Mutable: Chapter Twenty-Three, Part One

Notes: We're up and running with new story at last! Enjoy Cas getting a teeeeeny bit overconfident. Just a bit.

Title: Mutable: Chapter Twenty-Three, Part One

***

Chapter Twenty-Three, Part One

Technology made people into idiots. Beautiful, glorious idiots.

Cas knew his ability was impressive, and he expected it to get him to Christala, aka Danie Yorque’s, apartment and back again. But he didn’t expect it to be so damn easy.

For one thing, despite the way his skin mimicked his surroundings, he couldn’t do anything about his mass. He might have the same coppery shine as the back of a transport bus, but still—he was a coppery person clinging to the back of a transport bus. From the back his disguise would be almost perfect, nothing to alarm a driver following them, but from the side…well, it wasn’t anywhere near perfect. He should have had to evade, switch transports over and over again, run from gaping people into the shadows and wait for his next attempt as he evaded their incredulous eyes.

Instead, they just…never looked up. Now that the grid was back up and running, everyone on the street was completely absorbed in their personal tech devices, whether it was an eyelet that slid down to obscure half of their view, a hologram that sprung from their wrist or the back of their hand, or for the old-school among them, a tablet. Cas felt both relieved and mildly put out. He’d worked at this, damn it, he’d expended a lot of time and effort to learn how to be as covert as an Old Earth chameleon, and here he could have probably accomplished the same trip in neon while wearing a sign on his back that said HIT ME.

You’re doing it for the sake of the monitoring equipment, then. It was worth it to confound the eyes in the sky that were watching him, that was for sure. He got to Danie Yorque’s building in a little over twenty minutes, faster than he’d expected, and jumped down from the back of the transport with a smooth roll across the manufactured ground. No issues at all.

Getting into the building was as simple as activating the AI at the door while wearing Shivani’s face and claiming that her ID was malfunctioning.

“Secondary identification measures activated. Voice identification: check. Facial recognition: check. Passcode?”

“Mycena chlorophos,” Cas said with as much confidence as he could muster. After her rant about mushrooms and how they were her favorite things, and which in particular she adored, Cas was pretty sure he had this one right. Pretty sure wasn’t absolutely ecertain, though, so if it didn’t work he would need to—

“Accepted. Welcome home.” The locked door opened and Cas let himself inside, keeping Shivani’s face for the moment. It might grant him a moment or two of leniency if he ran into someone.

Getting into Danie’s apartment should be easier than getting into the building—it was a lower-income area, and all they relied on were very basic biometrics. Cas didn’t know how to be a perfect Danie, but he didn’t have to. Christala had been a good student when it came to the big stuff, but pretty poor when it came to the little details. She’d rarely bothered to practice changing her fingerprints, for example. It hadn’t mattered on Leelinge. Imperia was a different story, of course, and she’d have to have gotten better at it to be blending into an entirely new persona now, but with Danie, with someone who’d barely been here long enough to get settled before Christala ripped her life away, Cas figured it was just simpler for Christala to keep her own fingerprints and retool the lock to recognize them. One less thing for the phage to keep straight—besides, who remembered someone else’s fingerprints?

Cas did. He dredged the muscle memory of the shift up as he climbed the stairs, shaking his hand a few times as the phage clung and stung and generally objected, but finally took on the appearance of Christala’s right hand.

Her apartment was on the fourth floor, one of eight, and in one of the end-units. Cas stopped in front of it, said a silent prayer to no one, and pressed his hand to the reader.

It silhouetted his limb once…twice…was it going to work? Was he still within an acceptable level of uncertainty? Imperian scanners were so much more exact...

Click. He was in. Cas turned the knob, opened the door, and cautiously stepped into the front room. He activated his night vision and took in the scene.

Oh, Danie. Everything that had probably been important to her, heirlooms, the little pieces of home she’d been permitted to bring into her new life, were piled in a heap on a table in the corner. A worker’s tunic from home, a crystal flower, a fossil—the last two should have been in places of honor, curiosities from her former world that she could show her new friends. Only, her life had been cut too short to make any new friends. Everything else in the apartment was—

Cas peered at the walls. They seemed…odd. Not so much color-wise, although all the colors were muted in the dim apartment, which only had a few light strips running along the floor, but—the texture seemed wrong in places. On a hunch, he adjusted the optics of his vision to be more like the eaters back on Leelinge, and—ah, there. The textures were reflective now, too. And they were everywhere.

