trousers and heavy jackboots that would drag me out of here. I would have my fingers put in a vice and interrogators would loudly demand that I sign admission to treason and conspiracy to bring down the Communist Party.

Yes, those were interesting times. Not that I remembered them, but I've been reading enough history books to have a broad idea how interrogation worked back in the previous era. It might seem strange that I make fun of it but Poland was called the funniest barrack in Socialist camp for a reason.

Do you now that old joke?

"Why in Poland when speaking of Soviet Union we say 'our brothers' not 'our friends'?"

"Because you can choose your friends."

This joke is only funny if you were conquered and occupied by the Soviet Army at least once.

Snickering at my own wandering thoughts I shook my head, but in reality I felt that my situation looked rather grim. Someone took me from my home, placed me in unknown location, modified my body to a large extent (without my consent!) and left me alone in a creepy-looking room. I didn't think that anyone would have a reason to kidnap me, let alone pump me full of so much steroids and liposuction that I looked like Jon "Bones" Jones.

I wasn't anyone important. I didn't know any state secrets. My family wasn't especially wealthy or well-known so I couldn't be ransomed for any substantial sum of money. I did work by proxy for a large company, but nobody in their right mind would kidnap a corporate drone to learn some low-level trade secrets. Despite their ominous name, industrial espionage contractors went about their business in a different way.

I decided to risk speaking out loud once again.

"Hello, is anyone there?"

Silence was my only answer.

"Whoever placed me here I just would like you to know that I'm very grateful for Lasik eye surgery, liposuction and steroids injection, but you really didn't have to."

I waited for couple of seconds, but nobody responded. Was there anyone here in the first place? I now understood how Rick Grimes must have felt in the pilot episode of 'The Walking Dead'. Thankfully, apart from bed and nightstand there was nothing else in the room. Lack of medical infrastructure ruled out waking up in a hospital in Georgia overrun by zombies.

'Jesus, zombies? Get a grip, man!' I silently berated myself. Now was the worst possible time to daydream. Sometimes, I had trouble focusing on task at hand. Probably the reason I never got around to writing my BSc thesis.

I decided to try my luck again and call out to whoever was running this facility. They had put enough effort to make it look good so I was reasonably certain that they didn't bring me here for shits and giggles.

"Excuse me? I could really use the toilet now."

Again, there was no answer. I kept talking still. Even if I talked to the wall it kept me from panicking.

"You went through all the trouble of bringing me here and fixing me up, you could tell me what is going on. Believe it or not, but where I come from it's illegal to hold people against their will. At least tell me what I'm accused of!"

I shouted the last part. I'm a rather mellow guy and I usually control my temper, but nobody likes being locked up and ignored. To my surprise hole in the wall appeared and disembodied voice said.

"Please proceed to another room". It was a male voice that spoke English with Received Pronunciation. It could be one of the BBC anchormen.

It was either go through new doorway or stay in the room. Before I left I took a good look around the room to see if anything of use could be taken, but it appeared that apart from two pieces of furniture in the corner it was completely barren.

After crossing the doorway I followed a short corridor toward another doorway. I entered it slowly taking a long look around. There was just a gray desk and two chairs on either side similar in their design to the bed in previous room. Walls there were fluorescent as well. Behind the desk sat a woman. Her face was serious, she had her hair done in a bun and she seemed to be reading a document on a tablet. She was a brunette with blue eyes. Her face was attractive, but in a forgettable way. No one would give her a second thought in a crowded room. She wore similar gray coveralls to me, but hers were more business-like in their appearance and she had some chevrons on her shoulders that looked vaguely military. She looked up at me and said.

"Please have a sit, Peter." English. Thank God I was fluent in it.

I just looked at her and shook my head. I'm not a distrustful or paranoid person, but waking up in unknown place makes you wary of other people.

"Who are you and how do you know my name?" I inquired, also in English. I made sure to keep my tone neutral. I briefly entertained an idea to be obstinate and speak only in Polish, but I abandoned it immediately. She was clearly in charge of me for now, so there was no need to antagonize her needlessly.

Her expression never changed and her voice never wavered.

"Please call me Anneke, Peter. I'm here to explain you the situation you've found yourself in."

