It was 9am when Nick rose, which was early for Nick but not very on-time for work. He showered and dressed quickly and knocked on McCaine's door. She did not answer.
Nick assumed she had gone for breakfast, so he walked down stairs, through the lobby and into the restaurant, looking for McCaine. When he couldn't find her, he began to get a little worried, so he grabbed some toast and ran back upstairs.
"McCaine? Are you in there? Hello? Are you okay?"
"Urghhhh," came the reply, as the door clicked open. Nick saw McCaine shuffle back into bed. "These pills... they suck..." she groaned.
"To be fair, you do have radiation sickness. You need to rest."
"Work to do..." she moaned, showing no intention of actually doing any work and every intention of resting.
Nick shut the door behind him and turned the light on as dim as possible. This, it turns out, was still too bright.
"God, Nick, why..." she moaned.
At a loss for what to do, Nick decided to make some helpful suggestions. "Do you want some breakfast up here? Do you want me to get you anything?"
"No and no," she replied.
Nick sat on the single chair by the bed and said, "Oh."
McCaine rolled over. "Actually, there is one thing you can do. Head to the SHA offices and search Orange's desk, see if he left anything."
Nick's eyes widened in horror. "On my own?!"
"I'm too sick. I'll be fine later, I just need to rest."
"But I don't even know where they are!"
"Fifty seventh floor, out of the lifts, go left, door on the end. Nobody else should be around."
Nick bit the inside of his cheeks, a nervous habit bound to cause some kind of infection.
"But... what if I get caught?"
McCaine coughed and laughed at the same time from somewhere inside the duvet. "The answer to that is, don't get caught."
Nick, beginning to feel excited said, "Alright. I'll be back later."
He rose and walked across the room. His stomach protested but his brain was excited, his first mission as a secret agent solo and it promised to be relatively easy, if the SHA offices on Earth were empty.
"You'd better be," McCaine said to herself as the door closed behind Nick.

* * *

Nick hopped on the subway and actually bought a ticket, which he held in his hands as he rode the train with a sense of wonder. It had been so long since he'd been legally aboard a train.
It was approaching 11am by the time he arrived at the Special Intelligence Office's headquarters. The building loomed over him and felt very intimidating without McCaine.
He decided the best course of action would be not to think about it and so he strode  into the lobby. He was stopped at the reception area.
"Can I see some ID, please?" a security guard asked.
Nick pulled his genuine ID out of his shirt pocket. He decided to keep his real one in there, just so he wouldn't get confused.
"Oh, surprised to see you here. Not many of you types knocking around here these days."
"Not many of us?" Nick asked, alarmed that there might be a few others.
The security guard was not forthcoming with answers and simply said, "Can I check that ID again, sir?" he said, in a far less friendly tone.
Nick handed it over and, realising his mistake, said, "I know we've all shipped out, but I'm surprised anyone is here at all."
This being the correct thing to say to alleviate Nick of suspicion, the guard flipped the ID card over in his hands for a while longer and held it up to the light. He didn't like to make it seem his job was easy.
"Thanks, sir," he said, handing it back, "Only a few people have been coming and going. Pretty quiet, really."
"Oh, that's good," said Nick. He had wanted to ask so much more, but he knew that would only arouse suspicion. He passed the reception area, walked across the lobby and took the lift to floor 57.
The doors opened at 57 and a man entered the lift Nick as he left. Nick turned to get a look at the man, who was doing much the same thing to Nick. Quickly turning his head back around, Nick turned left, which he instantly knew was a mistake. He kept on walking until the lift doors closed.
Although the man did not do anything suspicious, he noticed he had approached the lift from the left, which meant he must have been in the Secret Homeworld Affairs office, as that was the only door in that direction.
Nick ran back down the corridor, past the lift and around another corner. He checked nobody else was around and then peeked back. The lift was coming back up.
He waited until he heard the SHA office door open, which he expected it would and had a quick look around the corner. It was the man who'd got into the lift. Nick hid around the corner again and waited.
The door stayed open for a few seconds, then closed. He heard the lift being called and the doors open and close. Nick tried to calm himself and also look more dignified. He was sure that wasn't how real secret agents do that sort of thing.
He squared his shoulders, took and deep breath and walked around the corner and into the man from the lift incident.
Nick was definitely sure that secret agents didn't do that.
"Who are you?"
Remembering his training, Nick said, "Agent Hall."
"I've not seen you around here before."
"I've not seen you around here before, either."
"Yeah, well, I work away a lot," he said, somewhat defensively, Nick noted.
Nick drank in the details of the man, committing to memory every detail about him. He was tall, with shaved black hair and small dark eyes. He was poorly shaven and had a weak chin. He also looked slightly familiar.
Something uneasy was rising in Nick's stomach. It could have been described as butterflies in his belly, but it was more of a wasps nest, being gently prodded.
"What are you doing here?" asked the man.
"Just getting a few things, I'm supposed to be going to the Moon later."
The man glared at Nick for a while and stepped back into the lift, without saying a word.
As the lift doors closed, Nick said, "See you later, Anthony Boss."
The man's facial expression said it all. The doors closed and Nick bolted for the stairs.
He reached the stairwell and paused. He looked down.
Going down is not secret agent enough, he thought. He decided to go up.
While running up the stairs, he had the idea of catching a spacecraft to the Moon, which he hoped would be possible. He kept away from the rail because people always did that in films and it always gave them away.
After a few flights of stairs he was pretty out of breath, so he decided to slow down and call McCaine to let her know what was happening.
"Hello? Not dead, then," McCaine said.
"I just ran into Boss. He's after me. I'll see you on the Moon."
"JESUS CH-" Nick hung up, because he had running to do.

