“You don’t think it would be nice to know? Like, if we got to Mars before, maybe we can pull ourselves together again and do something to fix the world.”

“Dream on.” Peeto buzzed air through his lips, typing in a new address. “But you gotta love the balls of it, right? Goofing on the whole freakin’ world.”

I started hating him again.

By then, he’d taken over the keypad, and the skylight over the main hall was losing daylight. I’d try Rousseau’s office again, even more uneasy than before.

As I turned away, Peeto said, “That hurricane’s turned north, sure ’nuff, an’ guess what they’re gonna call it.”

I ticked my fingers. What letter were we at by now? “Lost track.”

“J, so they’re calling it Joseph!”

Hurricane Joe.

If you believed in omens—almost as silly as astrology—this could hardly be a good one.

THIRTEEN

The line outside the office was shorter now, mostly since it hadn’t moved at all, and the smart ones had given up and left. With the crowd thinned, I saw that a lot of who’s left were strangers, way too many for comfort. I eased back up the hall, putting space between us. But they were mostly standing around, in loose groups that seemed as suspicious of each other as I was of them. New recruits? Not unless they were transfers. Most were already wearing den sign. One group had it tattooed right on their cheek or bicep. Kind of cool looking, really, but Rousseau didn’t hold with tats, unless you had them from before. One of his quirks. Maybe Rubio was right about him being a priest back when.

Just as I’d decided to try again later, Gracie rolled up beside me, her big face lit with expectation. “Come to watch the show?”

“What show’s that?”

“The den leader dog-and-pony show.”

She knew something I didn’t. I leaned closer. “You mean, all these guys?”

“Nah, they’re security, most like.”

“Not ours.”

“So you didn’t hear?” She was talking loud, swinging that thick braid of hers, like she meant to be noticed. “Rousseau’s got in some other den leaders. Big confab.”

“Here?” I studied the strangers more carefully. “Said nothing in the Mess.”

“Just heard.”

Me, always the last to find out. “From who?”

“The watch dude.”

“You talk to the watch dude? Like, a conversation?”

“Sure. Where do we all go to talk private? Out on the walkway. He hears all kinds of shit out there.”

I hadn’t had much call to talk private, plus the watch dude scared me. “Rube’s always saying the dens need to talk more. So, the boss is taking action after all.”

Grace shrugged. “Still just talk. And only the dens we trust enough to allow inside.”

“How many is that?”

“No count till we see who showed.”