A third couch had been brought into the duty room. Elenya was hunting with them now. Josef served as her anchor. She held back, staying firmly attached to Dillon’s side. She did not venture out, nor did she ever express any real affection for the experience. She did it because she wanted to share in every aspect of Sean’s world. And he loved her more for doing so.
Elenya’s real duties lay elsewhere. With every passing day, her role as go-between became more vital. Carver related the arguments and the egos and the maneuverings. Josef then described observing Elenya handle the Cyrian leader’s strident demands to be placed in charge. Both men smiled through their tales, taking evident pride in this woman coming into her own.
The one point over which the planet’s rulers refused to budge was the station. Sean wanted it closed. The Cyrians would not even discuss it. Elenya’s arguments got them nowhere, particularly because the Praetorian officers weren’t certain it was a good idea. If the plan was indeed to pretend at normality, the station needed to look normal. Which required passengers and trains and business as usual. Elenya’s urgent plea to create a fake power outage or rail problem fell on deaf ears. The bureaucrats spoke of public calm. The officers used terms like collateral damage. Sean tried hard not to loathe them all.
Sean had hardly seen Elenya the previous day, save for their hunting sessions and a hurried meal with John. All her remaining hours were spent on outside duty. Playing mediator. Keeping them isolated. Shielding them with the force of her will.
On the afternoon of day nine, she was so late getting back they almost left without her. When she finally appeared, Sean stifled Dillon’s comment with a look that would have done Tatyana proud.
Elenya looked both drawn and angry, but all she said upon lying down was, “I’m ready.”
They rose, linked, and passed through the station wall.
Sean froze eight inches inside the station. Less.
Under other circumstances, it probably would have been comic, how he managed to halt Dillon and Elenya by reaching out arms he didn’t have and gripping them with hands that were back inside the former café. They both stopped, though, which was all that mattered.
Their entry point was the back of a kiosk that sold the veggie wraps, which had become their favorite Cyrian meal. They drifted behind and above the workers, watching the traveling hordes pass before their eyes.
A single instant was enough to be certain. Even so, Sean remained there a time. Scouring the distance, searching for the precise point of change. Once he identified it, he drew the others up and focused them on the location. Making sure they saw and understood.
The instant they returned, the very moment they opened their eyes and swung their feet to the floor, the entire world was filled with the tension they carried.
Carver demanded, “What is it?”
“Go get Chenel and Baran,” Sean said. “Hurry.”
When the Watchers arrived, Sean was seated on the same bunk as Dillon and Elenya, the three of them clustered together for strength and warmth, for they all felt chilled by the tense dread of having gotten it right. “Dillon, you tell them.”
“You saw it first.”
“You’re better at all this. Go.”
Dillon took a breath. “Take up position inside the kiosk. Don’t move farther. Aim at the gate that is five degrees off directly overhead. There are three empty tracks. Right there inside the gate. That is your target.”
Chenel asked, “What are we looking for?”
“You tell us,” Sean replied.
“Go,” Elenya said. “Hurry.”
Chenel was back in three minutes flat. She rose, rubbed her face, then said, “I confirm their findings.”
Carver protested, “They didn’t say what they identified.”
“They don’t need to. Sound the alarm.”