* * *

He reached the top, eventually.
About halfway there he considered that perhaps it hadn't been the best idea to run all the way to the top, especially considering how tall the building was, but the thought of running into Boss worried him enough to keep on going. When the last flight of stairs led to the walkways surrounding the hangers, he slid to the floor and fought to get his breath back.
While he was still waiting for his legs to feel less like jelly and solidify, he opened the door into the skylobby and looked around. He didn't see Boss, but that didn't mean he wasn't there. He was trying to spot a secret agent.
Thinking back, Nick reasoned that Boss must be someone with extremely close ties to the Secret Homeworld Affairs agency, if he managed to get in so easily. He must have Orange's card, Nick thought.
He stood uncertainly, steeled himself and checked the skylobby again. Still no sign of Boss.
Relying on the fact he had outwitted Boss, he decided to just walk straight out there and into the spacecraft he hoped would be waiting. He stepped out and strode across the lobby, ready to hear shouting, feel a hand on his shoulder or a bullet in his chest.
Thankfully, none of the above made themselves known.
Nick marched up to the security guard in front of the lift to the hangers and asked, "What is the next ship leaving here?"
"Er."
Nick showed the guard his impressive secret agent card. "It's a freighter. It just dropped off a load of paper from the farms on Mars."
"And it's the next ship leaving?"
"Yes, but-"
"That's the ship I'm looking for."
"Oh, right you are, sir," said the guard, stepping aside. Nick strode into the hanger and much to his dismay found he had to climb a ladder to gain access to the flight deck.
He did so slowly, still not entirely recovered from climbing the stairs. He didn't think he had to be so physically fit to do an admin job.
"Are you the pilot?" Nick asked.
The pilot woke up and said, "Who the fuck are you?"
Nick flashed him his impressive card and said, "Where are you going?"
"Hey, just back to Mars, man, I don't want no trouble."
"There won't be any trouble," Nick said, fishing inside his pockets, "if you drop me off at the Moon first." He handed over his money card, which was all the money he had.
The pilot looked at Nick suspiciously, took the card and checked the amount on it. It was more than enough for the pilot to proceed directly to the Moon without delay.
"You'll have to sit up here with me, though," the pilot said, "aint no safety belts in the back and the way I fly, you need seatbelts."
Nick wasn't sure that this flight was a great idea, but he strapped himself in regardless.
The pilot did the same and pulled the ladder up. He performed a few pre-flight checks and began the launch procedure.
"Yo, open the hanger," the pilot said down the radio.
"Okay, hold on. It's windy out there, fly safe."
The pilot laughed quietly to himself, which Nick wasn't encouraged by.
"Alright," the pilot said, looking over to Nick. "You ready?"
"As I'll ever be," he said uncertainly. At least he was sat down.
The pilot opened up the throttle and the ship began to shake. A red light began flashing on the dashboard. The pilot hit it until it stopped. "It does that sometimes," he explained.
The ship rose slowly from the surface of the hanger, before shooting forwards and angling up towards the sky. Nick had never flown at the front of a ship going in to space before.
"My God," said Nick, "it's full of crap."
"Yeah, I know, I hate flying shit to Earth, it's so hard to clean and it's always me who has to do it. Not on the inbound journey, of course, your lovely building has plenty of people to do that for me. I ask them to every time. Saves me a job."
They passed a few ships on their way into space, most of them much smaller than the one they were in.
The pilot tried to make small talk.
"So," he attempted, "on an important mission?"
Nick said, "Classified, I'm afraid."
"Aah, too bad. Still, you must be in a hurry."
"The urgency of whatever task I have decided to do is, unfortunately, classified."
The pilot got the hint and shut up, decided instead to read a magazine that was slightly rude but not enough to be actually called porn. Nick had rather wished he could have spoken to the pilot, just so he'd watch where he was going and not the magazine.


* * *


A few hours into the journey and the pilot had fallen asleep. Nick hadn't noticed him engage any sort of autopilot and being as he hadn't the slightest clue of how spaceships worked, this worried him.
He looked across at the pilot, who had fallen asleep with a magazine on his face. It was desperately trying to drift away in the zero gravity. Nick was unused to flying on ships without magnetic floors used to simulate gravity.
He had to catch his phone as it floated out of his pocket.
Nick decided to take action and wake the pilot, just in case he had neglected their safety and had just fallen asleep. He couldn't take any chances.
"Ahem!" Nick coughed. The pilot stirred. "Aaaahem!"
The pilot woke and threw the magazine off his face. "Who the fuck are you?!" he cried, staring wildly at Nick.
"You're taking me to the Moon!" Nick said, alarmed.
"I am?! Do you have a gun?"
"Er, no," replied Nick.
"Well why am I taking you to the Moon?"
"I gave you a money card! Full of money!"
"Oh yeah," said the pilot, settling back into his seat, "I remember. I thought you were a space pirate. A really strange one. They often ambush people while they sleep through the autopilot."
Nick nodded. "Oh right, we're on autopilot?"
The pilot looked at the dashboard in front of him, pressed a few buttons and said, "Yes... of course we are."
Nick sat back in his seat, although he was even more tense now than before. He wondered what the rate of hair loss in secret agents was.
The pilot soon went back to sleep and left Nick alone in consciousness again. He unbuckled himself to make use of the meagre toilet facilities the ship offered. They were much less luxurious than pretty much any other toilet he'd ever seen and, had his need not been so great, he would have not used them.
Space toilets had come a long way since the 21st century. This one, it seemed to Nick, appeared to have gone back to the 19th century. It was a grubby selection of suction pipes connected to three types of cups.
Nick powered on the suction and it made a terrifying whirring noise, not the kind of noise one wishes to hear when they're going to be placing their genitals in them.
He made do and proceeded back in to the cabin. He made a mental note that if he was going to be sick, which he might well do before the harrowing journey was over, that he should not run into the toilet to do so.
When he floated back in to the cabin, he noticed his money card had floated quite neatly out of the pilot's pocket, having been carelessly placed in there when there was still gravity to hold it down.
Nick plucked it out of the air and tucked it safely away in his jacket. He would need it to get around on the Moon anyway and this was possibly a matter of saving the world, he rationalised.
He pulled himself into his seat and strapped back in, closing his eyes to get some rest before they arrived.

* * *

Nick had fallen asleep by the time they reached the Moon. The autopilot alarm woke him and the pilot at the same time.
"Hey, you're that..."
"Yes, it's me," Nick said, rolling his eyes.
His eyes rolled even more when he saw the expanse of the moon floating around above his head. The autopilot had taken them directly to Providence and Nick was glad to see some familiar territory, even if it was upside down.
The ship span slowly and lowered itself into a landing hanger automatically. Nick saw little of this technological marvel, however, as he had his eyes tightly shut.
"Your stop," the pilot said.
Nick opened his eyes and said, "Thanks." He untangled himself from the seatbelts and found himself thankful for gravity, no matter how weak it was.
"See you," the pilot said. "Good luck."
"Thanks, bye." Nick clambered down the ladder and stepped onto the hanger floor. He looked around for any sign of security or customs officials and, spying none, walked out of the hanger and into Providence.
He decided to call McCaine, to see when he could meet her.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hi, where are you?”
“Oh, you know, just travelling on a spaceship to the Moon,” she replied curtly.
“Did I wake you up?”
“No.”
“Sorry.”
“It's okay, I hadn't been sleeping for long.”
Nick walked down the street aimlessly. He said, “I'm in Providence. Where shall I meet you?”
“I'll be arriving there in about two and a half hours. Kill some time. I recommend you go see a film or something.”
“Anything good on?” Nick asked.
“I'm going back to sleep. I didn't appreciate having to drag myself to the Moon for you.”
“Yeah, but I-”
McCaine hung up before Nick could leak any sensitive information.
Nick, having nothing better to do than worry about Anthony Boss and the various ways he might want to kill him, decided to take McCaine's advice and go and see a film.
He wandered down the street towards a promising looking complex. The streets were quiet and birds could be heard above the passing noise of cars. This struck Nick as slightly odd, who looked up a nearby tree. He saw a small and cleverly hidden speaker emitting bird noises.
Makes sense, thought Nick.
He walked on and soon came upon a cinema, which was rather down market looking and not at all decorated with the neon lights of cinemas on Earth. This was because the Moon had strict light pollution regulations in order to keep the Moon looking nice from Earth and not like a glowing yellow fireball.
Nick surveyed the list of films, which numbered in the hundreds.
“Do you really show all these films?” Nick asked the ticket counter attendant.
“Yes, of course, we use state of the art cinema technology to allow us to screen many films.” The attendant put down the cue card and said, “Apparently. It's just a headset that gives you the impression you're sat in a real theatre with people in it. It's actually just a small cubicle.”
“That sounds perfect!” Nick said, “Can you make it so that it's like I'm sat in a huge cinema with nobody else but me in it?”
“That is our most popular choice,” he said, “Now, which film would you like to see?”
Nick looked down the immense list. “I'd like to see something good that isn't a spy drama. Something feel-good. With no death.”
The attendant looked at his computer. “That's probably the least popular choice, but I've got a few things for you. How does 'The Ironing' sound?”
“That'll do.”
Nick paid what he considered to be a slightly unreasonable fee for what amounted to sitting in a dark room with a big helmet on but then, it wasn't his money, so he didn't grumble.
He was led down a dimly lit corridor with red carpet. The attendant stopped and asked him, “Do you want sticky floors or clean?”
“Ooh, clean,” said Nick, with little enthusiasm.
He was led to a small room and he sat down, put the headset on and settled down to watch the film.

* * *

After the film was over, Nick was invited to participate in a short survey, which he politely refused to do so. He left the cinema and walked back to the spaceport to wait for McCaine.
He watched the ships fly in. They were mostly passenger ships, Nick noticed, each one probably bringing untold amounts of criminals into Providence, if what McCaine had said was true.
Nick certainly had not needed even the most rudimentary forms of identification in order to move about freely on the Moon.
After about thirty minutes of waiting, McCaine called him.
“I'm outside, where are you?” she asked.
“Inside, where it's not cold and there are no creepy bird noises. I'll meet you out there.”
After they found each other, Nick quickly explained what had happened on Earth and all that happened since they'd last met. They spoke and walked to a car rental place, which Nick had insisted they visit.
“You did a good job, Nick, although I take it you didn't actually search Orange's desk,” McCaine said.
“I was being pursued by a uranium dealer! For all I know I could be a marked man!”
“Now, you don't know you were chased at all, but from the sounds of it, he probably wanted to.”
Nick noticed McCaine still didn't look as good as when he'd first met her, although, he thought, that might just be because he'd gotten to know her better.
McCaine continued, “Well, if it's Boss that infiltrated the building, maybe it's not an inside job. Not now Orange is dead, anyway.”
“But how did he get back in? I thought the place would be under tighter control after the break out?” Nick said.
“They wanted to keep it low key. So low key, infact, that they didn't tell anybody. I think we should go see the boss, Cormack, with this. It's a lot to go on.”
“The boss, eh? I don't think I've seen him about.”
“You won't have, he doesn't mingle with the likes of us unless he has to.”
“Sounds like a nice guy,” Nick said.
“He's not.”
They reached a place that appeared to be renting cars, which was a short walk from the spaceport.
They almost legally acquired a car for rental, McCaine having used a very fake ID card to obtain it. Nick was furious, the only reason they'd gone there in the first place was to do it by the book and he suspected her use of the fake ID was just a dig at Nick.
“Was using that fake ID a dig at me?” Nick asked when they were driving away.
“Yes,” McCaine replied. “Listen, Nick. I'm glad to see you again and I'm glad you're okay. You did a good job.”
Nick blushed a little. “Thanks.”
“That's my appraisal duties fulfilled. Now I can continue to torture you.”
Nick smiled and settled into the seat.

