Page 9 of Last Chance to Save the World

“Don’t glare at me,” Bruna protests, throwing up her hands. “I’m only delivering the message.”

“Well, deliver another message for me, will ya? Tell Mom I don’t have time for a visit this round.”

“Tell her yourself. I’m not getting in the middle of it. Besides, you have to go.”

I blink. “Haveto?”

“All residents have to ping their geolocation at their place of residence within three hours of landing at the Maltese strip,” Rian says, likes he’s reading the words out of a codex.

Fucking hell, this rulereeksof the kind of shit someone from Rigel-Earth would force into regulation. Someone like Rian Fucking White.

“Why?” I grind out.

Bruna shrugs. “Something, something security and ensuring people are actually residents if they come through on that code. Big thing happening in New Venice tomorrow.”

“Oh, really?” I ask innocently, knowing full well that the “big thing” is what I’m aiming to fuck up.

Bruna shrugs. “Apparently.” She nods toward the other nearby dock, the one for people with money. “They’re not even allowing most cruisers. That’s the last for the next three days.”

“Fine,” I say. “I’ll go to the place listed asGlory’s residency, ping the geo-tracker, and then come back. Rian, you stay here—”

I stop because both Rian and Bruna look as if I’ve suggested the impossible.

“Everyoneon board a ship claiming residency has to ping the tracker,” Bruna says.

“Come on,” I object. “I can hide him in the ship.”

“I’m not hiding in the ship,” Rian offers.

“It’s not up to me!” Bruna protests. “You know I’d turn a blind eye, Ada, but this shit is tracked.”

She holds up a data pad that displays a small chart, pointing toGlory’s registry number, already filled in on one side. Two codes are listed beside it—one is my ident sequence, and the other must be Rian’s. Beside each of our numbers is a little timer, currently flashing yellow.

Our identities are already being tracked by the government, just for using a government-controlled landing strip.

“This is absolutely the kind of shit that belongs on Rigel-Earth, not here,” I say, glaring at Rian, who at least has the sense to look a little guilty.

I force myself to take regular breaths. I should have factored all this in, but I’m so used to operating on outposts and stations that aren’t as strict. I haven’t been back here in years, and it shows.

It’s fine. This is fine. I can make it work.

I have to.

“Are you going to the square after?” Bruna’s tone is light, casual, and so opposite of the panic screaming in my head that it shakes me out of my spiral.

“They planning a party?” I ask. She’s talking about Triumph Square, the large courtyard just outside of Central Gardens. Rallies, markets, and celebrations are all held there.

I’ve been so focused on the mission—changing the code inside the nanobots being released tomorrow—that I forgot the way it’s an interplanetary event. A cause for celebration.

“Gonna be huge,” she says.

I eye Rian. “Yeah, maybe we’ll go.” If we succeed.

“Well, I better let you get on,” Bruna says, flashing the screen at us again. My eyes linger on the timer ticking away the seconds before we need to ping our location to the government.

“Oh, one more thing,” Bruna says, snapping her fingers at the memory. “Jane told me to tell you specifically—”

“Jane?” Rian’s voice cracks like a whip, so sharp that Bruna’s eyes widen. I know exactly what he’s thinking: the code wordJane Irwin. Let me nip that in the bud.

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