Chương 16: Chapter 15

Closer to the heart of the city, Cal dropped back down to street level via an alley. He removed his jacket and folded it inside out, carrying it in his hand. It wasn't the same quality as the Academy's blazer, but it wasn't shabby. Along the way, he'd seen the shift in the city's architecture. The roofs changed from bright red tile to simple thatch. The walls were no longer crafted out of pristine marble but a mismatch of stone, plaster, and wood. Stepping out of the alley, the people looked rougher as well.

They were not beggars by any means, but their clothing had a more weathered look, and they lacked the accessories he'd seen on the other citizens. He'd predicted as much and feared that simply removing his jacket would not be enough to avoid attention. Already he could see some of them peer in his direction. He slouched and changed his gait, his arms held lazily by his side. He came across his first problem quickly. He could spot no street signs and lacked a map to help him.

Being defeated by something so trivial wasn't part of the plan, so he approached some vendors for directions. They weren't very keen on helping someone with no coin, but after a couple of tries, a passerby heard his plight and gave him the needed directions along with a not-so-subtle hint that he should leave this area immediately. It turned out he'd missed the mark by a good margin and was in the wrong part of the city.

An easy mistake to make with the size of it all; he was lucky to be only off by a couple of districts. Having wasted enough time, he sped his step again and was soon in a slightly nicer part of the city. Gone was the dreary atmosphere he'd just experienced, with people energetically greeting one another and children playing in the streets. It wasn't as affluent as where they'd gone shopping, but Cal found himself preferring it, despite feeling like an outsider.

Further directions were more forthcoming here, a kindly grandmother pointing him the right way while offering him a cup of tea. He declined, thanking her all the same. Cal smelled his destination before anything. It was mixed with the general smell of the city, but the undercurrent of sweetness couldn't be missed. Quickening his pace, he finally laid eyes on the grocer he'd sought. A small building nestled between a bakery and a deli. Its green-painted facade was flaked and faded with the sun.

It was busy, with customers navigating the narrow aisles and skillfully avoiding toppling the piles of produce. He slipped in, pretending to browse the selection while eavesdropping on the storekeeper. Cal picked up a pear, inspecting it. It was pretty good quality. The same could be said for most of what he spotted. Belatedly, he realized he'd gotten distracted and refocused on his objective. He was a short man with a small, stubborn patch of hair left on his head.

Missing teeth, his rough exterior didn't match his energetic aura as he enthusiastically caught up with one of his regulars. Cal witnessed the process repeat several more times.

"Excuse me." Cal made his move after spotting a gap in the customers approaching the counter.

"I'm looking for some Zor melon fruit, I heard from a friend I could find some here?"

"Zor melon fruit, ey?" The man smiled at him, not missing a beat.

"That's difficult to come by here." Cal dug into his memory, digging out the lines he'd memorized.

"I know. I've tried all over but whenever I manage to find it, the cost is way too high. My friend told me you have the best prices around."

"Hah, your friend's right." He laughed and slapped the counter.

"I've been here long, so I know all the suppliers. Tell you what, I don't have any in stock, but I do know where some may have been sent. What's your budget?"

"15. 47." He recited the oddly specific number.

"Let's see here." The man pulled out a ledger, sliding a finger down it. Stopping at an entry, he poked it once.

"Got it." He took out a notebook, scribbled on a page, and then ripped it out.

"There's your best bet." Cal received the page without comment.

"Oh, Haslin." A woman carrying their basket approached them.

"You're too good to everyone."

"I try my best!" Haslin grinned before turning to him again.

"You best be going; that place closes soon." Cal gave his thanks, leaving the shopkeeper to chat up his next regular. He read the slip of paper and then crumbled it in his fist. When it reopened, his palm was stained with soot. The hefty wooden door was pushed open, eliciting a ding from the bell overhead. Cal stepped into the dimly lit establishment. Low music could be heard playing along with scattered conversations. He scrunched his nose. The smell of smoke and spilled alcohol was not pleasant to him.

He waved a hand in front of himself, dispersing the cloud. Hesitant steps carried him towards the bar, where a man sat leaning over the counter with several empty bottles in front of him. Cal caught the tail end of what he supposed was a joke; the one waitress working had the professional courtesy to fake a laugh, which emboldened the man, who then leaned closer. The waitress simply giggled and took a step back out of reach. She was tall, with freckles and frizzy hair.

Her features were not what many would consider a traditional beauty. Even so, the way she carried herself was magnetic. Every action drew the attention of the few patrons in the bar. The waitress's eyes drifted and widened upon catching his sight. A smile blossoming on her face. She gracefully skipped from around the counter and rushed him, enveloping him in a large hug.

"Play along," a whisper tickled his ear. She pulled back, allowing herself to be overheard.

"It's been so long."

"And who's this runt?" The drunk from before sized him up, unhappy with losing the barmaid's attention.

