Outcasts (44 page)

“No one is above lib – liberation in the Safe Lands. Do you know … know what TRO founders went through to rescue technology from the Old world? P – People of Old were selfish, hiding technology from each other to make a p – profit. They didn’t share. And they didn’t take p – precautions. And when the world ended and no one was left who knew how to do anything, it wasn’t easy to figure it out. And TRO made sure it won’t hap – happen again. If the Guild needs to get rid of us, they b – bring in new p – people. The tutorials train them.”

The idea of tutorials intrigued Mason, as did the man’s stutter. “Are these tutorials only for the TRO or for other tasks as well, like medical procedures?”

“There are tutorials for every … everything. B – But they’re only shown to p – people in task training. Ruston, the suits are going to be too b – big.”

Ruston walked over to one of the racks and fingered a white sleeve. “Better too big than too small.”

“I sup – suppose.” Lhogan got up and produced a plastic bin from a shelf on the corner, from which he removed three tiny plastic boxes. “B – Before you ask, Mr. Mason, without getting overly tech – technical, these are simp – ply contact lenses that have MicroTag resisters emb – bedded into the p – polymer. P – Put them into your eyes, and once I activate the SimSuits, you’ll b – be able to … to see one another.”

The idea of trying contact lenses thrilled Mason. “Are they sanitary?”

“I always clean them b – before put – putting them away,” Lhogan said. “B – But you should all wash your hands at the sink.” He gestured to an industrial sink in the corner.

“What about my SimSight lenses?” Omar asked.

“Take them out,” Lhogan said. “You can’t wear b – both.”

“Do you have something I can put them in? They were really expensive and I don’t have any more credits.”

Seriously? Was Omar really worried about something so trivial at a time like this?

“I sup – suppose I can find something.” Lhogan went back to the shelf.

Mason washed his hands and returned to Lhogan’s desk. “How do you get them in?”

“Ah, yes. Well, p – put one on the tip of your finger, cup … cup side up. Make sure there’s no dust. If there is, I’ve got some solution here somewhere.” He wandered over to the shelf again. “Ah, here we are.” He carried a little white bottle back to his desk. “Use your other hand to p – pull your skin away from your eye and p – put in the contact. Go … go slowly. And try not to b – blink or move your head. Oh, and b – before you let go of the contact, make sure to center it on your … your eye. Move it around if necessary.”

“It’s easy, Mase,” Omar said, removing one of his SimSight lenses to the tip of his finger.

“When you think … think it’s in and you let go of your eye, b – blink slowly. It might hurt as you b – blink out any air bub – bubbles.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Omar said. “But I don’t see anything yet.”

Omar had them in already? Mason was still holding his first on his finger.

“That’s b – because I haven’t turned you on,” Lhogan said. “And you’re not wearing the … the suits.”

Mason managed to get in both his contacts. They made his eyes feel wet, as if he were going to cry. He blinked, and a tear rolled down his cheek.

“Now the suits.” Lhogan walked to the rack of suits and looked through them. He lifted one off the rack. “This is the smaller of the two pro – prototypes.” He handed it to Omar, then gave Mason a second suit. “Not to offend you, b – but these suits were designed to … to fit some of our undercover enforcers.”

Mason wasn’t offended. “Strength alone does not make a man.”

Lhogan flashed Mason a rare smile. “I like that. Very … very good.”

The suit weighed as much as chest waders and were just as stiff, though the fabric was thinner and bright white on the outside. The inside was black.

“P – Put them on over your clothes. You’ll need the extra p – padding.”

Mason moved his surgical kit from his pocket to a front pocket on the suit and made sure it didn’t show, then slipped off his shoes and stepped into the suit. But then he realized the suit had built-in feet with rubber tread on the bottoms. “Wait, should I have kept my shoes on?” Mason asked.

“Yes, sorry. And there are snaps inside the … the feet to fasten over your shoes and keep them tight.”

Mason stepped out of the suit and carried it and his shoes to the nearest chair. He sat down and put his shoes back on, then put his feet into the legs. He found the snaps, which were attached to a lining
pouch that covered his shoes. He fastened them, then pulled the legs up and threaded his arms through the sleeves and into the gloves. The suit zipped up from waist to chin and sagged around his middle, clearly designed for someone built like Jordan. At least Mason was a few inches taller than Omar.

