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“Identity: recognised. Entry: permitted.” The vaguely female computerised voice said blandly as the silver door slid into the walls with a small hiss.

The operative took a deep breath, and made himself enter the cold, metallic room. The woman behind the desk glared at him, as if challenging his right to be there.

“Yes?”

“I’m here to see the Elite General Operative.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Yes”

“Rank and Number.” She knew better than to ask for his name. Anyone who came to see her superior would not have one.

“Advanced Operative 3988AT”

“Right.” Business-like, she put one finger to the small metal sphere in her ear. There was a moment of awkward silence as she listened to it. “The General will see you now.”

Thankful to get away from the eerie, empty waiting room and the faint, vaguely irritating music drifting in from an invisible source, the Operative strode through the large silver doors, pushing his fear and anxiety deep down inside.

He stopped short at the sight of the man who sat behind the desk, the only piece of furniture in the room. He was huge. Muscles rippled under his tunic, and the chair barely stood under his solid weight, He was old, too, though he didn’t look it. Only the creases round his eyes and the few white hairs, which sprouted from his baldhead, belied his age.

“3988AT. I understand you wanted to see me.” His voice was deep and gravelly, emanating power and authority.

The Operative bowed respectively, fighting a mental battle with the part of himself that wanted to ask dutifully for his next assignment. “Yes, Sir.” He took another deep breath, steeling himself for the words that would turn his world upside down. “I wish to retire.”

The General’s expression did not waver. “Very well, you will be subjected to memory suppression. Do you still wish to retire?”

The Operative nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Once an Operative decided to retire, they had to underg