And no doubt with the same provisos, he thought.
Alex said, “And these harassment attacks. What are those about?”
“We presume those are to goad a response. It’s essential you not overreact to those.”
“We try not to, but it’s impossible to tell a paint balloon from a grenade in the time it takes someone to throw one.”
“I understand,” he said, though Alex got the impression he only understood as a mental exercise, not as the recipient of something potentially hot, fast and lethal. “But that’s the officially suggested response.”
“I concur. It’s just hard to implement in a fraction of a second, while guaranteeing Ms. Highland’s safety. Are you able to tell me if she’s planned more demonstrations to promote her stability under fire?” Damn, and I said that with a straight face, too.
Gillette shook his head. “Not that we can tell, and we officially advised her against doing so, as it opens up a potential window and leak.”
Okay, so the guy was a chair-warmer, but at least he was an astute and educated chair-warmer.
“Alright, then we’ll do what we can,” Alex said. “And swap what information comes our way.” After we use it first. Ripple Creek understood allies. It just didn’t have many, and fewer that were reliable.
Jason noted when Aramis shifted again. The rebuilding nanos had some effect. Swelling was down considerably. He now looked like a broken human rather than a bloated roadkill.
“Aramis, it’s Jason, I’m here.”
“Yes,” the man mumbled. Jason was surprised he could talk with his jaw in that shape. Sonofabitch. that had to redefine pain.
“No need to talk if you don’t want to. We’re taking turns watching.” He didn’t mention losing sleep or being worried. They all volunteered for this and stood shift as well.
Aramis managed actual speech. “I’ng conshus. Hurd like heww. Goan ngake ih, tho.”
“Good. I know you are.” Now, yes. Yesterday, thirty percent. Damned good medical work, and the man had a serious constitution.
“Had do figh through fain.”
“Yeah, you mentioned Caron a lot in that context,” he advised. In detail. Though it didn’t sound like a fair trade.
“Ah, shid.”
“Don’t worry. The docs don’t know who she is, and we won’t talk. If that got you through it, good. You’re unreal. Anyone else would be dead, but you’re just too brutal for it.” He wanted to keep the man’s morale up, and keep him tracking on anything real.
Aramis sounded a bit strained, but said, “Ih had this insane, flyne, crazy feeln. The indenzdy. Ih uz aww I could think of. I ngus ve a ferverd.”
It took Jason a moment to translate “I must be a pervert.”
He said, “You’re alive, it worked, no need to be ashamed at all. You probably shouldn’t tell her, though.”
“Yeah. I’ng goan ve quie for a whi. Ngusic? Case or cuve.”
“Probably not at the moment. I’ll call and ask. Alex and Shaman will hear my notes and recordings. They’ll be destroyed soonest, per policy.” Actually, policy said any communication related to a government operation should be kept, and he was fucked if his friend’s personal issues were going to be archived.
He was just glad, and amazed the man was alive.
On his glasses, Shaman’s image hand signed approval, and sent a text confirmation for record. “Shaman says okay. I’ll look for a music load,” he said. Also, a second blanket to cover the man’s groin.
It was possible his brain had completely rewired pain as arousal. Was it important enough to discuss with Shaman? Maybe.
Bart arrived, and he rose and stretched. They didn’t need to sit watch, but they wanted to, and Aramis should appreciate it.
Back at the billet, Alex met him at the door.
“Jason, I have a specific instruction for you, which is not an order.”
“Oh?”
“I have no authority to require this, but as your boss and your friend, I am telling you not to look at any news or comments regarding the attack on Aramis. Best case, you’ll want to smash things.”
Jason sighed deeply. “Yeah, I can imagine. That’s good advice, and I’ll give it a few days to age off the list. We’re all mercenary scum and deserve anything that happens to us, yes?”
“If that was all, I’d be happy. The depths that ‘tolerant’ people will sink to never cease to amaze me.”
“Okay, then I’m already pissed enough and will avoid it further. Thanks.”
There was an emotional toll to being an unemotional mercenary scum.
Alex was drained. Lionel and Corcoran were reliable, but they weren’t part of the regular team. Shaman was back most of the time, but still checked Aramis twice a day. They’d been painted and egged again, and now he had another brief with Captain Das.
“Good morning, Captain,” he said as he arrived. He wanted to be polite, but he didn’t want to call anyone in the military “sir.” It was too easy for them to take it as subordination.
“Good morning, Agent Marlow,” Das returned. He probably had the same guideline in mind. They were polite, courteous and supportive of each other, while recognizing that they might have to diverge on strategy at any moment.
He asked, “Were you able to get the packet from BuState intel?”
“No, I was not. They won’t release it.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. I was briefed in person and there wasn’t even a recording or a release.”
“Therefore that briefing never took place.”
Alex took a moment to ponder that. Shit. He’d missed that.
“Okay, so why would they do us a favor and not the military?”
“It could be some territorial issue. It could also be unofficial, but sanctioned because you’re protecting their boss.”
“They generally stay well out of our way. But I appreciate the heads up they gave.”
“They didn’t ask for a classification statement?”
“No,” Alex said. “I’m not officially held, and he didn’t say not to share it with allies, but if I’m going to do that, I need your personal assurance you’ll be discreet on what gets released among your people.”
Das said, “I can do that. Will you have the room swept?”
“I don’t need to. I’ll accept your word.”
Das blinked and stared at him for a moment, and Alex realized it had been a request.
“However, if Agent Vaughn is handy, it might not be a bad idea, just in case of outside sources.”
Das nodded.
He called, and Jason came in, swept the place quickly, and set a small device on the table. It hummed something that wasn’t quite white noise, and shifted in modulation.
“Go ahead, that’s as clear as I can make it. There’s the captain’s official mics over there, and one in the corner behind the shelf.”
Das’ eyebrows flared. “Interesting. I wasn’t aware of that one.”
“I can try to track it later.”
“Delicately, please.”
“Absolutely.” Jason waited a half second for any potential invite or followup orders, then nodded and left.
Alex said, “That’s why I have these people. Okay, Gillette gave me a rundown on threats.” He rattled off as best he could, from memory at the time and his compiled notes, which were not here, being in a safe that was set to char all contents and churn them to powder if tampered with.
When he finished, Das looked quizzical.
Das leaned back and said, “There was a substantive threat with seizure and arrest two weeks ago.”
“Amala?”
“No, Coalition. The man seems to be a freelancer. He’s suspected in three bombings.”
That made Alex jolt alert. “Still in custody?”
“No, he was released on two million bond. He made the bond.”
And Gillette hadn’t considered that important enough to mention.
“How was the threat worded?”
“I’ll bring up a copy. It was directed at ‘enemies of the God of Heaven, and the idolaters and gamblers polluting even His chosen new world.’ That’s this place, and it refers to the stock market that opened up three months back, and any loan agency.”
“So, not directly at her, then.” Had Gillette not mentioned it because he didn’t think it was relevant?