“How do these work, anyway?” Mason asked.

“It’s SimTech illusion technology ap – plied to a different surface,” Lhogan said.

Fine, but that didn’t explain anything. “But what’s SimTech illusion technology?”

“It’s the technology of creating illusions on different surfaces. In a p – person’s b – body, that’s done b – by imp – planting a SimTag for ID numbers and SimArt. For Wyndos that’s done with … with MicroTags.”

“So the suit is filled with MicroTags?” Mason asked.

“Sort of. Think p – polymer light-emitting diodes. We emb – bed them into 140 Denier p – polyurethane p – polyester, ap – apply a film of p – poly methylmethacrylate, followed by a layer of p – poly muslin. That makes the … the fabric.”

It sounded fascinating, but Mason didn’t understand most of what Lhogan had said. “There must be a lead tag, right? Like the hand tag that speaks to additional SimTags in the body?” Mason thought of Omar’s SimArt tattoos that came and went when he wore his gloves.

“P – Precisely. We cut out the suits from the … the fa – bric and sew them up. A CamTag is sewn into each suit in the … the front right shoulder. After that we pro – program the micros to the lead and test them. The MicroTags in the fa – bric simp – ply rep – plicate the … the feed. Just like the lead SimTag controls the others in the b – body, the CamTag controls the other MicroTags in a suit. They’ve never b – been used for any real tactical situation b – before. I’m not p – positive they’ll work in all environments and … and temp – peratures.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Omar asked.

“I … I don’t know. That’s just it: we would never send an enforcer into danger wearing a … a suit that we haven’t fully tested. And
we’re several months away from completing the testing on … on the SimSuits.”

“They’re the only chance we’ve got.” Mason appreciated Lhogan’s risk when he clearly would rather not let them use the suits. “Thank you for letting us use them.”

Lhogan blinked, eyes still wide and paranoid. “Yes, well, let me get you the … the hoods, and I’ll make sure you’re all showing up on my … my GlassTop.”

The hoods were white with no eye holes or openings for the mouth and seemed to be made of the same fabric as the suits. But when Mason put his on, he could see through it and breathe. “How does this work?”

Lhogan’s rare smile returned. “You ask that a lot, Mr. Mason. The hoods are made invisible by adhering a … a light-emitting p – polymer skin to the b – back of the fabric.”

“This is amazing,” Mason said. Omar looked like a human-shaped snowman. “When will it make us invisible?”

“Once I turn you on.” Lhogan sat at a GlassTop computer and started working. Mason walked behind him and watched over his shoulder. Lhogan opened a program that brought up an animated version of a man wearing a suit. “This is for suit one, which is the … the small suit.” Lhogan’s fingers made dull thuds against the GlassTop as he typed. Mason looked to Omar, who was standing by a rack of belts.

Omar disappeared.

Fascinating. “Omar! You’ve vanished,” Mason said.

“Whoa.” Nash walked out into the middle of the room. “I can’t see you at all!”

Mason strained to see his brother and caught the faint outline of his bulky suited form moving around, like a ripple in the surface of a lake. The cameras didn’t quite work perfectly. The line was off a bit, but he really had to be looking to see it. “That’s amazing.”

“Thank you.” On the screen, as Lhogan tapped away, the image of the man in the suit changed to another. “This one is yours,” he said.

Mason stepped back and waited for it, his nerves tingling. He held his hand in front of his face and glanced at Lhogan’s GlassTop, and
when he looked back to his hand, it was gone. A puzzling thrill of panic shot through him. His brain knew his hand was still there, yet part of him still reacted to the fact that it could not be seen.

Mason waved his hand and caught a slight vibration in the air. These were incredible inventions. Who would ever know to look for them? With these, the rebels could do almost anything in the Safe Lands. And if the enforcers began using them …

He tried to locate Omar in the room and found he couldn’t. “How will we not run into each other?” Mason asked. “Or see each other if we need to? I thought the contacts — ”

“I need to activate the … the contacts, and then you’ll see,” Lhogan said, tapping away.

“I see Mason!” Omar shouted. “You’re a blue blob.”

Mason’s lenses suddenly activated as well, illuminating a blue form across the room.

“There is a … a number on the chest and b – back of each suit. Number one is the small suit, um … Omar. Mr. Mason is number two.”

Mason could barely see the white outline of the number two on his chest. The number one on the back of Omar’s suit was much larger.

