Trevor blamed himself for the limited information. He didn’t tell Andreas to ask for cancellations or occupancy trends. Worse, half these flights stopped at multiple planets en route. The data did not reflect reservations or transfers on the eight planets of concern.
“Andreas, verify Portmaster Shee is on duty. Tell her to expect me in the next twenty minutes.”
“Very good, sir. Were the schedules helpful?”
“Not yet.”
He wasn’t sure a deeper dive would make a difference. Yet this seemed like a reasonable strategy. If the eight delegations did not intend to return for the new Congressional session, they’d double down on vacating their leases by not booking flights. Commercial travel to Amity tended to be at its highest at two times: The start of a new session and the final debate on major legislation.
The more he considered it, Trevor thought seventy-five percent occupancy had to be low.
This mystery proved a healthy distraction. Trevor slept less than two hours, his mind bouncing between Connor’s aloof behavior, his last exchange with the Enzathi, and his vow to deal with Thomas today.
Connor didn’t help.
He left a cryptic message around H5, while Trevor slept, saying he planned a full day of reunions with old mates. Mostly coworkers from EngSec9. Maybe they’d catch lunch, Connor said.
“I’m wired, bruv. I forgot how much I love this place.”
End message.
Trevor didn’t buy it. Connor sounded like the brother of old yet a total contrast to the one who yesterday insisted he found a new purpose beyond Amity. The one who spoke poorly of the Raison Club, saying he had outgrown the place.
C’mon, jackass. You’re overthinking it. He’s conflicted. That’s all. Torn between the old world and the new.
Trevor laughed.
“Maybe he got stone drunk.”
Somehow, the idea sounded like a positive development.
Last night, long before Connor’s message, Trevor tried to explain the difference to Shireena while they laid in bed.
“The change in him is too drastic,” he said. “Connor was a wild child who never grew up. He couldn’t abide rules or a straitjacketed life. I assumed the military would round the corners and narrow his focus. Nothing wrong with that.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“He’s distant and hard. Even in those moments when he sounds like the brother I knew, the rhythm is off somehow. He looks through me rather than at me. If that makes sense.”
Shireena tried to dissuade Trevor from jumping to conclusions. He didn’t share the Enzathi’s warnings and vowed not to until he had grounds to believe them.
“Did Connor say much about what he experienced out there?”
Trevor sighed.
“One bit I can’t shake. He claimed he’s been fighting a war.”
Shireena sat up.
“What war?”
“My question exactly. The only wars have been between Black Star and the cartels. Officially.”
He let the idea sink in until the alternative dawned on her.
“You don’t think he’s talking about ...? No. Can’t be.”
Trevor tried not to believe it. Sure, Connor might’ve embellished just to add excitement to his tale. But why?
“I think Lana Devonshire was right about Requiem. She said their aim was to create a larger war as a preamble to military rule. They tried to silence her. For all anyone knows, she’s been dead for months. If Requiem is behind what’s been happening out there, it needs soldiers on the ground. Close to a million people have died on those eight planets. If he ...”
She laid her head on his chest.
“Be careful. There’s no proof he’s part of it.”
Trevor snapped together more pieces.
“No, but there’s evidence. Maybe he tried to tell me. Connor said he volunteered for something called special training. A fast road to advancement. Best unit in the UNF, he called it.”
“He’s a Lieutenant now, so that tracks. But there’s any number of ways he might have risen through the ranks. The UNF has been expanding. They need more officers. He proved himself.”
“So he said. I can’t wrap my head around it. If Requiem is behind everything, they’ve killed ... no, murdered ... tens of thousands of civilians. At least. I refuse to believe Connor would ...”
Shireena switched positions until he rested his head on her chest.
“Your brother is a good man. You mustn’t go there, love. Give him time and ample space.”
“I’ll try my best.”
