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Garrett shot Sebastian a look. “Do you know what it’s about?”
“Shit, I think so.” Sebastian shook off Joan’s arm. “I’ll go meet them. Garrett, go get Leon.”
“Where is he?”
“Patrick’s rooms. Be quick.” Sebastian powered on ahead without looking back, Joan glued to his heels, and Garrett U-turned back toward the series of low shacks that housed the visiting Klah’Eel. Garrett had certainly never visited them before, but he’d made a point of knowing where they were.
He walked fast without running, not wanting to give away the urgency of the situation to any passerby. Not that he understood the urgency of the situation himself, but if Sebastian thought it was important enough to drop their search for Maxwell, then it must be damn important. He could no longer even find it in himself to be jealous that Sebastian knew what was going on and he didn’t. Leon and Sebastian were a team of two, and after acknowledging his own longing to have that with Maxwell, Garrett couldn’t begrudge Leon for finding it with Sebastian.
As Garrett approached the short line of huts, his momentary wondering of which was Patrick’s ended when he heard Leon’s voice snap out of the center one. “That is out of the question, and I will not hear of it again.”
Patrick’s voice replied at a volume only barely lower. “But I will.”
Garrett pushed open the door to see Leon with his shoulders pulled back and his chin up in a posture Garrett knew from long experience meant he wasn’t budging.
“They will have to accept this decision,” Leon said evenly.
Patrick’s fists shook at his sides, but his stance was pleading more than aggressive. “So give me something else.”
Garrett finally knocked on the metal door with a knuckle and waited until Leon looked at him. Then he jerked his head back toward the sky port. “We have a situation.”
Leon straightened. “About…” he raised his eyebrows and trailed off, but Garrett shook his head. Not about Maxwell, as much as it killed him.
“No, something else. Some unexpected guests.”
“Alright.” Leon started toward the door, but Patrick caught his arm.
“Hess. Leon. Give me something.” Patrick shook Leon’s forearm. “Just sign over a piece of it. Show them the Resistance can play ball, and we at least delay this.”
“I’m sorry, Patrick.” Leon peeled Patrick’s fingers off him, and he did look genuinely sorry. “You might as well pack your bags.”
As Garrett and Leon left the little shack and walked away, Garrett expected to hear a last outburst of frustration—Patrick swearing or kicking something—but he heard nothing at all.
He shook his head in bewilderment and jogged to catch up with Leon, who was already striding toward the sky port. “Why does Patrick need to pack his bags?”
“The Klah’Eel want either Sebastian or the uranium stockpile.” Leon pressed his lips together. “And they’re not going to get either.”
Garrett glanced back at the line of huts behind them with something like sympathy. “So you’re kicking him out?”
“No.” Leon shook his head as they turned a corner and crossed a busy bridge over the camp’s central canal. “The Klah’Eel are calling him back.”
Garrett winced. That was worse.
Leon caught his expression and nodded with a grimace. “Yeah. He was promoted and sent here because the Klah’Eel thought he could get something from us. If he can’t, then he’s a failure and a waste of their resources.”
“And it doesn’t sound like they have all that many resources left.” Garrett thought back to the comments he’d heard here and there and the conversations he’d had with Martha and Joan. The Klah’Eel were stretched thin. On the verge of bankruptcy if they believed some of the reports.
“Yeah, but they can’t have ours.” Leon sliced his hand through the air as they walked. “That uranium is the only way we pay for those turbines. I don’t care how many ships or how much manpower Patrick brings with him. It’s not worth giving up even a piece of it. Now who are our guests?”
“Qeshian recon team,” Garrett replied, and Leon stopped abruptly. Garrett’s momentum took him a few more steps forward before he turned to eye Leon. His face had gone disturbingly pale. “You know what they’re here about. What is it?”
Leon shook the horror from his face and pushed past him. “You’re about to find out.”
When they finally entered the building, Sebastian and Joan stood facing the qesh. Joan was back against the wall with her tablet while Sebastian stood in the open, facing them with a hand resting on his hip. But Garrett’s eyes only glided briefly over his comrades before catching and holding on the three qesh they squared off against.
Thank god Southern Tava had never had to go to war against them.
The qesh were stereotypically tall and thin, with long pale hair tied up and pinned behind their heads. Sleek body armor, so black it seemed to soak in the light, clad them all from foot to throat, and shiny metal pistols gleamed from their thigh holsters. They each held matching black helmets with blank face plates under their arms. Tiny black wires curled around their ears and down their jaws, and the insides of the armor across their forearms flickered with screens.
