He had talked to Harley Drake about what happened after spaceflights, and while the ex-astronaut had talked a lot about debriefs and physical adjustments (apparently six months in microgravity took a toll on your muscles, balance, and ability to judge movements) as well as emotional letdowns . . . he had emphasized one welcome, inescapable fact: You went back to your old life.

Xavier wanted to go back to his old life, what was left of it, even for a few days. Being locked up was not to his liking.

It wasn’t even smart. Setting aside his own personal desires, he had a mission to perform . . . and it wasn’t even started.

“I really wish I knew,” Rachel said. “I’m sorry I’m not more of a leader on this. You all knew there was going to be a great deal of . . . improv once we landed.”

“Sanjay’s injury has cost us time—”

“And flexibility,” Tea said.

“Yes, I think we can all agree on that.” It was interesting to watch the two of them together. Rachel was twenty-five years younger, yet never deferred to Tea, treating her more like a daughter. And Tea, for that matter, seemed happy to fill that role . . . her facial expressions and tone were closer to Yahvi’s than to Rachel’s. “Pav and Mr. Chang have been working with Taj and the government—decisions were being made while we drove here.”

“Then why don’t we know what they were?” Yahvi said. It was as if she and Tea were now double-teaming Rachel. Hell, given what Zeds asked, all Xavier had to do was speak his mind and Rachel would be surrounded.

She was clearly feeling it. “Why don’t we just let them open the doors and tell us?”

Which happened in the next ten minutes. Pav was waiting as the door rolled up, revealing that the truck had pulled into a vacant hangar whose door was wide open. The reason they were inside the hangar was obvious: It was still raining outside, with the sky gray, heavy, and low. The top of the nearest building was obscured by fog. The air was the coolest Xavier had felt yet on Earth.

He shivered and thought, Great: I’m going to be sick for certain.

The van was parked a few meters away, half-blocking the view from outside. “Everyone okay?”

“Peachy,” Rachel said, not waiting for the lift, but jumping down for a hurried embrace. Xavier thought that Pav looked tired and jumpy; maybe Chang was a terrible driver.

“God, this smells better,” Tea said. Xavier had to agree; it wasn’t just having four humans and a Sentry in an environment suit crammed into close quarters with limited air circulation . . . the interior of the truck had its own collection of stale food smells. (Which, given that this company supplied Yelahanka, made Xavier wonder about some of the food he had eaten since arrival.)

Rachel, Tea, and Yahvi headed for the nearest ladies’ room. Xavier was okay for the moment, which allowed him to take in their new and hopefully temporary surroundings as Pav and Singh extracted Zeds from the truck.

Xavier’s first impression of Bengaluru was that it looked like Yelahanka, though slightly newer. The runways ran the same direction—due east/west.

But where the buildings and hangars at Yelahanka were almost uniform faded brown, Bengaluru’s were brighter—white and bright green—at least in intent. Everything looked faded and worn on a morning like this.

And the base didn’t seem to be particularly active. Of course, it was early. Maybe there were noise restrictions.

But, also, maybe there just weren’t that many planes flying. If the Reivers could get close enough to the Indian coast to fire a missile at Adventure, what other weapons might they be fielding?

He already knew the answer: If they could pay a team of assassins to attack them at Yelahanka, there was really nowhere the crew was safe, not for long.

Even as this thought formed in Xavier’s mind, he heard the distant sound of an approaching jet somewhere above the clouds. He had no idea if a plane could land in the rain, or in cloud cover this low.

For a moment he wondered if it was a bomber intending to strike them. But Edgar Chang only looked away from Zeds and Pav long enough to register the same sound. He didn’t look particularly alarmed and, in fact, said something to Pav that Xavier couldn’t hear.

Zeds began walking freely, performing his own unique Sentry-style stretches (Xavier could only imagine how cramped the giant alien must have felt!). As Rachel, Yahvi, and Tea returned, Xavier caught up with his Sentry friend.

“How are you feeling?”

“Impatient.”

Xavier loved the way Zeds always said exactly what he felt. He had none of the social governors that even the least-inhibited human beings possessed.

“What were Chang and Pav talking about?”

“The aircraft is one they hoped to see.”

Now, that was interesting—and welcome news. But from where? And more importantly, to where?

Xavier returned to the truck, where Edgar Chang and Chief Warrant Officer Singh were both pacing, phones to their ears. To Xavier’s alarm, he noted that as Singh talked, his other hand was removing a revolver from a holster in the small of his back . . . as if checking on its presence and heft.

Meanwhile, Rachel Stewart-Radhakrishnan seemed to be having an argument with her husband as their daughter and Tea looked on, distressed.

“You’ve never hidden things from me before—at least I don’t think you have—”

“I have not,” Pav said.

“So why are you starting now?”

“Because I don’t know what happened for certain!”

Now Tea spoke: “What about Taj?”

“No word.”

Xavier glanced at Yahvi; her eyes and nose were red from her cold, but now it looked as though she’d been crying, too. “Can we catch a brother up?” he said. “And maybe Zeds would like to know.” The Sentry had followed him to the gathering.

Rachel gestured for Pav to speak. “The other convoy,” he said, clearly struggling for the words. He sighed. “There was an incident.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Pav!” Rachel said, as snappish as Xavier had ever heard her. “They’re dead, isn’t that what you and Chang said? All killed on the road to the other airport?”

Xavier felt sick, though not, when he thought about it a second time, terribly surprised. He waited for Pav to add detail. “The report—Chang got it, and so did your driver—is that a highway bridge failed. Both limos went into the road below and turned over. One of the trucks was damaged, too. No word on the ambulance. The entire party is reported to be dead.” Pav quickly pivoted to face Tea. “And so far we don’t have definitive information on who was in the convoy at the time. I know my father said he was going along—”

“To help with the ruse, yes,” Tea said bitterly.

“Taj is not among the dead,” Chang said. He had just gotten off the phone. “There are four fatalities, including Warrant Officer Pandya—” Here Chang nodded toward Warrant Officer Singh. Xavier was surprised at how that news struck him; he’d assumed Pandya was the spy, not a supportive member of the team.

Not someone who would risk his life for them—and lose it.

“Two others were injured and evacuated. Taj is not among them, that’s confirmed.”

“Do we know where he is?” Pav said.

Chang shook his phone. “Still working on that.”

“We should never have left Sanjay,” Rachel said. “He’s unprotected at Yelahanka.”

“I believe the reason Taj stayed behind was to find a moment to remove Sanjay,” Chang said. “That was the plan.”

“Which one?” Yahvi spoke for the first time. “I can’t keep these plans straight.”

“Plan 3C,” Xavier said. “Not that I want to forget about Sanjay, but here’s a stumper: What about us? We got in the truck this morning with this as our destination. Well, folks, here we are . . . standing in a cold empty hangar in the rain.