ON THE ROAD AGAIN.

Ivan watched the female bartender pour the brown near-bourbon-no one could make a profit bringing real bourbon all the way out here-with the enthusiasm of a lifer working a prison cafeteria's creamed corn station.

Definitely not enjoying her work.

He spent a few seconds looking at her face. How did they get her to come out here?

Hopeless life on Earth? Promises of bounties, bonuses?

Maybe she just didn't care. A lot of people didn't these days.

Her eyes looked at the glass as she put it down, but they might as well have been looking miles away.

"Thanks," he said.

The woman nodded automatically.

Then someone took the stool next to him.

The old guy ... the miner.

"What he's having, please."

The bartender went to search for another glass.

Ivan sensed that the miner, elbows on the bar, was looking at him.

"Some kind of shit, huh?"

Ivan turned to the old guy.

The miner, probably a pro when it came to numerous Road trips, had slept most of the first stage of the journey.

Now, with a bar on offer, suddenly ... he came to life.

"Meaning...?"

"Troop ship? Escort? What the hell's up with that bullshit?"

His glass appeared in front of him, and he took a big gulp.

"Doesn't make any sense to me," he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Me as well, Ivan thought.

But he said: "Who knows. Maybe there are Runners ahead. Maybe it's no big deal."

The miner narrowed his eyes and shook his head. Then extended a hand. "McGowan."

They shook hands.

"Gage."

The miner held the shake longer than maybe he should have, and looked into Ivan's eyes.

A pro.

Someone who met lots of types on the road.

Maybe he can detect someone who's lying?

"I'm thinking there's something else going down. