Page 31 of Reformation
“How long has she been there?” Cody asked.
“Since last time.”
He nodded encouragingly. “Last time what?”
“Last dirt time.”
“You grabbed a few seeds the last time you went planet-side?”
The kid shuffled his feet. “They grabbedme. And then fell off. And I found one and put it here.”
“Huh.” Of all the places to grow a garden. Still … Cody nodded. “I get it. Okay.” He reached out with the wand and reopened the tiny gash in the pipe. “There. Water for Missy.”
“Good.” The kid looked satisfied. “I’m Zan, I’m five. My mama is kitchen folk.”
Well, that was a matter-of-fact introduction. “I’m Cody. I’m nineteen. My daddy is a pilot.”
Zan frowned. “But you look engines.”
“I’m engines, but my daddy isn’t.”
Zan made a face. “Weird.”
“I guess so. You hungry?” After getting an enthusiastic nod, Cody shared the rest of his protein bar and a one-sided conversation with Zan, who was more than happy to talk up a storm now that his pet flower had been tended to.
He smiled through the next hour of mapmaking, walking over four miles’ worth of halls and traversing at least seven originally separate ships before he got a message from Ten: [Finally done. Heading back to our place. Meet me there?]
He sent back the equivalent of a nod and had his implant plot the fastest route there, given the information it had. Fifteenminutes, three ladders, and two stairwells later, and Cody was back in their dock, where Ten was waiting impatiently for him.
“The way this thing leaks, I’m amazed it doesn’t just all decompress and kill everyone,” ze said as soon as ze saw Cody. “You think whatIdo is dangerous? I have nothing on these people, nothing; it’s astonishing they aren’t all dead of some ridiculous mold-borne illness, because they don’t have the facilities to give people more than one shot of Regen a year unless they’re on the verge of death, whichyouwould be all the fucking time here.” Ze suddenly paled. “Oh my god,you were on the verge of death all the fucking time!Why did Jonah wait until you were five? Why do I have to do this again tomorrow? Do I have to do this again tomorrow?”
“You do,” Cody said, setting the helmet and apron aside. “I’m sorry.”
“Hmph.” Ten crossed hir arms and glared at nothing for a moment, then shrugged. “On the plus side—there was only one, and this is it—Livia is competent and not a complete idiot. So.” Ten flopped back on their cot. “What did you do today?”
Cody grinned and accessed his new map. “I’ll show you all about it.”
Chapter seventeen
Captain Kylal
“I don’t understand this man’s love of in-person meetings,” Captain Rianna Kylal muttered to her fellow captain, Blake Obede, as they made their way from the Academy fleet flagship’s dock to General Caractacus’s ready room. “We’re barely three days out from Olympus, and he wants to speak to us again? All together? What’s so important that it has to be said in person as opposed to over a private comm?”
“He’s old-fashioned, I suppose,” Blake replied easily. They’d come without their aides—not a requirement, the general’s personal secretary had stressed, but as said aides wouldn’t be allowed into the briefing, it didn’t make much sense for them to tag along. After all, they had their orders from the admiralty. Nothing Miles Caractacus could do would change those at this point. “Or perhaps he’s just reinforcing his position as the head of our little armada.”
Rianna snorted. “Please. This is a milk run, and we all know it. Why the admiralty bothered to pull in a retired marine general, of all people, instead of giving it to an active-duty captain, I have no idea. Maybe Garrett Helms made them.”
“You think Helms has that kind of pull in the Senate?”
“There’s no telling what that snake is capable of. His own kid’s not on the roster here, did you know that?” Rianna shook her head. “Coddling him won’t do him any favors.”
“Or maybe he knows something we don’t.”
“Conspiracy theories, Blake?” She nudged him. “Don’t get buzzy on me. I need someone around who knows how to keep a level head.”
They were coming up on the general’s ready room. His secretary, Lieutenant Shen Lin, was waiting at the door, immaculate in a space-black suit, her hands crossed in front of her.
“Thank you both for coming,” she said. “You’re the last to be accounted for, so if you would please enter and be seated?”
