Enjoy the chapter, dear readers :)

-Plum

25 – Putting on a Show

Gladia’s shuttles were in Black Wing’s aft shuttle bays, one to port and one to starboard. A wide access corridor, suitable for hauling equipment and cargo, ran between the two bays, and it was in that corridor that Hector turned to look at those he’d be leaving behind. He hadn’t expected them to come and see everyone off—maybe Mathews, but not Paige and Ling.

“Well, I’m sorry for the last-minute change of plans, but…” He let the words hang between them as others filed by, moving into one shuttle bay or the other.

“Relax,” Mathews said. “Not like we aren’t enjoying the accommodations, and we’ll be busy.”

Hector nodded. “You know I only wanted you here because I trust you, right?”

Mathews grinned, putting an arm over Paige’s shoulders, squeezing the much smaller woman. “He trusts us, Paige. Don’t you feel all warm and squishy inside?”

Paige smiled, shaking her head. “Don’t get me involved in your ribbing. I’m honored to be given the chance to delve into the secrets Mori has stashed in his libraries.”

“And I’m honored to help!” Ling announced, performing a ridiculous salute that would have gotten him a thrashing from any respectable Legion Decanus.

“Well, it’s true,” Hector said, tilting his head and locking eyes with Mathews. “Whether you want to joke around or not.” He glanced over his shoulder, ensuring they were alone for the moment, and added, “I need someone here to keep an eye on Gladia’s crew, and I want you to deal with Sparling’s supplier for the railgun ordnance.” He’d already passed the rift pearl off to Gladia for a sizeable increase to his expense account.

“Right.” Mathews shrugged. “As I said, I don’t mind.”

“Well, the ranch will be under a comms blackout, so we won’t be in communication all the time. I’m sure we’ll arrange a relay not far off, though, so I’ll check in with you every couple of days. Also, you’ve got that other guy—Stinson. He’s a good fighter, so use him. Bring him for backup when suppliers dock.”

“Will do.”

“And,” Hector added, feeling more and more like a parent leaving his kids home alone, “Mori knows you’re in charge; don’t let Gladia’s guy, Lewis, get too full of himself.”

The former commander grinned, exposing one sharp, chrome canine. “You’re joking, right? You think that little pencil-neck is going to try to boss me around?”

By way of reply, Hector matched her grin and held out his fist, which she promptly thumped.

“See you soon,” Paige said, as he turned toward the starboard shuttle bay.

Hector nodded, offering her a reassuring smile. “If things go as planned, and the restocking goes smoothly, I’ll send some people up to relieve you guys in a month or so—give you a chance to get some fresh air and sunlight down planetside.”

“Roger, Captain. We’ve got it,” Mathews said.

After one more appraising look and then a nod that was more approval than agreement, Hector turned and walked straight into the shuttle bay, up the ramp, through the cargo compartment—loaded with supplies and equipment taken from Maidensong—and then into the passenger compartment. Lemon caught his eye and patted the empty seat beside her.

Kit was on her other side, and Hector tousled the kid’s hair before sitting down. “Ready, buddy?”

“Ready!” He smiled, exposing some gaps and the nascent white teeth growing into them.

“Love how he’s always game,” Hector said to Lemon, settling into his seat and fastening the lap belt. The shuttle was full, and the murmur of conversation filled the air. He looked around for Sass and thought he saw her short, dark hair up near the front.

Everyone loaded?

//Everyone you wanted to come along. Gladia’s crew is securing the last of the cargo.//

“Everything okay?” Lemon asked, unaware of his side conversation with Evie.

“Everything’s good.”

She looked at him, and he had a feeling she wanted to say more, but instead she closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat. Before long, the shuttle bay opened, and the vessel drifted out into the silent emptiness of space. Of course, from inside the shuttle, that wasn’t exactly apparent—only if you streamed the feed from the external cameras.

People talked, laughed, and passed the time playing games or watching vids on their AUIs. He heard Sass and Freddy laughing at one point, confirming he’d been right about seeing her in the shuttle. Gladia was up with the pilots, and Iris was in the other shuttle, so Hector felt free to zone out and try to catch some shuteye; the flight down to the surface was supposed to take around four hours.

He closed his eyes and reclined his seat as far as it would go—about ten centimeters—smiling when Lemon leaned into his shoulder. His thoughts grew hazy, and he dozed in and out of consciousness, though only just. He was mostly awake the whole time, and when the first rumbles of atmosphere vibrated the shuttle’s hull, he opened his eyes, looking across Lemon’s sleeping figure to Kit. He was staring straight ahead, his hands gripping the armrests with white knuckles.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Hector said.

