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The door opens, and there is Eros. “Hey, Sunshine.”
“Eros!” I jump and run to him, throwing my arms around his neck. He hauls me up and carries me out of the room, and there, standing behind the sofa, are Michio and Forrest. “You did it. You found them and brought them here.”
“Yes, we would have been back sooner but...”
I know that look on his face. He’s trying to keep something from me. But I’m not going to allow it. “But?”
Eros pulls me to his side and smells my hair. “I was showing Michio and Forrest how to use the tech analyzers. I thought keeping them there would be safer, and they could use the tech.” He lifts his nose from my hair and glares at his brother. “Then I realized I could do it faster, and when the curfew as lifted . . .”
My heart bites into the side of my chest when I realize Nico’s not here. “Where’s Nico?”
“Yes. There wasn’t room in the solo for four?—”
“There wasn’t room in the solo for three. I’m going to have nightmares about where Forrest’s knee was for decades.”
“Just wait until you join a pod. You’ll be able to sleep through anything.” Forrest sinks down onto the sofa. “Nice place you have here, Portsmouth. You’d think you could afford some new furniture.”
I glance at the Stele governor and ignore his comments before turning back to Eros. “Where is Nico?”
“He’s coming. He had a stop he needed to make first.”
“What? What is he checking out? When you left him, what was he going to do?” I don’t know why I’m trying to lead them to an answer. I know if Eros doesn’t want to tell me, he’s not going to. But still, I’ll try.
“He should be here soon.”
“Yeah, that’s not an answer.”
“I know, Sunshine. I know.”
31
NICO
Am I cataloging the missions where I could have used this cloaking? Yes, with each sway of my fluke, I cut through the water, invisible to the surrounding area. After the first school of fish that ran right into me, I’m being even more mindful of my surroundings. And it’s impressive how well the cloaking works when you’re not trying to cloak two people at once. Letting this out among the citizens would be a disaster, but not letting the military have it? It’s more than wrong; it’s immoral. The war with the Vikings could be over and us victorious. Hell, I never would have wanted to do it, but kidnapping the Skyrothasian princess would have taken an hour. With no loss of life. The tech Eros has in his ramshackle dome leaves me in awe and is infuriating at the same time. As a nation, the tech we have is beyond the wildest dreams of even other paranormals. But the tech the security council has been hiding away from the rest of us is beyond belief. They’re out of control.
What they need is real leadership. Atlas has more time as king, but we need someone with more control, plans. Like Castor. When he took over as CEO of Glyden mining, the company’s profits soared. Castor can get things under control. I know he can.
Swimming in the darkness with only the illumination from the surrounding buildings reminds me of being on missions during the Viking skirmishes. It’s quiet, no solos swooshing past, no chatter from others swimming nearby. I’ve got my own telepathic voice locked down. The aquaculture domes and pens are dark. All power going to the shields, I suppose.
I kick harder. I’m on my way to the largest of the orange domes. My surprise date at the Braesen dome is with someone who knows Governor Haden Moretti of Braesen all too well—his brother, Teneric Course. Teneric spent thirty years in the service and only retired after he lost half of his fluke in battle. I’ve known him for a long time. Over the years, I’ve heard him grumble under his breath enough about his brother. He’s given me the impression that Braesen is far from the animal-loving, friendly dome they put on the show of being. When I lay out what we found, it will be the end of his commitment to his brother, that’s for sure. Teneric has answers, and I’m going to get them.
A security solo turns the corner, a search light scanning with a slow pattern across its path, shining from the seabed up the sides of the domes on either side of the thoroughfare. The light shines on either side of the corridor. The cloaking device is good, but I know the tech on the helios and on the Centauri shimmers even more when a light shines on it. This tech is better, able to form around an organic shape. But what will it do if the solo shines its light right on me? I don’t know.
I zip to the side and then slow and flatten myself next to the dome. I’m close to the sand and decorative rocks around this dome. My ass is a few feet away from the window glass. But unlike my mate, most citizens of the Veiled City don’t like living on the seafloor. I wait until the solo’s slow-moving light is gone before crossing the corridor closer to the seabed.
Then I continue my careful strokes, keeping any sand from dusting the ocean around me, and make my way the rest of the way to the Braesen dome. I’m not far away when the lights around the city pop on. My heart thuds. This means something. There’s no way of knowing, but I’m hoping the curfew is lifted. When I get closer to the Braesen dome, a solo pops out of the first airlock, then another, through the clear glass. I can see a line of vehicles bobbing, waiting for the airlock. And in the distance, I can hear the chatter of other swimmers. The lockdown must be over. I need to get closer to confirm they’re regular citizens and not military. But then lights start to pop on around me. I dart into an alley and wait; I give it a good ten minutes, long enough that I could have reasonably traveled from Glyden or somewhere else nearby.
The airlock for the Braesen dome is busy in the outgoing direction, with no one trying to get in. I’m standing in the lobby in no time.
A butterfly lands on my shoulder. It’s blue, with glowing eyes, and unlike the last time we were here, this one is real. I guess it’s pretty. But Eros’s aversion is totally understandable. The eyes are unnaturally large.
Unlike last time, I don’t know where I’m going. I take the lift up to the main lobby. There, in the middle of a standalone dome, is a reception table with three males standing behind it. One has a monkey sitting on his shoulder. The other two are wearing slings with small fuzzy animals inside.
“I’m here to see Teneric Course,” I say. “Do you have an apartment number?”
The one holding the monkey’s mouth turns to an o.
“Pascal? Are you going to answer him?” the one standing next to him asks.
