Right. A wooden-sounding off-line agent still beat having none. Welga dried off and pulled on basic pants and a shirt from the cleaner. They must have been sitting in there since before the Santiago assignment. She blew Connor a kiss and went to the front room for her gear. With the stellas down, swarms couldn’t fly, so the likelihood of the public seeing their conversation was slim, but the Machinehood remained a threat. Given what they’d already compromised, standard countermeasures might be worthless, but she had to try.

“Bedroom secured,” Por Qué said.

Welga flipped the switch on the agency’s radio. It had no visual feed, but Olafson’s voice came through clearly.

“I’m here,” Welga said.

“Good. Get Troit on the channel, and I’ll introduce him officially to the mission. His clearance is good otherwise.”

“He’s here, too.”

Connor raised his brows as Olafson spoke. After reading him into Operation Organica, Olafson explained the mission and recited the sequence of numbers and letters that would authorize their launch. Connor looked grim but kept his acknowledgments to a minimum. Thankfully, Olafson didn’t ask about Connor’s health, and her partner didn’t volunteer.

“Ramírez, Troit, I know I don’t have to tell you how critical it is to get someone on that station, but I’m going to say it anyway. Whatever it takes.”

“Understood,” Welga said.

Olafson ended the call.

Connor handed back the radio. “Please tell me what the hell is going on and why you didn’t say anything about my injuries.”

“During the Jackson clusterfuck, I pocketed a piece of the metal from the Machinehood operative. It had traces of blood on it because I got to it before the explosion. The lab at headquarters did a genetic analysis and found a possible connection to a family on Eko-Yi, plus the material came from off-world. The Machinehood might have ties to the al-Muwahhidun empire—probably does—but the android we captured said she came from ‘one,’ which confirmed a connection to the space station, enough that the president issued an embargo on launches to them. Maybe the caliph is funding their operation or selling them some biotech, but I think Ao Tara and Eko-Yi might be running it. Where else could you hide something like this? The operative admitted to being a Buddhist. The agency doesn’t have anyone up there, but Rice thought my theory was worth checking out. Since I had a seat for the launch, it made more sense to send me there than to the Maghreb, and since you’re also a trained intelligence agent, they trust you to back me up.”

Connor ran a hand through his hair. “So your homecoming wasn’t about retirement. You aren’t here for us to make a new life together.”