The moment I finished Collecting the Prize and Answers, my mind switched to the last story for the month, a spy story. Once more, I lacked an initial concept to explore with this exclusive potential story. However, with a little patience, I knew I’d unearth a narrative to explore. The notion filled my mind out of nowhere, during a moment of idle thought. Why does it always happen like that? Disregard the question, it’s rhetorical. Ultimately, I’m not sure how the idea popped into my mind. Yet between moments I remembered a throwaway line from my Mounting Tension series.
“Without the information contained in this tablet, your boat won’t get very far off the ground.”
When I was writing Preparations, it was a line used to add a little extra to the narrative, nothing more. However, that little creative wrinkle provided me with just enough room to give the spark of an idea all it needed to consume the mental tinder into a roaring bonfire. As the metaphorical flames roared, I sat back and watched the story unfold. It also provided me with an opportunity to reconsider what the spy genre is all about. Whenever someone tosses out the word spy, my mind races to James Bond, and sometimes the character who spoof that famous secret agent. However, Darvin isn’t a suave man of mystery, rather he’s an ordinary man who needs to discover information beyond what the leaders allow him to know. In this particular instance, he’s hunting for a way to help the pilots navigate out of Tergaran space.
Find your favorite chair and let’s get ready to ready to observe Darvin as he gets the needed secrets.
While preparing the ships for their looming departures and a meeting with Rylan, Darvin seeks vital intelligence for their success…
As Darvin sauntered through the building’s entrance, excitement coursed through him, quickening his pulse, despite the steady cadence of his breathing. He immediately turned to his right and started gliding down the hallway. With each confident step Darvin took, people in his way stepped aside, creating a path for him. When Darvin neared the eastern side of the building, he glanced over his shoulder as he wiped his sweaty paw on his jeans. Yet none of the people swarming about him moved to block his path.
Undeterred, he opened the simple door and stepped inside the segmented office, discovering a collection of cubicles and offices. Darvin’s back straightened while a steely resolve bloomed in his eyes. Every step he took through the working bureaucrats exuded purpose as the weight of Rylan’s command settled upon his shoulders, like a massive weight. However, the living mountain’s chest swelled as Darvin marched toward a small office pressed up against the large windows.
Once Darvin reached the door, he opened it and peeked into the room. His gaze quickly latched onto the solitary woman sitting in the chamber. Her hair cascaded down her back as she swirled the contents of her mug. His free hand thumped his thigh while his lips curled into a friendly smile. “Abigail, how are you doing today?”
The woman sitting behind the desk whipped about as she put her mug down on her desk. After a furtive glance at the office behind her, Abigail scooted forward, propping her head upon her interlacing fingers as her lips curled into a sly smile. “Hello Darvin, I’m doing fine, though I don’t remember seeing anything that was going to pull you into the office today.”
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