Page 4 of Last Chance to Save the World (Chaotic Orbits #3)

4

B oth my cuff and Rian’s have a little clock flashing in the corner of the display. As soon as we’re in the region of my mother’s home—which is linked to Glory ’s residency code—our cuffs will ping the geo-tracker that we satisfied the rules for landing, and we’re good.

The timer still displays a solid hour and a half by the time the ferry reaches the northern dock in Xlendi Bay. Technically, Malta used to have two main islands—Malta itself, as well as the northern provincial Gozo. The development of the bridge city, New Venice, connected the two islands and covered up the smaller ones between them. Most tourist stops and wealthy residences are on the larger island. Most of the workers and poorer residents live on Gozo.

As Rian and I get off the ferry, we step into a crowd of locals, some of whom may recognize me or at least link me to my mother. I set a fast pace, keeping my head down and my sun shield hood up as I steer Rian away from the people offering ride services. “We can walk,” I tell him. Getting a transport will be more time and hassle than it’s worth; plus, it’ll draw attention.

He glances at his cuff. “Are you in a hurry?”

“We don’t need additional eyes from the government on us right now.” I tap the timer.

“We have plenty of time.” Rian follows behind me. “This is...inconvenient, but in my defense, it’s a fairly standard practice for a global event that’s high-security, and I had no idea when the regulations were approved that we’d be doing...” He waves his hands in my general direction. “All of this.”

“It’s a dumbass rule that only someone who’s never had to rely on public transportation and walking would think is just ‘inconvenient,’” I snap. The time limits are ridiculous—if we’d missed the ferry and needed to take the next, we’d be sprinting to make it in time. But that’s not why I’m mad.

Bruna’s message had a veiled meaning, and the fact that my mother is expecting me is going to complicate everything. It’s a sign things already are complicated. More so than usual.

The sidewalks are crowded, and we dodge around people as auto-taxis roll through the streets. Half the buildings here are boarded up; the other half are so dusty that the windows are basically useless. The glass is laced with metal to prevent theft, and most of them display brightly lit signs with promises of deals and bargains, neon flashing in a desperate attempt to distract from decay.

I glance back at Rian after we get separated by a man pushing a cart full of yellow-green cabbages that are going to need to be scrubbed with a wire brush to remove the grime building up on them. Rian has a contemplative scowl all over his face, and he almost walks right past me.

I grab his hand and pull him into an alley that opens up to a path toward the cliffs.

Malta’s a Mediterranean island, but it’s not a beach resort, especially not here. The gray waves crash into cliffs, not beaches, and the trail I’m taking Rian on is a bit of a hike up. Once we’re away from the noise of the crowded streets, Rian says, “Well, after this, let’s hire transport into New Venice.”

I walk backward so I can look at him as I cross the small footbridge extending over an inlet. “You heard Bruna. My mother expects me to spend the night.”

Rian laughs. “You’re not twelve. You don’t have to stay there.”

“Okay, I confess,” I say. “Going to my mother’s house was not a part of Plan A, B, or C. But I can work with it. Plus, it’s free.”

“I can pay for a hotel.” His voice is low, and I can tell he’s reconsidering my countless and very obvious propositions.

“You may be able to afford a penthouse suite in New Venice, but can you afford a distraction the night before we do crime?”

His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. He follows me up the footpath and eventually says, “So, we’re already on Plan D? How many plans do you have?”

His tone is light. Good. Let him think this is easy.

“Forty-two, minimum,” I quip.

I may need Plan F before this is done. Plan F stands for “Fuck as much stuff up as possible and escape in the chaos.” It also means dropping at least half of my goals, which will put me in debt I can’t pay off and in...let’s just say bad standing with my client.

“It’s only...” Rian starts.

“What?” My voice is a little too snappy right now. Mask, mask. I can’t let him see the truth, not so close to home. But my stomach hurts, and so do my back and my head, and I simply cannot seem to make myself able to concentrate where I need to concentrate.

