I have to hurry. Knowing that someone, as of yet unknown, is here and looking for me gives me an increased sense of urgency.

My rental cube is a small space, and I’m hyperaware of every sound and shift in the air around me. Someone walks down the hallway outside, and I stop, muscles tensing, ready to respond. I listen as the footsteps go past before going back to shoving my few belongings into a hover pack.

Something flashes at the edge of my vision, and I look around wildly trying to spot its source. Nothing. The room is empty.

A blinding flash. My head feels like it’s exploding. Numbers drift through, then codes. Dropping to my knees, I squeeze my head between my hands trying to contain the pain. It’s mission numbers. I know this. With that knowing comes a certainty that I don’t want to remember.

A sick feeling in my stomach. Bile rises in my throat. Any moment it feels like the memories will flood me. I don’t want to know. If I remember everything that I’ve tried so hard to forget—I’ll be dead. I don’t want to go back online. I don’t want to be an agent again.

The pain passes slowly. Steadying myself on the edge of the bed, I rise to my feet. I take a deep, shaky breath and look around the room. Everything that matters is packed. The rest of it can stay. It’s always best to travel light. No attachments means nothing to leave behind.

I throw on a loose top with a hood that will obscure my face. Now I have to find a way out of here. Sighing, I grab the hover pack and walk out the door without looking back.

I have no clue where I’m going to go, but anywhere is better than here. I can’t trust any public transportation or communication devices. Pulling my hood up and keeping my head down will help me avoid facial recognition from the public safety monitors. Mostly. I can’t be one hundred percent sure that I’ve kept my face hidden all the time.

I quickly make my way to a tech shop. I grab a burner hand-comm and pay for it. Unfortunately, I have to use credits for it. There is no other accepted form of exchange on Zerix. Knowing I can be traced by this, I hurry out of the store, scanning to see if anyone is following me.

Dodging in and out of the crowd, moving quickly to force any pursuers to reveal themselves, it doesn’t take me long to feel certain that no one is on me, not right now at least.

I leave the trade district and make my way into the pleasure district. The shops here offer an array of delights for any and every taste. They almost all have bars that serve as waiting areas as well as places that certain underworld types hold meetings.

The area is crowded. It’s one of the highlights of Zerix, and most tourists end up here sooner or later. The crowds are the perfect cover. Going with the flow, I let the mob carry me along until I reach Eternal Delights. I work my way to the edge of the crowd, so I can go through the door of Eternal Delights and make my way to the back of the bar.

An alien sits in a corner booth who looks up as I slide into the booth across from him. He has three eyes across his forehead, set too high, no nose, and a mouth that looks like a sucker. Pale brown skin glistens in the dim light. He doesn’t say anything.

“Scrambler,” I say, holding the burner-comm in one hand and my wrist-credits on display with the other.

He nods then holds out a scanner in his four-fingered hand. I pass my wrist-credit over it and it beeps. I wince seeing how many credits he’s charging me, but I don’t have a choice.

He looks at the scanner, nods in satisfaction, and then another hand appears, sliding a chip across the table. I place my hand over his before he withdraws it, hiding the item being exchanged in case we’re being monitored.

I leave the bar and float along with the crowd like I’m a little boat on a river. I bob and drift with the current until I reach another dark bar. I slip out of the stream, through this bar’s door, and find a back-corner booth. I order a synth-beer from the robo-waitress. Once it’s in front of me I pay, and then I’m left alone.

I crack open the outer shell of the burner-comm and pull out the tracker chip, replacing it with the scrambler I purchased.

Now I scan the transit stations, looking for the next shuttles off of Zerix. Every lunar week there are rides heading out to the edge of the galaxy, and that’s what I want to book passage on. If my luck holds, I can duck out on whoever wants to pull me back into the service.

When I find one, I click to book a seat, use a fake identity I’ve kept for a moment like this, then confirm my purchase. It’s a few days away, and I’ll need a place to hide until then. It doesn’t take me long to find a room available along the tracks in Clessis quadrant. I book the room then slide out of the booth, leaving the synth-beer untouched.

Clessis is quite a ways, but it should be a good place to hide. I float along with the moving crowds again. I don’t look back. This life is over.