Title: Mutable: Chapter Five, Part Two
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Chapter Five, Part
Two
“Well, now that’s you’re officially tied into this,” Darven
said, breaking the odd silence that loomed between Cas and Rone, “We’d better
figure out where to put your new husband so that Jepson can’t give him too much
hell before we leave. We don’t want to let on to the Leelanger delegation that
we’re harboring a Delacoeurian either, if we can help it.”
“They probably already know,” Cas said. Both men frowned at
him.
“What do you mean? How?” Rone asked.
These Imperians, honestly…it was like they thought the
entire rest of the system was made up of idiots. “They know I’m in here,” Cas
explained, keeping his voice earnestly Beren-like—it wouldn’t do to drop into a
sarcastic “obviously, you morons” tone. “They’ve been keeping tabs on me ever
since I came out from the caves. On all of us. That’s how I knew I wouldn’t
last long if I was put outside the camp. They’re still there, waiting for me.
If I don’t turn up sometime tonight…” He shrugged. “Then they’ll know I’m
staying, at least until you leave, and word will move up the command.”
“This sounds like conjecture,” Darven said, but he was
frowning. “How can you be so sure? What makes you such a high value target?”
“I’m not a high value target in and of myself, but my
brother was.” Is. And they know exactly who I am. “He’s
dead, but plenty of people aren’t sure of that. They would take me and torture
me to get information on his whereabouts. And I’m sure because I’ve lived here
all my life and I know how these people work, Commander.” Unlike you.
“That could just be making you extra paranoid.”
“Or it could make him right,” Rone said. “Let’s set up a
thermal viewer and check.”
Darven sighed. “You want to set up a big, bulky thermal
viewer right in front of the gate—‘cause that’s where it’s going to have to be
if we’re going to target this right—this late at night, in this weather, where
Jepson might see it, just to check a theory that doesn’t even matter anymore?”
“Succinctly put. And yes, I do.”
Darven glared half-heartedly at him. “You’re a cold man
sometimes, sir.”
Rone smiled. “I know. See to it, and Beren and I will join
you when it’s up and running.”
At least Darven didn’t try to fight Beren’s inclusion this
time around. “Yes, sir.” He left, and Rone looked back at Cas.
He was expecting more questions about how he knew what he did,
but instead the man asked, “Do you have any more property with you? Another set
of clothes, personal items of any kind?”
“Oh. No, I don’t…there’s nothing else.”
Kindly, Rone didn’t pursue it. “Then I’ll see about
requisitioning you some for the short term until we get back to my holdings.”
Interesting. He said his holdings,
not his ship. That was a term usually associated with the Imperian aristocracy,
but as far as Cas knew, Rone Basinti’s only title was Captain. There was
something Cas was missing here, some connection that he’d need to understand
before things went much further, but if Rone didn’t want to volunteer the
information yet, he could afford to wait. This was still firmly a military
operation, after all. His military title would hold more weight than anything
else.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Is there anything in particular you want?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“All right. On to your accommodations. You could stay alone
in the barracks where you cleaned up this afternoon, with a temporary scan pass
to let you in and out until we can implant one in your wrist, or I could order
one of my soldiers to accompany you, if it would make you feel safer.” Cas knew
which one he preferred, but Rone wasn’t done yet. “Or, if you’d like, you can
stay in here and I’ll sleep on my ship.”
Cas blinked. To be offered a place in a luxurious tent like
this, and alone, no less…Rone was
either too nice for his own good, or mildly insane. The damage Cas could do if
he had free access to the systems in here…but it was too soon to be thinking
like that, and the last thing he wanted to do was give his new husband any
reason to suspect him. He needed Rone’s trust, first and foremost. “The
barracks is fine,” he assured him. “And I don’t need an escort, I know your
people are busy. I’ll be all right on my own.” I infinitely prefer it, actually.
Rone didn’t argue, just nodded. “I’ll give you a com unit
with a direct line to me. If you need anything at all, I want you to come to me
first. You won’t be disruptive, and I won’t try to put you off or be irritated
with you, all right?”
