Chapter 32

I turned to look up.

The line of flares continued their lofty descent at a not-so-far-away distance from the one Rob had launched above us. Without another word, he walked toward the embankment. It felt like someone had flipped my stomach inside out and pinned it to the interior of my throat. Between the flares, a vague reference to my parents' past, and the somehow super-secret-but-not-secret organization, which Rob, Sam, and now I were a part of. It felt like a spark had caught on a proverbial fuse. Like the pressure fitting of a Pod Lock close to a breach, something was about to go bang in my brain, and I couldn't take it anymore.

I hustled after him.

“Rob! Hang on...what about my mother? What about everything we were just talking about?! You can’t just leave something like that unanswered.”

Rob didn't stop. Instead, he scaled up the side of the embankment as easily as if he were navigating a ladder. I goggled up at him in complete surprise as he directed his voice back down toward me. “If you want any answers, you won’t find any if we’re caught.”

I eyed the muddy slope warily as Sam approached me from behind.

My voice was far squeakier than I wanted it to sound. "Do you know what all of this is about?!” I asked, fully expecting a snarky response in return.

Except it didn't come.

She paused. Her eyes followed the mud that sluiced toward us as she genuinely mulled over my question.

“Nope,” she said, “and it's not my place to tell anyway. You're going to have to wait for Rob.”

"Move you two." Rob's voice said hidden above. "We've got little time and much to do."

With a sudden burst of movement, Sam leaned forward and loped easily up the side. While it might have lacked the flair of Rob’s rapid ascent, it was still far better than any attempt I'd be able to muster.

Glumly, I looked upward as she twirled on the spot to look down at me.

“Come on,” she said encouragingly from above. The gentleness was a stark difference from what I’d learned to expect. “You can’t get more information if you don’t keep up. Rob will let us know when we need to know.” A curiously empathetic smile was on her face. “You get used to it, newbie—or at least you’re going to have to if you plan on sticking around. Okay?” Her left hand was held out patiently as she locked her eyes on mine.

Surprisingly, I only tripped twice as I scrabbled my way high enough up the embankment to grab her proffered hand. The bag certainly didn’t make the ordeal easy, but Sam easily hauled me over the lip of the edge. The upper area felt almost claustrophobic after the open spaces of the canal side. The flora seemed to press in as we approached where Rob stood.

His face had a serious, half-green-tinged expression as he looked at the two of us from beside the trunk of a particularly large tree. I could see several of the flares from our place of concealment, which had all the makings of a good spot to observe without being seen.

"Huddle up, drum meeting." Rob said, and I quickly took up position to stand shoulder to shoulder beside him.

It was pure reflex when I moved. His call for the meeting had triggered a Pavlovian instinct to comply. My introduction to the idea of a drum meeting had been my first night working at The Port. Since that day, they'd been at least a once-a-shift occurrence. The first had been surreal. At the time I'd had limited exposure to Port-Sign and so stood dumbfounded as a circle of workers watched Rob intently. Burly shoulders had acted as cover as he "spoke" with his hands animatedly. I'd had zero clue on what was being shared at the time, but he'd taken me aside to explain after everyone had moved off to begin the shift.

"It's a long-lost tradition for navies of the past, see? The term "drumhead" actually means a summary court-martial, back when command needed to fast-track punishment or the like. They used to sign the documents on top of these old drums that used to be on board. It's why we call them drum meetings. For us? The real meetings are all off record, where the 'officers' can't see us. Get me?"

It had blown my mind at the time but made sense the longer I'd worked there. Management was there to oversee the details and Corpo interests. Drum meetings were for the crew. To get the REAL business handled before anything could be reported. We were seriously in need of answers and solutions. Especially me. Having a meeting now made sense, but the real surprise was Sam, who mirrored my motions without prompt and closed the gap to form a triangle.

She knows what drum meetings are.

