Chapter 99

Chapter Ninety-Nine

Normally, the clatter and clang of tools wasn’t something Connor particularly enjoyed. Working with his hands normally meant a punching bag or a wooden post and whatever weapon he was practicing with.

In the stifling heat of the Lucky Sevens’s afternoon shadow, with the smell of moldy seals and rotted padding still clinging to the armored vehicle, there was actually something reassuring about holding a speed handle or a wrench. The metallic tang they left on his sweaty flesh was welcome.

Yemi grunted, then pushed out from under the vehicle. A moment later, he returned with a drill. “Yemi finds three dead batteries. Yemi fixes.”

Spare batteries were plentiful. If they wanted to, they could salvage more from the ruined shuttle floating in space.

They didn’t need to for now.

With the last few whirrs of the drill, the vehicle was as close to functional as it was going to get short of a complete overhaul.

That wasn’t in the cards.

What remained was a final trip to the ruins, hauling gear and Mosiah’s crates. The vehicle would suffice for that.

Afterwards, it would be a mad dash back to the ship.

Finally, they would blast off and head…somewhere.

Connor would have to contact Toshiko once he was safely established. With her skills, she didn’t need to stay on Mara, didn’t need to live in the dark underworld of Winter. They could make a living anywhere.

He put the tools back in their case, making sure each foam silhouette was occupied and nothing looked damaged.

Yemi ducked through the sliding side door. “Yemi checks motor.”

A moment later, a deep thrum came from the vehicle. Its wide, rugged tired gripped the red-gray rock and reversed, then braked, then rolled forward and braked again.

The thrum died, and Yemi came out, slamming the door behind him. A satisfied smile spread across his face. “Yemi likes.”

“I think we’re all going to like hot having to haul all that gear through the jungle.”

Yemi’s smile faded. “Yemi goes to the ruins again?”

“It’s the contract.” Connor couldn’t risk showing his own disdain for the job. Angering Selen more would only cost him his position, then the team wouldn’t have an advocate.

“Yemi sees too much death.”

Before Connor could offer any hope, a whistle brought him around.

Selen waved from the bottom of the airlock ramp. She wore her typical battlefield outfit: a heavy T-shirt and dark cargo pants. “How’s it going?”

Connor closed the tool cases and slung their straps over his shoulders. “It’s ready to go. The batteries won’t last forever, and the solar collectors only have about half capacity, but we weren’t planning to drive the length of the continent.”

She followed him up the ramp. “We can make the run tomorrow morning.”

“That sounds feasible.”

“But it’s not going to be easy.”

He secured the tool cases, then turned to see her leaning against a crate, arms folded. “Why’s that?”

“Because the gear we took from that campsite—the things your archaeologist tramp told you would make everything better? Most of it’s no good.”

“What?”

“I’ve been looking it over: the winch, most of the detonators, that Orion assault rifle, even some of the food packets. Everything is either broken or compromised.”

“Elise fired that rifle. I saw her drop two bugs.”

“It’s no good now. Neither are the pistols Tim and Tom brought back.”

“What about the ammo? Those rounds are compatible with our weapons.”

“I tried ten rounds of pistol, ten rounds of rifle: all duds.”

That wasn’t possible. No. Maybe it was possible, but it seemed improbable.

Connor couldn’t show his frustration and risk angering Selen. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Can you show me?”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“No. I want to see what happened is all.”

“What happened is we lost our pilot on a pointless salvage run that netted us junk.”

“But how? We’ve retrieved gear from ships that have been here years, and it’s mostly been functional. Elise said that camp wasn’t even a month old.”

“Maybe that’s why she’s the only one left alive.”

Heavy steps came down the cargo bay ramp, and a moment later, Vicente stood at the base. The big man wore his bright red muscle shirt with yellow stars and gray cargo pants: ready for battle. “What’s all the shouting about, Boss?”

Selen closed her eyes and sighed. “I was telling the lieutenant that the gear from the archaeology campsite is useless.”

“No way.”

Connor shook his head to warn Vicente. “Selen was going to show me what she’s found.”

Her eyes snapped open, and they were full of venom. “Yes. Let’s take a look.”

She stomped forward, stopping at the hangar bay hatch.

Tarps covered the floor, where she’d laid out the gear recovered from the salvage run: two of the Orion Home Protector assault rifles, three Orion Home Defender pistols, the winch system, several boxes of protein and nutrient bars, a portable water purification and extraction device, and a mix of maybe fifty bullets for the Orion weapons.

Each item was laid out on its own towel.

Standing next to her, Connor picked up the hints of orange blossom mixed with perspiration. It was nearly lost in Vicente’s odor—a locker room funk that said he must have recently worked out.

The big man dropped to a knee with a deep, metallic thump and lifted one of the pistols. “Maybe just a good cleaning is all they need.”

Selen tapped her booted toe. “We’re heading out in the morning.”

“Sure. I can clean everything tonight.” There was desperation in the heavy weapons expert’s voice. “Maybe scavenge parts to fix whatever’s broke, y’know?”

Connor examined one of the rifle rounds. He hadn’t shared the integrated combat system video with Selen yet. “Just these bullets so far?”

It took a moment for Selen to turn to him. “Firing everything defeats the purpose of the raid, doesn’t it? It was all about getting gear to make up for our failures and shortcomings, right? Isn’t that what your archaeologist said?”

And there it was: Selen’s real gripe. “I’ll tear into them. Maybe the gunpowder got wet.”

But he knew better. Whatever had caused the bullets to be duds was also responsible for the weapons malfunctions that troubled the team seconds before the bug attack.

He waited until Selen had stormed away to set the bullets back down.

Vicente let out a soft groan. “It’s all going bad, Boss.”

“We’ll fix it. We always do.”

But looking at the gear, Connor wondered if there was a point to the effort. It seemed like every time they took a step, something forced them two steps back.

Eventually, there wouldn’t be anywhere to step back to.