Kit looked at him, his lower lip moist and red from where he’d been chewing on it. “Is it far?”

Hector glanced at his AUI. “We’re more than halfway. You’re going to hear the shuttle’s engines more and feel the wind on the wings. That just means we’re getting closer.”

“Is that why it’s shaking?”

Hector nodded. “Right. This little bird has a gravity generator, but it’s not as strong as the one in the spaceships we’ve been on. You’ll feel the flight more.”

“It’s kind of…funny.” Kit touched his stomach.

Hector grinned. “This is nothing—a fraction of a G. Back in the day, I dropped out of orbit in a pod that was more missile than ship—hit twenty Gs for a few seconds. If it hadn’t been for the gel in my lungs and the conditioner in my blood, I would have turned into jelly before I could even get into the fight.”

“Jelly?”

“Hector,” Lemon said, cracking a sleepy eye. “Please.”

Hector cleared his throat, nodding. “Right. It’s nothing, buddy. I’m just saying this isn’t anything you should be scared of.”

It wasn’t long before the shuttle’s flight smoothed out and its anemic gravity generator was able to compensate for the mild turbulence. The pilot carefully guided them well away from busy air traffic corridors, plotting a long, swooping path toward the Sparling Ranch in the Martian desert about a thousand klicks south of Tharsis.

Later in the flight, when Hector’s AUI said they were about an hour from landing, Lemon stirred beside him and tugged on his sleeve. The cabin was dim and quiet when he looked down at her. She smiled, leaned close, and whispered, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

He shifted to face her better. “Yeah?”

“Shh!” she said, and he nodded, glancing at Kit’s slack-jawed sleeping face. “Why do I feel like everyone knows something about the Games that I don’t?”

Hector looked into her pale eyes, watching how the amber track lighting reflected in her irises as she searched his face. “What do you mean?” he asked, knowing he was being disingenuous.

“Don’t treat me that way,” she said, her voice still a whisper.

He inhaled deeply through his nose and, as he exhaled, he slowly nodded. “I’ll tell you everything—anything you want to know. This isn’t the best time, though.”

“Just tell me this,” she said. “You’re not really just going into the Games to compete, right? There’s something more to it? Something to do with what Gladia told me…” She trailed off then mouthed a word, plain as day to Hector: rebellion.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “That about sums it up.”

Lemon smiled, nodding, and then she closed her eyes and leaned against his shoulder again, apparently pleased by his response. The rest of the flight was uneventful. The landing was smooth, thanks to the shuttle’s VTOL capabilities; no runway was required. When Hector got out, squinting into the bright glare of the sun and inhaling the warm air of the Martian summer, he walked away from the shuttle so he could get a better view of the training compound.

They’d set down on a wide, paved area atop a slope that gradually descended toward a trio of buildings which were nestled in a depression between a pair of ridges. It was almost a valley, but to Hector’s eye, it was a bit too shallow to be called such. The nearest building was clearly the house—sprawling and expansive with multiple wings attached to the primary structure via breezeways.

A barn and corral were further into the vale, and Hector could see horses out there, one of which was being worked. A tall man in a cowboy hat held its lunge line, guiding it as it pranced around him, clearly doing something special as it lifted its feet in a way that made it almost look like it was dancing.

The other building looked like an airplane hangar—big, and rectangular, and made of rust-colored plasteel. It almost blended into the ochre hillside behind it. Hector felt Iris approach, so he wasn’t surprised when she said, “That’s the training facility.”

“No track?”

She pointed to the hills off to their left. “See the trails? Burton will have you running up into the canyons every day.”

“Figured there’d be more people here,” Sass said, coming to stand beside him.

Iris looked at her, and Hector couldn’t read the expression in her eyes. “Just because they didn’t come to greet us doesn’t mean they aren’t here. I’m sure my father has some fighters in the gym, and there will be staff in the house.” She turned to regard the growing crowd as everyone disembarked the shuttles. “We’ve put up more people than this before.”

“Here come some people,” Freddy said, moving to stand beside Sass.

Hector turned to see a handful of people in matching uniforms—white shirts and black pants—walking up the path from the house. Iris stepped forward, breaking into a jog as she ran down the cobbled path. She raised her hand, waving and calling out, “Anthony! It’s good to see you!”

Behind them, Hector heard Gladia telling her staff to start moving their luggage and equipment to the house, and he turned to regard his people, running his eyes from Kristy to Orin to Demon, and then over to Sass. “You guys can go ahead and haul your stuff down. I’ll get my own bag.”