* * *

McCaine drove them peacefully out of Providence and towards Tranquillity, the domed community housing much of the Moon's administration. Construction on the Moon was quite unlike it was on Earth, with land still plentiful and costing nothing, many various communities and centres sprung up connected to each other by long roads.
When there was no reason to be near anyone else, they built in a new place.
The Moon's government had claimed Lake Tranquillity as their centre of operations and had levelled much of the historic site out to make it habitable.
McCaine drove down the road to Tranquillity at a speed Nick would rather not know. They were silent for the most part, with very few words having passed between them since Nick had been reunited with McCaine.
Nick felt something had changed between them.
"I'm sorry I made you come all the way to the Moon," he said, "What with you having radiation poisoning and all."
"It's fine," McCaine said, "Really, I'm glad you came here. You were smart, Nick, you ran into Boss and made it back here with a positive ID. I would much rather have come here with that than stayed in bed knowing whatever crap was in Orange's desk."
Nick knew he'd been fishing for compliments but it still made him feel good to hear them. He said, "So, am I a secret agent, yet?"
"Whether you like it or not," McCaine said, grinning.
Nick said, "Well, I think I like it. It's kind of exciting."
McCaine said nothing and drove on. What little in the way of scenery there was whizzed by the small car windows. It was mostly rocks and occasionally a sign.
Nick, who was not well versed in Moon based affairs, asked, "What happens if we break down out here?"
"You mean the car?"
"Yes," said Nick, who could not think of any other meaning and did not particularly want to know one.
"We have to hope our O2 supply lasts until one of the patrols comes and finds us. Various places usually pool resources to patrol these roads for breakdowns. Being as most people have phones and large oxygen supplies, they're not very frequent. People have died out here."
"Oh dear."
"Don't worry, only stupid people."
They drove on to Tranquillity, occasionally discussing how things were done on the Moon and pausing only to avoid some reckless teenagers in space suits playing golf.
After driving through the massive airlock into Tranquillity, which looked a lot more impressive from the outside, Nick noted, they soon arrived at the government building containing the Secret Homeworld Affairs agency's temporary offices.
They walked inside and proceeded quickly down the express walkways, with Nick feeling more confident about them either time.
"Don't be nervous," McCaine said to Nick.
"I won't," replied Nick, who began to feel nervous.
"I'm not sure if people know about Orange being dead, yet. We'll just play it cool."
They arrived at the office, which was bustling with people, many stood around looking restless. They pushed and weaved their way through the crowd to Nick's desk, which was currently occupied.
"Beat it," McCaine said.
"I'll beat you," said Rick England.
"Oh, please don't," said McCaine with mock fear.
England grinned and looked at Nick. "You've not lost your puppy yet, Lucy."
"No."
"Been out for walkies, have you?"
"And what have you been doing?" McCaine said.
"Classified," England replied. "And you?"
"Classified."
"Fuck you, then."
"And you."
McCaine turned and marched smartly away, leaving Nick to follow in her wake, embarrassed to be doing so after just being called her puppy but having very little in the way of choice.
"Come on, let's find Cormack."
They walked out of the office and down the hall to where the head of Secret Homeworld Affairs, Leon Cormack, had set up his offices. They knocked and entered to be greeted by his secretary.
"Yes?" he said.
"We would like to see Mr Cormack, please," McCaine said.
"Sorry, McCaine," the secretary replied, "Mr Cormack is not taking visitors.
Nick shut the door slowly behind him and McCaine said, "We have information regarding Agent Orange's death."
"Orange is dead?"
McCaine nodded grimly.
"Hold on," he said, standing up and walking into the office behind him. The secretary appeared moments later and said, "Mr Cormack will see you now. But..."
"Yes?" said McCaine.
"Who's that?" he said, pointing at Nick.
Nick stepped smartly forward and said, "Agent Hall."
The secretary raised his eyebrows. "Are you new?"
"This is my second day as a secret agent. I began my induction to be an administration assistant two days ago."
"Then you're a goddamn natural."
Cormack's secretary winked at Nick as he walked in to the far office after McCaine.
"Is this fucking true?" Cormack said, before Nick had even closed the door.
"Yes it is, sir," McCaine replied.
Nick was instantly intimidated by Cormack, a large bear-like man with greying hair. Nick thought he had more scars on his face and hands than he'd had hot dinners, which was true because Nick only ate warm dinners, hot ones unsuitable for his fleshy mouth.
Cormack asked the question every secret agent asked first, "Who did it?"
"I don't know, but we have a few leads."
Cormack shook his head sadly. Years in the service of Earth had left it's mark on him. Deep wrinkles were etched into his face and his hair loss defied even the space age's technology.
"Orange was a good man. He was like me, no family to speak of, completely dedicated to the job. Do you think his death was related to the uranium investigation?"
McCaine said nothing, instead choosing to nudge Nick, who jumped slightly.
