He was allowed to stay in the medic ward until his hand was healed, since Biomatter Reprocessing tended to cause potential relapses in health or infections due to exposure. At least Medic Mignonette allowed him to hole up in a capsule room for the time being as he waited for his punishment.
If he had known this would be the result of a fruitless mission, he would have remembered his strengths were not in planning or in intellectual decisions. He battered his head against the wall screaming at himself for being so stupid. Now it would be another two weeks before he could do anything to help Yngvir. If Yngvir was even alive.
Running wasn't an option. Tracking systems could location an individual at every given point in the day. There was no way to hide from them. Scanners allowed them to peer through even walls of every material on board.
Fighting wasn't an option. Droids were powered with defense mechanisms that basically stunned anyone that tried to damage them. It wasn't enough to maim or kill humans, but humans didn't last long before passing out.
So all he could really do was wait. Wait and Wallow.
The door to the capsule room opened with a hiss and another Medic stepped inside. The Medic lowered the light in the room to 15%, just above human visibility. He stood up, "Excuse me, Medic? Is everything alright?"
The Medic pulled down the sanitary mask from their face and glowered at him, pinning him to the capsule bed. He swallowed. So this was how he would die.
Cassio stalked forward and jabbed his chest with a gloved finger. "This is not what I meant about not speaking. What do you think you're doing here?"
"Yngvir's missing."
The anger drained from Cassio's face, replacing it with a bloodless pale tone. "When."
"Three cycles ago."
"Then we do not have much time." Cassio pulled the medic mask over his face. "Stay here."
When Cassio returned, he had a cot chair rolling, though this one was more for head trauma patients and had a protective dome overtop to ensure nothing could cause further damage. "Get in." He sat in the chair and the dome folded over his head, encasing him in darkness.
Cassio pushed the maglev chair through the corridors. He had no idea where they were headed, considering the dome around his head blocked everything from his vision. "Where are we going?"
Cassio hissed for him to shut up.
The depressurization of a chamber door sounded and he was pushed through. Cassio released the seal on the dome and it unhinged, letting him free from its confines. "Where are we?" The room had several rows of lockers and a bench area, but with finer grade materials than those found in the mess halls.
"Changing room." Cassio popped open a few of the far cabinets and tossed him some clothing. Every piece of clothing was medic white and made of soft, thin fabrics unlike the low level utilitarian style garments provided to his working class.
"I should change into these?"
"No. I'm just throwing them at you." Cassio rolled his eyes and went to another set of cabinets and began undoing his own clothing.
He turned his back for some privacy and let his own clothes pile to the floor. The high collared shirt of the medic outfit was soft against his skin, and pliant. The jacket fit snugly around his shoulders, but cuffed at the correct length at his wrists. The pants were also snug, a little too tight around his thighs, but the material flexed easily. He pulled the white gloves on, since they'd been thrown his way.
Cassio had finished changing, though he didn't look much different, but they did match this time, with the same type of clothing. Civ Medic clothes it seemed these were. He was half certain this was also illegal.
Cassio handed him the face guard worn by most Medics off-shift. A mark that they were Medics and held professional authority in medical situations, should any emergencies arise. "Make sure to cover as much of your face as possible. And tuck all your hair into the cap."
He did has told and he caught his appearance in the mirror. He was shocked to see that he barely recognized himself. Cassio dumped his old clothes into a basin and the fabric lit up into flecks of burnt ash. He made a noise of outrage. Cassio brushed past him, "You won't be needing those."
Cassio pushed the door back open and headed down the hall, his gait even, like he was just leaving his shift. His own was disjointed due to his limp, but he tried to mimic the casualness Cassio oozed. They exited the medic sector, traveling into the holovaters to the upper deck levels.
"Don't talk until we are inside."
They were headed to the upper levels, where Hawthorn's quarters were and where others of the same pool rank habited. Except instead of towards the Odyssian port sides, they were headed to the other side, the Ozmandis fleet sectors.
There were three types of aircrafts that disembarked the Zvenigrad.
Odyssians flew scout missions, to the uncharted territories and had the smallest number of crew on board. Okivankos flew shuttles to charted territories and carried enough crew to last several months on location and had specialized tracking beams that could yank it back to the Zvenigrad in emergency situations. The Ozmandis fleets were battalions created to over take systems and in some cases strip the planets of resources.
He kept his mouth shut against all odds, until they reached an unmarked door and Cassio pressed an ungloved hand against the lock pad. The doors slid open and he pushed Hemlock in first, sidestepping as he closed the door again.
"Cassio?" A bulky man with golden hair and eyes to match stepped into the front room.
"Goldhorn, I need your help." Cassio pulled off the hat and the mask from his face.
Codename: Goldhorn. Commander of the largest Ozmandis fleet in Zvenigrad. He didn't even know what sort of power the Ozmandis ships held. All he knew was that the fleet was specialized in not fucking around. He tried to blend in with the wall as Goldhorn's eyes darted between the two of them.
"Yngvir's activated the chain reaction. It's only a matter of time before Blackthorn remembers."
"So he found you." Goldhorn led Cassio to a room of ornate chairs made of gold thread and gold gilding.
Cassio sat down slowly in one, his back stiff. "I don't know how. Both our memories were wiped clean of each other and our bond was burnt out."
Goldhorn wandered over to a cabinet and pulled out a crystal bottle from the shelves and pour two glasses of amber liquid. He handed one to Cassio and drank the other, not bothering to even acknowledge Hemlock's presence until he pointed with a finger. "Who's he in all this."
"Yngvir's bunkmate, Hemlock." The look Goldhorn gave him at the mention of his name made it obvious his name had been passed along to even the highest of places after the sync.
"Does Hawthorn know yet?" Goldhorn poured himself another drink, tossing it back quickly.
"No. He's been with Blackthorn in my chambers for the last week. Won't leave his side." Cassio didn't drink, but he twisted his hands around the glass. Gripping it.
Hemlock felt a sharp squeeze in his chest at the comment. It came without warning and he sagged against the wall. So it was true. He hadn't really meant anything in the grand scheme of things. He had just been a distraction to Hawthorn. He should have known. The fantasy had been too good.
Cassio opened his mouth, then closed it.
Goldhorn pour a third glass, but paused before drinking it. "What is it, Cassio?"
"He's returning to his Gingko state."
The glass dropped from Goldhorn's hand, shattering the crystal in a million tiny fragments around his feet. "What?"
"He lapsing again."
"Has he tried to look for Blackfeather yet?" The shards of crystal began to float in the air and twinkled as they reversed back into the shape of the cup it once was. The liquid pooled and Goldhorn stepped away from the puddle.
"No. He's been too injured to move the last few days."
"Can we get him into a cryo pod?"
"Maybe, but then we'd have to involve Blackfeather."
"No, we can't have that. We need to get Blackthorn as far away as possible, while you track down Yngvir."
"Hawthorn won't leave him alone."
Goldhorn's finger jerked to Hemlock. "Isn't that why you brought him? As bait?"
Cassio glanced over at him. "Not originally. I was hoping he could help me find Yngvir."
"High Expectations for a janitor."
"He found a way to get to me."
Hemlock hadn't moved away from the door but he really wanted to. Wanted to open it and run, the way Goldhorn looked at him. "I do not believe it had anything to do with skill, and more to do with a copious amount of misplaced luck."
Cassio didn't defend him, not that he expected him to. Cassio knew nothing about him.
"Make sure you go armed. I'll have Rowan get you some supplies."
Armed? Why would they need to go armed to find Yngvir?
What in Psion's name was happening?
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