Page 156 of Gates of Tartarus

“Alright. If you’re sure. But do let me know if you need to get back more quickly.” There’s a short silence, and I can hear someone murmuring in the background, and then, “Maela? I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. The caterers are here. I’ll call you later to reschedule?”

“Yes, fine. I’ll speak to you later.” I hang up and collapse back onto the bed, mind racing. I’d better come up with something plausible before our next meeting.

Bird on the Wing

Saturday, 8 December – Kailani

The jet is… it’s a fucking masterpiece of engineering, honestly. It’s sleek and shiny and, best of all, almost completely empty. There are three stewardesses, all Babylon employees, and all freaking stunning, and two unseen captains, who are already behind a locked door when we board the plane at midnight, an exhausted, rag-tag group. I feel physically pained to be leaving Lachy behind, knowing he definitely could have made the trip on a private plane, but he’s not part of Babylon, and we didn’t have the time or resources to clear him. Gemma only got through because her previous clearance that she had through CDS is still active for a couple more years.

The plane has a strange layout. There are six groupings of plush seats around small tables as you enter. Beyond a wall, through an opening, are a series of what look like pods, which I assume are beds. There are curtains around the areas though, so it’s hard to tell. The front of our cabin is a solid wall with a single, locked door, where the pilots are. And at the very back of the plane are twofullbathrooms, with showers apparently. Each of us has a set of luxurious towels and a bathrobe, plus a fluffy sherpa blanket and matching slippers. It’s like being in a flying, five-star hotel.

We’re all exhausted by the time all of the checks go through and our clearances are processed from Seattle all the way to Stapleford, a small, private airfield outside of London. I don’t even want to know how much this is costing Babylon, but I’m thinking I can probably ask for a raise when this is all over, if I choose to stay on with the group. As soon as I get on, I retreat to the furthest area of chairs, throw my bag on one, and collapse in the other, making it as clear as I can that I’m not up for sharing right now. Maddox trudges on, fatigue clear in every step, looks down the aisle at me, and sits in the grouping closest to the door. Jonah and Walker are joking quietly together as they board the plane, take in the layout, and, surprisingly, sit together in the group one over from me, but up the aisle by one, throwing their bags on the chairs immediately across the aisle from me in unison, effectively giving me an entire rectangle of space to myself. Gemma’s next, and she looks down the plane towards me hesitantly, but a low growl of caution from Walker has her putting her bag across the aisle from Maddox. Hideo is last, moving slowly, almost like he’s in physical pain, face tight and eyes sad. He starts to move towards my section when Jonah stands, turns his back, and starts digging through his bag, taking up the entire walkway and blocking me completely. Deo nods to himself and sits uncomfortably across from Walker and Jonah, who both give him dark looks.

As one of the flight attendants runs through safety precautions with the group, I try desperately to do my breathing exercises and calm my shaking nerves. I’ve only tried flying once before, and it was an unmitigated disaster, with me having a full panic attack before we even left the ground and the plane having to turn around to let me off back at the gate. The waves of exasperation, frustration, and anger from other passengers choked me, and I had had real trouble even walking down the aisle to deplane until a robust, middle-aged gentleman from New York, who looked like someone off the set ofThe Godfather, stood up and, with surprisingly gentle hands, helped me move forward. He’d whispered sweetly under his breath, “That’s it kid, you’re doing great” and then unleashed the most colorful series of insults I’d ever heard at two women who were bitching about me. They’d both blanched when he’d said something about “Fanabla” and “Ugatz”, clearly understanding him, and the plane fell quiet as he guided me to the exit.

The flight attendants tried to hurry me along, which was hard when I couldn’t see clearly because I was so close to passing out, but he’d told them to shut up and stopped me before I left. “You got your bag?” he’d asked, and I’d nodded feebly. “You got money for a cab or something? You know where you’re going?” I’d nodded again, but he hadn’t liked the look of it, I guess, and he’d pressed a $100 bill into my hand, along with a business card. “My kid sister gets these too. She can’t think through ‘em. Don’t worry. You call that number if you need help getting home,” he’d said, then ambled back down to his seat, waving off my quiet thanks. I’d never gotten on a plane again after that buthadhunted down a photo of him and his sister from a newspaper article and commissioned Gemma to paint it as a “thank you”.

The memory makes me smile slightly, and I instinctively look up to find Gemma’s eyes, before jerking my own away, rubbing my forehead with a hand to try to relieve the pressure building there. The flight attendants start buckling up, and the airplane jerks forward unexpectedly, causing me to “eep” in surprise and grab my arm rests with white knuckles. Walker and Jonah exchange looks, and both move to unbuckle but are chastised sharply by one of the attendants. Swallowing convulsively, I offer them a sickly smile and look out the window as the plane moves down the runway, and then, with a stomach-dropping woosh, leaves the ground.

As the world drops away beneath us, a strange quiet falls over me, and I yawn several times to try to figure out what is going on, wondering if my ears need to pop or something. It feels similar to when Gemma mutes me, and I look at her curiously, but she’s not paying attention, and I can tell she’s too focused on what she’s doing to use her talent. Maddox is looking through papers; Jonah and Walker are chatting quietly; the attendants are in the galley preparing a light meal. Deo, though, Deo is watching me through careful eyes, clearly noting that something odd is happening and trying to figure out what it is. It’s difficult to describe – alackof pressure, almost, when there’s been nothing butconstantpressure. All of a sudden it hits me – we’re too far away from the ground for ambient noise to exist. Well, ambientemotionalnoise. The only people I can feel are the people in the plane, but Jonah can and is actively blocking, Hideo is... well, doing whatever he does, and the rest are all quiet, running through routine things in their heads, none but Maddox sending out any real emotional signature. It’s... astounding. With my shields up, it feels almost… quiet, and I settle back into my seat with the beginnings of a real smile on my face.Well shit,I think, I could get used to this. Maybe... maybe this is all going to be okay.