"Er, yes, sir. Er, Agent McCaine discovered Orange's body in a mining facility she was investigating with connections to Anthony Boss, a uranium smuggler."
Cormack cocked his head and looked at Nick. "You two had better sit down," he said, "and we should get acquainted."
Nick and McCaine sat in large seats in front of Cormack's large desk. It was made entirely of wood and was therefore quite illegal in the age they lived in, but things like laws infrequently applied to people like Leon Cormack.
He wasn't so much above the law, he was just beyond it.
"Lucy, I know you, how are you doing?"
"I am doing just fine, sir, just a small bout of radiation poisoning, but nothing to worry about."
Cormack smiled wanly and said, "And who is this?"
"Agent Hall, sir. Nick Hall."
"Always glad to see fresh faces around here," Cormack replied, "but not when they're replacing old ones."
He extended his hand and Nick shook it. "I met Orange, sir, he seemed like a good man."
Cormack nodded. "So, let's get down to business. What leads have you got?"
McCaine said, "There's Anthony Boss, we think he's an informant of Orange's and King, a doctor a lot of us use on Earth, who tracked me to Orange's flat."
"King?"
"Yes, sir. I went to see him after we got to Earth because I had radiation poisoning from when I found Orange's body. He gave me some pills which I believe had a GPS tracking device in. After we arrived at Orange's flat, they turned up shortly after and shot their way in, presumably after us. We gave them the slip."
"McCaine," Cormack said quietly, "Are you sure it was King that followed you?"
"Absolutely. He was with another man, but I didn't recognise him."
Cormack sat back in his seat in silence. "Well, if you're sure, then I suppose you should know... King is here. He said he'd like to give up plain old medicine and rejoin the ranks."
There was a series of very meaningful glances.
Presently, Cormack said, "Did you go into the main office?"
"Yes," said McCaine, really wishing she hadn't.
"And it was no doubt absolutely full of people who've turned up nothing but dead ends."
"It certainly looked like it," McCaine replied, thinking back to all the people looking restless.
"Word might have gotten round. You should stay here while we get someone to bring King in. Please, pour yourself a drink or two," Cormack said, gesturing to the extensive bar to the side of the room.
Cormack used the intercom to talk to his secretary, using extremely subtle language to issue the order to detain King with extreme force. Nick wondered how long they spent dreaming up the kind of codewords they had used.
Nick and McCaine, both now wielding slightly alcoholic drinks, as they were working, after all, sat back down in front of Cormack.
"Now then," Cormack said, sipping at his glass of clear brown liquid, "fill me in. I want details."
McCaine told Cormack how she had come across Orange's body and how they had quickly gone to Earth to search Orange's flat and about the photos they'd found.
"You have the photos?"
"Right here," McCaine said, patting her bag.
Suddenly, the door handle turned and rattled and there was a small thud against the door. Cormack's eyes grew wide.
"Against the wall, now. McCaine, your gun."
McCaine quickly stood and dragged Nick towards the wall, which was quite easy in a low gravity environment, while Cormack dived behind his desk.
There was a gun blast and the lock shattered.
The door was kicked in and a few bullets thudded into Cormack's desk. The doctor, King, slid into the room and pointed his pistol ahead of himself.
"Oh, you again, I thought-" he turned to point his gun at them.
McCaine already had her gun drawn and quickly shot King in the head and twice in the body. He slumped backwards against the door frame and fell to the floor, his pistol still in his hand.
"I don't fucking believe it," Cormack said, dragging himself up from the floor. "You both alright?"
Nick nodded feebly while McCaine said, "We're fine."
Cormack, with his gun drawn carefully checked the other room for hostile activity and stepped through when he saw it was safe.
"Are you alright, Timothy?" Cormack asked his secretary, who was lying on the floor, clutching a bleeding arm.
"Fine sir," he said weakly, giving him a shaky thumbs up. "The system works."
Cormack marched back to his desk and called a medical team.
"The system, sir?" McCaine asked.
"The door. It's only unlocked if Timothy is pressing a very well hidden foot switch."
Cormack walked over to King's body, which had fallen away from the door frame and was lying in an uncomfortable looking position on the floor.
"I don't know what the fuck is going on," he said, "but if it means some son of a bitch is going to walk into my office and put bullets in my desk, it must be fucking huge."
"Indeed, sir," McCaine said, putting her gun away. Nick was in shock. McCaine was, too, as she was determined not to get used to killing people, but she was a professional after all and had to look like one, even if it was just to set a good example.
Cormack bent over to pick up King's gun. He then marched back over to his desk and sat heavily in his chair as a medical team burst through the door.
One of them threw up instantly and the other ran over to King's body.
"He's dead, you pricks, I'm still alive!" the secretary shouted from the other room.
Setting the safety on and carefully placing the gun on the table, Cormack said, "Twenty years I've sat behind this desk and this is the first time someone's shot it."
"These are dark times indeed, sir," McCaine agreed, with a wry smile. She'd never liked King anyway.



