Rogue(9)

“That and hand tools, and some surgical gear for manipulation, and I’ll stock up on makeup. How many phones do you want?”

“I want six sets each of ID, phones and comms. Make us a married couple, a dating couple and a business couple.”

“I’ll get local ID from a bank, too.”

“Good,” I agreed. I wasn’t sure Cr5 Million would be enough by the time we were done.

Something hit me.

“What’s your status for this? Orders? Temp duty? Discharged?”

“We discussed that, the . . . boss and I,” she said. “Seemed safest to say nothing. My unit was told orders will follow later. Captain Hull was told to forget about it, so was the first shirt. I guess they’re hoping this is short enough it doesn’t matter much.”

“Unlikely,” I said. “Seventeen days between planets, and we might need to hit five or more planets. This is a long temp.”

“We’ll do what we can.”

“Yeah. I just remember all the compromises last time. They didn’t help.”

My shop van is unmarked, a bit older, completely nondescript. When I meet clients and want to put on a better image, I have a basic high traction small truck, like everyone else around here uses. I’m invisible.

We were silent a few moments as I pulled into traffic, then she spoke.

“Dan,” she said. I made eye contact. “The Earth Insertion is testable material at the schools now. It didn’t go perfectly, but you’re regarded as brilliant for how you pulled it off. Entire courses changed to incorporate your doctrine.”

I suppose she thought that would make me feel better.

What I heard was, “We’re raising an entire generation of elite troops to be programmable killing machines who think of wiping out planets as a job, for which they expect reviews and promotions based on their body counts.”

I guess my complete lack of an expression clued her in. We traveled in silence.

I wasn’t angry with her. She couldn’t know, it was impossible for her to know, and I hoped she never did. She was also genuinely trying to open up to me as a person. It might be an attempt at friendship, it might only be so we could operate better as a team, but it was honest either way.

I was going to have to find a way to connect with her. At the same time, I was pathologically afraid to do so, because she was expendable for this mission.

I understood the reasons Randall had to be eliminated, even if I didn’t like them. Sooner or later, his actions would come back on us. That would endanger everyone in the Forces. So it was critical that I stop him.

Logically, if she could distract him long enough for me to get a shot off, I had to do it. The end result of that would probably mean she died.

I wasn’t going to let that be personal. She was a tool, and had to stay that way.

I didn’t want to be sociopathic.





I drove, we’d go into stores, split up and buy supplies. I haggled enough where I could to either be in character for those who knew me, or not appear blatantly desperate to those who didn’t. At the chain outlets, I just offered basic pleasantries, paid cash and left.

Within a div, we had a respectable haul of mostly nondescript hardware in the van. Any home hobbyist would have been busy for weeks. We’d have days at most, to convert it all into easily and discreetly transportable components. Some of the electronics, especially, would result in criminal charges on Earth or places like Mtali.

As Silver climbed in with an armful of packages from Universal Fasteners, I said, “Dinner.”

“Thanks,” she said.

“You’ll have to pretend to like me.”

“Will this involve you shooting at me?” Her tone was sarcastic and unamused.

“Not during dinner,” I replied.

She didn’t reply. Not verbally.

There was a Timmons Meat nearby. The elk steak was adequate. The vegetables were crisp. The beer was commercial but respectable. We looked enough like a working domestic couple to pass. I probably wasn’t known here, but there was always a chance, and a good cover benefited from practice.

Back at the shop, we unloaded it all into the dock area, stripped what packaging we easily could, and finished around midnight. It was a productive enough day.

“I’m going to get cleaned up,” I said.

“Go ahead. I’ll finish checking some of these boards first.”

“Got it.”

My side of the residence is a great room with a kitchen and bathroom at the south end. Bed in the corner, office along one side with comm, chairs toward the middle and empty space on the west for exercise or whatever. Chelsea has a smaller suite across the hall. I have two spare rooms for guests, which I’ve never had, or storage. I don’t have much to store, though.