Battlefield Regulation 1 – Hostiles come in Many Forms, Identify Them before they Identify You

“Ten minutes? So you already have one for here?” Chaisee asks, tone doing a weird waver that I can’t discern the meaning of.

“Yes, at least two.” I nod. I’m about to open my mouth to explain how LAGOON apartments are even easier than most places due to the mirrored layouts when Rehema’s voice cuts me off.

“Yilmaz status?”

Chaisee twists to look at them, already answering with information on how the discharge paperwork redacts even that so we have nothing to go off of.

But I can feel Rehema’s gaze on my back; I abandon my pacing point to lean against the nearest wall. They’re watching me with raised eyebrows. Expectant. Pale green eyes flick to Chaisee in a manner that is odd to see mirrored by someone else. I do the same; note the way Chaisee’s tail has lowered and so have her shoulders. Ease seeping back into her body language. When had it gone? I blink and shake my head a little.

I suspect that I know exactly what kind of status report on Yilmaz it is that Rehema wants. My teeth try to glue themselves in protest at the amount of talking that will require. I’ve talked more since waking up in the infirmary than I have over the course of multiple days. My jaw hurts. My tongue feels like it belongs to someone else. …But Rehema purred at me and other than distracting Chaisee, doesn’t seem bothered at all by the news of me having bugout plans that now also include Chaisee’s apartment. (Apartments within the LAGOON are easy. There’s a front door and a back window in the same places for all of them, just flipped based on what direction the door is facing. Chaisee’s door faces west – so I already know her back window is south facing.)

“He was alive last I saw.” Forcing the words out means they come with frost clouding the air in front of me. I grit my teeth and continue anyway. “One of McCrae’s wild shots had hit me and I was dry casting by then, but I saw Yilmaz make the transport he’d aimed for and saw it hit open air. I drove McCrae off and poured as much ice over the exit as I could before I lost consciousness.” a deep breath, more frost. “He didn’t say anything other than shouting my name when I got hit. I told him I had it and to get going.” I don’t know if he signed or mouthed anything after that. My attention had all been on McCrae. “So I’ve got no leads as to why he left.” I hope I bought Yilmaz time to get away from whatever drove him to this. I don’t know if McCrae came back after I collapsed – my ice was melted when I awoke – and I don’t even know if Yilmaz’s transport made it to the ground. I don’t say any of this aloud.

But maybe I don’t need to. Rehema holds my gaze for a moment more before they let out a long breath and chuff quietly. “Something to work with.” they say. “Appreciated.” there’s that purr gesture again, longer this time. I nod at them in return.

Chaisee, meanwhile, is looking at me with the wide eyes of a prey animal who is one or two surprises away from stampeding. I reflexively try to take a step back despite my back being against a wall. Being face to face with a planti that has those eyes is a bad idea. “Dry. Casting.” she says, teeth clicking together between the two words.

I’m left with the distinct feeling that I’m in big trouble.

She inhales long and deep like she’s about to start shouting. “I swear-” a forced exhale. “You’re making it more an’ more clear as to why Maz was always worrying about you.” Chaisee says. Her tone is friendly and even, though it warbles on the edges in a way I’m unfamiliar with. One of her hands has drifted up to stroke the strands of her mohawk in a gesture that I’ve already begun to decode as a sign of anxiety or stress. “I mean. Okay. Okay. First. Thank you for the offer of duffles if I don’t have any big enough. Making that many bugout plans sounds like more than I could handle.”

I’m about to say something there – but whatever it is quickly evaporates when she takes another deep breath.

“An’ now back to – you’re damned lucky you woke up in time to deal with the frag-bullet! You could’ve- an’ we wouldn’t have- fuck!” she slams the club of her tail onto the ground with a heavy thud.

I don’t- I don’t understand why she’s upset. I can tell that she is and I feel like I should. All that comes to mind is words, so that’s what I offer. “If it helps, you didn’t know me at all a few nights ago?” in my head the words are supposed to be soothing. Mourning a stranger rather than someone you know to be on your side or someone close to a friend is different. Less painful.

I get glared at from two different directions, sharp enough that I tense up.

“No.” Rehema says, shaking their head sharply.

“Nope. I’m not even entertaining that.” Chaisee scowls at me. “It doesn’t help. An’ you… gods. Not even two full days off from dry casting an’ you still froze half my apartment. An’ that’s after fighting a pair of brineclaws with a brewing migraine. You really are something else.”