An hour later, Nick was sat in a comfortable chair in a meeting room on the Moon. He was drinking a large cup of tea.
“Are you sure you're okay?” McCaine said to him.
“Honestly, I'm fine,” said Nick. “I've seen bad guys die all the time in movies.”
“Yes, but this is different.”
Nick slurped at his tea. “I know, but not by much.”
They were both sat in first room they could find, waiting to be debriefed by the senior agents of the SHA.
Nick, who was trying not to catch McCaine's eye, asked, “Have you shot many people?”
McCaine stared into her tea. “A few. It certainly gets easier.”
They sat in silence, sipping at their tea, until a man entered the room.
"We're ready. Come along."
They stood up and followed the man in to another meeting room. Nick spotted armed guards at the end of the corridor. Security had been beefed up since the shooting. The meeting room was dim, with a projector doing it's thing onto a wall.
In the gloom, Cormack nodded at them both and said, "Please, sit down."
Nick wasn't sure if he recognised some of the other agents in the room from when he was originally interviewed about the briefcase switch. They all looked the same and the room was quite dark.
"First of all," Cormack said, "I'd like to say well done to the both of you. So far, you have hindered the actions of law breakers far more than anyone else on this case. We learned earlier that the United States of America's chief energy producer, EnergyWay, had been covering up the theft of their entire enriched uranium supply.
"We believe the thieves to be employees of EnergyWay, most likely miners. We also believe Anthony Boss, the man you saw in the building, Hall, to be one of those employees. Since the loss of the uranium was such an immense blunder, they were planning on selling it back to them."
Cormack flicked a few pages in the file in front of him.
"However, things have gotten a lot worse. All manner of terrorists learned of the plot and now they are all chasing it. It is absolutely top priority we obtain this uranium before anyone else does."
McCaine asked, "So where is it now?"
"Someone else has obtained it," Cormack said bluntly. "Luckily, however, it is currently in the hands of environmental activists, intent on simply destroying it. We must rely on their sheer incompetence in galactic terrorism to secure the uranium, before anyone else does. To that end, you two will be assisting a police raid on the environmentalists offices."
"When do we leave?" asked McCaine.
"After the briefing," said Cormack.
"When's the briefing?"
"This is it."
"I thought this was a debriefing."
Cormack sat back in his chair. "Think of it as... a rebriefing."
Nick thought there was nothing brief about what was going on, but he decided to save that joke for a more appropriate time.
"You will assist the raid on the environmentalist offices on the Earth spacestation, 'Offworld Orbital'. They are known as Blue Skies. You're to question those there and search the offices for clues. Pursue the uranium at all costs. The trail goes colder every second."
Nick bit his lip. "Er, are you should I sure be going? I mean I'm not very experienced..."
"It's just an office raid. You'll be fine. Unless you don't want to go..."
"Well..."
"Hall, you've done a great job so far and you will be greatly rewarded. We just thought you'd like to see the job through to the end."
Nick thought about matters. He'd often been told that he should seize the day and take every opportunity, but on the other hand, it was exceedingly dangerous and involved terrorists and uranium.
"Is there truly a more worthwhile job than helping save the lives of millions of people?" Cormack said.
Nick thought he was laying it on a bit thick, but he knew where he was coming from. "Alright, I'll go."
"Excellent," said Cormack. "Now, one more thing. As you well know, ex-Agent King is now dead. We don't know what involvement he has in this uranium affair or who he was working for. He covered his tracks exceedingly well, as we expected he would have done. Watch your backs. Agent Clarke will fill you in on the details on the way. Your flight leaves in ten minutes."
McCaine stood and had to tap Nick on the shoulder to get him to do the same. Clarke rose from his seat and nodded at them and together they exited the meeting room and began walking towards the spaceship they would be taking.
"What I want to know is," Clarke whispered to both of them, "what was that projector for?"
"They probably turfed some poor rich bastards out of the room and didn't know how to turn it off."
"A conspiracy!" Clarke exclaimed in mock horror.
Nick thought this was going to be a long assignment. He glanced at McCaine, who looked like she was thinking the same thing.
Clarke stopped off at the main office as they travelled down the corridors.
"Just got to pick up a few supplies," he winked, as he ducked inside. Nick and McCaine waited outside.
"It's going to be a long flight," McCaine warned Nick.
"I was thinking much the same thing," Nick replied.
Clarke soon returned, carrying an extremely large box.
"What on Earth is in there?" McCaine asked him.
"Oh, guns and armour, really. Glad we're on the Moon, this is a bastard to carry on Earth."
They stepped onto the main powered walkway which ran the length of the entire building, taking a quick turning to get to the flight pad. They walked on board and strapped themselves in.
The craft was small, but only compared to all the other ones. It was still the size of a few reasonably sized homes, although most of it was composed entirely of the engine. The cabin itself was tiny.
Nick and McCaine quickly took two seats next to each other, meaning Clarke would have to sit on his own, elsewhere.
"Hope you're all strapped in, I'm taking off!" the pilot shouted from the cabin at the front.
McCaine nudged Nick and said, "Looks like we've got a decent pilot at last."
The ship juddered into life and quickly rattled away from the moon. Once again, they were on a return flight to Earth, although this time they would be docking just before they reached it.
McCaine rummaged around in her bag and pulled out a file, which she quickly flicked open and began reading.
"What's that?" Nick asked.
"Classified," she said, leaning slightly to reveal the contents to Nick. It was an empty file with a magazine about films inside.
"I see," said Nick, knowingly. He wished he had a magazine-in-a-file.
Presently, the pilot announced, "I was told this was a shut eye flight, so the lights are going off." With that, the cabin dimmed significantly and McCaine quietly put her magazine away.
"Works for me," she said, "I still feel pretty ill, despite the meds."
From elsewhere in the darkness, Clarke said, "I was just putting on my chest armour. If I do it wrong and get shot, I'm holding the pilot responsible."
There was a lot of shuffling about and a few muffled swear words and the entire cabin fell silent. Nick decided he had nothing better to do and decided he could probably do with the rest, so he shut his eyes.
However, despite whatever Nick thought, he was still wide awake. He thought about King or rather, he thought about his dead body lying on the floor. Nick had never seen a dead body before, especially one that he had seen the instant before it was dead.
He wasn't sure if he was in shock or if he really was not that affected, but he supposed the fact King would have probably killed in Orange's flat might have affected things somewhat.
Nick listened to Agent Clarke shuffle around for a while and finally find a comfortable position. Clarke briefly commented that he should have probably put the armour on just before they got to Offworld Orbital.
After thirty minutes or so, Nick guessed that McCaine was asleep. She was breathing heavily in a way that she would have never permitted had she been awake. He was a little jealous, because if he had been asleep he wouldn't have seen King's dead body every time he closed his eyes, although, he reasoned, he'd probably have embarrassingly vocal nightmares about him instead.
McCaine's head fell against Nick's arm. She had slid down in her chair and was sound asleep. Nick decided not to move her and was glad of a distraction, which lasted the remainder of the journey as she moved uncomfortably in her sleep. The radiation sickness pills must really mess up your sleep, Nick thought, as she flung her arm across his face.