Her actions were smooth, as if she'd worked shifts long enough to know how things would proceed. I momentarily lost view of her to scan the surrounding area over my right shoulder. Before we could start, we had to be sure we'd be in the clear. Without a specific need to look out for an exec or manager, my goal was to look for any movement that wasn't us. Rob would do the same on his side. Trees were everywhere. This part of the upper embankment was heavily forested, giving us ample concealment, but we had to be wary. Tim and Paul had still managed to get the drop on Sam when she'd been focused on us below.

The fog from earlier had rolled in, which gave everything a cold, wet glow in the dawn of what looked to be a miserable day. Between the rain and surrounding vegetation, the visible light shifted in such a way it gave off an eerie impression, like an imagined ghost story set in a gloomy forest. Sound seemed to deaden. Absorbed by the flora around us. The rain trickled from the canopy above in stray droplings and streams.

I caught a glimpse of Sam's face as she completed her sweep. Her eyes had flicked away, but not in time for me to miss her own surprise at my lack of hesitation to do the same. I pushed the thought into the back of my mind. Our prerequisites to clear the immediate area were complete. It was time for Rob to start us off.

I shifted my attention toward the center. In practice, the caller for a drum meeting would position their hand over an imaginary drum between everyone present. On cue, Rob extended his with a chopped downward motion. The port-sign signal for "stop" when directed at someone. To the casual observer it would only look like a gesture, not entirely unexpected within an animated group of people huddled together for warmth or discussion.

"The situation is dire, you two." He said with an actually worried look upon his face. His use of speech in the opening statement meant this meeting would be primarily a verbal one. His voice was steady and low but loud enough for the two of us to pick up. "I'm calling it here. I'm no longer planning on staying. The risks are so high that my cover's already been blown."

Sam chopped her hand in. Rob extracted his. Part of the tradition to keep the subject on track.

"So it's official?" Sam said. "You're leaving Corpo territory?"

"Yes," Rob replied.

Sam kept her hand in, not finished yet. "And what would you need to do that?"

He was lost in thought as he rubbed his chin absentmindedly. "As it stands now? I can abandon everything. Owen is wearing what I'd most want to get out of here. The problem is we've got a couple of glaring issues to deal with starting with—"

"Frank."

He nodded in agreement.

I chopped my hand in. Sam extracted hers.

"So who is Frank exactly, and why is he a glaring issue for us?" I looked between the two.

Rob made a "hmm" noise with his customary grumble before answering. "He's a runner like Sam, except he never arrived when he was supposed to. Tonight I tasked him with clearing out one of our older caches to prep a new one, but he missed both check-ins, so it's an issue."

Sam's face was serious, with none of the playful mischief or anger from before. "I got tagged by the Goons and had to bail before Frank and I could meet up. I haven't seen him since we left the Brew." She eyed Rob as he "hmm'ed" again.

Rob glanced at me and pointed his hand toward the center, a subtle request to cut in. I nodded and extracted.

"Back on track." He said. "Frank knows what to do and where to go."

He looked back toward the edge behind us. "Those two goons seemed like they were bored rather than alert. Nothing else we've seen so far says they've found anyone yet; the flare call was our best indicator."

"How so?" I asked. Sam also seemed intrigued.

"They only do that when they've lost the scent. It means we've got a rare advantage and small window of opportunity if we're smart."

"Okay." Sam said. She chopped in. "Rob. If you're leaving, what level of extraction we doing here? Instant out? Mothball?"

Rob fell into deep thought. His lip curled as he bit and chewed lightly.

"No. Tonight was meant to be one of the larger pulls, so we need to extract as much inventory as possible. I don't know if we're going to be able to set this up again at the same level until we figure out what McCreed set off. That means a full clear. We take everything we can and come back for the rest once it's cooled enough to do so. Too many lives are dependent on it."

Sam lifted her hand to leave the circle empty.

I chopped back in.

"Inventory? What kind of inventory?" A sliver of worry had worked its way through my stomach. The thought of doing something unscrupulous wasn't something I was positive about. I'm not sure I'm okay with this if it means... I flicked my eyes involuntarily to the canal edge.

