32. New Toledo

New Toledo, Vidako

Imperium Stellarum
October 4, 2847

Once the Saker was down at New Toledo airport, Arc was consigned to the cabin of the VTOL with Lieutenant Patel, while Cassie and Jessica carried their bags into the cockpit and firmly closed the door behind them. It was, Arc decided a moment later, a lucky thing that at least one of the pilots had been a man, because it meant there was someone to help him get dressed, and he’d never actually worn his dress whites before, only been measured for a fitting once by Manuel.

Then again, he wouldn’t have put it past the commandant to have set things up that way on purpose.

While the daily uniform of a cadet was gray, and the day-to-day dress of a naval officer blue, on formal occasions both wore naval whites, a tradition that dated back centuries. Manuel had worked wonders, and Arc had the rather bizarre revelation that he’d never worn a single set of clothing that was properly fitted in his entire life, until now. As a fourth class cadet, the only mark of his rank was a single, upward pointed chevron in gold, on the upper sleeve at either side.

Once Arc had the trousers, polished dress shoes, shirt and tunic on, he was grateful to set the cap on his head, because it would conceal the still-red marks of his surgery, and the delicate, silvery metal tracings of the neural lace. He took a deep breath, and turned toward Lieutenant Patel. “How does it look?” he asked. “Am I wearing it right?”

Patel grunted, stepped close, and took Arc’s tunic in both hands, giving it a little tug before nodding. “It’s not off the rack, and that’s something,” he said. “Good job having someone tailor it for you. The last thing you want is to look sloppy when you get in front of the cameras.”

Arc winced. “How bad do you think it’ll be?”

“Well, we got a good view coming down,” the co-pilot admitted. “Looks like the duke’s people and the local police have set up barricades and kept the media-types back a good distance, but there’s definitely a crowd. I bet you’ll see the flashes go off as soon as we open the doors.”

He must have noticed some sign of Arc’s nerves in his face, because Patel gave him a slap on the back. “You’ll be fine. They aren’t here for you—they’re here for her. You just get to be a piece of arm candy for the evening. But hey, I bet your name is all over the planetary net tomorrow!”

“You’re not making me feel any better,” Arc grumbled.

At the sound of the door to the cockpit opening, they both turned, but it was only Jessica coming out in an Imperial Guard’s uniform: nearly entirely black, with only traces of white, and not a single insignia of rank to be seen. She did have a simple earbud with an attached microphone, which made Arc wonder whether there might not be a better setup now that she had neural lace. It also occurred to him that she might be the first royal guard serving on a personal security detail who did.

“She’ll be out in a moment,” Jessica announced, brusquely, and then continued on by to the door. “Open this up, lieutenant. I have drones to launch.” While she lifted a hard-shelled briefcase, Patel leapt to do as she asked. As soon as the cabin was exposed to the outside air, the scents of the city and the airport rushed in: oil, hot tarmac, the rubber of wheels. And beyond that, like a sort of grime that couldn’t ever be entirely scrubbed away, the smell of the jungle.

“Stay inside until I signal you,” Jessica called back over her shoulder, and then stepped out of the door. Arc saw that someone had maneuvered a set of small, rolling stairs right up to the Saker, so that they wouldn’t need to climb down awkwardly.

Imperial Guard Morrow has initiated a request for a group chat, Iceni told him, a moment later. So far as I can tell it will include only you, her, and Cassie.

“Accept it,” Arc murmured, which got him only a brief look from Lieutenant Patel for his trouble.

“Mech pilots,” Patel said, and shook his head with a grin. “Always mumbling to yourselves and looking distracted. What’s it like having a machine in your head all the time?”

“Kinda of like having an imaginary friend,” Arc said, after thinking for a moment. “You know, like a little kid does?”

“I don’t think I could do it,” Patel admitted, and gave an exaggerated shudder. “Too much like those freaks in the Singularity.” He hesitated a moment, and seemed to realize how what he’d said might be taken. “Not that I’m calling you or the princess a freak. I mean—someone has to do it. Credit to you for being willing to let them cut your skull open, I guess.”

If the man hadn’t thoroughly outranked Arc, he might have told him to quit while he was ahead. Thankfully, they were saved from any further awkwardness by Jessica reporting in.

JM: I’m assured by the locals that our perimeter is secure, though I’d prefer to have a full team of guards here. I’ve scanned every rooftop and window within a kilometer, and I don’t see any sign of snipers. Drones are flying an overwatch pattern. I think we can move you over to the car as soon as you’re ready, Your Imperial Highness. The sooner the better, actually. I don’t like staying here on the tarmac.

CS: Out in a moment.

The door to the cockpit opened, and Arc turned, expecting to see Cassie. Instead, a woman wearing full lieutenant bars, who must have been the pilot, slipped out into the cabin and flashed Arc a grin.

“We’ll have all the bags packed up and sent over to the palace,” she said, “so don’t worry about leaving any of your things behind.” Then, she dropped her voice to a whisper: “You’re in for a treat, kid.”

Arc opened his mouth to reply, but wasn’t entirely certain what to say to that, so he simply closed it again. When Cassie came out a moment later, he understood exactly what the pilot had meant.

He’d seen the dress a week before, of course, when Cassie had tried it on for the first time in San Teodoro; and then, when Manuel had scurried around her with a measuring tape, needles, and a bit of chalk just before the sky had opened up during their walk back. Whatever the tailor had done wasn’t obvious, but somehow the black and white silk seemed to have been transformed. It no longer simply looked good; it looked incredible.

Weeks of marching through the jungle, shouldering rifles on the firing range, and even shovelling food into their mouths at the dining hall had given Arc a certain image of Cassie in his mind. She wasn’t large—just a bit shorter than he was, actually—but she was tough. Unlike Arc, she’d resolved to make it to the academy years before actually arriving, and she’d always been in good shape. But until just that moment, he wouldn’t ever have thought to associate the word ‘elegant’ with her.

That was a mistake.

Cassie in makeup, a fitted silk evening dress, and a black wig to hide her shaved-scalp no longer looked like an academy cadet who’d had to use the same latrine ditches as anyone else. She was, for the first time since Arc had met her, every centimeter a princess imperial. No one said a word as she walked over.

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“Put your right arm out,” Cassie told him, and Arc obeyed without a second thought. “Just make certain that’s there for me whenever we’re walking anywhere together,” she told him, looping her own arm through his. He noticed that she was just a bit taller than he was used to, and that when their gazes met, they saw each other eye to eye.