“Couple hours.”
Jim looked over at her. “We’re scheduled to be here for two more days.”
“We did really, really good work, and got all the data we needed early,” Naomi said. “Corporate back on Auberon will probably give us bonuses. Haul it all back in, Amos. We need to leave.”
“You got it,” he said. She heard his voice over the comms as he turned to Teresa. Playtime’s over. Time to pick up the toys. He sounded almost like the man she’d known before he’d changed. Before they’d all changed, one way and another.
“I’ll get you some course options,” Alex said as he unstrapped and headed for the flight deck.
“Thank you,” Naomi said. She pulled up the comms and prepared the fake captain of the Sidpai to generate a report to the Laconians. She could almost imagine being a survey crew trying to keep its head down and finish its contract in the shadow of war crimes about to be committed. It was always like this. People trying to get their work done even while atrocities were blooming around them. Avoid eye contact and hope that the fire doesn’t spread to you and yours.
Jim sighed. “We’re going to have to do something about this. Not sure what it is, but . . . something.”
He seemed confused by her smile. “It’s why I’m moving the transfer up. We’ll figure it out.”
The acknowledgment from the Derecho came two hours later, and a human being hadn’t touched it. One ship system talking to another, as smooth and lacking in intention as meshing gears in a clockwork. The Derecho was looking for the Storm. The Roci wasn’t the Storm. And even if they were under suspicion, the Laconian strategy didn’t change. They had a gun to Charles Parker’s head and a hundred thousand heads like his, and a timer ticking down toward zero. If the Sidpai was a little sketchy, none of that changed.
The transit to Draper Station was a little brilliancy that showed how good Alex had become as a pilot. It followed a flowing path that exploited the gravity of the gas giant’s moons in their relative orbits, did nothing that looked out of place or implausible, and still landed the Roci with the body of the target moon obscuring the Derecho, and the gas giant keeping any ship coming in from the gate from seeing exactly where they landed.
With the strict comms blackout that protocol required, Naomi wasn’t certain what they’d find when they got there. When the first, almost inaudible navigation pings came, it felt like relief. Alex guided them into the hidden base gracefully. For the years he’d been Bobbie’s pilot, this had been his home, and his intimacy with it showed in the ease of their passage. The Storm was in the secret dock along with two little in-system rock hoppers. The Roci edged into an open berth, the docking clamps locking on with a deep, gentle clank that rang through the ship. To the Derecho, it would look like the little survey ship had landed in a lava tube.
Jillian Houston was waiting for them when the airlock doors opened. She was smaller than Naomi thought of her being, pale hair pulled back but long. She wore a uniform-style jacket without insignia or signs of rank. The woman had served in no military besides the one they’d made up together.
The Derecho was a little under sixty-three hours from starting its bombardment of the planet, and it showed in her eyes.
“You’ve come at a difficult time, ma’am,” Jillian said.
“I’m sorry there are so many of those,” Naomi said.
“My father always says anything worth having is worth fighting for.”
Naomi wasn’t sure whether the bite in the words was really there or if she was just hearing what she expected. Bobbie had always given Jillian good if sometimes cautious evaluations, had promoted her up to be her second-in-command, and left the Storm to her care when she died, but Naomi wasn’t Bobbie. The first time the Roci had come to Freehold, it had taken Jillian’s father away as a prisoner. The alliance between Freehold and the underground had been one of the first steps in pushing back against Laconia, but Naomi couldn’t help feeling that there was still a splinter from that first interaction.
“How is your father?” Naomi asked.
“He’s planetside, ma’am.” It was a prosaic way of saying He’s about to die.
The others came out behind Naomi, Jim first, then Alex, Amos, and Teresa. Jillian’s gaze lingered on Amos long enough that it almost became uncomfortable before she shifted to Alex.
“Good to see you again, Captain,” Alex drawled.
“Welcome back, Mr. Kamal,” she said, and Alex grinned.