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“So we’re basically going in blind.”
“Not exactly,” he said. “The coordinates place it deep within the heart of the Algar Plains, which means it’s not a military base, as none were ever built out that way—not even temporary ones.”
I frowned. “Then what is Longborne?”
“The Algar region produces most of Central’s fine wool and cotton. As far as we can ascertain, Longborne is, in fact, Warehouse Five. It apparently holds the cotton bales in climate-controlled conditions until they’re sent to the mills for further processing.”
I frowned. “I wouldn’t think a warehouse would be a particularly safe place for a genetics lab to be situated.”
“No, but old military bases in a usable condition are rather scarce these days.” He thrust to his feet. “I’ll go make arrangements and let you rest. Nuri wants us out of here by tonight, if you’re feeling up to it.”
“And still wants us out of here by then even if I’m not.”
A smile twitched his lips again. “Indeed.” He briefly placed his hand on mine. “Rest, Tiger. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
Shall I follow him? Bear asked, almost eagerly.
If you want to, I said, amused. But I do trust him these days.
Which was something I never thought I’d say about a ranger.
Then I will, Bear said, and zoomed after him.
He’s such a boy, Cat said, in an almost motherly tone.
I laughed. It was sometimes hard to remember that she was actually six years younger than Bear. And while the mental age of all déchet had rarely matched their physical age, thanks to the use of growth accelerates, it often seemed—both then and now—that Cat was the more mature of the two.
“He’s only had my company for over a hundred years, Cat. I think he’s deserving of a little male time.”
There is nothing wrong with your company, Cat said, rather indignantly. And it’s not like there’re only girls in our bunker.
“But he is the oldest of them.” I glanced toward the door as a woman came in. She was wearing everyday clothes—light brown pants and an emerald, close-fitting top—rather than a white coat, but I was in no doubt that she was the doctor. And given her mottled black hair, regal nose, and the fact that her eyes were the same shade of vivid green as Jonas’s, I also had no doubt that this was his great-grandniece, Tala.
She stopped and scanned the bed’s readouts. “Everything is looking rather impressive given you were at death’s door two days ago. How do you actually feel, though?”
“A little tired, but other than that, fine.” I hesitated, and then said, “Has Jonas talked to you yet?”
Her gaze came to mine. “About going to New Port? Yes, he has.”
There was nothing in her tone to indicate how she felt about the request. Or indeed, whether she was a willing participant in the scheme.
“If you have no desire—”
“I have no desire for this world to be plunged into another war, and yet we all know that’s what comes.” Her voice remained without inflection, but there was something in her eyes that spoke of anger and heartache. “The vampires grow bolder and the wraith attacks more frequent. Light is our one protection and if that fails us....” She grimaced. “So I will play my part in this drama and hope that, in doing so, the future we all fear does not eventuate.”
“Thank you—”
“Duty doesn’t require a thank-you.” She glanced down at Raela, and the shadows of heartache pressed closer in her gaze. “But I cannot deny it’ll be a pleasure to look after a little one again.”
I bit back my instinctive question, as it didn’t really take a genius to figure out what might lie behind that sadness. It was also obvious she had no desire to talk about it. “Please keep her safe. She means a lot to me.”
Tala’s smile flashed, though that heartache lingered. “As is natural.” She stepped around Raela’s crib and removed the IVs from my arm. “I’ve ordered a protein meal to be brought in to you, as well as some fresh clothes. I believe Jonas is intent on leaving at sunset.”
“And you and Raela?”
“Will depart with the New Port shuttle in the morning.”
I frowned, wondering if that was safe, even as I knew Jonas wouldn't approve any plan that would endanger either Tala’s or Raela’s life. She must have guessed what I was thinking, because she added, “I’m a regular visitor to New Port—I help out at the clinic over there a couple of times a month. No one will think it unusual.”
