“We can’t talk about it here, cardo, but trust me enough to know there’s a really damn good reason. It wasn’t an easy decision.”

“For God’s sake, Welga, you are in no shape to go back to soldiering, and you can’t take flow. What possible reason could there be?”

Because I know the Maghreb like few others do. But she couldn’t say that aloud. “If the Machinehood is backed by a sentient AI, it’s going to carve up the world like a hot knife through butter. This effort needs every enhanced fighter it can get.”

She used their old keywords, knife and butter, to remind Connor of Operation Golden Dagger. She needed him to consider the Maghreb while anyone watching thought about SAIs.

He narrowed his eyes as he considered her phrasing. She’d worked intelligence, but Connor had been the analyst. He knew how to put two and two together, flow or sober. He would come to the same conclusion as she had about the al-Muwahhidun. He’d been at Langley during the shitstorm of Marrakech, and he’d had the same intel—or more—that she had at the time. He’d understand the caliph’s methods, the significance of a disappearing Machinehood and a blackout zone, the real reason they’d ask someone like Welga to return.

When he started to mutter fuck at ten-second intervals, she knew he’d pieced it together.

“They’d better not send—” He broke off before he said too much. His jaw pulled taut. “What about moving to Eko-Yi? How could you say yes to that knowing that you’ve joined—”

“This is temporary, cardo. The Machinehood’s deadline is in four days. We have to stop them before then.”

“The launch is in nine days.”

“Plenty of time,” Welga said smoothly. “I bet we’ll have these assholes neutralized in a day or two.”

“Bullshit. Not if you end up having to chase them around the world.”

The trouble with someone who knew you well was that they could call your bluff. At least Connor hadn’t said the Maghreb out loud.

“Just—don’t get yourself killed, okay?”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

She’d barely made it out alive the first time. According to Olafson, not one intelligence officer had emerged since. Was she being an idiot to think she could do it?

“We didn’t know the Machinehood would show up to ruin your surprise,” she said. “If this operation doesn’t end in time, I’ll reconsider my position with the agency. I promise.”

The tension fell from Connor’s shoulders in that magical way only he had. He shrugged. “Maybe we’ll get up there and discover that neither of our bodies like space. Maybe the Machinehood will reveal itself as our new AI god and make this whole conversation pointless.” He rolled out of bed. “I’m going to get a sleeping pill. You want one?”

“Please.”