“I looked, Ada,” Rian says. “I looked at all the records.”

Of course he did. “And?”

“And there was almost nothing on your mother.”

The climb is getting a little steeper now. “Not everything is a conspiracy theory. You know my parents both worked in conservation. After Yellowstone exploded, Mom moved into government work before she retired. It’s why she lives here.”

And, as Rian knows, government workers are not as easy to access. He could have snooped, of course—he cer tainly has the clearance to check on almost anyone’s records. But he was so focused on researching my sordid yet delightful past that he didn’t veer down the paths that would have told him more about my mother’s records. I hope.

We stick close to the coast, despite the stench of pollution. Once, the most expensive houses were along the shore. It was a luxury to be able to look at the ocean from your bedroom window. But that was when the water was clean and beautiful. Now the most valuable land is in the center of the island, as far away from the stink as possible.

“What’s that?” Rian asks, pointing to a short, square tower right on the edge of the cliff overlooking the water.

“That’s where we’re going.” I lead the way, taking a path that’s older than anyone can remember, the stone steps up the cliff worn away in the center.

“There?”

No need to sound so incredulous.

Then again, that tower is ancient. “So, in the middle of the twentieth century—I can’t remember when...The sixteen hundreds? Eighteen? Something like that. Anyway, there were pirates—”

“Pirates?” Rian says. “Like you?”

“I’m not a pirate; I have an ethical code.”

“A looter’s code. And looting is basically pirating.”

“You have no sense of nuance. Anyway , they—”

“Who?” Rian asks.

“I don’t know,” I say, exasperated. “I know coding, not history. Anyway, they built a series of towers along the coast. Watchtowers. And if someone saw a pirate ship approaching, they lit a fire on top of the tower, and then the next tower over would see it, and they’d light their tower, and then the next and the next—”

“I get the picture.”

“And the whole island would be on alert and ready before any pirate ship even landed.” We’ve reached the top of the path now. “It was a decent system.”

“I’m just in awe that a series of towers built in the seventeenth and/or nineteenth century is still standing.”

“Well, this one is, and one more on the main island. The rest fell a long time ago. And this one isn’t technically the original. It was moved as the coast eroded and then rebuilt, and it’s mostly just a ship of Theseus at this point. But there are enough history nerds that Mom has a job keeping the tower up in between tours. It doesn’t come with much pay, but at least the living quarters are included.”

I pause at the top of the cliff to see how Rian reacts to the full view of the tower. He doesn’t look nearly as impressed as he should.

“How do you get in?” he asks.

“There are some steps and a door on the other side.” It was a watchtower against pirates; of course there’s only one door.

I take one minute to drink it in. It’s been years since I’ve seen this place—since I’ve seen Mom in person—and...I don’t know. It feels like it may be the last time.

So much has gone wrong already, and we’ve not even made it to Fetor’s headquarters.

I take a deep breath.

I tried living with Mom, right after I got my record clear. I tried, and I know she tried, too.

But we’re just so different. She was fine staying right here for the rest of her life.

And I wanted nothing less.

But she’s nobler than me. Even when my father got sick. She wasn’t bitter about it, not the way I still am.

Even in a world as polluted as Earth, she still sees the value of it. The need to stay, to help, to fix everything.

I know she thinks the way I escaped is selfish. I know she doesn’t approve of . . .

Of me.

“Ada?” Rian asks when he sees how I’ve stopped. He comes closer. “Hey,” he adds at my dark look. “Penthouse suite in New Venice after this? We don’t have to stay.”

I shake my head.

It’s too late now.

Rian follows my gaze to see the woman standing at the top of the steps, framed by the limestone doorway. Her skin is a shade darker than mine, her hair a shade lighter, hidden under a vivid purple scarf. She stands with her hands on her hips, looking down at us, her stern stance a contrast to the smile curving her lips.

Apprehension squeezes my stomach, hard.

But I turn to Rian with a huge grin. “Time to meet my mother.”