The two of them went quiet as Sam gave Rob a questioning look. With a side tilt of his head as an uncertain approval, she spoke.

"Conversions and recycling." She said. Her eyes scanned my face like a hawk as if to look for a visible crack. No heat. No anger. Just attention. I looked over at Rob, trying not to be disturbed by the sudden scrutiny.

"Conversions of what, though?"

Rob teeter-tottered his head to check casually around us before he answered. All three of us had been doing this in the lulls of the conversation to ensure no one approached, but I suspected he was buying time to think out what to say this time.

"Chits to Scrit. Scrits to Chits." He said. "Old tech cycled out before they're set for disposal and destruction. Mostly technicutical components marked as outdated, with a couple of pieces that people want to offload."

I looked at him quietly. Technicuticals. Huh.

Sam raised an eyebrow questioningly toward Rob. "He didn't freak out. Was he cleared as a kid or something?"

Rob shook his head. "No. He had to do it himself in my Pod. I forgot he never had. Still feel bad about that."

"HE did?!" She pointed a hand at me to confirm.

"Yeah." Rob said. "I told you he was good, didn't I?"

Sam's mouth opened in shock as her eyes darted over to me. "Doc said you couldn't do that—not without a full tech suite." She turned to look at me fully. Her expression set as if she were scrutinizing me from a new light. A new angle, and I wasn't sure it was any better than the anger from before; it felt like being under a nanoscope. "How?"

I looked between the two, confused. Uncertain of what exactly to say in response.

"How what?"

Sam laughed sharply. "Ruby will lov—" Rob chopped his hand in sharply to stop her.

"Back on point, Sam." He said brusquely. "Sorry, but we're getting off track. First of the many: Take stock. What resources do we have, and what do we need to leave behind? Next: Prioritize. Limited time, a number of things to do. Deadline: The next flare call will come in soon, and we don't have the color key; Frank did."

Sam chopped her hand in, but Rob waved his horizontally to indicate a block. A way to signal there was more to say before interruptions could be allowed.

"Wait." Rob said as Sam extracted her hand. "Let me finish the outline."

He raised three fingers to the sky.

"So far I see three primary options." He closed his fist and lifted one finger. "Option one. We split up with the goal of clearing out our stashes. Easy in. Easy out." He raised a second finger. "Option two. We go as a group. More visible, but fewer chances of separation." He raised the last. "Option three. We bail out now and don't risk anything. Head straight for the bridge, or the crossing."

Rob lowered his hand and extracted from the circle, which allowed Sam to chop in.

"Three is out." Sam said, "Too many lives depend on the inventory, as you said. If you ask me, it's just not an option."

Rob nodded his agreement, and the two looked at me in expectation.

"Er. Yeah. Three is out." I said.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Just like that? No questions? No arguments?" She seemed genuinely surprised.

"I mean. Yeah?" I shrugged. "It seems if we've got other options and that one would cause issues for other people, it's not even a choice. Right?"

Sam blinked at me.

"I'm not so sure he's going to like Frank, Rob," she said bluntly. I looked between them both as Rob turned his head to scan around us to hide his smile.

Sam continued. "So if that's settled, the real question is, 'Are we splitting or staying together?' Seems like both have advantages and disadvantages, but is there anything I'm missing that'll stop either choice?"

Rob hummed. A long, neutral note. "I've thought on this for a while, and I think we need to split."

Sam didn't seem surprised, but I did. He spoke again, "Yes. It's normally a horrible idea, but with the number of places we need to go before we can extract and the limited time, it seems like the only feasible choice. I can't see any other way around it unless we somehow manage to find Frank and regroup in time to launch the flare exactly at the right time and place. It's too fluid. Dependent on too many variables."

Sam nodded, her primary question answered. She lifted out.

I chopped in. "Am I going with you?" I said toward Rob.

He looked at my hand for a moment, deep in thought, before he shook his head once.

