After the translation, the guards talked amongst themselves for a brief moment before looking back at Augustus. He peered along the line of helmets, smiling, nodding his head. “You are the chosen few. The ones that will be remembered in history books. If a croatoan ship returns, they will thank us. If one doesn’t, we will create a new golden era for this planet.”
The little surveyor relayed the final part of his great speech. One alien at the end of the line replied. Augustus leaned down. “What did he say?”
“They’re with you,” the surveyor said.
Augustus took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and smiled. “We have no time to waste. Prepare for travel.”
He jumped from his chair and headed for the pile of root. The wheels were set in motion. Unity would be crushed, and no pompous old woman or ragtag force would stop his well-drilled army.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Denver yawned. Golden dawn light warmed his eyelids. He turned over and rolled into the warm body of… he opened his eyes.
Maria.
Of course. She’d stayed here when they had returned from the shipwreck.
Temporary amnesia faded. Memories, obscured by sleep and nebulous dreams, sharpened into focus.
They were in their shack on the hills of Unity. Beside his bed was the dark case containing the bomb they’d picked up from Mai late yesterday evening.
Muted snoring susurrated through the thin walls. He knew that particular sleep-song belonged to his dad—the soundtrack of fatigue and a day’s good work.
Maria’s breathing came in steady lapping tides, warming his shoulder. She had her knees up to her chest, her arms around the sagging pillow.
A stray lock of hair had fallen across her face and flittered with each exhalation.
The filtered glow of the room brought vitality to her face.
For such a long time she had appeared, on the surface, to be at peace.
Lately, over the last few weeks, she had seemed to be struggling with some inner torment.
Denver had tried a few times to ask her what was going on, but she wouldn’t open up, and he didn’t have the words or skill to pick that particular lock.
Because she had just gotten on with things, he supposed they had all taken for granted how well she was coping.
Beneath the exterior of strength, there lay an insidious weakness. He reached a hand over to draw the hair from her face.
She stirred and brought her hand up touching Denver’s. She opened her eyes lazily and froze as their gazes locked onto each other.
Her body stiffened. She eased away. “Oh, hey,” she said. “Um, morning.”
Denver pulled his hand away and sat up in the bed, letting the blanket fall. Maria clutched it to her body.
“I’m sorry,” Denver said. “I didn’t mean to wake you… I just, well, how are you feeling?”
Maria yawned. “Weird… I need to talk to you. It’s about Hagellan. He can’t be trusted.”
A sharp rap on the door interrupted them. “Come on, kiddos, we got work to do.”
“Be right there, Dad,” said Denver. Then to Maria: “Sorry, we’ll talk, let’s just get this out of the way first.”
“Okay,” Maria said. “But it’s important.”
Mike and Charlie sat around the rickety coffee table, the salvaged parts spread out on the surface. A croatoan engineer garbled in broken English as it and Mike discussed the next stage of the operation.
Maria stepped out from behind Denver and greeted the others, the veneer of calm now fully in place. A practiced phenotype designed to act as camouflage.
Charlie gave Denver a knowing look with a micro-expression raise of his eyebrow. Denver shook his head a few millimeters, indicating that, no, he didn’t sleep with Maria. He caught a hint of disappointment in his father’s face. Denver wasn’t stupid; he knew his dad would prefer him to be with Maria instead of Layla, but right now, that issue wasn’t high on his list of priorities.
Mike stood and gathered the parts. “So this is it. If these work as well as my new friend here thinks, we should be good to go later today.”
“We go,” the alien said, tugging on Mike’s sleeve.
“We’ll catch up with your progress later,” Charlie said, striding across the room and opening the door for him. The guard outside gave a curt nod.
“Okay,” Mike said, looking weary as though he’d been up all night going through the installation process with his alien counterpart. “Proof is in the pudding and all that. Let’s hope all this works out.”
“With you on the case, Mike, I have no doubt,” Denver said, clapping the man he thought of as his uncle on the shoulder. If anyone had the ability to do this, it was Mike. Growing up, Denver had seen him do some spectacular things with the remnants of human technology and engineering.
The alien stepped outside, and Mike followed, carrying the bundle of parts. The guard escorted them. Denver watched from the open door as they descended the steps and headed for Hagellan’s craft. Apparently they’d towed it to Unity with a harvester last night. They weren’t messing around either.
Aimee approached from the direction of town, flanked by two shotgun-wielding croatoans.