The Exodus Towers (47 page)

The two women nodded. He decided now was as good a time as any to walk them through the preparation process. A walk around the vehicle went first, but he’d done that previously and saw nothing to be concerned about. Then he moved in closer and ran a hand over the fuselage. Other than a healthy coat of dust, he found no sign of wear in the panels, no sign of rust or deterioration in the rivets. Indeed, he saw no indication at all that the bird had ever flown. It had, of course, since otherwise it wouldn’t be here.

After inspecting the thrust ducts and joints where the
flaps attached to the wings, he went to the cabin door and opened it. It took some muscle to overcome the slight pressure difference, and then the interior came into view.

Smells hit him first. Leather and new carpet and industrial adhesives, like a new car. He inhaled a second time and tried to find any hint of rot or mold. Or worse, death. But he came up empty and exhaled with relief.

The inside of the craft was dark, save for light coming in the tinted windows. He fumbled around for a time before finding the stewards panel, and on that a master control for the cabin lights. He flipped it, and warm light filled the cabin.

“Power!” Ana chirped. “After all this time!”

“Indeed,” Skyler said. Ultracapacitors drained slowly when unused, and it didn’t surprise him that there would be enough residual spool to run the lights. If the cockpit computers worked, though, he’d be shocked.

“I could live here,” Vanessa said, strolling down the aisle toward the back of the plane.

Skyler studied the cabin closely for the first time. “Luxury” didn’t begin to describe it. There were only six seats, huge cushioned things done in black leather and accented with silver-gray ultrasuede, thick white stitching along every seam. Each seat had a retractable desk of beech wood, a terminal slate, and sensory goggles. A widescreen monitor covered the top half of the back wall. Below it was a recessed wet bar.

Impressive. Skyler couldn’t deny it. But his mind shifted quickly to the practical implications. The space was small, smaller than he would have thought. It would not hold much cargo, unless there was more to it than they could see. None of that mattered, though, if the flight systems were shot.

“Who wants to see the cockpit?” he asked.

Ana nodded eagerly. Vanessa ran a hand along the arm of one luxury chair before she finally turned and came to join them. A lawyer, and a senator’s daughter, she must have grown up with luxury of this sort, and she still had an affinity for it.

A modest restroom and small serving area separated the cabin from the cockpit. Their contents could be searched later.

Even though he expected it, Skyler swore under his breath when the computers and controls in the cockpit failed to initialize. Not enough power. A systems check would have been preferred before attaching a line to the cap spooler. He shrugged, decided the risk was worth it, and led his crew outside to show them how to open the port and attach the cable. Charging a civilian aircraft like this was only marginally more complicated than spooling a ground car.

Back inside, he tried the computers again and smiled as the screens came to life. The cockpit had few traditional instruments. Instead, shaped displays covered every surface. When off, they looked like part of the walls, ceiling, and dash. One display ran from knee level up to the base of the canopy and clearly contained the most important information: cap levels, range, and a flight planner. Understandably, the ultracapacitor levels were at zero percent, but at least it indicated “charging.” The estimated time to completion showed three question marks, so Skyler studied the other screens while he waited.

One display on the wall left of the pilot’s seat flashed an overall diagnostic readout, and various entries on it were turning from gray to green even as he watched. Only one line deviated: capacitor levels, which flashed yellow.

“Well?” Vanessa asked.

“Everything looks good. We’ll be able to fire up the motors in”—he glanced back at the charging estimate—“two hours.” The craft would be at 10 percent charge then, plenty to take it for a test flight and move it to Camp Exodus.

“What do we do in the meantime?” Ana asked.

Skyler turned to her. “We …”

She had her hands clasped just in front of her chin, almost as if in prayer, and she bounced gently on her tiptoes. Vanessa leaned against the doorway behind her, exhaustion plain on her face.

“Next,” Skyler said, “next we see if there’s anything to drink back there.”

A bottle of merlot was uncorked. Two glasses was all it took before Vanessa drifted off in one of the oversized, cushioned passenger chairs.

Ana eased the seat back for her until it became a bed and then found a blanket to cover the woman with. The cabin lights were dimmed, and Skyler led Ana back to the cockpit.

The girl climbed into the co-pilot’s seat without a word, and Skyler took his place in the pilot’s chair. Despite the exotic, high-end equipment, the position still fit him like an old comfortable shoe. The basic controls were exactly where he would expect, and with a bit of fiddling he even found he could reconfigure the various screens around him. He tried moving some of the information around to more familiar positions, but it was tedious. Then he spotted the option to completely realign the displays to mimic other aircraft.

To his surprise and delight, the database was enormous, and in less than thirty seconds he had the entire cockpit looking exactly like the
Melville’
s. The graphical representation was remarkably accurate.

Another option on the screen was “setup.” Skyler tapped it and found where he could set a name for the aircraft. An idea came to him. “Would you like to name her?”

“Name who?” Ana said.

“The bird. This plane.”

Her eyes lit up, then her nose wrinkled in concentration. In the soft amber glow of the cockpit lights, she looked rather striking, Skyler thought.

“La Gaza Ladra,”
Ana said.

He loved it simply for the way she said the words. As he tapped in the letters, he asked, “What’s it mean?”