* * *


Three hours after they had launched from the Moon, the pilot's voice shouted to them from the cabin, "We're entering orbit, we'll dock in about thirty minutes!"
The lights in the cabin came back on, which blinded Nick temporarily. He hadn't slept the entire journey. He hastily pushed McCaine into an upright position before Clarke pulled himself out of his pile of body armour.
"Are we there yet?" McCaine muttered, rubbing her eyes.
"Yes," said Nick, "apparently we're about thirty minutes away."
McCaine replied, "Urgh, that means we're not there yet. Wake me up in twenty minutes."
She turned away from Nick and curled up in her seat. Nick turned his attention to Clarke, who had stood up and was rummaging around in his locker, which was floating above his seat since he'd forgotten to tie it down.
He pulled a shotgun out and had it hover gently next to his head while he got stuck in.
"I know I've got a belt in here somewhere..." he said, his voice muffled by the locker.
Nick watched the gun rotate lazily in the air.
"You want some body armour, Hall?" Clarke asked him, grabbing the shotgun spinning in midair and shoving it back in the box.
"Sure, if you think I'll need it..."
"Always pays to be safe," Clarke replied.
McCaine turned in what Nick thought was her sleep and said, "He always wears body armour. I don't think he's even been shot before."
"And I don't intend to be!" Clarke snapped.
Clarke handed Nick a black vest-shaped garment, saying, "This will stop some bullets and stab wounds, as well as any fragments from grenades."
"Some? Which bullets?!"
Clarke shrugged, "How the hell would I know?" He pulled a pistol out of his floating locker. "Want to find out?"
"No," said Nick, grabbing the armour out of mid-air and taking his shirt off so he could put it on.
"Any guns, Hall?"
"Oh, I don't think so..."
"You sure? It might come in handy."
"For what?"
Clarke rolled his eyes. "What do you think? Killing people! Or dissuading birds from your crops, I suppose. Or starting races!"
"No, thanks," said Nick firmly.
They suited up while McCaine woke up. She yawned, unclipped her harness and stretched as she floated up to the ceiling, complaining loudly as she bumped her head on the top of the cabin. Waking up in zero gravity can be quite alarming and most commercial space flights have cushioned ceilings, just like the hotel rooms.
Out of the cabin window, Nick saw the Earth spinning beside them. It was mostly grey and blue.
"Doesn't look very impressive," Clarke said, as he floated upside down beside Nick, something Nick found quite inappropriate behaviour.
"I guess not."
"We must have come on a bad day. Or night. Or both! Which I suppose it is..."
Nick mumbled something in reply and strapped himself back down in his seat. The ship rotated a little to line itself up for the dock and the view of the Earth disappeared.
Clarke took the time to secure his locker and then clambered back into his seat. McCaine did the same, electing not to wear any body armour.
"It just doesn't go with what I'm wearing," she said.
The ship rumbled as it docked and then purred into silence as the huge engine powered down. They unharnessed themselves and pulled themselves towards the exit.
"Just so you know," McCaine said, "Offworld Orbital was one of the first space stations to use the magnetic floors to simulate gravity."
"Great!" said Nick.
"That means it's absolutely terrible. It's like walking in slow motion. I suggest you turn your magnetic shoes off, most people do here."
Nick reached down and pressed the small buttons on his shoes to disconnect the batteries. He had rather been hoping he could get used to some walking with Earth-type gravity, even if it had to be simulated.
The novelty of space soon wore off when Nick had bumped his head on the ceiling for the tenth time, or something had flown into the back of his head for the tenth time.
They proceeded out of the craft and down towards the security checkpoint.
"Anything to declare?" the attending officer asked.
"Yes, we have lots of guns," Agent Clarke said.
The officer blinked and began to reach towards his radio. McCaine quickly flashed her ID and the officer looked relieved.
"I was told to expect you," he said.
"Yes, that's handy," McCaine replied, scowling at Clarke. Nick smiled and tried to look amiable.
They walked past and into the arrivals lobby of the Offworld Orbital space station, which, a sign helpfully proclaimed, was "Earth's First, Largest and Best Orbital Complex."
Nick was impressed. Standing on the main walkway, he saw almost all of the atrium, which was larger and more vastly glazed than anything any oil baron had ever owned on Earth.
Walkways and entire rooms passed across it, like streamers, littering the view, but it was so large, they didn't really obstruct much.
A window cleaner floated up in front of them, dangling a rope. He attached a small suction cup the window and attached the rope to it. Cleaning windows had a way of making you fly away from them in Earth's orbit.
"Come on, this way," Clarke said, consulting some instructions that looked very hastily written to Nick.
They marched off down the walkway which circled the vast atrium. After circling for a few minutes, Clarke quickly backtracked and they proceeded down a narrower corridor towards a man leaning against a wall, holding a gun.
He probably would have been smoking if he'd been allowed, it was that kind of lean.
"We're here with the SIO," Clarke said, flashing his card.
The guard looked at the card, then at the trio standing before him. He said, "More of you?"
McCaine and Nick exchanged glances while Clarke said, "What?"
"There was a guy who turned up not long ago, said he was with the SIO and was part of the investigation."
"Who?"
"I don't know!"
McCaine said, "Well, didn't you read his card?"
The guard scratched his chin sheepishly, "Well, no, he said he was with the Special Intelligence Office and, well, since I'd been told to expect SIO, I just let him in..."
Nick said, "Do you think it's Boss?"
"It's your boss?!" the guard exclaimed, suddenly standing up a lot straighter.
"No," said Nick wearily, hoping to nip that particular running gag in the bud.
Presently, the door opened a man walked quickly into them, clutching a small box. He stood and stared at their faces, his eyes finally resting on Nick.
"Oh, it is Boss, look," said Nick.
Boss jumped, hoping to get to the ceiling and escape, but Clarke grabbed his leg and dragged him down. McCaine punched him in the only place she knew would disable him, his groin.
Boss said, "Oof," and folded up in mid-air.
"Jesus, McCaine," Clarke said, "I had it covered."
"Just making sure," she replied, spinning Boss around in the air and checking his pockets for weapons, of which he had three. She handed them to Nick, who held them awkwardly before putting them in his pockets. They were all handheld ceramic pistols, the kind only murderers carried.