“What about weapons?” Omar asked. “Won’t they see them if we’re carrying?”

“The suits have a … a flap at the waist that covers where a b – belt can be worn. I don’t have any weapons for you, though.”

“I’ve got weapons in my truck,” Ruston said. “Lhogan, do you have the link for Zane to run these?”

“Ah, no. I’m running them.”

“Are you sure you want to be involved?” Ruston asked.

“I have to b – be. What are you using them for, anyway?”

“We need to pay a little visit to the Champion House,” Omar said, punching his palm.

Lhogan’s eyelids fluttered. “Did I … I mention if anything happens to … to these suits …? Or if you’re caught …?”

“Yeah, you did,” Ruston said.

“Just let Zane run them and you won’t have to worry,” Nash said.

“The – the suits are my responsibility. If I give the … the eyes to Zane, I’ve got nothing b – but your word that you’ll return them. I … I trust you, Ruston. But I … I don’t know these b – boys, I don’t know where Zane’s GlassTop is, and I certainly don’t trust whatever crazy ad – adventure you’re planning at Champion House. My eyes only. F – Final offer.”

Mason walked around the room, playing with the suit. He didn’t quite understand what Ruston and Lhogan were talking about, but he felt badly that Lhogan was feeling pressured to help them.

“Can Zane at least watch the feed?” Ruston asked. “If he can’t see …”

“Yes, I … I can do that. But if he tries to … to hack me, I’ll move the feed and … and he’s out.”

“He won’t hack you,” Nash said. “He’s a good boy.”

“What’s his – his message ID?” Lhogan asked.

“Techwiz dot sl,” Ruston said.

Lhogan tapped it in. “I … I still don’t like this. I’m risking every – everything. The p – price is much higher than what I owe you.”

“Then I owe you now,” Ruston said. “Can you record the lens feeds?”

“I can.”

“Do it. My guess is that these two will see something tonight that will be useful for blackmail. If anyone comes after you, show it to them and promise that the Owl will show it to everyone in the Safe Lands if anything happens to you.”

“The Owl?” Lhogan asked. “You think Task Director Renzor is involved in … in something sinister?”

As far as Mason was concerned, Lawten Renzor was always involved in something sinister.

“If not him, someone who wants to frame him,” Ruston said. “Either way, we should know soon enough.”

Lhogan sighed. “I’ll re – record it. B – But if they don’t see anything that can b – be used as b – blackmail, I won’t have anything to use to pro – protect myself from any accusations.”

“If nothing happens, you won’t need to protect yourself,” Ruston said. “And, like I said, I’ll owe you.”

“Well, everything is ready,” Lhogan said, pushing back from the GlassTop. “Take good care of – of them.”

The suits, of course, not Mason and Omar’s lives.

“They won’t get a scratch,” Omar said.

Mason hoped it was true.

O
mar was glad to have the loaded gun on his hip, even if it had betrayed him once tonight. He wouldn’t have felt safe going up against Otley and those dual-action pistols with only a stunner. He needed the same heat Otley would be packing, that overgrown boar.

Nash drove the DPT truck down a winding road filled with massive homes, headed for Champion House. The three of them sat side by side in the cab — a tight squeeze, with Omar in the middle.

The suits gave them an advantage. Tonight he was the Invisible Owl, embarking on his most daring mission yet. The suits were hot, though, and Omar was glad he’d removed the hood for the drive, but every time he looked down and his body came into view, glowing blue, he jumped. He completely forgot the contacts in his eyes three times in the space of five minutes. He needed sleep — and Skottie’s PV, which he couldn’t get to with the suit on.

He burned at the idea of Shaylinn in a car trunk; sweet Shaylinn who never said a mean word to anyone, who prayed for people and wrote kind messages, who’d been forced to produce
two
babies, who loved him in spite of the wretched person he was …

Who’d seen him kiss Kendall.

He was sick. Sick with it all. The Owl was supposed to make a difference. But he needed more time to plot Operation Lynchpin. And this … complication with Shaylinn and now Kendall’s death … None of it was helping him keep his focus.

Why was he so stupid? He could have stopped Kendall’s kiss. Stood up. Moved away. Then Shaylinn wouldn’t have gotten upset, and Omar would have had more time to think about the gun. Might have decided to leave it behind. Then Kendall would be —