Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Connor clambered up the ladder that connected the lower deck to the bridge deck. Behind him, Vicente huffed as he stretched and tucked in to avoid scraping his bare shoulders in the narrow tube.

The intent in taking the smaller ladder chute had been to lose the big man, but Vicente was still worked up.

Once at the top of the ladder, Selen’s voice was an echoing whisper, as was the scratchy voice of Gregor Ilyanovich, the team’s communications expert. Gregor had joined the team shortly after Connor and had proven reliable

Except for his drinking problem.

Was that what had blown up now? Had he done something stupid while drunk?

There was no smell of alcohol in the corridor. If anything, the deck looked recently scrubbed and smelled lemony.

Gregor could’ve thrown up and cleaned up after himself, but would he?

Connor waited for Vicente to exit the ladder chute, hand on hips. When the big man was standing on the deck, Connor nodded forward, to where Gregor’s voice rasped from the communications room. “This might be ugly. Would you mind giving us some space?”

Vicente’s dark eyes narrowed. “You getting chewed out, Boss?”

“Maybe. You can stay for that, if you want. If it’s Gregor, just give us some room. Okay?”

Realization dawned on the muscular man. “Oh!”

“I appreciate it.”

Vicente pointed to one of the glass panels lining the passageway. There were four of the panels, all twice his size, each labeled “Escape Capsule” and a number in bright yellow. “I’ll inspect the capsules.”

“They’re overdue.” He gave the big man a gentle punch in the shoulder. “If we can get ammunition money, we will.”

“Figured so.”

The panel with a “4” on it slid open, and Vicente squeezed inside the capsule within for his inspection.

Or to listen in on whatever happened in the communications room.

There was no putting that off, so Connor marched forward wincing as the stolen shoes bunched his toes together.

The communications room—Gregor called it the radio room—was a tight space for a single person. It was warm, bordering on hot, thanks to all the electronics and computer gear embedded in three of the walls. Gregor was hunched at his station, hands hovering over a grimy keyboard tinted green by the display glow.

Selen was to his left, leaning against the corner across from the hatch. One arm was crossed under her breasts, the other angled up so that she could scrape her thumbnail across her front teeth.

Gregor looked up from the chair that after so many years with his butt stuck to it had formed into an intimate companion shaped to his form. It was even tattered and had stuffing sticking out, just like his familiar gray-blue coveralls.

He scratched at the hairy belly poking out of a tear in the zipper seam, pushing the stained T-shirt beneath even further away from the flesh. “I tell you, of this signal, there is no doubt. Three tries. Three!”

Selen didn’t move, but her eyes swung over to Connor. “Close the hatch.”

Connor stepped behind Gregor’s chair and pushed the hatch actuator, sealing them all inside the perpetually warm cabin. “What signal?”

Gregor’s bugged-out, gray-blue eyes came up from the display he’d been staring at. He pinched his bulbous nose in irritation. That only made the web of inflamed capillaries more noticeable. “This. Here. Listen.”

Green light played across the top of the husky communications expert’s bald head, darker where liver spots speckled the almost conical crown.

Hissing spat from a speaker, followed quickly by a series of pops and squeals.

“That.” Gregor shook a stubby finger at the garbled text on his display.

Selen must have seen the look of confusion on Connor’s face. “Encryption.”

“I get that.” Connor pinched his bottom lip. “You recognize it, Gregor?”

The husky man’s shoulders rose. “This, it can be only one thing.”

“Someone sent it to us?”

“Hm? No, no. This signal, it was sent from inside Sang to Louden, the capital.”

“Where in Sang?”

Gregor’s chair creaked as he leaned back, bumping his head against Connor’s hip and not noticing. “When we arrived, I said to Selen, this is dangerous. A bad place, this Sang.”

Connor was glad to know he hadn’t been the only one to protest coming too Mara. Still, it was best to support Selent now. “We needed a job.”

“A job? You know how to spend money when you are dead?” The communications expert shot a dark look at Selen, then hunched over his gear and poked at a keyboard with his thick index fingers. “This signal—it comes from a bad place: Directorate Security Headquarters. It is in the center of this city.”

“Security HQ? You’re sure?”

“When we landed, I found this place and listened, you see? First thing.”

“You’ve been spying on Directorate Security?”

Gregor sighed. “These people, they are corrupt.”

It sounded risky, but Gregor knew his business. “So, what’s so important about this encrypted burst? Isn’t all their traffic encrypted?”

Selen’s lips twisted into a frown. “Turns out Gregor knows most of their protocols and has a lot of their keys.”

The communications expert almost smiled. “They are corrupt, not smart.”

“Can’t break this code, though.” Selen leaned forward. “Right?”

“Not yet.” The husky man’s bug eyes locked onto the garbled text. “But…”

After a flourish of one hairy hand, Gregor began typing with his index fingers again—what Connor had heard described as hunt-and-peck.

The hiss, pops, and squeals issued from the speakers again, then the garbled text spread across the screen.

Gregor let out a frustrated harrumph that came from deep within.

Selen sniffled. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I am not done yet, Selen. Please.” Gregor slumped.

She turned to Connor. “There’s no reason for them to switch up codes like this.”

“Unless they’re sending really critical intelligence.” Connor squared his shoulders. “Like someone with a bounty on his head has been identified in the area.”

“Maybe.”

The communications expert pulled out his pocket computer and swiped through a few applications, then set the device down next to the grimy keyboard and muttered to himself while hunting and pecking.

It seemed to grow hotter in the tight compartment. Connor hated the implication: His presence had brought even more unwanted attention to the team.

He set his hands on his hips. “We need to find a job and get off Mara.”

Selen’s eyes narrowed. “You think?”

“No, I mean now. If we don’t blast off soon, we might not ever be able to.”

“Yeah, well, that sort of rules out our two opportunities, doesn’t it.”

“What about this Mosiah?”

Her hands bunched up into fists. “What’d I tell you?”

She was completely irrational about the guy. Why?

Gregor clapped his hands. “Ha! See? Not so smart!”

On the display, words formed in the familiar alphabet used by the Talon Sector government—a minor variation on the standard used throughout Coil Sector and by most Talon citizens.

But there was no reason to celebrate, not with what the words spelled out.

“Priority Fugitive Alert. Connor Rattakul identified in area of Sang. Sole survivor of Nyango Revolt. Unity bounty: 5M. Multiple Sliver agents killed. Request approval for citywide lockdown for Sang, Meadows, and Winter.”

There it was. They weren’t even hiding the source of the bounty: the Unity. All the oligarchs and corporate executives who’d funded the initiatives to push through the mass automation that was well on its way to obsoleting the human species.

Gregor twisted around, eyes bugged out even more than normal. “Five million wings?”

Not a question about fighting in the revolt; no concern about killing Sliver assassins…the man only cared about the money.

That was what was going to get Connor killed.