Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Yemi was almost up to the little bus waiting station when Connor caught up. His feet ached from the pinch of the stolen shoes. The sneakers he’d lost at the Cave were the last good pair he had, and there wasn’t really any money to buy a nice pair even if he could risk a trip into Sang.

And there was no way he was going into the city—not now.

Sweat beaded the back of Connor’s hands and neck when he slowed. He coughed to clear the foul chemical fumes from his throat. The cough became a hack, and something thick and salty came up. He spat it into a crumpled napkin taken from his pocket, then threw the napkin into a waste bin. “Yemi?”

The mechanic didn’t turn. His shoulder was against the far wall of the bus waiting station. One of his booted feet rested against the gray, scuffed bag. Cigar smoke drifted over his head. “Connor does not change Yemi’s mind.”

“I understand. I guess maybe I have to try.”

“Yemi leaves now for something more stable. Money makes Yemi happy.”

“I get it. We all need to do whatever it takes to survive.”

“Survival. Yes.”

Far down the road that led to the terminal, one of the robotic buses turned toward them and made its ponderous way toward them.

It would reach them in maybe three minutes. Connor pulled his pocket computer out and started the stopwatch app.

Three minutes to keep the team from falling all the way apart.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever said thank you enough for all you’ve done.”

Yemi turned just enough that one of his mirror shade lenses reflected Connor’s desperate look back at him. The cigar was nearly gone, down to a stub of brown leaves turned dark by his saliva. “Connor is never a problem.”

“Well, I am now.”

“Five million wings. Connor worries Yemi comes for the money.”

“No. I know you better than that. You’re a good and honorable man.”

The mechanic laughed. “Yemi is a mercenary. Money—”

“—makes Yemi happy.” Connor smiled. “I know. That doesn’t make you a bad person.”

Yemi turned around more fully, looked Connor up and down, then sighed. “When Yemi is a boy, honor is important. Like Connor says: Good and honorable man. Yemi does the good things. Yemi thinks with heart, not with head.”

“I know the feeling.”

“Zacharias Wentz. Yemi hears the name. The revolt is doomed, or Yemi goes to fight there. People from Yemi’s colony say it is fight for survival. This fight is honorable and good. Connor is honorable and good.”

“Well, I fought alongside honorable and good people.”

“No. Connor is honorable and good. Yemi respects Connor. Always.”

“Thanks.” Connor blushed and looked away. He didn’t need compliments and feel good statements. He needed for Yemi to come back. Without an engineer, the mechanic would become even more important.

Connor glanced at the pocket computer in his palm: a minute had already passed.

He had to try a new tack. “Selen said a long time ago that you were probably the hardest person to replace on the team because you knew so much about the ship.”

“Lucky Sevens.” A sad smile spread across Yemi’s face. He dropped the cigar to the ground, mashed it beneath his booted heel, then plucked the mangled thing into the waste bin. “Already, Yemi misses Lucky Sevens.”

“We’ll miss you, too. The crew.”

Seconds ticked by with the mechanic simply staring at Connor. Then Yemi pulled his sunglasses off and knuckled tears away from his eyes. The semicircles of black tattoos that ran beneath each eye were damp.

Yemi sniffled. “Yemi likes Connor.”

“And I like you.”

“But Yemi does not go to prison for Connor.”

“No! I wouldn’t ask that of you. In fact, I’m planning to leave the team.”

“Then Yemi leaves, too.”

“Well, no. The team still needs you.”

“Yemi wants money.”

It was the same vicious cycle—money trumped friendship, although Connor was pretty sure Yemi wanted to stay on. But he would only stay on with work, and he would only stay on with Connor. And Connor was the one preventing the team from getting work.

How could he make Yemi see that there was a way out of that loop?

Connor shoved his hands into his pants. He thought he heard someone call his name and glanced back toward the Lucky Sevens.

Selen was running toward them, one hand high and waving.

That wasn’t good.

“Um.” Connor made an awkward attempt at a smile. “What if we could get you a job? With Selen’s Devils?”

Yemi pointed over his shoulder at the slow-approaching bus. “Yemi goes.”

“But what if we had money? Good money? A job that you could feel confident about?” Connor almost gagged on the words. They weren’t lies, but they came awfully close. The only job that was remotely close to what he was describing was—maybe—the strange old guy Selen wouldn’t talk about. “Would you come back?”

“Yemi wants money. Connor gets money in ten minutes, Yemi stays.”

Ten minutes. Selen was a minute out still. Two minutes had already passed on the stopwatch.

Connor knew there was more to Yemi’s feelings than just money, or he wouldn’t have given a ten minute ultimatum. “Selen has a good lead.”

Yemi squinted at the approaching woman. “Yemi loses respect for Selen.”

“She’s stressed out.”

“Selen acts strange. Yemi does not like strange.”

Unless there’s money involved, probably. “I’m trying to figure it all out, too. We’ll get through it. Okay?”

Yemi turned as the bus’s brakes hissed and its tires scraped along the pavement. Its doors opened, letting out a gust of stale air.

Selen accelerated. “Yemi! Wait!”

The mechanic stooped down and plucked his duffel bag up from the ground, but instead of climbing aboard the bus, he waved the thing on.

Its motor spun up, and the tires chirped on the pavement, then it lumbered away.

Selen skidded to a stop and doubled over. She groaned. “Oh.”

Yemi shoved his duffel bag at Connor, who took it with a big smile. The mechanic slid his mirror shades back on. “Yemi walks back to Lucky Sevens. Ten minutes.”

He strode past the gasping woman without a word, and she grabbed Connor’s wrist. “Wait.”

Connor stopped. “He’s giving us ten minutes to line up a job.”

“We don’t have a job—”

“Call them up. Puget, Ms. Lenina. Tell them you have another offer.”

“We don’t have—”

“Tell them you need an answer yes or no.”

Selen straightened. Perspiration glistened on her face in the setting sunlight, stripping away some of the age that had worn its way in recently. “They won’t take an ultimatum.”

“Well, Yemi gave us one. If you want to keep him, you need to make this happen.” Connor reset his stopwatch at 2:49. It began its climb toward ten minutes.

She glared at him. “I’m not taking Mosiah’s job.”

“Then you’re going to lose your team, Selen. You’re on the clock.”

Connor gently pulled his hand free and followed after Yemi.

And the stopwatch counted down the time before everything would come apart.