Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two
The words came from so long ago.
“Whatever you do, don’t blink during crucial negotiations.” Zacharias Wentz handed his rifle off to his niece without breaking eye contact with Connor. “Can you do that?”
Connor swallowed. Could he?
He’d been called from his makeshift bunker, stinking like an animal after weeks without running water, boots soaked through and mud-caked. Now the wind howled and blasted him with freezing drops. Those alone were enough to make his eyes close.
Negotiations? With the Directorate?
Wentz was centimeters shorter, but his posture and maybe even his nobility made that difference in height hard to notice. His armor was makeshift plates worked into an old, heavy jacket worn through at the elbows and shoulders and crudely sewn back together where it had been torn.
He made it look like a dress uniform. Water dripped off the bill of a battered black cap that completed the look.
His intense eyes went soft, and a smile nudged up the edges of his mouth. “Connor?”
The memory was over.
The voice changed, taking on a feminine tone. The rain and biting cold were gone, replaced by the cooling Mara night.
Selen glared at him furiously but stepped aside. “Your responsibility.”
His responsibility?
“Connor?” The same voice as before. Someone tugging on his arm.
The moment rolled back onto him in full then.
Mara. The Lucky Sevens. His teammates. Drew in her foul clothes. Standing up to Selen. Issuing his ultimatum.
And not blinking when she’d tried to stare him down.
Wentz’s training from that terrible day had come through. Now Connor had to figure out what to do about his new responsibility.
He jerked his head toward the ramp. “Let’s get you inside.”
The others parted as he escorted Drew to the ramp, then into the cargo hold. Her reek was almost unbearable, but he forced back any reaction. When she turned, he handed her the duffel bag.
She bowed her head and smiled, maybe trying to hide her teeth with the sheet of greasy hair that fell, but it wasn’t enough. They were yellow-filmed and cracked. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“You will. We’ve got a ton of work waiting for you.”
“I mean I’ll—”
“You’ll prove me right. That’s what you mean. You’ll do the best work we’ve ever seen on Lucky Sevens. You’ll keep your nose clean. And that’s it.”
She blinked, then nodded. “Th-thanks.”
“Do me a favor.”
“Sure.”
“Empty that bag out, then toss it in the recycler.” He wiped his palms on his pants. “We’ve still got some of your old clothes in your cabin. They’re in your old locker. Remember the combination?”
Drew nodded. “They’ll be baggy.”
“Baggy’s fine. Clean up and recycle those clothes.”
“I—”
“You don’t live in Winter anymore. You’re with Selen’s Devils.”
Some of the droop seemed to fade from her posture. She saluted him, spun, then jogged awkwardly through the hold and banged up the ramp to the deck above.
When she’d been with the team before, she’d saluted him and Rudy. It had been a mocking thing then.
Not this time.
Connor stepped back and breathed in the night air.
Clanging on the ramp inside the cargo bay brought him back around.
Gregor came into view, pinching his nose and looking back up the ramp. “What has happened?”
“Don’t worry about it. Is everything okay?”
“No, everything has become terrible.” The smaller man’s eyes bugged out. “Starport security, they have received a transmission from Sang Security Headquarters.”
“A lockdown notice?”
“Yes! Any minute now, we will all be stuck down here.”
They couldn’t launch yet. There was so much they needed: supplies, ammunition…
Their customer.
Where was Mosiah? There were vehicle lights moving around among the parked starships, but none seemed to be headed for the Lucky Sevens.
Selen had a foot at the bottom of the ramp and had stopped to read something on her pocket computer. The glow lit her face for several seconds, then she turned the device off and put it away.
So, not Mosiah. Then who?
A new set of lights at the far end of the starport caught Connor’s attention. They were bright and powerful, like a well-maintained vehicle would have. That vehicle was speeding along the outer road toward the tarmac.
More lights trailed it, these duller and moving slower.
Mosiah wasn’t the only person who might be coming to the Lucky Sevens.
Gregor groaned. “Security vehicles.” He shook his head. “I am sorry.”
If it was starport security come to enforce lockdown, there was still time. They could get Mosiah aboard if he showed up before security did.
Unless the security teams knew Connor was aboard the Lucky Sevens.
And they would.
He plodded down the ramp, stopping at Selen’s side. “If they arrest me, there’s no reason for them to enforce the lockdown.”
She spun around on him. “You’re not getting out of this mess so easily.”
Where before, there hadn’t been much traffic to speak of, the road from the starport to the tarmac was now as busy as he could remember seeing. The bright lights of the lead vehicle were far ahead of the others, which were broken into two distinct clumps. Over those clumps, an air car sped, paying no heed to traffic lanes or etiquette.