“The Thieving Magpie. Something Papa used to play on the guitar.”

“Perfect,” he said to himself, grinning. “Perfect.”

Next to him, Ana beamed. “I’ve never seen you so happy.”

“Doesn’t get much better than this,” he agreed.

“Hmm.” Ana stood. “I forgot something.”

“What’s that?” he asked, his attention firmly on the readouts that rolled across the screens before him.

His view was suddenly blocked by her hips, her torso,
then her face. She slid onto his lap, arms around his neck. Before he could protest her lips met his and she kissed him.

Skyler resisted, but there was nowhere to go. Her fingers tangled in his hair, sending a ripple of electricity down his spine. When her tongue darted in between his lips, Skyler gave in and kissed her back. The world around him melted away, and he put his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

Ana turned and adjusted her legs until she straddled him. The kiss went from gentle, to passionate, to urgent. The warmth of her mouth, her body, drew him in. When her hands began to work at his belt buckle, Skyler pulled away.

“Slow down, slow down,” he breathed.

Ana let out a nervous half laugh and swept her hair behind her ears. She bit her lower lip in frustration, then leaned in and kissed him again. A quick, sensuous move that she let linger just long enough to get his pulse racing again.

Then she leaned back. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

“No need to apologize.”

She stayed where she was, her legs wrapped around his. The position soon became uncomfortable in the narrow pilot’s seat.

“Um,” Skyler managed.

Ana put a finger to his lips. “Don’t say anything. I made the first move; you can retaliate anytime you like.”

He grunted a laugh at her choice of words. “It’s just …”

“Just what?”

“I’m too old for you.”

She looked at him with total confusion. Then she shook her head vehemently. “Those rules don’t apply anymore, Skyler.”

“Don’t they?”

“No,” she said, her tone flat, very serious. “Not now. Not after everything that’s happened in the world. It’s like this aircraft, Skyler.
La Gaza Ladra
. If you find something you need, you take it.”

“Yeah, but who needs who?”

She glared at him, playful but no less intense. “Are you saying you don’t need me?”

A dozen answers flew through his mind, and beyond them were all the vague warnings of camp politics, impropriety, and his already rocky friendship with Tania Sharma. Vague shapes in the Builders’ hazy cloud, one and all.

Skyler pushed the ghosts away and kissed her.

Darwin, Australia

25.DEC.2283

“I
T
’
S FREAKY HOW
quiet the city is now,” Skadz said.

Sam pushed the last remnants of her dinner around the Styrofoam bowl. Rice plus some kind of mystery meat. A freeze-dried, preservative-laden dish of salty mush, made only slightly better with a healthy dash of chili sauce.

They sat side by side on the hangar’s roof, under a plastic tarp propped up by two old ladders. A light rain tapped away on the surface and rolled down the sides in tiny streams.

Skadz cleared his throat. “Grillo’s really coddled the place, hasn’t he?”

She paused mid-bite, the food gone from edible mush to inedible ash.
Coddled doesn’t even enter into it
. It had been over a month and she still hadn’t been able to speak about what she’d witnessed in Lyons. The topic of Grillo, through her body language alone, had become off-limits around the airport. She’d done her best to avoid the man himself lest he somehow sense a change in the way she looked at him. A hint of disgust or fear she knew he’d find in her eyes.

“You’re talkative tonight.”

Sam set the bowl aside and filled her cup with runoff water dripping from the side of their makeshift tent. “Going out tomorrow. I’m just thinking through the logistics.”

“What’s the mission?”

“The mission is fucked-up, that’s what,” she said. “Grillo always,
always
, has us going for soil and seeds and shit.” She took a drink, sloshed the water around her mouth, and
spat it out. The salty taste of fake chicken remained, and she repeated the process.

“Charming,” he said.

“Bite me.”

Winking red light from an approaching aircraft caught both their attention. As they watched, the craft crept up on the airport from the southeast, and soon the howl of its engines could be heard above the rain. The craft slowed until it hovered, and then descended to its designated spot along the row of landing pads that covered the original strip of asphalt.

“This mission, today’s,” Sam said once the engine noise receded, “is guns. Rifles, handguns, grenades. Body armor, helmets. The works.”

Skadz grunted. “Merry fucking Christmas, eh?”

“Hah.”

He grew thoughtful. “What’s that mean, then? Is Blackfield back in control? Sounds like one of his lists.”

“I don’t know.” The prospect made her shudder. She had other theories but couldn’t quite bring herself to voice them. Skadz had resumed his role of friend easily enough, but she’d not gone so far as to consider him a confidant yet. He disappeared for days at a time into the city. With all the Jacobites around, who knew what might be overheard. Skadz had a penchant for gab, a gift for boasting. If she told him about Kelly, or the strange Builder device she’d recovered for Grillo, or the butchery she’d witnessed, word could get around. So she said nothing.

Skadz had yet to try to return to his role as a scavenger, and she suspected he might never.

Sometimes, late at night, she could hear him battling nightmares. Whether or not he was haunted by the girl he’d let die, or something that happened while he was out walking the desolate lands beyond Darwin, she had no idea. He’d avoided the topic and said little of what happened during his walkabout. Despite his nonchalance, Sam only had to look at his eyes to see the pain there. Something had happened out there, something that drove him back.