Page 121 of The Boss

“They’re all your desks. Everyone,” she says. The workers at the desks stand. “Zaya!” Allie calls that name louder. A female pilot and her young, male copilot emerge from the cockpit. Everyone looks different, every race and body type is represented. But they all look…the same? Military. They all look like soldiers. I see now that they’re all in similar clothes, too, though not a decipherable uniform.

“This is your new commander, Luna Mancini. I’ll be getting her settled in for the next 48 hours. We’ll come do introductions at each station, give her the technical rundown and broad strokes of your positions and current projects. We have the Quinn counterattack which Luna and I will co-lead, then she’ll lead you down South.” Everyone is just watching, frozen. Waiting, I realize, until she says, “Dismissed.”

Immediately they go back to working.

“You can give them your own welcome soon,” she says casually. I glance out one of the windows that’s not covered in state of the art technology. It’s getting dark out.

“So, they live here?”

“Ah, yes, let me show you.” She walks me through the open workspace, loosely explaining what each station is for, audio surveillance, vehicle tracking, satellites, internet monitoring, internet hacking and building, AI interface, research, weaponry.

After the desks, we reach the armory. I manage to be surprised all over again at the unimaginable display of weapons, vests, parachutes, gas masks. Past that is a row of bunks and then past that there’s a kind of rec room. I swear this plane goes on for forever.

“Would you like to see the vehicles?” She asks.

“The what?”

“Underneath, we have a couple Hummers, motorcycles, a jeep, I believe.”

“Uh,” I cannot even think right now.

“Later,” she waves off the idea and resumes her tour, “So, you see the crew has their quarters, lounge, workspaces. Crew do take time off occasionally, usually when forced.”

“Forced?” I squeak.

“Everyone on this plane is a Van or a Marco. They’re passionate about their jobs. Don’t have other family or friends outside of our organization. They’re very good, very detailed, very driven—to the point of exhaustion, so, yes,” she starts us back in the other direction, “You as their leader will have to force them to take leave when necessary.”

I swallow, “Right, okay. And which bunk is m—”

“Oh, heavens darling, no, come,” she laughs at herself and pauses suddenly to go into one of the little galleys and starts up a narrow staircase. While in the staircase, we pause when the plane takes off. I guess we’re on the move? This is so weird.

After the rumble of the runway is gone, she keeps climbing. I follow. At the top is a door that leads into a similar galley. But through the galley is…

“Here, Luna. You’ll live here.”

“Oh,” I say.

Marlon barks when he spots his own area—a little square of turf and food, water bowls and a tiny dog bed, clearly prepared just for him—in what is one of the nicest open-concept apartments I’ve ever seen. No one would believe we’re standing in the top half of a big ass military plane. Huge windows, bright and white and modern but also cozy somehow. Throw pillows, fuzzy carpet, fucking table lamps?

“This is insane,” I think out loud.

“Of course it can be redecorated for you,” she circles around in the middle of the sunken living room that features a giant tv framed by floating shelves. She touches one of the books on the shelves and it hits me.

“Oh, wait, where will you and O go, you’re not, I’m not—”

She laughs again, “we have our own, of course. Plane, that is.”

All the air leaks out of my lungs and says, “there are four in total. But that’s not our entire fleet.” She looks outside thoughtfully, “As you’ll soon learn, any and every plane in the world can be part of our fleet if need be.”

I shake my head. Then wince.

“Right. You need to rest. You have a butler, Gordon. He’ll bring you an early dinner and then in the morning we’ll need to assist Robbie with action items for Quinn’s attack. Have you met Robbie?” I shake my head, her expression softens mores than I’ve ever seen when she explains, “He’s my youngest son. You’ll love him. Smart, like you.” She starts to leave, “Until tomorrow.”

“Wait,” I call involuntarily, “Wait, I haven’t officially agreed to just…enlist, I guess.” She waits, not fazed at all by my hesitation. “I’ll have demands if I’m going to join. Ellie vouched for me and Mia, well, I want Zeno out. And if we can, Vix.”

“Vix is nearly impossible,” she says.

“But Zeno isn’t?”