He glanced at Lemon, who was holding Kit, but before he could say anything, Sass announced, “I’ll get your stuff, Lemon!”

“Thank you, Saskia!”

By then, Iris was back, leading a crew of her father’s employees, and they too began to unload the shuttles. Iris approached Hector. “My father’s in the gym. He wants me to bring you and Burton down.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Gladia said, moving closer. She wore big, round sunglasses with lenses as black as space, and her gauzy peach scarf blew in the breeze.

“You look beautiful,” Lemon said, blushing as she brought a hand to her mouth.

“I love how unguarded your tongue is, Lemon,” Gladia replied. “And thank you.”

Iris patted Lemon’s elbow. “Go ahead—take him down to the house. There will be snacks in the kitchen.”

Lemon nodded, waving briefly to Hector, and then she started down the hill, falling into the train of luggage bearers. Before long, everyone had their first load, and Hector had slung his duffel over one shoulder. He, Iris, Burton, and Gladia were left alone on the pad with the abandoned shuttles. Burton, hands on hips, looked around and inhaled deeply. “Nice and quiet out here. I always enjoy training camp.”

“Let’s walk,” Gladia said. “I’ve something I have to say, and I’m afraid it’s going to irritate Hector.”

Hector grunted, glancing at her with guarded eyes. Of course, with an introductory phrase like that, his mind began to race, trying to figure out what the “irritating” news could be. He figured it had something to do with the ship, or with the schedule leading up to the Games, though he wondered why she’d be the one to deliver that kind of news.

“My brother responded to my communication,” Gladia announced. “He’s going to use my ‘death’ as an excuse to come to Mars. He’ll say he’s settling my estate, but in reality, it will be a convenient reason for him to bring two Ventress fold-ships to Mars, one of which is a battleship.”

“That’ll make the coup easier,” Hector remarked. “Why am I going to be irritated?” Of course, the first thought that came to his mind was Lucien; if Loyal came to Mars, it meant Hector’s vengeance was closer at hand than ever. By the time he kicked off the rebellion, killing Governor Drusus, he’d be ready for Lucien. He’d—

“Because he’s coming sooner than you’d probably like, and he’s not going to stay in orbit. He wants to meet you. I’m afraid he’s lost some confidence in my plan since the loss of Maidensong.”

“Did you not present it as a tactical loss? A decisive outmaneuvering of our enemies?” Iris asked.

“I did, but I’m his little sister, and he’s always been inclined to pepper some doubt into the trust he shows me.”

Iris said something more, and maybe Burton did too, but Hector didn’t hear them. He was wrapping his mind around a crisis that he should have seen coming. In all the scenarios he’d played out in his head, he never encountered the people who’d known him in his old life—not until he was ready, after he’d set the stage for his vengeance. If Loyal came to Mars before the Games, though, and more importantly, if he came to meet Hector, then there was a good chance Lucien would be there.

Lucien might not bat an eye at a fighter named Hector—a man recruited to assassinate the Governor. Hector was a common enough name, after all. A man named Hector with a red aura, though? A man who fought with the decisive skill of the Invicti? Damn the Fates!

//We should have seen this coming. I wouldn’t blame fate.//

“Right, Hector?” Iris asked.

He blinked and cleared his throat, looking down at her. “Hmm? Sorry, I was thinking about something.”

Iris sighed. “Burton said Loyal won’t be disappointed. I said nobody likes having to put on a show. You’re not a pony, after all. Besides, I’ve met Loyal once, and he’s going to change the mood of this place!”

Hector ignored her question and commentary, turning to Gladia. “When’s he coming?”

“His message said two or three weeks, depending on logistics; he has to rearrange a lot of schedules to get the fold-ships ready.”

Hector grunted, frowning as he rubbed his chin. They were walking past the house, between well-tended planters filled with flowers. Verandas covered the junction of paths, and mist sprayers hissed, cooling the air as they passed through. “Pretty out here,” he said.

He could feel Gladia looking askance at him, then locking eyes with Iris. They were both trying to figure out how he felt. Hector didn’t know how he felt, so he’d decided to put the matter aside. He’d have some weeks to figure things out.

Burton helped him change the subject—oblivious or complicit, Hector couldn’t tell. “We’ll see how pretty you think it is when you’re wearing a heat suit under a weighted vest and running a hundred klicks in from the wasteland.”

“Damn, Burton,” Hector said, winking at Iris, “take a guy to dinner before you start the foreplay!”