"No." He said. "Things are tight, and we're already making choices I don't usually agree with. We're having to rush, and that's something I'm not okay with, but I have two things to do neither of you are going to be able to. It's going to be close by where some of those goons are patrolling."

Sam looked like she was going to chime in, but he held up a hand to halt her. "I know, but listen to logic here. At present? I'm the only one no one is actively looking for. If I have to bluff, I can't do it with either of you tagging along."

Sam chopped up with her hand. An indicator, she conceded. I did the same.

I glanced around. No movement.

What Rob just said made a whole lot of sense. Even if I didn't like it. It was the "split up" statement that worried me the most. "You're not sending me with Sam, are you?" I asked without meaning to say it aloud.

Embarrassment tinged Sam's cheeks as she scanned the opposite side of the embankment to not make eye contact.

Rob looked at me directly.

"It's still gonna be tight." He said. "The patrols are going to be closing inward; that means you're going to have to go to ground. Quite possibly literally."

Sam chopped her hand in with a pleading look on her face. "Do I really have to do this?"

Rob nodded slowly. "You agreed. Don't make me repeat it."

She rolled her eyes but seemed persuaded. She extracted her hand.

It was one of those final moments where nobody else put another in. Most of our immediate questions had been answered, and so Rob placed a closed fist inside the circle, signaling the meeting's potential end.

"So the plan is we split. Sam, you stash Owen in a blind. Owen, you stay put until Sam or I come to collect you. Afterwards you two wait for me. If you hear nothing, or things go south. Make your way to the bridge and find a way to cross. Sam, brief Owen on the crossing process when you get back."

A sudden thought struck me. "Could we use two flares if there's an emergency?"

Rob and Sam looked at me in confusion.

I hadn't expected to say that out loud. Whoops.

"What?" Sam said.

I cleared my throat. "Two flares. Could we use two of them to indicate we have to leave so Rob knows we're burned and can just leave? You know. As a signal? Reverse use so it works for us instead of them?"

They continued to stare. I faltered. Now I kinda wish I hadn't said anything.

"That..." Sam eventually said with a look toward Rob, who seemed okay with the idea. "Actually, it isn't the worst idea I've ever heard. Random color, but the quantity is what matters the most."

Rob clapped my shoulder with his free hand, "Good man. It'll be better to keep the flare launcher here with you in case we can get the code list back here in time anyway." He frowned, "Just...save it for only for when things are absolutely dire and you're ready to run. Got it? Soon as a wrong signal goes off, you'll know because they'll start sending up confirmation colors to check if it was an accident. You'd have five minutes at the most before you'd be swarmed by whoever would be near."

Sam and I both shared a look as we synced, likely for the first time ever.

"Fantastic." Rob said. "Everyone follow? Any questions? Further comments?"

We both shook our heads. The information had been spoken for; the meeting was approaching its end. This seemed to satisfy Rob as he looked back and forth between us. "You two. There are too many chances someone could come across you in the open out here. New plan. New goals, okay? I don't want to hear any bickering. Got it?"

I nodded. Sam nodded back. Rob nodded at the two of us.

There was a lot of nodding. It was ridiculous, but necessary. Honestly? It also made me feel better about everything in general. It was nice.

"Alright then." Rob said. "Time to go to work! Oh, but Owen, one special thing, okay?"

I looked up to Rob as he turned to face me. An impish smile plastered across his features. It made me glance around, but what met my eyes only made my stomach sink further. Sam and Rob both had smiles that were eerily identical in a horror holo kind of way.

I took an involuntary step back. I did not like where this was going.

"You know, Owen." Rob said. "This all means you're going to have to be hidden. WELL hidden. That packs pretty bright. Gonna have to keep a low profile, yeah? Come here..."

"What--" I began and raised my hands defensively as they set upon me like a pair of wolves.

An onslaught of mud caused me to stagger. Handful after smashed handful along my head, chest, and arms. I squeezed my eyes shut as Rob chuckled and Sam chortled lowly with glee.

Fantastic. I thought to myself as I tried to keep the mud from getting into my mouth.

Freaking. Fantastic.