In The Archipelago's Secret Service

2: A Standard Mission

Chapter Two: A standard mission

Hiccup Haddock, the lowest-ranked agent in AI6-bearing the humiliating rank number of VA1019, frowned as he very carefully fitted the last connection in his latest device. Combining a gun, cudgel, stun dart and explosive device in one admittedly stylish purse would be a boon for a female agent called on to attend the sort of glamorous events that all the senior agents seemed to get to go to. Since he was never going to get any field work, this was the nearest he could get to the glittering world of cocktails, tuxedos, gambling and beautiful Mata Hari types.

He blushed at the very thought of trading witticisms with a gorgeous blonde over a vodka martini and a game of roulette, outmatching her and sweeping her away with his suave sophistication...

He blinked. Like that was ever going to happen! Being skinny, tall, pale, clumsy, devoid of any self-confidence-especially with the opposite sex, faintly freckled with glittering green eyes and rather wild auburn hair, he was the opposite of the image of an ideal secret agent. Sure, he was smart and could create a device for any situation, he had passed tactical planning, cryptography, safe-cracking, surveillance, three languages, demolitions, basic combat (just) and firearms and had done everything possible to get accepted onto the agent training programme...but his ambitions were utterly doomed to failure. His one chance had been ruined by his cousin and he had been laughed out of the selection interviews, utterly humiliated and utterly ashamed. And the look of disdain and disappointment on his father's face had cut him to the quick. Being buried in the Quartermaster's Office as an assistant assistant assistant was all he deserved for being so useless.

Of course, Gobber, his godfather and mentor was kind to him and he guessed the big man had indulged his inventions as a sop to his disappointment in being thrown out of the selection process. But somehow, he still managed to mess up. He laid his tool aside and snapped the purse closed, disarmed it and got ready to place it in a secure storage box. Then he glanced up as Eret Eretson-the top agent, ranked VA1-walked casually into the department. The man was already a legend and he smiled cheesily as he waved to Gobber and the big man, head of the Quartermaster's department and designated Q, waved back. After a long career in law enforcement and security, Gobber had lost his left hand and right foot and though he had been supplied with top of the line and enhanced prostheses, he was still off active service permanently. But he was a master mechanic and inventor so he had seamlessly moved into the role of Q.

"Eret laddie-what can we do fer yer?" Gobber asked in his broad Scottish brogue. Eret fist-bumped the man's remaining real hand and stared in to the cool blue eyes.

"I need some kit for a standard undercover mission," he said professionally. "The usual." Gobber scratched his bald head then replaced his cap, his long blonde moustache braided elegantly. He was messily dressed in a shirt with rolled-up sleeves that strained over his ample middle, brown pants and an embroidered waistcoat that was stained with baked beans juice.

"Hiccup!" Gobber called and the young man got up swiftly, heading round to his boss. "Get Eret some gear. Usual spread...and add in anything you fancy adding in!"

"Sure thing, Gobber," Hiccup said brightly, his voice cheerful. He always did his best, no matter how demeaning the task-and acting as store man for Gobber wasn't doing much for his self-esteem. Eret gave him a pitying smile, seeing the skinny shape efficiently round up a tray of kit and beckon the agent over to a nearby bench. Eret strolled over, grinning at the couple of female members of staff who both blushed. Hiccup rolled his eyes: Eret, like most of the agents, already thought he was useless. The young man rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, his light green shirt little shabby, then grasped the items.

"Standard Svendsen and Larsson automatic pistol," he said formally. "Thirty round magazine, standard ammo, night sight, silencer, all the trimmings. Underarm holster per your preferred specs."