I reluctantly sat down. I've decided to play her game for now. This was getting weirder with every passing moment. I slowly came to a realization that it's going to be one shitty day. The possibility that it could go far beyond just a shitty day occurred to me…but I brushed it aside. Like I said, I was as close to innocuous as you could get. Practically the dictionary definition. There wasn't a single reason under the sun why someone would want to kill me.

"You never answered my question. How do you know my name?" I reminded her.

She looked me in the eye with serious expression.

"It's simple. I created you." There was no falsehood in her voice that I could detect. It was spoken with full conviction.

My brain did a double take.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I created you" Her tone of voice still hadn't changed.

I laughed loudly at her statement. This whole situation was bizarre and absurd. What kind of mind games was she playing with me?

"I'm pretty sure you aren't my mum, Anneke. You're a bit on the young side for that." I told her jokingly.

That was true. For all her weird clothes and conservative haircut she couldn't be more than thirty years old. Form fitting coverall did emphasize her shapely body. If situation was different I could consider her attractive, but 1) I was in a long-term relationship with the woman I loved and respected and 2) she was at least partially responsible for me being here. Nevertheless, I was a healthy male and just because you're on diet, don't mean you can't take a peek at the menu. It was a horrible pun, I know.

"I did not implicate I am your mother. I created this body and transferred your consciousness into it." There she went again with this flat, emotionless tone. This woman didn't even blink. She might have been discussing the weather with me.

I looked her in the eye. If my look could kill she would be disemboweled and set on fire by now. I responded very slowly and evenly, not letting my irritation be seen.

"Lady, you better start making sense right now. I'm not in the mood for any mindfucks if you pardon my French. I want my answers and I want to go home. In fact, you know what? Just skip the answers altogether – I don't care. Just send me home and," I waved my hands in what I hoped was a dismissive fashion, "do something that doesn't involve me." I was positively impressed with my reasoning. While I admit I was curious about this place and whatever was happening here, I've seen enough spy films to restrain my curiosity. Just the fact that I know about this facility may well make me dangerous in the eyes of whatever governing body that was overseeing this place. If it wins me a ticket home I will gladly admit to seeing nothing, hearing nothing and speaking of nothing.

"Peter, sending you home is impossible for variety of reasons." she replied blandly, indifferent to my foul language and unimpressed with my proposals. "This body that you currently inhabit is only a temporary vessel for your consciousness. When we determine your suitability for the mission your consciousness will be transferred to a new vessel in a prearranged universe."

My brain did a double take for a second time. As far as I could see she honestly believed in what she was saying. Perhaps when I went to sleep last night the lunatics have taken over the world and I didn't get a memo?

"Lady, will you listen to yourself?" I was completely baffled but I kept my voice down. "Temporary vessel? Prearranged universe? Consciousness transfer? What the hell are you talking about?"

Her face twitched impatiently. It was only a slight grimace, but I caught it. Well, it seemed like the sociopath had some emotions after all. I didn't care if she got angry with me. She was explaining absolutely nothing with her useless technobabble.

"Technically speaking you are not Peter ******** anymore. In fact you never were." She said coldly.

I nodded at her to continue. That didn't make much sense to me, but if I let the crazy lady do the talking she might let some useful information slip.

"Peter's consciousness was copied and placed in the body you currently inhabit. Your memories are unaltered for the time being and for all intents and purposes you are an exact copy of yourself." Anneke smiled and I decided she shouldn't have done that. Her smile was fake and creepy. "I understand you are a Christian?"

"I was baptized in Catholic Church. What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?" I asked incredulously. Then, a thought struck me and my eyes opened wide. "Am I dead?" I said quietly.

"The original is alive and healthy. Extracting and copying consciousness with the technology we have at our disposal is painless and leaves no damage. You could say that you have two souls now. One was left in your previous 'verse and another is sitting here with me."

"And where is 'here'?" I inquired. This was some sort of wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff. Either she was lying through her teeth or… well the alternative was too horrible to contemplate for now.

"We are currently in Sub-verse I-Temp no. 3, Alsmoor Facility 301/245, Interactive Dislocation Department." She recited promptly as if it explained everything.

"And what exactly is that when it's at home?" I think she was actually paid to be cryptic.