"We meet again, Hall," said Boss, as his arms and legs were zip tied behind his back by Clarke.
McCaine was rummaging through the box he'd bought out with him, which had been sent spinning into the air when Boss had tried to escape.
"Yes, indeed," said Nick, who was slightly nervous about him, even though he was tied up and in considerable pain while floating around.
"How the hell did you get away from me?" Boss asked.
Nick said, "I'm not going to give away secret agent secrets, am I?"
"I suppose not," Boss replied.
"This box is nothing but junk," McCaine said, prodding Boss with the sharp corner of it. He winced slightly.
Another of the police raid team emerged from the room. "What the hell is going on here?!" he demanded. "Why is that SIO agent tied up in midair?!"
"We're the SIO agents," Clarke explained, "This person is an imposter."
"How do we know you're not the imposters?" the second policeman said.
"Yeah, they're imposters!" Boss said, to which McCaine replied with a vicious prod of a box into his groin.
The first policeman said, "Well, that guy tried to run when he realised these guys were here."
"Sounds pretty suspicious," said the second policeman.
McCaine, ignoring the policemen and pulling Boss down to eye level, said, "What DID you find in there? How come you were leaving?"
The second policeman said, "After he'd interviewed someone, he gathered up some papers in that box and said he had all he needed."
McCaine grinned, right in Boss's face. She said, without tearing her eyes away from that of Anthony Boss, "Where is this... interviewed... person?"
She hadn't really thought it through before she said it.
"Inside."
"We must see them, immediately," said Clarke, determined not to have McCaine say all the good lines.
"But how do we know you're not the imposters?"
McCaine said, "You don't, but you just let that guy and look how suspicious he looks. Get out of my way."
"Our way," added Clarke.
The two policemen looked at each other.
The door guard said, "Well, that guy did try to run away..."
"And there's more of us than there are you," Clarke said, unhelpfully.
"They're certainly as arrogant as SIO employees," the second policeman said. "Alright, fine, come with me, I'll show you the guy he spoke to."
"What about me?!" Boss asked.
"Look at him, will you? Tie him to something if he tries to float off," McCaine said to the door guard.
"Er..."
They walked into the office. It was decorated quite sparsely, with a few desks and motivational posters about saving the planet.
They were led to a small office at the far end, past ten people who were tied to chairs looking quite disgruntled, being guarded by policemen and women.
The policemen opened the door to let them inside the small office, where a man was sitting, also tied to a chair.
After they were all inside, the policeman shut the door. Clarke glared at him.
"What? I'm here to observe that he is treated fairly."
"No, you're not," said Clarke firmly.
The policeman protested, "But that other guy let me!"
"He didn't!" the man in the chair said.
The policeman shook his head and opened the door to leave. "Well done, dipshit," he said.
"Oops," said the chair bound man, "I didn't really think that through."
"Don't worry," McCaine said, "We're the good guys. That guy before was an imposter."
The policeman walked slowly out of the room, until Clarke pushed the door shut in his face, at which point he very quickly walked out of the room.
"An imposter?"
"You should have asked to see some ID," Clarke chided him. "He could have been anyone!"
"Can I see your ID?" the man asked.
"No," said McCaine, pulling up a chair and sitting down facing the man. "Agent Hall, untie him."
Nick, who suspected he would be getting a lot more jobs like this in the future, walked behind the man and looked at the plastic ties binding him. Using his initiative, he rummaged through some drawers in the desk looking for scissors.
Clarke said, "First of all, what is Blue Skies all about?" The man said, "Er, we're a group of people who want to, er, see nature restored to Earth and... well, there's a leaflet..."
"Just tell me," Clarke said testily.
"Well, we want to stop all the pollution on our great planet and give all the animal life there a chance."
"What's an animal?" Clarke said.
"Er..." said the man, not really knowing if he should take him seriously or not.
Nick found some scissors and cut through his ties. The man said, "Thanks" and rubbed his wrists. "That guy before wasn't very nice."
Clarke asked, "Why are you called Blue Skies?"
"Because that's what colour the sky used to be on Earth, long ago."
"Really?" said Clarke, "Blue?"
"It's true," said Nick, "there's plenty of old video footage about it. Terrible quality, of course, but you can definitely see that it's blue."
"Crazy, sounds like a science fiction idea or something," Clarke said.
McCaine rolled her eyes. "Can we just get on with this?"
"Get on with what?" said the recently released man, with a hunted look in his eyes.
"We need you to tell us what happened with that man before and we need you to tell us exactly what you told him."
The man glanced at Nick, who was resting on the table behind him and said, "Er, well, after the police raided and everything, this guy came in and started waving a gun around, saying he was with Special Intelligence and he demanded to know if someone had been in touch with us about some special shipments or anything.
"Well, I said that one my friends in Blue Skies had phoned me and told me he was pulling something special and that he would be in touch with me when he got to the Venus Superstation."
McCaine shook her head. "Terrorists, these days," she said.
"We're not terrorists!" the man exclaimed hotly.
"What your friend is doing is terrorism," Clarke said.
"Oh, did I say he was my friend?"
McCaine said to Clarke, "We need to get to the Venus Superstation."
"I meant he was more of an acquaintance, one I didn't really know well."
Clarke said, "I'll find us a ship."
"I mean, I've only ever spoken to him once..."
McCaine said to the man on the chair, "Shut up. How long ago did he call?"
"Well, I was having my organic Earth-grown soup..."
McCaine glared.
"... about six hours ago."
"I'll get a fast one," Clarke said, exiting the room.
"Am I going to be in trouble?" the man asked feebly.
"Not with us."
"Eh?"
McCaine explained, "Your friend going to Venus probably won't to talk to you anymore."
"Ah, he's not my-"
"Shut up. Come on Hall, let's go."
Nick, who had been spinning the scissors idly in his hands, something much more fun in zero gravity, put them down and followed McCaine out of the room.
As an afterthought, McCaine ducked her head back in and said, "What's your name, by the way?"
"Steven Blithe."
"Well, Mr Blithe, don't leave the solar system."
McCaine slammed the door shut behind her.