"Oh, shut it, Hamesh." She spoke with an arm still around Cal.

"We grew up together, so he's kind of like a little brother." The drunk nodded, mollified by the explanation. She pulled Cal in.

"Wait for me in the back while I get these boys settled, then we can catch up." He nodded dumbly, and she released him. Going through the door she'd pointed him to, he stumbled through what passed as a kitchen and then to a small break room. It was nothing more than some couches and a coffee table. His body flopped on the seat, still reeling from the encounter. He shivered, a cold feeling jolting down his spine. As if driven by his thoughts, the subject of his discomfort strolled in.

Measured steps brought her to the couch opposite to him, and she took a seat.

"Report." The cold clinical voice demanded. All traces of a smile had disappeared, leaving one wondering if there had ever been one in the first place. Cal relaxed, the world once again making sense.

"Good to see you too, Olivia; you're looking younger." Opening with a compliment seemed like a good idea.

"It's Emily now," she corrected, but there was no bite in it.

"Please remember it. We have enough to worry about without adding on being compromised." Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Cal studied her. Changed appearance or not, she was unmistakably Olivia. Her tone just now matched the attitude shown when they'd first been introduced months ago. She was tense. A tightly wound spring, straining to keep itself from launching out. He recalled their last encounter and how he'd nearly lost his temper.

He rubbed the back of his head.

"Sorry about before; I shouldn't have lost my cool like that." The words came out awkwardly.

"That's not a concern." She dismissed his apology.

"Now please report on your progress. This is a safe location." So it was going to be like that?

"I've scoped out a decent portion of the campus and have highlighted some high-likelihood locations. I'm monitoring them on a regular basis while continuing to investigate potential sites." He stuck with the decision to keep the events with the Spirit close to his chest. Revealing its existence would only cause alarm.

"Investigating the student body and faculty will take more time." He added on as an afterthought. He wasn't quite sure how he'd accomplish that yet. Maybe get the Spirit to track people and see if they had any suspicious patterns? Could it even do that? Hard to say, its abilities were unclear. For all he knew it could be watching him right now. Oliv- Emily regarded him with a critical eye.

"What type of methodology did you implement, and are you worried your monitoring will attract attention?" He slumped further back in his seat, hands behind his head.

"Foot traffic plus space mainly. And for the second part, not really. My classes are at or near many of the sites and I can be sneaky if I have to." There was a pause, the only sound being the clicking of the old fan overhead.

"You managed to arrange your schedule around the investigation?" She asked, the questioning tone telling.

"That's exactly what I did." He wasn't about to admit he'd straight up flunked most of his exams, and it was a happy accident. Slightly leaning back in her chair, some of the earlier tenseness faded from her.

"I'm impressed." A rare hint of admiration sounded in her voice.

"You've done good work for being active for such a short time. If you continue such progress, we may be able to accomplish our mission and return home faster than I anticipated." Ah, so maybe that was what she was really worried about. He couldn't blame her. They'd both essentially been kicked into a lifeboat and told to go board the enemy warship. Deep in enemy waters and surrounded on all sides, it was easy to see how that would rack on someone's nerves.

Well, someone who would have a hard time surviving a firing squad. Or here it would probably be the executioner's ax. Part of him expected someone from special ops to be made of sterner stuff, but it wasn't like everyone in that department was infiltration. For all he knew, she specialized in supply chain management.

"A point of clarification for our future cooperation. You claimed to not be trained; I didn't question it at the time, but you do know protocol. You have to, with your inclination to flaunt your breaking of it." He did like spitting in the face of it. In fairness, the vast majority didn't apply to someone like him.

"I had like, maybe three books to read growing up." He made a show of holding up his fingers.

"Depending on what you count as a book. One of them happened to be a field guide." It had been a cornerstone when teaching himself how to read on account of all the pictures it helpfully contained.

"I forced my way onto the first missions I took." He admitted it almost sheepishly. The novelty of headquarters wore off quickly, and he'd been supremely bored being cooped up there.

"After a couple of times, I think everyone sort of assumed someone had trained me." He suspected it was a combination of no one having the courage to straight up ask and the powers that be being generally content to have another tool to throw at crises. She looked ready to argue the point before deflating. That's bureaucracy for you; everything was someone else's problem.

"What about our other friends?" He inquired about the team supposed to be active in the city.

"Any word from them?" She crossed her arms, her nails pressed into her skin.

"No, I haven't received any communication from them, and communication with command is limited."

"Let's not worry too much about it; not our job after all." He left out his thoughts on whether or not they existed.

"If something does happen, just get out of Dodge and I'll swoop in and do damage control."

"Setting aside your track record of doing the damage and not the control." Hurtful and accurate.

"The city's military presence may be formidable, but if our historical records are accurate, they're woefully inadequate to confront anything coming out of this level of summoning. If the worst comes to pass, we're looking at the immediate loss of millions of lives with the after-effects being immeasurable."