Her tone still screams that there’s a problem somewhere in what she’s saying. I can’t parse what it is. She’s only listing off stuff that I have done recently…? “I don’t understand.” I say, because that’s going to be the only way I have a chance of learning. “What’s wrong in all of this?” it feels like a strange question even as it leaves my lips.

“Rivals.”

Rehema says that like the one word explains everything that’s wrong. I still don’t understand.

“Yeah but-” Chaisee sighs. “I was half convinced that Maz was holding back an’ the eye an’ jaw thing was just happenstance. Now I’m realizing that they – that you two – really are just on the same damn level. Built different.” she stares at me for a moment. “The LAGOONs like to build up their in person myths, yeah? Each LAGOON has one. The Ice Princess. The Lightning General. The Lion of Steel. The Pious Chameleon.” she gestures at me. “An’ I do my hardest not to fall for the myths because you folks are still people. An’ I’m here, catching myself having fallen for some of it anyway – but you’re making me doubt how much is even exaggerated! Just, like, okay. How did you even wind up on the transport deck to begin with?”

That last feels like a subject change. I can hear the tinge of something like desperation at the end of her question though, so perhaps answering will help. “I couldn’t sleep.” I say with a shrug. For a moment my words are loose. “Insomnia comes for me regularly. Even more so when I caught myself having the zoomies.” I raise both eyebrows at Chaisee and Rehema as I say that last word.

I think I’ve pinpointed what the wrong thing is. Maybe. I’ll know if I’m right if she relaxes more. “I was in training deck #3 when I saw Yilmaz pass by in a… weird rush.” He’d had a duffel slung over one shoulder, shoulders hunched and tail stiff. I’d known something was wrong immediately. “A few minutes later McCrae came through with this exaggerated cartoon-like stealth attempt. So I followed.” My plan had been to challenge Yilmaz to a spar since the training decks weren’t working to quiet my mind enough so I could sleep. And after several seconds of silence, I add that – “I was already on my way out of the training deck when McCrae came through. Sparring with Yilmaz works when the training deck doesn’t so I can get some sleep.”

The silence after I finish speaking feels like hours. Chaisee stands there like she’s frozen in place. Rehema’s tail ticks back and forth faster than I ever let mine. I have enough time to wonder if I shouldn’t have added that last bit before one of them recovers.

“McCrae followed?” Rehema leans forward, frowning.

I nod. “He was after Yilmaz. I missed the beginning of the shouting but I got there right as he was about to shoot Yilmaz in the back.”

“Wait a second…” Chaisee blinks, pulling herself out of wherever she clearly went in her head to stare at me. “Tell me that you didn’t do the movie superhero thing. Did you-”

“No.” I snort. My tail flicks as irritation slithers down my spine. “I flash froze McCrae’s hand so he couldn’t pull the trigger.” this isn’t an interrogation no matter what part of my brain has decided to scream. I’m sharing this information willingly despite how it’s more talking. “I don’t know why he felt he had to leave only that it was clearly important. There was no tome to ask. McCrae was shouting about killing him for something and I wasn’t going to let that happen.” I leave out the part where I realized that whatever was driving Yilmaz was something he was willing to catch a bullet for if he had to. He hadn’t turned to react to McCrae or myself. It had been that kind of urgent.

Chaisee breathes at that, relief plain on her face. I’m annoyed that she thought I’d pull something that tactically unsound. Just as I’m about to say something about that, Rehema speaks.

“Released files.” they say as they pad over to stand next to me, showing me their phone screen.

I catch the signature icon of the Lodestar and flick one hand up to block where username information is. The Lodestar works best with as much anonymity as possible so I don’t want Rehema’s username stored in my memory. Not that I’m surprised that they’re part of it. My reaction will give away that I am too. It’s a good resource.

The rest of the page is what’s important. Documented evidence – at least twenty pages worth – that the serial rapist whose crimes have been dominating the news worldwide is none other than one Yonah McCrae. I force down the hiss that builds in my throat. His little kitten remark plays in the back of my mind and I remember the vindictive satisfaction I felt when I punched him.

I wish I’d punched him more. Done worse. That wish grows as Chaisee and I wordlessly read through the evidence. When did Chaisee come so close? It doesn’t matter right now, not in the face of all of this.

