Chapter 79

Chapter Seventy-Nine

As Connor passed the ramp down to the cargo bay, the clatter and clang of tools echoed up. He headed down, despite feeling ripe and foul. He needed to get out of his soiled clothes and clean up. He needed to talk with Selen.

But this noise…

Halfway down, he stopped.

Yemi stood in front of the hangar bay hatch, fingers clasped behind his head, rocking back and forth. The lights reflected from the haphazard pile of tools resting in front of the hatch.

Connor swallowed, the rotting taste of his saliva reminding him of the rainwater and woods. “Yemi? You okay?”

The mechanic turned around, hands coming unclasped and brushing down his wild, gray hair. “Yemi sees the hatch needs fixing.” He rapped a knuckle on the hatch for emphasis.

“It’s sealed off.”

“Yemi flies the Lucky Sevens to the sky. The hatch needs fixing.” There was a wild look in the mechanic’s eyes, which blinked rapidly.

Standing so high on the ramp—that was a bad look. It established an unhelpful dynamic in a situation that was already tenuous. Yemi would see his boss standing higher, looking down.

Connor put his hands out and descended to the bottom or the ramp, then sat down. “I have to tell you, Yemi, I’m too tired to do any work right now.”

After a second, Yemi grunted. His shoulders shook. “Yemi…”

“It’s okay.”

A soft mewling sound rumbled up from deep inside the mechanic. A tear trickled down his dark cheek as he lost his balance and fell back against the hatch he’d been staring at.

Connor bowed his head just enough to give the appearance of privacy but kept the older man in clear view.

Now was the time to give support, to listen.

Yemi gulped in a breath, then shuddered. “Gregor turns sixty tomorrow. Yemi turns sixty in three months.”

Sixty! Connor had forgotten Gregor’s birthday! That was a failing, something to address later.

For now, the problem was Yemi’s sense of mortality.

And fear. And loss.

The team hadn’t even come to grips with Rudy’s death, and now Gregor was gone. Of course the mechanic would see someone his own age die and feel vulnerable as a result.

As softly as he could, Connor murmured a supportive sound. A second later, in the same soft tone, he continued. “We’re going to get out of here.”

But the mechanic shook his head. His cheeks glistened. “Age does not spare.”

“You’re fit, Yemi. Gregor had health issues. I didn’t even know.”

“Blood pressure. Gregor takes pills. If the bonus suffices, Gregor retires. Gregor owns the farm. Fish swim in the lake. But…”

“But he’s gone. I know. We all feel it.”

The mechanic slid down the hatch and banged against the deck. His boots knocked a wrench across the floor with a deafening clatter. “Gregor is like Yemi. Gregor lives in a settlement with people from Gregor’s ancestral home.”

“Russians. They were farmers. He said he hated it as a child.”

“But old age and fatherhood change Gregor.” Yemi drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around his legs. “Potatoes. Potatoes come from Earth.”

“And they still exist.” Connor chuckled at the memory of the dead communications expert describing how to plant the vegetable.

“Gregor’s great uncle dies from potato toxin.”

“Right. He ate some old potatoes. I remember. A bad winter.”

“The great uncle goes without finding until spring—all alone.”

Connor counted to ten, waited a bit longer, then counted again. “Gregor was with us when he died. It was fast. The poison causes your lungs to stop working. I felt it.”

Yemi’s dark eyes came up over his knees. “Connor feels the poison?”

“Apparently, it’s nothing compared to what happens if you don’t get poisoned.” Connor looked up the ramp. “Aubriella and Tim had infections from the stingers. The pain was a lot worse than what I felt.”

“Gregor feels no pain?”

“I think the fear we all felt when those things came at us—that sense of dread when we were waiting for them to strike? I think that’s worse than the death itself.”

The mechanic grunted. “Long ago, Yemi serves in the army.”

“Artillery?”

“Yemi operates heavy artillery. Yemi leads platoon. The platoon goes to the planet where the army fights the enemy. Delivering ammunition fails. The heavy artillery fires nothing.”

“You were deployed to the rear?”

The mechanic nodded. “Twelve kilometers. The enemy flanks. The enemy sends air cavalry behind the army front lines. Yemi’s platoon fights—pistols, knives, assault rifles.”

“Someone screwed up deployment. It wasn’t just ammunition not arriving.”

“Yemi kills five enemy. Five. The platoon dies. The enemy shoots Yemi.” He pointed to his gut. “Yemi suffers infection.”

“A perforated stomach? Intestines?”

“Stomach and intestines.”

Connor winced. Surviving just one of those was a miracle. “It takes a strong person to get through that.”

“Yemi flies to the hospital and spends the year recovering.” The older man’s jaw trembled. “Spirits talk to Yemi.”

“Spirits?”

“Yemi’s people talk to spirits. Death frees spirits. Spirits guide Yemi’s people.”

“My father said our people had connections with spirits. That was before they left Earth. I can’t recall what those spirits were called.”

“Yemi’s spirits speak names. Spirits protect and guide. Protection grants strength.”

“I understand. They helped you survive this wound.”

The mechanic rested his forehead on his knees. “Yemi hears the spirits.”

Connor couldn’t help wondering what the old man’s temperature had been like when fighting the infection. Something like that could bring down even a giant like Vicente. “It’s good to have something to help us.”

“Yemi finds blessing from spirits. Now? Yemi hears no spirits. Spirits abandon Yemi. Spirits take strength.”

“You still have plenty of strength. We have this ship. We have our weapons. We have each other.”

The mechanic grabbed the hatch for support and pulled himself up. He scooped up the wrench he’d kicked, then started picking up the other tools. When he was done, he straightened.

Without looking at Connor, Yemi sighed. “Gregor runs from the scorpions. Yemi sights. Yemi squeezes the trigger. Then Selen says no shooting, and Yemi obeys.”

“You had to. It was an order.”

“Yemi…” The mechanic shifted tools around in his hands. “The team dies on the planet.”

He headed aft, to where the toolboxes were secured, head down, leaving Connor alone on the ramp.

Selen’s order had been intended to save her team.

It might have destroyed any chance they had of escaping alive.