"It means that your name from now on is Peter Dubois. You have been drafted as an agent for Security Branch according to Emergency Provisions Act by Executive Committee (Provisional); Public Safety subdivision. In a three month time, after finishing your orientation training you will be placed in a universe of our choice with a specific mission to fulfill. After that you will be given option whether to continue working with us or to terminate your employment. I am hereby obliged to advise that request for termination is equal to destruction of your current consciousness…"

I held my hands up and interrupted her tirade. And the woman looked like she was just getting started.

"Wait a moment here." For some unfathomable reason I still kept my voice level. It actually felt like I had much better grasp over my emotions than before. "What do you mean I was drafted? On whose authority?"?

She obediently repeated.

"According to Emergency Provisions Act by Executive…"

The legal talk actually calmed me down. It seemed that even on multiverse level some things like bureaucracy and rule of law remained. Still, I was not subject to their laws, whoever these people were.

"I understood that. But here's the thing: I'm not part of whatever committee that voted on this act. I'm a citizen of the Republic of Poland and protected by its Constitution. As far as I'm aware neither Poland nor European Union are signatories to whatever made up documents you're quoting here."

I take back whatever I said about her before. She had a very sweet smile when she put some emotion behind it. Nevertheless, I felt like a fly trapped in spider's web. It was not a pleasant feeling, I tell you.

"According to our paperwork your name is Peter Dubois. You were created two weeks ago and kept in stasis for that period until yesterday, when consciousness of one Peter ******** was transferred to your body. As such you are considered an artificially created citizen of Sub-verse I-Temp no. 3 and thus eligible for draft as per Emergency Provisions Act. Failure to adhere to the clauses of the Act may result in penalties ranging from fines to imprisonment."

Anneke dropped the smile and looked at me sharply.

"Forget who you were before, Peter. You are no longer that man and there is no going back. You received new body and new identity. Your memories were left there to give you an edge, but you are a completely different person now. I am sorry for dropping it on you like that, but the sooner you come to terms with it the better." She even managed to look apologetic.

To say I was dumbstruck was an understatement. After all it's not every day that someone turns your whole world upside down. But I still had my doubts.

"How… how do I know you're telling the truth?" I stammered.

She grabbed my hand and placed in on her tablet. I felt a jolt as if electrocuted. That was my first encounter with the knowledge transfer and as they say – first impression is a lasting impression. When it comes to me and data-transfers no truer words were spoken.

It was painful, terrifyingly so. It felt as if metal handles gripped my head and squeezed it with all might of their pneumatic muscles. I couldn't even scream, because my throat felt like it was suffocating, and all I managed was a pathetic whimper. In the midst of this unbearable pain, memories and facts were being crammed into my brain – it's really difficult to describe. Do you know that feeling when you try to solve a problem and suddenly you have moment of clarity and enlightenment? That feeling when you finally have a solution and you even wonder how come you didn't see it before. Well that's how it felt for me. It was gratifying and extremely painful at the same time.

Thankfully it was a just brief exchange. It was only supposed to give me basic orientation in my new environment. But Anneke achieved her goal – tablet completed the knowledge transfer and I was suddenly aware of what exactly happened – even though she seemed surprised that it was so painful for me. I had a basic idea how my new body was created and how my consciousness was copied and pasted into it. Having memories of seeing myself unconscious in the tub filled with nano-gel was disconcerting. I won't even go to the whole construction process. Suffice to say that watching nanotech constructing my body reminded me of the Mila Jovovich's character in the 'Fifth Element' being rebuilt in a reactor. It was equally fascinating and deeply disturbing.

Again, I was left speechless. I couldn't feel pain anymore but I was deeply shaken. Knowledge transfer from the tablet (Flatline Interius 2250) also gave me insight, whether by accident or by design, into whom these people were and how things were run here. Apparently group who created my new body and copied my consciousness – of which Anneke was part of - were just one of many subdivisions of central inter-versal government called Multiverse Confederacy. One would expect that group which steals and copies people's minds would be run by a Dr. Evil of some variety, but it turns out that they even had division of power. They had legislative (Multiverse Parliament), judiciary (Supreme Courts) and executive (Executive Committee - Provisional) as well as whole bureaucratic framework necessary for running a modern state. They were basically people who mastered jumping between various universes and who banded together a long time ago. Over time as they grew in power, numbers and influence they formed what today constituted the Confederacy.