There’s a fraying edge of evidence that I can pick up on. McCrae wasn’t working alone. Someone had to cover for him.

In this I am the Ice Princess that the LAGOON likes to call me. My face remains controlled as does my tail. My ice only coats the inside of my throat. It doesn’t escape elsewhere. If I don’t keep everything strictly controlled, there might not be much of Chaisee’s apartment left.

But as we reach the end of the evidence, it turns out that there’s something else nestled among everything else.

An audio recording with a transcript underneath it. What more could Yilmaz have needed to release? The evidence-

Italic text, rendered smaller than the rest, underneath the evidence but above the recording.

This is related to the above. I’ll let you judge the contents on your own. But it is also included for those who remember the freedom of falling.

The timestamps indicate that the audio recording was added in an edit. The transcript is actually by a poster underneath the big post.

The freedom of falling.

“I-” the syllable escapes me, half choked off as it is. I have a very bad feeling about that recording. I know-

“Do you know it?” Chaisee asks, gaze flicking to me. “He’s mentioned those words to us, but he’s never explained.”

The noise that escapes me feels caught between a laugh and something that’s most certainly not a sob. “It’s for me.” I manage to force out. “Play it.” that comes hissed between teeth that won’t unclench.

Putting it off won’t help. There’s information in the recording that I need to know. Something that fool of a man added to the post while he was in the transport.

Rehema hits the button.

First… the sound of fabric shuffling. The sound of fingers across the microphone and a sigh. “With any luck, I won’t need this.” Yilmaz sounds exhausted. “But at this point I can’t trust that.” Followed by footsteps and a door opening.

Yilmaz in the recording tells the Duce the same things we’ve just read. It’s a shorter version in the way we’ve all been trained to give briefings. Underneath his voice is the sound of flipping papers.

And then there’s the Duce’s voice, smooth as silk. It’s not the same tone the man uses for mission intel. He instructs Yilmaz to pin it on someone else. Is there anyone non-Riptide that Yilmaz would like gone from the LAGOONs? What about one of the racist teachers that keeps docking him for things she doesn’t dock anyone else for? Pin it on her. Or on multiple.

It’s a full carte-blanche, the Duce says with a self indulgent sounding laugh, to remove up to three non-Riptide individuals from the LAGOONs for good. And all Yilmaz has to do is agree. McCrae, you see, cannot be the answer. Public trust in Riptide – nay, in the LAGOONs themselves – will run the risk of drying up if this information is released as is.

Yilmaz gasps. Growls.

The Duce continues, papers are slammed down on the desk. Five people then, the Duce negotiates. As long as they’re not Riptide. Pull names out of hats if he can’t come up with anyone on his own! Why, if this information got out… the LAGOONs might have to adjust the matter of housing! Yilmaz’s own home might be in danger.

My teeth grind at the threat. I manage to keep everything else under wraps, but my teeth strain with the grinding.

Why, the Duce only got the results for this upcoming Riptide Ceremony a few hours ago. He could reveal if Yilmaz got in. And fix it if he didn’t. Or, oh, what about those folks that also took the exam? Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to know that they passed? The cost is easy, simple. Find someone else to pin it on or get rid of the information entirely. Look the other way, so to speak. After all, no one wants a career stained by accidents right?

So do either before the ceremony and be allowed to remain on the LAGOON and even be guaranteed his progression into Riptide. Guarantee the progression of others, too…

Or put all of that at risk.

Isn’t it such a simple choice? Here, the Duce will even give Yilmaz time to think on it. Go, think, and come back with an answer.

Yilmaz makes a noncommittal noise and there’s the sound of him leaving the office before he growls. The growl shifts, softens, morphs into sobbing. A solid minute of footsteps and sobbing. And then “Oh, right. Guess I did need you.” before the recording ends.

In the immediate moment after it finishes, there’s silence. Not a one of us breathes. Not a one of us moves.

We’ve got an answer as to why he left. And far more questions than we started with.

But I have one certainty that’s sunk into the marrow of my bones. The Duce himself is the threat that Yilmaz was running from. A bigger and badder threat than McCrae posed explains why Yilmaz didn’t even give him the time of day.

“Always protecting other people.” the words slip from between my lips like a curl of smoke. “No wonder he-” the need for movement makes my bones itch and I slither out from between the two of them so I can start pacing. I need the movement so my mind doesn’t get stuck in a rut like it so dearly wants to.

