“You didn’t like that ride,” Dante says.
“No, I don’t exactly have a fondness for death traps,” I admit.
“That’s funny given how often you throw yourself into dangerous situations,” Erik says. We follow Dante to stairs that take us to a bustling dock. A large glass dome rises over us and through it I can see the Interface. When I look out into the distance, the ocean stretches before me, infinite and black.
Workers run back and forth, shouting over steam that’s blowing in from a round hatch in the side of the dome. Through the hatch, the dock extends. I spy something tethered to the end of it. I make out a door and a couple of windows set into a blue metal wall. Men pass us in a hurry, but even in their haste they stop and raise a fist to their left shoulder, bowing their heads to Dante. He raises his fist in response but doesn’t nod.
A man in a gray jumpsuit rushes past us and skids to a stop. It’s Jax.
“Dante,” Jax says, his face splitting into a grin. He doesn’t welcome him with the same formal greeting as the others; instead the two men grip each other’s arms.
“Is she around?” Dante asks him. “I should probably get this over with.” His eyes flick to us. Nothing like making someone feel welcome.
“Yeah, Falon hates surprises,” Jax says. He pushes his goggles up onto his forehead a bit higher, grime smearing across his skin as he does it. “Last time I saw her she was checking some passenger manifests.”
“Why is she interested in passenger manifests?” Dante asks, frowning at this bit of information.
“Ask her yourself,” a voice snaps behind us. I turn and find myself face-to-face with a girl. I take a step back as her eyes narrow to focus on my face.
“You,” I say, recognizing her almost immediately. It’s the girl from the night of the crashed aeroship—the one who encouraged Jost and me to make a run for the Icebox.
“I looked for you in the Icebox like I said I would,” she says. “I thought you had disappeared.” There’s an edge of recrimination in her voice.
“Dante found us first, but you’ve found me now,” I say.
“Dante found you, huh?” She looks to him, cocking her head to the side and raising an eyebrow. “You might have mentioned that.”
“Don’t start, Falon,” Dante says, his voice low. “You know our channels are being watched.”
“And what’s his excuse?” she says, pointing to Jax.
“I didn’t need any more info getting out about Adelice. Jax was following orders,” Dante explains.
Falon’s nostrils flair but she turns her attention to me. “Adelice, huh? So you’re the one that’s got half of the Guild in an uproar.”
“Only half? I must be slipping,” I say, giving her a small smile.
She doesn’t return it. “What’s she doing here?”
“I think we should talk in private,” Dante says, taking her by the elbow.
“Don’t start patronizing me, Dante,” she says.
“Don’t force me to.”
“You’re so Arras sometimes. It disgusts me.” She practically spits the insult at him.
I step toward Erik until I feel his hand on my back. Things are getting ugly pretty fast.
“Falon, a word.” Dante reiterates his request. After a pause he adds a hesitant, “Please.”
They walk a few paces off. It’s noisy enough here with the steam and activity that we can’t hear them.
“What was that about?” I ask Jax, who shifts from foot to foot nervously.
“Dante didn’t message us that he was bringing you. He hasn’t been to the dock in weeks,” Jax explains.
“Because of me,” I say with a sigh.
“How did you know Falon?” Erik asks beside me.
“Jost and I ran into her the night we arrived on Earth. She came to see about the ship I took down.” I relate Falon’s warning from that night to Erik.
“You didn’t think to mention this to me?”
“I guess I sort of forgot with everything happening, and you and Jost were fighting.” Even as I make the excuses I know that’s what they are, despite the truth streaking through them.
“Security is tight between things with Kincaid and the Guild. It’s not your fault…” Jax trails off, wiping his palms on his pants.
“I thought you went with the mission,” I say to Jax, recalling what Dante said about Jax not being around.
“Nope, but I’ve been here most of the time,” he says. Dante lied to me about Jax to cover up where he was really going. It’s a good enough reason to be dishonest, but it doesn’t sit well with me.
Falon and Dante are walking toward us, and neither looks happy. Dante tries to slip a hand into Falon’s but she avoids him. He settles for a quick squeeze of her shoulder, but the grim expression stays on his face.
“That explains that,” Erik mutters to me.
“Lover scorned,” I say.
“And then he shows up with a pretty girl after weeks of no contact,” Erik says.
“I’m his daughter,” I remind Erik.
“Do you think she knows that?”
Good point.
The whispers die on our lips as they come closer to us.
“I apologize for my rudeness,” Falon says. She offers her hand to Erik and they exchange formal introductions. “Dante has caught me up on everything.”
“Everything?” I ask, looking at Dante. Has he told her he is my father?
“Everything,” Dante says, pressing his lips together.
“Okay, then,” Erik says, breaking the tension. “Can you show us the loophole?”
“We’re making a run in ten minutes. You have good timing, Dante,” Falon says. Her eyes look black in the dim light.
“Not really,” he says. “I caught wind of some intel coming from within Kincaid’s web.”
“Good to know you’re still paying attention,” Falon says. She strides off. With her leather pants and simple black braid she’s intimidating, but we follow her as she exits through the dome’s hole onto the dock.
“Give her a few minutes,” Dante says. “She’ll warm up. She doesn’t like to admit when she’s worried.”
“And she’s been worried about you?” I guess.
“I’ve been preoccupied and with Kincaid hovering over you it’s been even harder to slip out.”
“So Kincaid doesn’t know about this operation?” Erik asks.
Dante takes a deep breath and then slowly shakes his head. “A lot of these people run refugees for him. It provides a cover and a living, but Kincaid doesn’t know about this place or everything our operation does.”
I look around at the workers. It’s a strange mix of people—many our own age, but plenty of older adults. They have belts with tools and goggles over their eyes or hanging at their necks for easy access. As we pass through the burst of steam that hangs over the dock, I see what’s at the end of it. The doors and windows I spotted are part of a metal box that hangs suspended from a balloon drifting in the air. Great steel ribs circle the envelope, locking in its shape. The aeroship is tethered to the dock by thick ropes. It’s the same type as the one I crashed on our first night here—the one I assumed was Guild.
I whirl on Dante. “Where are we? Who are these people?
Dante spreads his hands wide, gesturing to the bustle of activity around us. “Welcome to the resistance. Adelice, you’re in the heart of the Kairos Agenda.”
THIRTY
DANTE LEADS US ON A SHORT TOUR of the facilities, past instrument panels and groups poring over blueprints.