It was a map, he realized, some sort of map—but of what? The nodes weren’t places, and they were scattered all over the wall, clustered here and there and spread out elsewhere. Some of the nodes were bigger than others, and a few were huge, like suns surrounded by tiny orbiting planets, or a king in the midst of his court—

Oh. Oh, she’d made an influence map. A meticulous spreadsheet that only she could read, something resistant to oversight by Imperian technology. The largest dot, that was most likely the king, and in the cluster surrounding him was a small but brilliant node that could only be—

Her. She’d infiltrated the king’s inner circle somehow, or was going to very soon. She had positioned herself to act as a spy or assassin of the highest order, to potentially change the way this entire planet was run.

Suddenly, Cas felt very small.

This was about so much more than himself, even more than Beren, as much as he hated to admit it. This had suddenly become about the security of Imperia, about the security of Cas’s husband and children. Barely yours, he reminded himself, but that little bit was enough. He had to tell someone about this. He had to tell Rone. But how could he?

Distracted, Cas stepped forward to get a better look at the map. When he felt the floor depress more fully beneath his foot than it should have, he immediately threw himself deeper into the room as the wall behind him suddenly burst into flame. He heard an alarm go off, but no water flooded the apartment the way he knew the security system was supposed to.

Christala had set a trap, and he’d walked right into it.

 

Mutable: Chapter Twenty-Two, Part Two

Notes: It's time for some action! It's time for some adventure! It's time for Cas to venture nearly butt-naked out into the dark of night. Hope he has fun with that ;)

Title: Mutable: Chapter Twenty-Two, Part Two

***

Chapter Twenty-Two, Part Two

“How do you know?”

Cas paused as he served the kids’ dinner up—it was similar to the pasta they’d vehemently refused before, but with a sauce that Rone assured him they would love. Rone wasn’t with them tonight. He’d been there when they got home, listened attentively as the kids regaled him with the take of their outing—Shar managed to express quite a lot, considering he didn’t verbalize—and commiserated with Cas over Danie’s fate, but had been called away before dinner.

“It could be all night,” he’d said apologetically as he grabbed his jacket. “But we have a full guard here at the house and on the grounds, so there’s no need to worry. No one can get in or out without being found.” It had been an odd bit of reassurance—Cas wasn’t worried about someone else infiltrating this place, not really. It would be too direct, not at all Christala’s style. She was going to come after him upside down and sideways, which meant he needed to get ahead of the game. He needed more information on her, on the shell she’d worn before changing things up.

He needed to get to Danie Yorque’s apartment.

“Beren.” Lilah poked him with her fork, jolting him back to the present. “I said, how do you know?”

“Know what?”

“Know what’s important for your mission and what’s not?”

“Hmm.” He handed each child a bowl of the pasta, then himself, and sat down across from them at the table. “It’s mostly in the small details.” What the hell, it wouldn’t hurt to pass on a little spycraft. “The big things won’t be wrong, but little things—those are the pieces that the person I’m pursuing might not get right. Things like…how they drink their tea, or whether they hum to themselves while they work.”

“Like Fillie does!”

“Right, like Fillie does. If she didn’t hum, you’d know something might be wrong with her. Maybe she’d be nervous, maybe she’d just be tired, but maybe…maybe she’d be something else.”

The kids were riveted. “Like what?” Lilah murmured.

He was getting in way too deep with this now. He should pull back, lighten it up. Cas wanted the kids to be able to sleep tonight, after all—he needed them to, if he was going to get away with what he had planned. “She might be…not right. Compromised in some way. But that’s not something either of you need to worry about,” he assured them. “Fillie is perfectly fine, and so is everyone around you.”

Lilah looked at him with a serious expression. “But we should still let you know, right?”

“Let me know what?”

“If one of the details is wrong. It could be a person being conprom…comprim…what is it again?”

“Compromised,” Cas said. What the hell. “And yes, if you notice something like that, then tell me. But I’m sure you won’t.”

Lilah nodded with satisfaction. “I’ll keep a lookout.” Shar nodded too, solemnly. Cas was struck once again by the fact that he really didn’t deserve these kids. They thought he was Beren, their loving stepfather, when really he was just…

It was frustrating even thinking about being Beren right now. Beren would have been upset that his husband wasn’t coming home tonight—Beren would want every chance to reconnect with Rone. Beren would be feeling neglected. Beren would be feeling horny as hell. That much, Cas could attest to, but the strange, delicate dance he and Rone were playing out came second to the mission.

Tonight, he’d get field work done on his terms. He had what he needed, thanks to absconding with one of the smart-fabric facemasks he’d taken from their attackers during the riot. He’d kept it close to his skin all day, and had focused all the energy that the phage could spare on working its’ talent for mimicry. If things went well, the phage would change Cas’s skin to provide the same functionality as the fabric—confounding electronics and distorting anything that the cameras might pick up.

