“Yeah.” Justine looked up from her hands and smiled. “Just distracted, I guess.”
“Where are Casey and Sebastian?”
Justine hesitated. "On the traplines."
“It’s good that Casey has someone with him now.”
“Yeah.” She could feel her smile wobbling. Nothing they were talking about was not illegal. “Let’s not talk about this here, okay?”
She actually managed to think about normal things as she put on her uniform—what she was going to cook for dinner (twice as much, now that Sebastian was with them), the laundry on the floor in the bedroom, and Casey’s smile and his kiss as he left for work.
But as she and Lisa entered room 917 and continued in her task, she kept her eye on the door. The MFP’s had been removed from the room for their daily fitness routine, and that gave them an hour to change the bedding on all twenty-five beds in the room and lay out a new set of clothes. When the MFP’s returned, they would receive a nutrition shake and their second round of daily tests.
As Justine stripped off her fourth set of sheets she caught sight of a white lab coat and turned. Dominic was walking down the aisle. She put her eyes back on her task until his footfalls were right beside her.
“Hey,” he said under his breath.
She glanced around. Lisa was in the opposite corner. She tilted her head toward Lisa. “She’s trustworthy, but she doesn’t know it was you.”
“All the same,” he said, “I’ll keep it short. I want to take the MFP2s—all of them.”
Justine's heart jolted. Yes. Yes. No. “And you want me to help?”
“Yes.” A long pause. "Please."
Justine blew out a breath. “I'll consider it."
Their eyes finally met. “Thank you,” he said softly, “May I show up at your home to discuss it with you?”
“Yes.”
“I will contact you in a few days.”
Justine glanced at Lisa again as Dominic walked away. She still hadn’t noticed the exchange.
__
Saturday night, Dominic arrived quietly on their landing. Justine set mugs of coffee in front of Casey and Dominic at the kitchen table. She brushed her fingers across the nape of Casey's neck as she passed by with the carafe, and he glanced back at her and winked.
“How was your Christmas, Dominic? I haven't seen you since then.” Casey asked as he pulled the coffee cup toward himself. “I hope you didn't spend it alone."
Justine carried the carafe toward the kitchen counter and glanced back to catch Dominic’s response.
“No,” Dominic said. He sipped the coffee and looked down into the cup. “I spent it with…” he paused, “Well, it’s rather complicated.”
“Relationships are,” Casey said. "Say no more, if you wish." He stirred sugar into his coffee and glanced over his shoulder at Justine. Sebastian, who was sitting on the sofa, looked up from his book with interest. The lad had mastered reading in an afternoon, it seemed, and now they could barely pry the books from his hands.
Casey’s knowing smile warmed Justine through. She crossed to him and slipped her arms around his shoulders, breathing in the soapy-clean scent of his hair.
Dominic surveyed them, the warm, incandescent light reflecting in his chocolate brown eyes. A handsome man like him—certainly he would have a lover.
“Our particular complication was trying to get a marriage permit,” Casey said, “Not only does it take plenty of money, but you also have to either undergo a hysterectomy or prove you are worthy of procreating—as if people required marriage to procreate.”
“Why, do you have a genetic disease?” Dominic asked, his eyes lighting with genuine interest.
“No.” Casey’s voice contained wry amusement. “But as neither of us are particularly gifted in intellect or physicality, we are liable to produce similarly mediocre offspring.”
Justine felt her ire rise. That Casey should be called mediocre, or unworthy of producing children, was ridiculously bigoted. He was a kind, loving, devoted, trustworthy man—the sort of man the city needed more of, not less.
“I suppose you, sir, shall not have that difficulty,” Casey said.
“I am an MFP,” Dominic said without expression. “I'm sterile, though my profile is satisfactory. As part of the professional class, as long as we marry within our class, we do not require tests to obtain a marriage permit.”
“But still your relationship is complicated,” Casey said. “When two people come together in any sort of intimate relationship, complications are sure to abound.”