"Oh, I thought that would make a true patriot like yourself all giddy inside?" Cal quipped. The grin on his face melted away as he saw her jaw tighten.

"Don't joke around," she said harshly.

"These are civilians."

"Fine fine, it was tasteless of me." He knocked on the table, attracting and holding her stare.

"Being serious, I know you don't have access to my full file but put a little faith in me. The worst won't happen while I'm around. It doesn't matter if the entirety of the hells crosses over. I'll send them back." An exaggeration. Contending with an entire realm of demons was beyond him. She didn't seem convinced, a frown marring her features. Somehow she must have still seen him as an overconfident kid. One who happened to be able to traverse the Waste and return unharmed…

He didn't try to understand her logic, instead reaching into his pocket and placing its contents on the coffee table between them. A sharp intake of breath was taken.

"Where did you get this?" Despite her earlier claims of this area being secured, she whispered the question. Her hand reached out almost in instinct before recoiling. Unsure what to do. He picked up the star and flicked it towards her. Earning a panicked squeak as she narrowly avoided it falling to the ground. Her hands cupped together, cradling it. Eyes wide and face slack-jawed.

"It's not mine; one of them lent it to me." She could probably puzzle together who exactly.

"Official or not, ask any of the Constellation and they'll back me." He continued to speak, though he was unsure if his words reached her. It may be for the best, as he was not being entirely truthful. Millie and Mask were in his corner. As for the rest? He couldn't say. He felt the First might be inclined to, he was just that sort of person. The Second was an enigma and an asshole, so that probably depended on the day of the week. And the Fourth? The less said about Her the better.

His hand reached out, and the star leaped into it. A curious thing, it had bonded to his magic in no time. Already he could manipulate it with ease, as if it were just another limb. He waited patiently while she collected herself.

"I see." She swallowed.

"No, I don't." Her head shook, curly strands of hair swaying.

"But that mark is only given to those able to achieve the impossible. So I will place my trust in what it represents." Good enough. Without a word, she got up and left the tiny break room. Cal waited and raised an eyebrow when she returned.

"I needed to check up on the customers." She said while placing a bowl of soup on the table.

"Most know better by now, but I have a few stubborn ones in need of more instruction." She handed him a spoon.

"Eat up; your habit of missing meals does no one any good." He hadn't the heart to tell her he'd eaten several hours ago. He took a spoonful, bringing it to his mouth. He regretted the action as a foul taste assaulted his tongue; he resisted spitting it out and forced it down.

"You buy this somewhere?" He asked while coughing. Heedless of his predicament, she responded.

"No, we don't have a separate chef so I've taken to cooking when I have the chance. That bowl has all the required nutrients for a day." He detected an amount of pride.

"I'm told I have quite the talent." Talent? In being a poisoner, sure. Who was filling her head with that nonsense? He thought back to the scene from when he first walked in. Those idiots.

"I actually just had a big lunch." He reversed his earlier decision.

"So I'm good. Thanks though."

"That's unlike you." The frown made another appearance on her face.

"I ate with the Ardere girl and her friend," he said as a way of explanation.

"Also, it's a lot easier to tell time with silly things like the sun to remind you." Building headquarters into a mountain might be strategically sound, but not having windows sucked.

"Ah, yes." Her eyes lit up, remembering something.

"I meant to ask, how are you doing on a personal level in regards to the change?" The question sounded pre-written. Cal peered behind himself, checking for a teleprompter. Finding nothing, he answered.

"It's weird, but I'm handling it."

"You haven't gotten in any fights, have you? I understand combat is a core part of the curriculum but it would work against us to attract that sort of attention." A scene of a bloody fist appeared in his mind, followed by one of a shattered temple.

"Nope." This was for her own well-being. He'd only just managed to reassure her after all.

"What was that about us being 'old friends' by the way?" Changing the subject? Pure coincidence.

"Ah yes, as you recall, your background was left purposely vague. In order to facilitate our meetings, I've had to adjust it slightly to match mine. Your mother is still a nameless woman native to your family's land, but she moved after childbirth to a frontier village. The village was destroyed in a beast wave. We are fellow refugees who eked out an existence together."

"Is that common?" As the one usually called on to deal with them preemptively, he knew it wasn't a frequent occurrence in the Federation.

"More than back home." She said with a sigh.

"They lack our surveillance network and, as a result, are often caught off-guard when the waves form. Coupled with the poor excuse of a census they perform out there, no one will bat an eye at us." Which meant their story was a believable one. Implications of that aside, it was a solid cover.

"Let's move back to what we discussed previously." It was her turn to distract him.

"And discuss what other proactive measures we can be taking." She reached into her blouse, pulling out a small but thick notebook. Cal groaned; this was going to take a while.