…Does the Duce know about The Lodestar? Does he have anyone who can and will bring the information to him if he doesn’t? If Yilmaz just took off without giving the man an answer, that could seem like taking up the offer…

The single glimpse I got of Yilmaz’s face I’d gotten takes on a new meaning. Wide eyes seem more like fear than frustration with the new context. I need to get out there. I need to find the idiot before he gets himself locked up, all wound up with fear he doesn’t have an outlet for.

(…Again…)

Both of us were orphans. Neither one of us has anywhere to go. Did he set off without a plan beyond protecting others? Probably. That’d be just like the fool. Down on the ground, facing off against all his worst fears in a bid to keep myself and his other friends safe. I could have helped! I could have-

I need to take stock of my resources and Rehema’s phone had the Lodestar on it. Right – I have resources through there. I’m pulling the site up with my eye and logging in when I realize absently that there’s a blockage in front of me.

Blockage? I blink.

The blockage is, as it turns out, Chaisee. She’s standing in front of me with an eyebrow raised and the latter half of the nickname she gave me dangling out of her mouth. “-li. Kali? Are you alive in there? … Kali?” she lifts herself up on the tips of her toes and tilts her head to one side like the combination will let her look into my eyes better. “We can’t know what your brain is doing if you don’t communicate with us.” she adds the moment my eye focuses on her.

“I appear to have died in there for a minute.” I say. “I’m either alive or undead but I’m here now.” it’s an automatic response – but it gets both Chaisee and Rehema to laugh and some of the tension in the room slides away so I’ll count that as a win. It’s the sort of response I always give Yilmaz; with how much he’s occupying my mind at the moment I’m not surprised that it slipped out.

I almost bite my tongue instead of speaking after that.

But those words do remind me that we want to be on the same page as much as possible, and what I have to share and say will probably bring that tension ratcheting right back up. More’s the pity. “Initially I had no solid theories as to who our enemy could be.” I place a gentle emphasis on the word our with a glance at Chaisee. She grins at me even as she nods seriously. “I saw a theory on the general feed about McCrae and that made sense.” my tail flicks. It was also… less worrisome than some of the other theories I had at the time, but I don’t need to say that part out loud right now.

Chaisee and Rehema are both nodding. Whether that means they saw the same theories or are just agreeing that that makes sense… well, it does matter but not as much as I imagine it would in any other circumstance.

“With the contents of that audio recording, it’s possible that our enemy is the Duce himself.” I say and watch them both flinch. “Even without that under consideration – we are in enemy territory with an enemy that’s at least twenty steps ahead and still masked to us.” I can’t keep the grimace out of my tone, though I do take a second to give Chaisee a look. “Something that someone else was more ready to accept as a possibility than I am.”

I’m referencing the attack on myself, and maybe that acknowledgement keeps the mood of the apartment from diving too far, too quickly.

As it is, Chaisee huffs. “Well, what’s a squad for?” she says, though her tone is more strained than the look on her face would imply. “So. Okay, to be clear before we go much further. I’m not very good at tactics when it’s bigger scale than say, a prank. I’m good at remembering what I’ve been told to do.” she fidgets with her hands. “An’ uh, I burned all my bridges back home when I joined the LAGOON. Between joining here an’ being a member of The Lodestar…” she gives a small shrug and looks away, down at the ground.

I snort. “You did good with the brineclaws. You’re selling yourself short.”

Rehema makes a noise of agreement and Chaisee ducks her head in response, a blush darkening her tan skin.

“Few bridges here.” they say, glancing to me. “Some cross with yours.” that statement is an answer to my suspicion from earlier, that my awareness of the Lodestar gave me away. They follow that up with the gesture for purring.

Chaisee swallows loudly. Inhales deeply. Exhales slowly. “Okay. Okay. Right now I think – I think we can’t really make any serious movement until Sara is out of the infirmary.” Neither Rehema nor I say anything as she checks her phone. “Three days.” Chaisee announces. “They last told her that she had to stay for three days.”

Three days? She must have gotten hurt quite bad in the last accident. I frown. Three days…

“Monitor.” Rehema looks from me to Chaisee and back. “Protect.”

“Right, she’s the most vulnerable of us right now.” I nod, chewing on a thought. “Chaisee, there’s a worker in the infirmary who might be able to keep an eye on Sara while we can’t. Their name is Sheila. They were very keen to make sure my eye was returned.”