“Indeed, it seems humans are wired for these things.” Dominic said quietly. He dropped his eyes. “Still, it seems they cannot do without them… even if they try.”
“You say ‘they’,” Justine said. She slid her hand over Casey’s shoulder and sat down beside him.
Dominic turned and looked at her, with an odd coldness in his eyes. “Yes, they. But to the point of my visit.”
He reached down and took a sheaf of papers from the bag that sat beside him on the floor. He flipped over the top page and slid it toward Justine. “This is a diagram of the escape route I have mapped out.”
She recognized the starting point, obviously the rejection room. Her eyes followed the penciled lines and neatly labeled points along the map. Engineering corridor, boiler room, exit. “Did you draw this?” she asked.
Dominic looked up. “Yes.”
“Wow.”
“The door was wired to set off an alarm if opened,” Dominic leaned closer and traced the lines representing the door. “But I'll cut the wires.”
“What side of the building does it lead to?” Justine asked.
Dominic brought out another sheet of paper. This contained a simple diagram of the entire building, and the topography around it. “It brings you out onto the north side of the building, which leads to the field.” He stared at the paper like it might animate before him. “The difficulty is getting them from that door to… to wherever.”
“Wherever?” Casey asked. He looked up at Dominic with narrow eyes.
“At this point, it seems I will need to either leave them in the engineering corridor until I can retrieve them when it is dark, or find someone who can receive them and take them to safety,” Dominic said. He leaned back in his chair. “But I don't expect you to figure that out.”
“But we could,” said Casey. “For instance, if you knew two people who were available during the day…”
The sip of coffee in Justine’s mouth went down too fast, and for a moment she could do nothing but cough. When she finally had command of her voice again, she said, “Casey, you don’t need to get involved in this!”
He turned toward her. “I am involved in this,” he said gently. “Because my wife, and my brother Sebastian are both involved. Justine, when I said that we should do our utmost to rescue MFPs, I meant ‘we’, not ‘you’.”
“But it’s… it’s…” Justine felt her eyes well up.
“It's dangerous,” Dominic leaned over the table and looked Casey in the eye. “And it may become more dangerous. I am often under close scrutiny. But if you were willing to endanger your wife’s life and not yours, I would have a few choice words for you and none of them flattering. What do you propose?”
Sebastian got up from his place on the couch and silently joined them. He gazed at Casey with trusting eyes. His message was clear—if Casey was in, so was he.
No!
“Both Sebastian and I are comfortable with the wilder lands surrounding the facility. We could receive the MFP’s and bring them to a safe place. Do you have a place?”
Dominic shook his head and chewed his lip.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Casey said, “I will use what connections I have within the church.”
“I want to know who he is, even if he’s a member of your church, or your relative, or whoever. I want to thoroughly investigate him.”
Casey nodded. “Understood.”
Suddenly Dominic
looked up. “When you say church, you don’t mean state.”
Casey shook his head. “I suppose we have equal amounts of blackmail-useful information on each other.”
“I’ll ask no further.”
“You can ask.”
Dominic regarded him solemnly. “I will, someday. But sometimes it’s better not to know. Then you won’t have to lie when asked.”
“Fair enough. I will begin by contacting my friend Ernest Brewster,“ Casey said. "He runs a government store in this neighborhood. He has many connections."
"He won't mind you involving him?" Dominic eyed Casey.
"Besides Justine, there is no one I know better," Casey said in a low voice, "He will help."
“Justine can contact me at work if you have further information. I can't give you my phone number. As it is, whenever I come here I leave it at home. It's tracked, or could be tracked, as easily as Caspian tracks the MFPs."
"In that way we are lucky," Casey said, "As long as we're in our neighborhoods, or in our jobs, the city doesn't care where we are."
"We may look more free to you." Dominic glanced at Casey. His mouth had a wry twist. "But our walls and gates are just invisible ones."
"Is anyone free?" Sebastian asked.
Justine watched Dominic's eyes narrow and turn toward Casey.
