Chapter 48

All the chill went out of the air on the bridge when Connor caught Drew’s surprised and hurt gasp. He tensed in the uncomfortable seat.

The engineer looked down at the Dustoff packet in her palm. “You thought…?”

Connor felt the color leaving her face like a punch in the gut. She had been an addict. There had been problems since hiring her back on. What was he supposed to think?

Except…that was a horrible way to treat someone.

He cleared his throat. “You were a Dustoff addict.”

“Were. I told you: I’m clean. No revel, no Dustoff.”

The lights coming off the consoles gave her a sickly hue. Her breathing rattled louder than the gentle murmur of the control systems.

This wasn’t what he’d expected. “But it looks—”

She shoved the packet at him. “Did you look at it? You say it looks…what? Bad?”

It was a square, foil packet that still held the impression of four capsules, even thought it was empty. The material was thin and light, but it was sturdy, just like with approved drugs. No one paid for something as expensive as Dustoff only to have capsules fall out and roll away.

He took the thing from her, which was what she wanted. “I—”

“Look at the foil of the bottom two, where they’ve been peeled back.”

The writing was upside down, so he twisted the packet around and pulled the foil on those two compartments back all the way. “What are these numbers?”

“That’s the date you fired me. Remember?”

How could he forget? He’d been sick to his stomach the entire week after. “This is…?”

“The last day I ever touched illegal drugs.”

“I—” He handed the packet back to her. “Why keep it?”

“A good luck charm. You know, for when things get bad.”

“Like now?”

The engineer laughed nervously. “Especially now.”

“Does it help?”

“On some level, sure. I mean, sometimes people need little talismans and charms. For strength, you know? Because there are things in the universe bigger than us—bigger than anyone.”

Connor bowed his head. “I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“No.” She stuffed the packet into her jumpsuit pocket. “I get it. I should’ve said something, I guess.”

He snapped his fingers. “The video!”

“Video? Oh! To see if anyone was behind all the sabotage?”

“The better control panel is at Selen’s station.”

When Connor pushed up from Yemi’s seat, the sting from the scraped leg intensified. Settling into Selen’s chair, catching her familiar and comforting scent actually seemed to quiet the pain.

Her console came to life at the press of Connor’s thumbprint, but when he pressed the option to access the security system, a warning message flashed.

He squinted at the display, unable to believe what was on the screen.

Drew leaned closer. “Access denied? How can you be locked out?”

“I don’t know.”

Connor tried his thumbprint again. It didn’t change the display message.

Other systems responded just fine, but he couldn’t get to the security system.

How?

It hit him then. “The power outage. Could that have locked me out?”

“Maybe.” The engineer didn’t sound convinced, though. “That’s…odd.”

“But if I’m locked out, that means no one can delete the video. We’ll still have our proof.”

“Assuming Selen can get in.” Drew looked away. “And you trust her.”

“Trust her? She’s the commander.”

“And she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you. She just resents you.” Was that true, though? With the old Selen, sure. He couldn’t be sure of what to think of the woman who seemed to be crumbling under the pressure of things going so wrong.

Drew’s lips pinched into a hurt frown. “If you say so.”

“Look, I need to talk to her now anyway—give her an update.”

“And I shouldn’t be around…right?”

“We’ve got a ton of work to do. Why don’t you start prioritizing that?”

The engineer rendered a crisp salute and bounced out, almost floating on air. Getting the truth out in the open must have taken a heavy weight off of her chest.

Connor pinched his chin, then tried the security system access one more time.

Access denied.

Only Selen could lock him out of systems, and she was on the planet. It had to be caused by the power outage.

Or a hacker. Someone who knew how a ship like the Lucky Sevens worked.

Maybe someone who had the ability to track a mercenary team across two space sectors and meet them on a planet, where he could track them and spoil their chances of hiring onto other jobs could do it.

Mosiah was supposed to be a bad person. He’d certainly burned bridges with Selen years ago.

Connor activated the ship radio. “Connect to Selen.”

A beep issued from the radio, then a series of lights strobed across the console as it tried to establish the connection.

If it was approaching dawn below, she would be awake.

The strobing stopped: connection established.

Selen’s face appeared on the display: haggard and worn. But she smiled. It lit up the screen. “Talk to me, Connor.”

“Did Lem update you?”

“Martienne’s alive. Her vitals look good. You’re a brain surgeon now. Anything else?”

Despite the desperation of the moment, Connor smiled. “Well, we had a reactor failure.”

“Again?”

“This was different. The shuttle came in hot. When we crashed, it punctured a bulkhead and tore through a power line. That eventually caused a short, and the drain caused the reactor to shut down. The batteries were nearly drained before we got everything back online.”

“So, no pilot, no shuttle, no batteries—am I missing anything?”

“That’s what I know of.” He sighed. Seeing her face, having her scent in his head… He missed her.

He missed the team.

Selen whistled. “You drifting off on me?”

“Oh. Sorry. Drew and I are pretty wiped out, but we’re going to work through the day.”

“You’ll need to get some sleep at some point.”

“Once we check every system. We can’t bring the Lucky Sevens down without knowing she can handle it.”

“We’re going to be okay, Connor. We’ve got ammo, food, water.”

“And you’ll have us. Soon. With Martienne at the wheel or not.”

Selen looked around, then she kissed her computer screen. “I’m waiting for you.”

She closed the connection.

He blushed, remembering the warmth and the thrill of their times together. Before Dr. Litvinenko’s death.

Before everything fell apart.

But guilt burned in Connor’s gut, because he missed Toshiko more.

His old flame had been in his head since studying the amulet earlier.

What had Drew called her Dustoff packet? A charm or a talisman? Maybe that was what the amulet was becoming to him.

Or maybe it was becoming something worse: something that clouded his mind.