Until that moment I was determined to get to the bottom of it – find the guy (or gal) who took me from home and transplanted me into this strange place and convince them that I'm wholly unsuitable that they have no choice but to send me back home. It works well enough when you're dealing with a small rogue group, because chain of command is relatively uncomplicated and you can get in touch with the big boss easily to present your case. If they are reasonable and not too evil they will let you go – or kill you if you play your cards wrong – rather than risk compromising their whole operation because one of the pawns, like yours truly, refused to do his job.

But here, I might as well be hitting the wall with my head. The person who was responsible for bringing me here – Anneke if you were wondering – was literally sitting in front of me. She wasn't some crazy mastermind hell bent on taking over the universe. In fact she was just another woman doing her job – a very important job, but she worked 9 to 5 just like anyone else. Word came from above that she needed to take my consciousness, engineer a body for me and prepare me for some undisclosed mission. Person who ordered her to do that was just another face in the crowd, some mid-level analyst I would hazard a guess. At that's how it went all the way to the top: some people who went about their daily business and didn't really care about the big picture. Confederacy wanted me, so they decided to take me. They engineered a body for me, because for them it was as simple as tailoring a suit is for us. They took my consciousness without asking for my consent, because they didn't care about my opinion in the first place.

That's what the knowledge transfer made me realize. It gave me just the basic gist, but I had enough experience to know how these things work. Sure, it could have been fabricating facts for my convenience, but the end result was something so predictable and common that I found no reason to doubt it. I still wasn't happy about it, but at least now I could go somewhere from here.

I decided to appeal to Anneke, seeing as she was responsible for me for now. I was no stranger to emotional manipulation and I've never felt more justified in doing it than today. I looked her in the eye and spoke with a sorrowful, if slightly angry voice.

"Anneke, how could you do this to me? How could you just take me from home without as much as a good bye? Is this how you deal with everyone?"

Anneke either was used to such behavior or she didn't care. She responded evenly.

"I apologize for the way we dealt with you, but there was no other option. We required someone to do the job and you were determined to be most suited for it."

"Why?"

She consulted her Interius tablet for a moment before responding. I only noticed now that it had a holographic display – it looked cool, but we were in the future after all. It's the least that I expected.

"You have ability to keep calm even in very stressful circumstances if you believe that situation calls for it. You have no problem with lying and misdirecting others if it suits your needs, even people close to you. In the right circumstances you have shown yourself to be aggressive and goal-oriented. You are resourceful and ruthless. And most important – you are a social person, so you have no problems getting to know others and you are not above using them for your own goals."

That was… shockingly blunt. But most of all in my opinion it wasn't accurate at all. She made me look like some sort of mustache-twirling Bond villain who didn't care if he sold his own mother for gold.

"You are wrong." I responded coldly. "That is not who I am."

"Also capable of producing adamant denials to factual observations," she responded dryly. "Our observations of your behavioral patterns confirm that it's what you are capable off. Observations supported by your behavior at this very moment. It's not that strange you know?" She smiled again, but this time it was truly genuine. "Normal people put in abnormal situations will produce most extraordinary results. You will see." Her tone of voice carried a promise.

"But why you chose me, of all people?" I asked incredulously. "Why not snatch some technological genius or well-trained special forces operator, or whoever your 'mission' needs?"

I shook my head in disbelief.

"There must be people more suited for the job. You could bring Superman if you wanted to. Does he even exist for real?"

She nodded.

"In various universes you can find such people or at least with similar capabilities. We could have recruited him or her had the mission required it."

"Then why me?"

"Containment." She responded briefly.

"What do you mean by that?" I couldn't believe that they would rather send me when they could get James Bond himself if necessary.

"Regular field agents are easy to contain should one of you decided to go rogue and start working against us. If you were a Superman, then we would have much bigger problem on our hands."

That actually made sense. Surely, you could get some genius superspy with extra superpowers and all that jazz, but if he decided that he doesn't like working for people who stole him from his universe then what can you do to control him?

But Anneke wasn't finished.

"There is another reason as well. We, the Confederacy, believe in institutions not individuals. If you look at all the so-called superheroes they usually are nothing more than vigilantes. They don't report to any higher authority and many of them only care about their own code of honor, which is not satisfactory to us. It's true - we demand results and some degree of ruthlessness from our people. It's also true that our operatives skirt on the edge of the law and even at times break it. But at the end of the day our men and women are expected to work within the institutional framework, not outside of it. We are not like Cerberus from Mass Effect." she said.