"Such questions you ask, Seb." Casey smiled and rubbed his beard. "Dear God, I want to tell you yes, Seb—especially you, because I want you to be free." He blew out his breath. "Here's what I know. We always have at least one choice. There is always one. Both of you made choices that altered the course of your lives, despite being slaves of Caspian. Is it not so?"
"Yes," Sebastian said immediately.
"It is so," Dominic said in a low voice. He leaned back and crossed his arms.
"Moreover, we always have the choice of how to view an event or circumstances—"
"But," Dominic cut in, "How we perceive circumstances is largely dependent on how we were programmed, or raised, if you prefer."
"That is true, but aren't we Homo Sapiens? Man wise? Don't we, of all creatures, have the power of introspection? Can a dog, or a horse, or a squirrel judge itself?"
"Of those three I know only squirrels." Sebastian tilted his head to the side. "I hope they aren't sentient, because I should find it harder to eat them."
Dominic grimaced, and Justine turned her head so that he would not see her smile. He couldn't know, nor appreciate, that squirrel was a bit of a delicacy in their house.
"Sentient." Casey shoved Sebastian gently. "Hear the words this one uses. But not quite what I am looking for—self-awareness comes close, I believe. Tell me, Dominic. You're the scientist. Are animals self-aware? Are they introspective?"
Dominic's face was skeptical. "Research is inconclusive, but I would say no."
"Are you self-aware? Introspective?"
"I am," Sebastian said before Dominic could respond.
"Yes," Dominic said softly, he dropped his gaze.
"So you can override your instincts. You overrode them when you rescued Sebastian." Casey rested his chin on his palm and gazed at a blank spot on the wall. "I can't deny that your upbringing is tough to overcome, but it can be overcome. If it couldn't, I would be an alcoholic and a wife-beater like my father."
Justine squeezed his hand and pressed his fingers to her lips. She would have never known Casey had suffered at his father's hands, not if Casey hadn't told her six months after they'd met. She'd idolized him, seen him as a giant among the other men in their tiny house-church. But in a quiet moment in the house he and Ernest shared, as she'd prepared songs to lead the small congregation in and he'd reviewed his sermon notes, he'd shared the story with her. It was the first time they'd touched. She'd found his hand and squeezed it, almost like she was doing now. His green eyes had moistened, and he'd turned away.
Three years later, on their wedding night, she would see the scars on his body. She was still finding the scars on his heart.
CHAPTER 11
The bell on the door of the government store jingled, and Casey and Sebastian stomped off their boots in the entry, sending snow clumps skittering all over the concrete floor. Ernest looked up at their red noses and the frost in Casey’s beard and grinned. “Long day, boys? Let me get you tea. No coffee today. It didn’t come in.”
Ernest nodded to his teenage brother, who kept the store with him, and led Casey and Sebastian through the door into the cafe at the back of the store. “Did you find work today?”
“Chopping wood,” Sebastian said. He pulled his leather mitts off and rubbed his long hands together. He was sporting blisters across his palms, and even Casey’s calloused hands were sore.
“Seb’s getting pretty handy with an axe,” Casey said. He clapped Sebastian on the shoulder. Why, exactly, a high-class family wanted a real wood fireplace was beyond him, but the four cords of firewood had been worth enough money to pay off the rent for the month.
Ernest opened the door at the end of the short hall, stepping into the warm light of the cafe. A big man in a plaid jacket sat at one of the tables. His hands were wrapped around a blue ceramic mug, his head was thrown back and his eyes were closed. He straightened and smiled at them.
“Casey, Sebastian, this is Peter Oakley. Peter, my good friends Casey and Sebastian Freedman.”
“Hello!” Peter boomed as he got up. His chair scraped on the floor and tipped over with a bang. Sebastian sprang to stand it back up. “Thank you, son,” Peter said. He shook Sebastian’s hand, and then Casey’s.
“Thank you for meeting with us,” Casey said. He fiddled with his gloves. He’d never met a man of Oakley’s standing in the worker district. He’d never seen a wealthy man in the district before. Ernest’s connections to the cattle baron were through another house-church at the other side of the city. Ernest had suggested, and then set up the meeting.