She blinks at me and then grins. “Sure can!” Chaisee gives me a quick, two fingered salute. “With someone that works there looking out too, that’ll help make sure Sara stays safe. We have some trustworthy folks here.”

“We have to be careful but that doesn’t mean that we’re entirely on our own. Loyalty to one’s job over to the LAGOON can be useful here.” I sigh at myself. Now that I’m thinking about this like it’s some kind of mission? All of the anxiety feels like background noise. It’ll come for me later, sure, but right now this is helpful.

The mission op is so transparent that we all know it without talking. We need to keep ourselves safe and not tip our hand over the next three days and also keep Sara safe. Only then can we start making any moves in earnest.

I already have sub-plans to work with. Folks on the Lodestar I can contact to set up contingencies with that I talked myself out of setting up in the past. The LAGOON was safe and was going to remain safe, those had been my thoughts at the time. More like hopes. I hadn’t let myself plan much.

It was supposed to be a way to prove to myself that not everywhere was dangerous. And then I could convince myself that I didn’t need so many bugout plans.

I shake myself with a bit of bared teeth. Not the time to ruminate on that. “The biggest trouble right now is making sure our enemy doesn’t catch on to the fact that we’re in motion.” I say. “Otherwise the danger to ourselves and to Sara is likely to get much more intense.”

Rehema lets out a low growl, melodious and the sort that rattles inside my bones. I tense, wondering if I’ve managed to misstep, but those pale green eyes are half focused on the door as their lip curls before they speak. “Mourn Yilmaz.”

I hate the idea immediately. Chaisee has already bounced on her feet with a quick comment about how grief can make friends out of strangers fast so that would work well with my reputation. Especially since I did accept her invitation to come to her apartment for dinner. I work to swallow my reaction and to unclench my teeth.

This is tactically sound. One of the single most tactically sound moves we could possibly make right now. Emotionally – well, emotionally doesn’t matter right now does it?

It gives us a ready to go, easy to understand excuse for why I’m suddenly spending time with the three of them. It makes sense.

I don’t want to do it. I want to dig in my heels and-

“Not as dead.” Rehema says. They pause just shy of touching my shoulder. “Lost. Friend.” there is far too much understanding in their gaze for me to meet it for long.

“Wait. Huh?” Chaisee tilts her head and her eyebrows come together. “But if we’re mourning him as dead then isn’t it easier?”

Rehema shakes their head sharply enough that some of the beads in their mane clatter. “Status.”

The dots connect faster than I have words to articulate them. I know I let out a quiet “Oh…” of understanding. Rehema offers me a grin that’s all teeth. Chaisee still looks confused so I speak up. “If we mourn him as dead then we imply that we know more than the official discharge paperwork does.” I say. “But if we mourn him as a lost friend that we’ll never see again, then we look just in the dark as the paperwork wants folks to be.”

It takes a moment for that to process for Chaisee, but I can see the moment when it makes sense in the way her mouth forms a small ‘o’. “With him being a kill on sight risk, that kind of mourning makes a lot of sense. Nobody needs to know that we’re probably going to track him down as soon as we get the chance.” she grins, eyes lighting up. “Clever, clever. And with how little you and Hema talk, extra quiet won’t raise any flags. We just need to set up a private feed and go from there.”

“Route through Lodestar.” Rehema says, and I nod quickly.

All three of us have Lodestar accounts, that much is plain – and that means we meet the minimums for being able to route a feed through there. The extra security can’t hurt. “Once we have it set up, I’ll go back to my apartment.” in part for keeping appearances and in part because I need space to breathe that’s my own.

It doesn’t take long to set up the extra feed. It’s an odd feeling – watching my friend’s list go from having just Yilmaz to including Chaisee and Rehema as well. I don’t even know that I’d consider them friends yet, but the addition will further the image we want to project.

This… wasn’t nearly as bad as I’ve told myself for years it would be. That’s the thought that lingers in the forefront of my mind as I make my way back to my apartment. Chaisee sent me off with more food, so I’m carrying the leftovers over one arm as I walk.

I still feel like the top layer of my skin – fur and all – has been all scraped off. Raw. Exposed. I can’t stop myself from connecting my eye to the hallway cameras every time I’m moving down one, scanning for signs of another attack or someone moving suspiciously or- anything that might need to be flagged.

My home is enemy territory.

Again.