Between Burning Worlds (System Divine #2) - Jessica Brody Page 0,94

squinting as though he were searching for something. “Hmm. Let’s see here. I bet you have an auto-engage disgust lever somewhere on there too.”

Chatine felt every ounce of fluid in her body start to boil. And she did not like the feeling of this guy scrutinizing her face. She turned away with a grunt. “Shut up.”

“Wow. That one was even easier to find than I thought.”

She bristled. This Défecteur was really starting to grate her nerves. “So, how did you get involved in a mission to break out Citizen Rousseau? Do you work for the Vangarde or something?”

“We don’t work for anyone,” Etienne said sharply. “And I’m not telling you anything else.”

“So, they blackmailed you?”

The pilote turned back around, clearly attempting to ignore her. Chatine flicked her gaze over the controls, selecting one at random. “Hmm. What does this one do?”

Etienne dove toward her hand and smacked it away. “Fine. The Vangarde hired us for the mission. Sometimes we offer our services for a price. Happy?”

Chatine thought about Roche, who was also Henri, who was also on that other ship with Citizen Rousseau.

“How many ships were there on the mission?”

Etienne pressed his lips together. Chatine reached for another switch on the console.

“Okay!” he shouted in surrender. “There were two. Two ships. The primary-extraction ship and the bounty ship.” He jabbed his thumbs at his chest. “That would be me. Now stop trying to touch things.”

“Bounty? What bounty?”

With a relenting sigh, Etienne punched a button on the console, and one of the monitors flickered to life, displaying a view of a small, darkened cargo hold full of metal shelves and steel lockers. Strapped into one of the shelves, Chatine could make out a row of clear boxes, stacked to their lids with blocs of a glowing blue metal she knew all too well.

Her mouth fell open. “You stole zyttrium from Bastille?”

“Like I said. We offer our services for a price.”

Chatine’s mind churned. What did the Défecteurs want with zyttrium? They obviously weren’t in the business of making Skins.

“So, the other ship.” Chatine refocused her thoughts. “You know the person flying it?”

“Yes. Faustine. She’s a friend of mine. A fine pilote, too.”

“Then, you know where the ship is going?”

“Nope,” Etienne said, and when Chatine extended her hand toward a large blue dial, he swiped it away and cried, “I swear! I don’t know. The Vangarde didn’t give us the location up front. We were just ordered to fly their operatives to Bastille, pick up their precious cargo, and fly back to Laterre. We were told they would direct the extraction ship to a destination once the cargo was aboard.”

“By cargo, you mean Citizen Rousseau, right?” Chatine asked.

“Yeah, sure, whoever. Don’t know. Don’t care. We try not to get involved with matters of the Regime.”

“But isn’t that exactly what you just did? Get involved? I mean, breaking out Citizen Rousseau is an act of war against the Regime.”

“Maybe for them. But for us, it was a simple business deal.” He tapped on the view of the cargo hold.

“So you’re mercenaries?”

Etienne cocked his head, looking unsettled. “No. We try to keep to ourselves most of the time. Until we need something that we can’t make or grow ourselves—like zyttrium—and then we sell our services.”

“That’s a mercenary.”

“And here we go again with the labels. What’s up with that?”

“You’re the one who called me a gridder.”

“That’s …”—he hesitated, quirking his lips—“… different.”

“Uh-huh. So you have no idea where the other ship is going?”

“Not a clue.”

“Can’t you AirLink them or something?”

“We don’t do AirLinks. And the Vangarde specifically requested no communication. As an extra precaution.”

Chatine felt frustration swell in her chest. “But I need to know. My brother is on that ship.”

A chill splintered through her at the sound of that word. It was the first time she’d said it aloud in years.

My brother.

My brother.

Etienne shrugged. “Sorry. I can’t help you.”

With a huff, Chatine turned her gaze out the window, checking to see how far away from Laterre they were. Once they landed, she would just have to go looking for Henri herself. She knew where the Vangarde base was. She’d found it just before she was sent to Bastille. She would start there. And she would not stop until she found him again.

“When are we landing?” she asked.

Etienne swiveled his chair back toward the control console and glanced at one of the monitors. “One minute until atmosphere break.”

“Great,” Chatine said tightly.

Etienne jabbed at a switch on the console.

“Autopilote disabled,” the ship said.

Etienne took hold of the