“A pleasure! A pleasure to be sure.” Oakley sat back down and motioned to the chairs. Sebastian sat down without compunction. Casey lowered himself, slowly, into the ladder-back chair. Ernest set steaming mugs in front of them, and then sat down as well.
“Ernest has given me the barest details,” Peter said before Casey could open his mouth. “Tell me what you need.”
Casey sucked in a breath. Would it be so easy? “Sir—“
“Peter,” Oakley said.
“Peter,” Casey stammered, “We need a safe place for five MFP’s in two weeks. They will be fresh from the factory, completely unwise to the ways of the world. They’ll need protection, training and love.”
“And you are... taking these from Caspian?”
“Yes. We have inside help there, a scientist.”
“Also an MFP,” Sebastian said. He slurped his tea.
Peter raised one eyebrow but asked no more. “I have no reservations about ‘stealing’ these humans, nor am I afraid of Caspian. I can shelter these men.”
“Thank you, sir!” Casey leaned forward and reached to clasp Oakley’s hand, but pulled back.
Oakley reached and grabbed Casey’s offered hand in his massive paw. “No, Casey, I wish...” He gnawed his lip for a moment. “Tell me what you need. Does this young man need a place as well?”
“No!” Casey said quickly, then laughed. “No, I couldn’t part with him now.” He jostled Sebastian’s arm, nearly spilling his tea. “Who would split wood for me?”
Sebastian snorted. “Who would carry your traps, and your bag, and the catch?”
“Exactly, Seb. You’re a fine pack mule.” Casey smiled and sighed, inwardly. All truth was, he’d hate to lose Sebastian, but the young man would have more opportunity at Oakley’s ranch. “Let’s get this first batch out of the way first, Peter.”
“There will be more?”
“I don’t know what our friend on the inside has in mind, but if there are more...”
“You will take them? I will take them, too.” Peter stroked his chin. His eyes went distant. “I suspect you’ll need a truck
or something to pick up the MFPs?”
Casey nodded. “Probably from the road, near Caspian. Sebastian and I will survey the area tomorrow.”
“Give the information to Ernest to me. He’ll make sure I get it.”
__
Casey knelt in the long grass. He felt the snow melt and seep through his pants, into his long johns. The wind brushed his face from the south, refreshingly warm for a February afternoon.
Behind him, Sebastian settled down into grass and blew out his breath slowly. “There she is.”
“There she is.” Casey slipped the binoculars off his neck and handed them to Sebastian. He wanted to get a better look at the plant, too, but Sebastian had a way of seeing things and remembering them exactly. He needed Sebastian’s memory today. He needed an exact description of the terrain between them and Caspian, an exact memory of the side of the building, and the door where they would receive the MFP’s.
There was almost no cover between them and the building. Dominic had called it a field. It was actually a swamp—frozen solid, but full of humps of soil, hummocks, bits of ice, and knee-deep drifts.
Running would be difficult, even though by the time of the theft much of the snow would be gone. It would be muddier then.
“Seb, are you as impressed as I that Dominic escaped on his own?” Casey said softly.
Sebastian crawled abreast of him. “He said he went through the front, though. He will have avoided some of the worst of the swamp, I think.” He pointed. “See, the edge there? Much more even—less cover, though.”
“What I’m trying to decide is what will be more important,” Casey said. He eased down into a sit. Sebastian handed him the binoculars, and he put them to his eyes. The cool rubber rims pressed against his skin. They were old, outdated things that had belonged to his father—army issue from back in the day when ordinary citizens were trained to fight. He looked over the edge of the building and the edge of the parking lot, just visible. The front entrance was around a couple of corners. He found the escape door, and scanned the swamp in slow, sweeping motions.
“The plant is built up on a man-made hill,” he muttered to Sebastian. He examined the tufts of grass and bulrushes sticking up. There was a definite drop-off, and also a deep drift, probably waist-high, fifteen or twenty yards from the gunmetal grey sides of the building.
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