Status One: Agent (Book One)

PROLOGUE

PRESENT DAY

I've heard rumors that back on Earth many years ago when a family pet bit one of the children, they put it down. For a rogue agent on Red Moon, the penalty is the same. Treason equals death. I've known it since I graduated from the agent academy established by Intergalactic Consortium Authority.

I've never had a problem carrying out the orders of my commanders without question. The agents they sent after me don't ask questions either. The Intergalactic Authority only protects its own and I don't fall under that label anymore.

The worst thing is, I can't think of a soul who would miss me. No one would even remember that I existed.

My fist came down hard against the cheap wooden desk in the hotel room. I had nowhere left to go. I'd given my credit ID. I'm going to need a false ID chip with credits to avoid getting captured. Though I didn't know the first thing about how to obtain such a thing. That's the problem with obeying the law all the time. I don't have a clue how to break them.

Promising to pay later wasn't an option. I held my breath to avoid inhaling his hair pomade and batted my long eyelashes long enough to keep him from looking too closely at it. The creepy man with the uni-brow and greasy comb-over winked after he'd looked me up and down. It made me want to crawl out of my skin because a shower wouldn't be enough to wash the leer off. He'd handed me the passkey to the room before I could vomit on his desk.

The place was seedy and mysterious, perfect for hiding out while I figured out what to do next. They asked few questions and often rented by the hour as long as they got their credit upfront. The place probably had a million and one infractions with illegal activities behind every door, but this time, I'd be one of them. I'd obtained a room on the first floor and passed five other closed doors before I reached mine at the end.

I placed the passkey in front of the reader and the door slid open to my room the unventilated stench was an assault on my senses. My nose itched and my eyes watered as I tried to breathe through my mouth. I needed a place to rest what did it matter where as long as I was off of the streets? I looked down at the dingy floor and then the bed. Which of the two would be the worst offender of germs, was anyone's guess. The thought reminded me to wash my hands. Even a dump like this one would have clean water.

The tiny bathroom had no decoration and minimal toiletries. A mini gel disk of soap sat in a tray beside the wash basin. I sighed and shook my head at the notice etched in the corner of the glass.

5 MINUTE LIMIT

I coated my hands up to my elbows and let the water mist them clean. As soon as I removed my hands from the sensor the mist stopped.

I looked up at the mirror. Not me. Not bad. The mud brown cap on top of the blue wig that brushed my shoulders itched, so I pulled them both off to scratch my sweaty scalp. I misted my bald head in the sink before the water timer went off, letting it seep in a minute before drying it with the nearest hand towel.

My uncovered head felt refreshed and right. Then I focused on my face. The dark smudges under my brown eyes caught my attention. I dismissed them for what they were, a casualty of this new life. Just like being without my uniform and helmet. Instead, the baggy clothes hid my toned arms and legs and would keep anyone from my old life from recognizing me.

I replaced the wig and cap before I sat down on the edge of the bed. Too afraid of what might crawl beneath the sheets to lay down, I activated the viewscreen's image processor and the digital display appeared in front of me. I flipped through broadcasts looking for something, anything to take my mind off everything that had happened in the last few days.

I passed several movie options before I saw my Academy graduation picture flash onto the screen. A local news feed was talking about the incident–no, about me. The female broadcaster's voice filled the room as I turned up the volume.

The blonde with the short bob and snub nose spoke to the camera in a serious tone and grave expression, "Intergalactic Consortium Authorities say the woman pictured here, a former IC agent and Status One Telepath is already responsible for the deaths of two people and if anyone has knowledge of her whereabouts they should contact the ICA at once. She is considered extremely dangerous and..."

Two deaths? I hadn't killed anyone, not that it mattered now. The ICA could say whatever they wanted. I was a traitor and a rogue agent. If they went on the broadcast feeds and said I dealt drugs, illegal weapons, and had three heads people would believe it.

The public viewed the government's activities through controlled media with complete trust. Frustrated and annoyed, I lifted the remote to change the program, then stopped as the next words out of her mouth had me leaping to my feet.

"There is a large monetary reward for anyone with information leading to her capture."

I listened for the desk clerk a moment. No doubt he'd take the credits and invest in a new hair piece instead of repairs on the run-down motel. But it wasn't him coming for the door. Two agents had already tracked me down. The desk clerk didn't have a chance of collecting that reward after all. I dropped the remote and was out the window and down the street in under thirty seconds. I disappeared into the night and never looked back.