It would be hard work. Cas served himself another helping of pasta.

By midnight, the children were asleep and Rone had sent a message confirming that he’d be gone until the next morning. Cas had responded with the appropriate amount of disconsolation, then shut out all the lights and headed for Lilah’s room.

He let himself quietly into the tunnel, closed it up behind him, then stripped down until he was wearing nothing except a covering for his groin, fashioned out of the facemask. He released the phage, and sighed with relief as his face became his own again—thinner, rougher, more broken but so assuredly, unmistakably his. Cas ran his fingertips over the bridge of his nose and down his chin, massaging the dimple there, the little starburst ridge of scarring across his forehead. Then he focused on what needed to be done to make his next transformation.

It wasn’t enough to be simply versipellous, to mimic the color and shape, this time around. He had to change the function of his skin at the same time. The phage organisms were capable of this on their own, but very few of them had ever managed to translate that innate ability into something useful for a host in the field. It hadn’t been necessary, on Leelinge—the technology wasn’t advanced enough to warrant it. But here, on Imperia, Cas was damn glad he’d made the effort to perfect this aspect of his control. Christala might be able to influence other people, but Cas could change the way the cameras, the computers, everything out there saw him.

At least, he hoped he could.

He started with his hands, staring at them and visualizing an overlay that would affect the texture of his skin, take him from human-smooth to viper-rough, with the corresponding iridescence. It should turn his heat signature into a blur, make him seem more like a spot of mist on a camera than a man.

It hurt, forcing the phage to conform to a new shape, and over such a huge proportion of his body. The organism nearly vibrated as it infiltrated his integument, morphing everything from form to pigmentation. After twenty minutes of agonizing focus, though, Cas not only had his mobile camouflage up and running, he’d also pried out his implant, along with enough of himself to keep it broadcasting that he was present and accounted for here in the house. He was close enough to Lilah’s room that it would look like he'd never left.

Cas shivered as he stood up—it was cold in the tunnel, and he was already exhausted. Hunger nipped at his stomach like an angry eel, just nibbling for now, but soon it would rage through him, leaving tremors and blurred vision behind. Ideally, he’d be back within the hour.

Ideally, it would take half an hour just to get to Danie’s apartment, if he hitched rides on passing transports.

Cas took a deep breath and shook out his hands—dull gray now, except for the faintest shimmer when he turned them toward the dim glow coming from under the entrance back to Lilah’s room, where she slept with a nightlight on.

No time to waste. Toughening the soles of his feet a bit as a precaution, Cas headed for the mouth of the tunnel.

Mutable: Chapter Twenty-Two, Part One

Notes: Please excuse my attempts at Bengali, I don't speak it and am relying on reveral different websites for decent translations. It's just a few words, but I'm just putting this out there.

Title: Mutable: Chapter Twenty-Two, Part One

***

Chapter Twenty-Two, Part One

Two days later, Cas stood outside an older building on the east end of Obsidian, one child holding onto each hand and a royal guard behind him, and wondered what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

It was supposed to be a quiet, discreet visit. The sort of thing he could shrug off as a vague interest—oh, you know, linguistics is so interesting and I hear there’s someone there who came from Leelinge, so I thought I’d go and check it out. As soon as he’d broached the idea to Rone, though, it had gotten out of hand.

“That’s an excellent idea,” Rone had said. “I’m sure you’d enjoy the company of one of your own people for a time, too. And you can take the kids.”

Cas had nearly bitten his tongue. “What?”

“They’re itching to get out of the house, and this will be something novel for them. Besides, they’re both bilingual. It might be nice to utilize their native languages some.” Rone elaborated when he saw Cas glance at Shar. “No, he doesn’t speak it, but he understands. I think they miss it.”

“Oh.” And that had been that. There was no way Cas could call it off, either—not after Lilah practically jumped into the air with excitement when she found out.

“Is it for secret stuff?” she’d whispered that night as Cas was tucking her into bed. “For your mission?”

“Yes,” he’d whispered back.

“Don’t worry.” She’d patted his hand. “We’ll help.”

In the present, Lilah tugged at the end of his sleeve. “Don’t you want to go inside, Beren?”

Didn’t he? Wasn’t he anxious to find Danie Yorque—actually Christala—and confront her? Wasn’t he ready to take her to pieces?

Not with the kids along, he wasn’t. He’d have to play ignorant this time around, and even though it was technically a waste of time, something in his heart eased at the idea that the end wasn’t coming quite yet. It would arrive, certainly, but not—not just yet.

“Yeah,” he said to Lilah. “Let’s go inside.”