He needed to stop being so kind. It threw Cas off his game.
“Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Rone reached into his desk, rummaged
around a bit and emerged with an earlobe com. “It’s an older model, I know, but
it still works well. Just press it and speak, then press it again and it will
be off. It’s charged from your body heat, so you won’t have to worry about
batteries or anything like that.”
Oh boy. “What else
does it do?” Cas asked as he took it, trying to sound excited even though he
recognized a tracking device when he saw one.
Sure enough… “It monitors your location and vital stats,”
Rone admitted. “Just as a precaution.”
“Of course.” Great, he was going to have to splice. Splicing
was such a bitch to get over.
“And here’s the scan pass.” It truly was an antique thing, a
tiny card attached to a thin chain that went over his head. “I’ve already
synced it to the compound’s codes, so it should give you access to all
low-security sites. By the time you need to get on a ship, I’ll be escorting
you.”
“Great.” This, at least, would be useful. “I appreciate it.”
Rone shrugged. He looked tired. “Thanks for letting me do
this for you.”
There was some sort of penance going on here, Cas was sure
of it. He’d have to figure it out eventually—it didn’t do to be surprised by
people’s emotional motivation, the heart could fuck up a good plan faster than
Cas could change identities—but he still had some time.
Rone abruptly took on a distant look—Cas couldn’t hear it,
but he bet his com had just activated. The Imperian coms were attached to their
ear canals, from what he understood—invasive, but practical for soldiers who
wouldn’t want to lose them in the heat of battle. “We’re on our way.” He stood
up. “Darven’s got the thermal scanner ready to go. Let’s check your theory.”
“Let’s.” Cas made a point of looking a little nervous, and
got up wringing his hands. “We shouldn’t keep him waiting, huh?”
“No, but let’s not charge out there until you’re ready for
the weather.” He handed Cas a military-style poncho, loose enough to fit almost
anyone but insulated enough that when he stepped outside into the rain, the
only place that felt chilled was his face. Nice.
Rone led the way to the front gate, where Darven stood in
his own poncho, a tripod with a broad, rectangular screen set up in front of
him. “Can I turn this on now, sir?” he asked plaintively as they got close.
“I’m freezing my balls off out here.”
So tender, these
Imperians. Apparently, their world was something of a paradise—mild
weather, lots of sunshine, well-adapted for agriculture. If a place like
above-ground Leelinge was enough to make them cold even when they had
technology on their side, Cas wondered how they’d fare in the caves. Not well,
he’d wager.
Rone nodded, and his second-in-command fired up the thermal
scanner. “It’s set to scan five hundred meters out,” he said, bringing the
picture into focus. “None of the surrounding buildings indicate constant
working conditions, so if there’s someone out there at this time of night, it’ll—oh.”
Cas didn’t have to ask what he saw—it was clear on the
screen. Five different thermal signatures, each one in a different building,
each one crouching, facing toward the camp. None of them moved, other than
little shifts to give their knees a break here and there.
Rone took over and scanned in closer. The heat radiating off
each person was enough to give an idea of what was immediately around them. The
first one knelt in front of a window, and on the ledge in front of him or her…
A gun. The stock of a gun, at least. Probably for tranqs,
but Cas couldn’t say for sure from the little he was seeing. Nice to know I’m right.
Rone checked out the other four targets. In three cases, a
gun was clearly visible. The final case was inconclusive, but apparently the
captain had all the evidence he needed. “I want recordings,” he said to Darven,
low-voiced but clearly angry. “I want them packaged and sent to Jepson, our
diplomatic corps and the Leelangers within the next hour. They have absolutely
no business spying on our camp—it contravenes the agreements we made when we
were given this space in the first place. If they try to deny it, then we
inform our superiors that we can’t in good faith do business with a bunch of
liars and we leave early. I’m sick of bending over backwards for these people
and getting nothing but bad faith actions in return.” He glanced at Cas. “It
looks like you were right, Beren.”
Of course. “I wish
I hadn’t been.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get you out of here safely as soon as
possible.”
Cas smiled. “I know you will.”
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