Pathos interrupted: “What he means is, the fat one on the left has a sweet tooth. Use the candy bar in your pocket. He’ll lean in. You won’t have to be fast. You just have to be close.”
“So what now?” she asked the empty cockpit.
“But the transport is going to the mines,” Zara hissed.
Zara banked the skiff into a low cloud layer. For the first time in six months, she breathed.
“Loading bay. Three minutes to transport departure,” said Logos.
Henson grinned, distracted. The lock clicked.
“Initiating Sequence,” whispered the first voice in her left ear—cold, analytical, male. She called him .
“Now,” * said Logos and Pathos simultaneously—one a command, one a whisper.