Of course, the organizer was expecting him. Security had cleared this whole visit ahead of time, so when a man with skin a few shades darker than Rone’s and wearing a blue, scholarly robe came forward as soon as they were in the door, Cas wasn’t surprised. “Consort Basinti!” The man bowed. His pince-nez didn’t drop even a millimeter—they must have been made very true to their name. “What an honor to have you with our humble group today.”

“Prime Lord Aheer,” Cas replied with a polite nod, just like he’d been told. “It’s our pleasure to be here. Thank you for making room for us.” Lord Aheer was in the lower rank of the nobility, a researcher and linguist, and about as well-traveled as an Imperian could be without joining the military.

“Naturally, naturally!” Lord Aheer straightened up with a smile, his eyes bright. “It isn’t every day my humble fellows and I get the chance to hear a rare dialect of Delacoeurian origin from a native! And of course, it’s a delight to speak with your children as well.” He cleared his throat and turned to Lilah. “Namaste.”

Lilah shook her head. “Sat sri akal.”

“Oh dear, my Punjabi isn’t really up to speed, I’m afraid. Um, mainū māfa.”

“Ṭhīka hai.”

“Oh, good.” He glanced at Shar, who stared stoically back at him. “Ah, would either of you care to join our Shivan experts for a little conversation? They would love to speak with you.”

Cas nodded when Lilah looked up at him. “Go ahead, I’ll be with you in a minute.” Lilah squeezed his hand, then detached herself and her brother and headed toward the group of three women in the next room that Lord Aheer pointed out. One was clad in a familiar red uniform—some sort of civil servant, perhaps? The other two wore sumptuous green and blue and purple fabrics, more cloth wrapped around a single person than Cas had ever seen before. Wearing something like that would have been considered wasteful, back home. It made his heart hurt a little to think about it, and he wasn’t sure if that meant he missed Leelinge or just missed all the potential joy his people had ignored in favor of bitter practicality.

He pushed the thought aside and turned his attention back to his host. “Lord Aheer, I was under the impression there was another Delacoeurian who met here. I can’t be very unique, in light of that.”

“Oh, yes.” The other man’s expression became somber. “We did have a young woman join us for a short time, but she went missing last week. Of course,” he added with a grimace, “missing is something of an understatement, considering Danie was going hiking near the Pelean Flow. Several of us advised her to reconsider—it’s safe enough in the cool season, but so near the eruptions it’s foolhardy to walk those trails. The government closes off most of the access points, but a determined person can still get back there.”

“Danie went walking on lava flows?”

“Most of it’s quite cool,” Lord Aheer assured him, “and the sights are—unparalleled, really. But when she didn’t show up to our meeting last week, we alerted the authorities to her absence and intent. They checked her home and did a cursory search for her, but with the riots and the enormous eruption right before them, they didn’t have a lot of people to spare.” He shrugged regrettably. “I’m afraid it’s unlikely that we’ll see her again.”

“Ah.” Damn it. Christala had jettisoned her new identity. With her ability to use the phage as a tether to other people’s minds, and the fact that she could literally be anyone right now, Cas felt like he’d been dropped back at square one. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“If you’re interested in learning more about her, perhaps a chat with Shivani?” He gestured to the woman in government reds sitting with the children. “They were friendly with each other.”

“Thank you.” It was worth a try.

The kids were happy to have him join them, but Cas redirected their attention to the other two ladies and once Lilah was chatting happily in Bengali again, asked Shivani about Danie.

“We live in the same building, but I wouldn’t really call us friends,” Shivani said. “When she first arrived I helped introduce her around, got her in touch with the building event group, asked her to a mixer with a lot of the other palace staff—that’s where I work,” she added. “In groundskeeping. I’m in charge of one of the rare flora greenhouses. But she didn’t really seem to click with any of it, and after a while I figured it was better not to bug her and to let her acclimate at her own pace.” She looked down at the table. “And now she never will. I wish she’d come to me, I would have told her not to go, or at least not to go alone.”

“She probably wouldn’t have listened anyway. Delacouerians are a very stubborn people.” Cas smiled. “I should know.”

“It’s nice of you to take an interest.” She leaned forward a bit and asked, conspiratorially, “Do you have any idea when the samples from the mission to your planet will be released to the public? I’m dying to get a look at some of your native plants. I have a friend who works in the botany lab on base, and she isn’t allowed to give me details but she says the fungi are amazing.”

“I’ll see what I can do to speed things up.” Which would probably be very little, but he’d try anyway. “Thanks for talking with me.”

“It’s my honor, Consort.” She paused, then said, “Can you at least tell me their color?”

Cas smiled. “Sure.”