“I don’t like where this is going,” Mai said.
“Go on,” Mike said.
Taking a breath, Layla continued. “When the pods landed, they captured the council members from the mother ship: only one survived. One they call Hagellan. Quite the head honcho, by all accounts. Now, he knows what’s wrong with the ship and how to fly it and engage the jump engine back to the gate world, but…”
“But he needs someone to get the parts necessary and help fix it?” Mike finished for her, clearly seeing where this was going.
“Yes,” Maria said. “But that’s not quite all.”
Mai rolled her eyes, losing her patience. “Just get on with it, girl. What is it you want from us?”
Maria seemed to shrink away from Mai’s tone. Despite her age, Mai could be quiet fierce, not that she meant it personally; she just wasn’t one for wasting time. People of his and Mai’s age didn’t have the time to waste with nonsense.
“It’s Charlie,” Maria said. “He’s agreed to the mission, but he doesn’t trust them and wants a backup plan. He wants you to build him another bomb in case they try anything once they’re airborne.”
Mike looked to his wife. It was like looking in a mirror sometimes. Her eyes glinted and a smile stretched on her lips. At the same time, they said, “Count us in.”
“And as it happens, we had already started on another,” Mai said. “We like contingencies.”
“We can have it ready within a few days,” Mike said.
“They sent us to bring you back to them tonight,” Layla said. “Hagellan wants to speak with you personally to help get the engineering team set up and to brief you on the parts he needs from the wreckage of the others ships.”
“It’s okay,” Mai said before Mike could protest. “You go with them, love, and I’ll stay behind to finish the bomb. Our time is short; it makes sense for us to use it as best we can.”
Of course she would say that. It’s one of the qualities he had come to love about her. She would always see the logical path even if it meant personal pain. Since they met, they’d never spent a single day apart. Even now, the thought of leaving her behind while he went with the others gripped him with a paralyzing fear. But he knew she was right. If what Layla was saying was true and he could help, then he couldn’t say no, even if it meant spending time apart from Mai.
Time he would never get back, and time that could be his last.
“Okay,” Mike said reluctantly, keeping his eyes locked with Mai’s. “I’ll go. Give me an hour or so first; I need to make plans.”
“Sure,” Layla said, standing and urging Maria to follow her. “We’ll fetch you at 1900.”
Mike just nodded to her as they left the lab. He approached Mai and brought her in close for a hug.
“I’d rather not leave you behind,” he said, whispering into her ear.
“I know, but they need you. And you’ll be fine. It’s just an engineering problem. You’ll be back here in no time.”
Mike wasn’t so sure. He didn’t trust the croatoans as far as he could throw them. Working on their behalf felt like a betrayal of everything they had done to survive, but if Charlie needed him, then he couldn’t say no, especially after the sacrifice the boy was prepared to make for them before.
For now, though, he would enjoy Mai’s company until he had to go, knowing this might be the last time he saw her. He hugged her tight and tried not to suggest they run off together. The world was bigger than them. Sacrifices had to be made.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you too. Now, let’s go over the final plans for the bomb. There’s a few snags I’d like to put past you before you head off.”
“Always the practical one,” Mike said, releasing his hug.
“One of us has to be,” she said with her mischievous grin.
Chapter 24
SHADOWS MOVED IN UNNATURAL WAYS, catching Denver’s attention as he himself stood shrouded in the darkness that haunted the corners of the room.
For an hour or more Denver had paced the living area of their new, guarded abode. From his position, he watched through the plastic-sheet windows out into Unity from approximately halfway up the steps carved into the basin of the drained lake.
Charlie snored from the other room, the tiredness caused by days of struggle and uncertainty expressed in the sound of a man who probably hadn’t slept as deeply for weeks. Even when they were in one of their shelters, Charlie always slept light, alert, and ready to move at a moment’s notice.
Just like Denver. Which was why, as the sun came up to the east of the settlement, and the low-raking light cast its shadows, Denver spotted deliberately concealed movement; someone was stalking through the shacks and light-constructed dwellings. From one alley to another, this robed figure wove a maze-like pattern of progress, double-backing on themselves, checking for followers, but always heading to the north of the basin—to Charlie and Denver’s new prison by another name.
Definitely human, he thought, spying them through the window from his dark corner. The robes reminded him of the people he saw when observing from the root field. The swollen lump on the back of his head throbbed a reminder. This time, he kept his back to the wall of the chalet.
Warm light, fractured by tall pines on Unity’s perimeter, gave the living room more character than it deserved. Built from old reclaimed sheets of plywood, the interior wasn’t exactly plush. With no soft furnishings or furniture beyond a wooden bench and a rickety table, the place felt more like a cell than it did a home.
The human guards outside didn’t give it that homely feel either. They were relieved by a new shift three or so hours ago in the predawn. For someone who said she trusted and needed Denver and Charlie, this Aimee woman certainly had a funny way of showing it.
A dripping tap was at the end of the open-plan room. A basin, made from a bucket fixed to a wooden cabinet, echoed with each drop from the hosepipe. It snaked its way out of the chalet to a water tank he had spotted on the roof that caught and stored rainwater.
The stale taste was still in Denver’s mouth. They had assured him it was filtered, but he had tasted fresher from the root-infested rivers and brooks he and his dad frequented.
At least those had some active root compound in them.
Denver’s muscles protested with tiredness as he slid closer to the window for a closer look. His body ached to their bones. Root withdrawal. Layla would be so pleased for him, but he just felt like a weak puppy. Like Pip. That was the reason he took care of her. The runt of the litter, she didn’t get what she needed from her mother—she needed Denver.
And now, apparently, so did the world—if Aimee were to be believed.
This time, however, if there was a sacrifice to be made, then his dad wouldn’t have to do it alone. Denver was more than happy to accompany him. Layla aside, he felt no real connection with anyone else to stay behind.
There were the three M’s of course: Maria, Mike and Mai, but he knew they would be fine without him. He liked them, thought of them as a kind of extended family, but they weren’t close to him like his dad—or Layla, but even then, he wondered if he was just imagining things with her…
Not really the time to think about all that, he chided himself, sliding back into the gloom so the guards outside by the door didn’t notice him.
The figure had climbed the fifteen steps up to this current level. Its brown hood appeared above the edge of the step. Crude stairs were carved into the rock, allowing farmers and dwellers alike to easily ascend and descend between levels. A few seconds later the figure approached the guards. From the movement and silhouette he guessed it was a young woman. She held each hand in the opposite sleeve, reminding him of pictures of monks he’d once seen in a magazine.