Page 30 of Last Chance to Save the World

“Well, the plan’s changed.” I dip my head, forcing him to make eye contact. “Where could they be?”

“They’re launching from the communications tower,” Rian says. “Rooftop.”

Fan-fucking-tastic.

The thing is: it’s not like you just open Pandora’s box of nanobots and they fly up like accommodating little drones. No, the bots have to be actively launched. From a computer terminal—one that I can hack. So even if I have to change location last-minute, it’s not too late.

“Can you get me there?” I demand.

Rian’s mouth is tight. He’s not the kind of man to just answer first and think it through later. I know in his mind, he’s running through every possible path this deviation has created. Getting into the communications room will mean less security to clear than in the server room but more possible witnesses. Human ones who won’t be distracted by my sun shield, who won’t give me a fifteen-minute grace period to override their suspicions.

While all the workers in the climate-cleaner program are probably already digging in to the caterers’ trays, there will be workers in the communication tower not invited to the party. We have to get past them...somehow.

“I think we can do it,” he says finally.

So many emotions flicker over his face—most of them rooted in panic—that I’m a little worried the man’s going to flop over here on the floor.

He takes a deep, shaky breath.

“I don’t like this either, but—” I start.

“We have to,” he finishes. Rian’s eyes meet mine, and even if I can still see the unease in them, there’s determination there, too.

“One goal,” I remind him gently.

Full speed until we get it.

We take off running. Everyone in the building is either one floor below us, taking advantage of all the delicious food, or one floor up, with Fetor’s elite. Not everyone’s getting an invite up the golden elevator.

But the communications office is a big glass room built atop the roof, with a launch zone and antennas sticking up over it. Like old-school airport traffic-control rooms, that office never closes. Therewillbe workers there.

But that’s the thing. They’ll be working. Everyone in that room has a job to do. They’ll be focused on that.

I hope.

“We just have to act like we belong,” I say for myself as much as Rian. “People don’t question authority.”

Rian shoots me a withering look as he scans his fingerprint on the elevator-call button. “All you do is question authority.”

“Yeah, but most people aren’t like me.”

“Thankfully,” he mutters. I choose to ignore that.

Instead, I focus on everything I know about the communications room at Fetor Tech while we wait for the elevator.

This isthecommunication hub for the entire galactic system, so of course I’ve researched this before. The communication office is the foundational network for the portal system. It never goes down. It never fails—despite being associated with Strom Fetor. It’s one of those things in society, like the power grid, the healthcare system, or travel regulations, that if it goes down, all of society is impacted. Although run by the private Fetor Tech company, it’s heavily monitored and works hand-in-hand with the government, which uses the comm system developed into the portal rings for all intergalactic communication.

“Nervous?” Rian asks as a bell announces the arrival of the lift.

I force my hands to still. I had been practicing the movements I need for the next play, but I should have known he’d notice.

“Never.” I shoot him a grin.

“Yeah, same.” He jabs the button for the roof after holding the door for me to go inside first.

We don’t talk. A million random different thoughts—half of them questions about when the food will be available—boil up to my teeth, but I keep my mouth closed.

Focus.

---