Connor almost joked that the air car driver must have trained wherever Selen had trained. Her mood wasn’t going to handle humor well.
The bright lights of the fast lead car drew even closer, until it became clear it wasn’t a government vehicle but another deluxe rental like the one Mosiah had sent for them. This one was also a polished pewter that sparkled in the light coming off the Lucky Sevens.
When the vehicle stopped, Mosiah unfolded from the back seat and stood proud and commanding as a prince might have eons ago.
Vicente ran up to their client. “Sweet ride!”
Rather than act indignant, Mosiah chuckled. “Luxuries, young man. Those are the things an old man allows himself after years of sensing the approach of the end.”
Connor picked up the pace, until he was close enough to pat Vicente on the back. “Any cargo, Mosiah?”
“The trunk and—” The old man waved back toward the approaching line of vehicles. “One of those is mine.”
Rudy whistled and pushed his and Vicente’s cart toward the luxury rental. Connor popped the trunk and took the handful of bags out. They weren’t the sort of extravagant and stylish things he’d been expecting. Instead, they were sturdy, well-worn…functional.
He put them on Vicente’s cart with care that the old man acknowledged with a smile.
Then the first of the trucks arrived.
Yemi had his cart at the rear. “Yemi sees ammunition and supplies.”
Vicente whooped and pushed his cart over to start unloading. Rudy followed after, barking orders. Even Lem and Gregor joined in.
Minutes sped by as they unpacked everything. There were enough cases of goods and spares for the ship—all long overdue—to finally fill some of the cargo hold space.
Mosiah’s things were distinct enough from the regular deliveries, sealed in ruggedized metal containers with multiple locks and reinforcing straps. He followed after Yemi when the mechanic pushed them up the ramp.
Rudy elbowed Connor in the ribs. “She looking for you, Lieutenant?”
Connor followed the other man’s eyes to a sleek, black air car hovering on the other side of the now-empty trucks.
Toshiko leaned against the vehicle’s dangerously sloped hood, lips trembling.
“Oh.” Connor could barely breathe.
The old sergeant grunted. “Go on. We’ll get everything loaded.”
“Thanks, Rudy.”
Motors hummed to life as the empty trucks started away. Waiting for them to leave was torture. Each one that passed between Connor and Toshiko gave her an opportunity to change her mind and fly away.
But she stayed.
He ran to her. “Is everything okay?”
“Other than you leaving?” She blinked away tears.
“Where’d you rent a dangerous thing like this?”
“It’s mine.”
“You’re doing well for yourself.”
“I told you—I’m good.” She shrugged a plain, brown backpack off her shoulder and shoved the container into his gut.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
He unzipped the top. “My sneakers?”
“They’re all that’s left of the Cave.”
“What?” His fingers nearly lost their grip. “More assassins?”
“I don’t think so. It was a bomb. That’s extreme for an assassin.”
It was extreme for anyone. The place was used by civilians. “Then who?”
“Haven’t figured that part out yet.” Toshiko looked distant, as if trying to remember something. Then she unzipped her light jacket and pulled something out. “Take these.”
She dropped an amulet suspended from a sturdy, stainless steel chain into his palm, then a matte-black pocket computer of an unfamiliar design.
He squinted at them. “What—?”
“That computer’s an encryption device. You can use it to ride on any network undetected. If you get into trouble anywhere, call me.”
“That sounds an awful lot like a Shadow Passenger.”
“Because it is.”
“Aren’t those illegal?”
“Everything’s illegal, Connor.” She took the device from his hand and shoved it deep into his pocket, then squeezed him. “Don’t lose it.”
“Okay.” His resolve to stay with the team teetered. “What about this necklace.”
Toshiko took that from him and placed it over his head, then slid the amulet inside his T-shirt. “If there's anything left between us, always keep this with you."
“Connor!” Selen was behind him somewhere, shouting.
He spotted her on the ramp, pointing wildly back at the starport.
Blue lights flashed atop a string of air cars speeding out from the starport terminal.
Security. The lockdown.
Toshiko threw her arms around his neck, pulled him close, and kissed him so hard that he tasted blood.
Then she climbed into her air car and kicked the fans on full.
He ran for the Lucky Sevens, trying to push away the memory of hurt and hope in her beautiful, sad eyes.
Selen yanked him inside the cargo hold as the ramp clattered up into its compartment, and the outer hatch slammed shut. She didn’t say anything, only shoved him ahead of her as the Lucky Seven’s rockets rumbled to life.
If they were going to escape Mara, it had to be now.