Chapter 82

Chapter Eighty-Two

In the passageway outside Kalpana’s quarters, Connor took a moment to collect his thoughts. He waited for the murmur of the air recycler to climb to a deep rattle and for cold air to rush past him. Maybe a light or two would flicker.

At least that freakish occurrence could be used as an excuse for what was going on.

Instead, the ventilation system stayed quiet, the air cool, dry, and fresh. The lights remained steady, revealing his solitary form in the bright passageway.

Everything continued exactly as it should.

So, what was really going on?

Selen was losing her grip on running the team and losing their respect in the process. No rational person could argue otherwise.

Yemi resented her and questioned his own worth after Gregor’s death.

Kalpana blamed that death on her captain.

Even Lem—the ever-loyal android—questioned why the dead communications expert had been selected for the forward team in the first place.

Loyalty had always been key to Selen’s leadership philosophy. She believed that a commander who stuck with her team through thick and thin would see that sort of loyalty reciprocated.

But they were coming undone because Selen had pushed too hard.

Connor dropped his beer bottle down the nearest recycler chute, then padded forward, stopping at the hatch to the bridge. Selen might be there. It was as easy as checking his pocket computer if he really wanted to know.

Instead, he opened the hatch and strolled through, making a beeline for his regular seat—a man on a mission.

Martienne spun her chair around, her right hand hovering just over her hip.

She still had a pistol holstered there.

He stopped, hands raised. “Whoa.”

The pilot’s hand drifted away, and she slumped in her seat. She patted down her wild red hair and exhaled sour breath that overpowered the musk from their time in the wilderness. “I am sorry.”

“No need to apologize. Everyone’s on edge. In fact, I came up here to get some distance. You know, review some records and all that.”

“Yes.”

Normally, she would have turned away and focused on her own console, maybe fidgeted with the zipper on her jumpsuit. She often made a point of reminding anyone who would listen that she wasn’t a soldier but a pilot, and Connor had seen her do some amazing things.

Now, she stared at the floor, barely blinking.

It only took a second to confirm that the security situation hadn’t changed. He was still locked out of everything.

Selen could make any excuse she wanted, but she had the time to repair his profile.

Unless she didn’t want to.

He powered his console down and twisted his chair around. “How are we looking?”

Martienne’s head came up slowly. “You ask for the Lucky Sevens or for me, hm?”

“This is your ship, isn’t it?”

“And we are one and the same—this is your thinking?”

Connor turned his palms around to examine them. “When I was a kid, my father told me that a warrior must always care for his weapons. That came with legends and fairy tales about all kinds of heroes and their oaths and how fulfilling those oaths led to victory.”

“And sweeping beautiful maidens off their feet, yes?” She scoffed, but it was half-hearted. “Men and their fantasies.”

“It’s funny, because when I joined Wentz, I thought I’d hear a lot of things about his philosophy and about how all those old beliefs were part of the problem we faced.”

“Wentz, he was a blowhard and fool.”

Connor smiled. “Actually, the first time I met him, I was impressed by how…pragmatic he was.”

“You were a boy, yes?”

“A boy who thought he was a man. But Wentz really was a leader. And he was a soldier. He took the weapon I’d been issued, examined it, then gave it back.”

“He touched a weapon?”

“Wentz fought alongside the rest of us. He wasn’t someone to hide in a bunker.”

“A rare leader, then—as you say.” She glanced at her pistol.

“Anyway, he told me that a good warrior always cares for his weapon. Can you imagine how much that shocked a kid who was tired of hearing his father go on and on about something? I mean, at that point, I’d come to consider Wentz a giant.”

“It is the way of children to push away their parents and seek wisdom elsewhere.”

“I know.” And Connor felt stupid nonetheless.

“Connor?”

“Yes?”

“This mission—why does Selen push so hard for us to see it through?”

“We signed a contract. Our reputation’s on the line. The money’s at risk.”

“You have heard this from Mosiah? The client has said this?”

“That we signed a contract? Well…”

The obvious answer was that of course Mosiah had said he wouldn’t pay for not fulfilling the contract. That’s how jobs worked. A professional understood that payment came after delivery.

But Mosiah hadn’t seemed particularly demanding after the first failure.

Connor would have to talk to the old man away from anybody else to see what the exact agreement was with Selen.

Martienne leaned an elbow against the armrest of her worn, old chair. “I have heard nothing from this man about payment of the debt already owed.”

“I haven’t heard anything about the entire contract. I need to check.”

“If this agreement—the idea that we must return to this pit yet again—is nothing more than Selen concerning herself with her reputation, it is bad.”

“Bad is a little harsh. Misguided would be better.”

“Three of our team are dead. This is bad.”

“It’s eating at all of us, probably Selen suffers the most.”

“What—” The pilot dropped her voice lower. “—do you think would happen if Selen were to…disappear?”

“Disappear?”

“Let us say some monster kills her. Would you insist as she has that we complete the mission?”

It took a few seconds before what the pilot was saying without saying sank in.

She was asking how he would react if someone killed Selen.

His stomach felt uneasy as he pushed up from his seat. Martienne hadn’t made a direct threat. It was the curiosity of someone wrestling with mortality, nothing more.

Hands shoved int his pants pockets, feet planted wide, he did his best to look the pilot in the eyes. “Do me a favor: have us ready to launch. Please.”

She turned back to her console without another word.

Connor couldn’t breathe until he was back in the passageway.

He needed to talk to Mosiah before things spiraled out of control.