"The Last Resort just called for landing, Colonel. Do you want us to detain DarLewies?"
"No, thank you. Permit him to land and do as he wishes, but keep him under close surveillance. Discreetly, of course."
The security chief smiled. "Of course, Colonel. We will keep you informed at all times. Will you need any further assistance?"
"I do not believe so, but if I should, I will ask."
Nevan had to land at the New Tokyo civilian spaceport, but he was likeliest to be able to get current information about Owajima at the nearby Imperial Navy base, so he rented a car and drove the twenty kilometers north. He'd been on so many worlds that he didn't find Nippon-Ni particularly remarkable, though he was pleased that the temperature was high enough he didn't need a jacket. And the smell of chocolate chip cookies or a close local equivalent coming from a shop he passed was tempting enough to make his mouth water, but he kept going; Nevan DarLeras' fondness for those was well enough known in the wrong circles that he didn't dare indulge it when he was under cover.
Things were definitely not going his way, he decided as he neared the base. Traffic was too heavy for a normal workday, and he found out why when he got close to the main gate: a banner over the road welcomed visitors to the annual Base Open House. Nevan addressed a caustic, "Why me?" to the gods he only half-believed in, but it might look suspicious if he turned and left; instead, he kept going with traffic, which took him to a parking area that would need major help to look like a lawn again after being used this way.
There wasn't anything useful he could accomplish during an open house, with all the base offices closed, so he decided he might as well bow to the inevitable and try to enjoy himself. Such events did have their good points; the various units' hospitality stands tried to outdo each other, so the quality and variety of food and drink available was truly impressive. He should be able to find treats he liked almost as well as chocolate chip cookies, but ones that wouldn't blow his cover. He walked toward the exhibit-covered landing field, glad that he'd kept his identity as a Sandeman warrior; as crowded as the area was, he was given plenty of room to move. He was impressed despite himself by the exhibits, too. Whoever was in charge of this open house had managed to get a heavy destroyer for a static display--and while those were nowhere near as big as the kilometer-diameter battle cruisers, which were far too big to land, they were quite big enough to have the visitors making awed comments.
Curious, Nevan walked around the ship until he found its ID--and then he sent another caustic comment to one of the newest gods. *Dammit, Kelly, if you want me to deliver your blades to Owajima, how about some cooperation instead of all these problems?*
The destroyer was the IHD Warleader Riordan, a ship from the Fiftieth Fleet, which meant it was crewed primarily by Sandemans. That was bad enough, but a good percentage on this particular ship were from Clan Leras, so even the ones not directly related to him would know him on sight. And they weren't IntelDiv; they wouldn't know not to recognize him. He turned and began walking away, hoping against hope that the crew was still all aboard ship. He'd been lucky enough not to get caught in such a situation during his active career; maybe that luck would hold long enough for him to get out of this one.