Taking a deep breath, I relax, pulling out my blanket and my Kindle, and fall away into a different, easier world. Shortly after I get comfortable, one of the smiling women puts a plate of food in front of me and a coffee, with proper china and silver cutlery. A beautiful fruit salad, an omelet, two pastries, and a bowl of yogurt with granola are laid out on an elegant little tray. Without thinking, distracted, I think, by the book I’m reading, I start automatically separating the fruit and cut the two pastries in half, putting them on a small bread plate beside me. I pause at the silence that has fallen over the plane, the sounds of the others getting their breakfasts stilled for some reason. Looking up in confusion, I meet the cautious eyes of Maddox, Walker, and Jonah, all of whom are watching Gemma going through the same machinations separating out certain fruit and pastry, and Hideo as well, and I freeze, fresh pain washing over me, curdling my stomach, the evidence of their unknown history playing out in front of me. It’s hard to breathe for a moment, like I’ve been punched in the stomach.

Deo looks up from his place between Gemma and me, sees our mirrored actions, and his face folds in, origami collapsing. Gemma rapidly recombines her plates, an apology written in her eyes. Walker surges to his feet, though, and moves down the aisle to me.

“Sir,” says one of the stewardesses firmly, “You need to take your seat. Sir!”

“Fuck off!” he mumbles, stopping before me. “Thanks, Kai,” he says softly, looking at the plate and dropping two packets of raw sugar by my coffee. “Looks great.”

I stare at him, caught between embarrassment and amusement. “Walker,” I say quietly, looking back to my plate, “You don’t evenlikekiwi. Or melon.”

He frowns, reaches down, and shoves the whole handful of fruit in his mouth at once. “Ido,” he mumbles through a mouthful. “I fucking love them.”

The poor man’s face is so twisted in distaste of the mash-up in his mouth, but he keeps eating like a soldier, managing a strangled “mmmmmm,” and I start laughing helplessly at his expression. “Stop.Stop!” I say, giggling as he continues to eat with a pained face. “Oh God, Walker! It’s fine.”

He shakes his head at me and grabs the bread plate with the two pastry halves on it. “These are my rewards, yeah?”

I nod, still smiling, and he flashes a smug grin at Jonah as he walks by him. Jonah shakes his head, a reluctant smile twisting his lips, and Walker sings a little “I’m gonna get that giii-iirl” under his breath. Jonah tries to frown but can’t as the sound of my laughter floats around him, and he rolls his eyes at Walker.

“It’s a committee appointment, man. The committee has to meet and discuss it.”

“Am I on the committee?” I call down the aisle, and both men look at me pityingly.

“Ah, no,” Jonah replies, smiling. Walker grins in solidarity with Jonah, and I frown, mumbling, “I should be on the fucking committee. It’smycommittee.”

Jonah shakes his head in faux pity and exchanges a look with Walker, who is valiantly trying to suppress a grin. In sharp contrast, Deo looks unutterably sad, skin grey and sallow. The past week has obviously taken its toll on him, and he pushes his food away, closing his eyes and turning away from the jocularity in the aisle. Gemma automatically shoots me a conspiratorial glance before jerking back slightly, obviously remembering all that has happened, and stares back down at her food without speaking. Maddox, though, Maddox looks between the clear groups, face drawn, eyes sunk deep in his face above dark circles. Something is pressing in heavily on him, and if he doesn’t work it out, everything will fall apart. It’s clear he’s struggling, and I’d pity him if he weren’t a fucking lying liar.

Sighing deeply, he says quietly, but decisively, “It’s a twelve-and-a-half-hour flight, with refueling. You have the first half to eat and sleep. Once we break for refueling, it’ll be time to have our team meeting to run through our plans. We need, and I cannot stress this enough, to be on the same page, and to be able to work together as a team. If we can’t, we’re in danger of letting Kronos slip through our fingers.”

The tension in the plane ratchets up as the weight of what we’re in for during the next two weeks increases, and a taut silence falls over our group. Everyone else starts eating quietly, but the last few minutes have soured my appetite, and I get to my feet. Walker watches me through careful eyes, and I say, “Bed” shortly, jerking my head towards the cubbies. It’s almost midnight in Seattle, and the length of the day has finally caught up with me. Jonah pushes his food to the side and hops up to his feet, smiling gently, and holds out his hand. “Want company?” he asks quietly.

I pause, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on us, then shrug slightly, thinkfuck it, and reply, “Actually, yeah.”

He nods, grabs his blanket and mine, and walks me to the middle bunks, pulling open a curtain to reveal a surprisingly large bed, maybe somewhere between a twin and full, already made up with the covers drawn back. I hesitate briefly, then kick off my shoes, and peel off all my outer clothes, before crawling into bed. I hear a sharp intake of breath from Jonah behind me and moments later feel his warm, hard body press against me under the covers, only his boxer briefs covering his skin. “Christ, Kai,” he mumbles against my shoulder, as I wriggle against him trying to get comfortable. He clears his throat, then says in a strangled voice, “I want you to be aware of how much effort it’s taking me to be a gentleman right now. Fuck, your ass is amazing.” He lets out a shaky breath, and I giggle, letting Jonah’s sweet energy wash over me.

Pushing back into him, I wiggle again, and he groans quietly against my ear. “Stop it, you minx. I’m about two seconds from flipping you over and getting you naked. And I don’t want our first time together to be on an airplane where your other boyfriend and our fucking team is listening in. Plus you need to sleep,” he adds as an afterthought. Turning to face him, I pout playfully.

“So Walker’s my boyfriend now?” I ask. “And who says I need sleep? I just need something to relieve the tension.”

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