In principle I could agree with that, even if I wasn't very keen on large government in the first place. Nevertheless, people have right to be alarmed when there is no control and everything depends on the good will of individuals. Anneke mentioning Cerberus got me thinking as well. It's all fine and dandy when the individuals with power are good people, but when that fails you get Saren Arterius from 'Mass Effect'. Wasn't that what happened in that video game? You basically had one super-agent go rogue and make a mess and not a single tool to stop him, apart from sending another Spectre, which didn't resolve the problem at all in the great scheme of things. I know that in the game it was more complicated than just Saren going rogue, but the issue remained.

What caught my attention during my Mass Effect playthrough was that characters in the game rarely focused on the very basic institutional problem with the Spectres. Their lack of proper supervision and only vague directive of 'protecting the galaxy' was a recipe for a disaster from the get-go. I was actually surprised that it took so long for the first Spectre to go rogue, but you have to admit – when it backfired, it did so spectacularly.

But Anneke was still talking and I focused on her.

"For that reason we not only recruit regular people, but we also do mental screening." She nodded at me. "We prefer men and women who do understand the need for cooperation and compromise, but who are also willing to do what needs to be done to accomplish the task. But we don't want loose cannons like Saren Arterius" There was the Mass Effect again. Was she reading my mind? "Or vigilantes like Peter Parker, who see the universe in black and white."

I perked up.

"Peter who? Oh, right…" Yeah, she mentioned Spider-Man. Superman, Mass Effect and now Marvel Universe. As if the day wasn't weird enough. "Okay, I get it. I understand that I don't have much choice now, whether I want to work for you or not?"

"No you don't, I'm afraid." Anneke responded.

"Alright, fair enough. I can rage against the machine but I can't fight it, can I?"

It was true. No matter how unhappy I was my situation, I wasn't naïve enough to believe that I could do something about it. Just like Anneke, I was well aware that there was no way I could refuse their offer. In addition, she basically warned me that refusal will be met with proverbial long rope and short stop as that's what deletion of my consciousness amounted to. Either way, I had no desire to go like a lamb to a slaughter. It was them who needed me, not the other way around. I just wanted to determine how badly, so I decided to throw a curveball at her.

"What's in it for me?"

Anneke looked at me and I could see that she was surprised by my question.

"Excuse me?"

I decided to use her surprise to my advantage.

"You heard me the first time." I said coldly. "You took me away from home, from my friends, from family and from the woman I love" I felt brief shot of pain in my chest at the mention of Erica and my family, but I pressed on. I hoped there will be time to properly grieve my people later. "You now want me to do your dirty work in whatever 'universe' you will send me to. So please kindly answer my question – what's in it for me? What do I get from helping you? Are you offering competitive salary or some generous social benefits?"

I smiled at her baffled expression and relaxed in the chair.

"You've made quite a recruitment pitch, I'll give you that much. But I will not work pro bono, because money talks. You've just given me quite a spiel about the rule of the law and putting my trust in institutions rather than individuals. In a civil society people are expected to be paid for their work. So, how does this Security Branch" I did the sarcastic air quotes, just like that Turian guy (Spartacus?) from Mass Effect. "intend to pay for my services?"

Anneke by now got over her surprise and nodded at me thoughtfully. She started typing on her holo-tablet. Before signing any documents I wanted to know as much as I could about what I was getting into so I continued. It was my personal, passive-aggressive 'fuck you' to these people.

"I also need to know about any occupational hazards and health insurance – especially dental coverage. I would like to discuss the holiday plan and good performance bonus while we're at it."

She looked up from her Interius tablet with a smile. Holographic wall of text levitated above the computer.

"I can see the Forecasting and Analysis subdivision made the right choice. You are smart, Peter. And I can't wait to break the news to the pen-pushers in Security Branch Payroll. They will have their hands full when they have to prepare full package for our review. I say, it serves them right."

We both laughed at that. I guess some things (like competition between government agencies) never change, no matter where you are. I had no qualms about using it to my advantage.


EDIT: Some readers (thank you MizDirected) noted that First Chapter is too long if posted as whole. I decided to split it into two for your convenience.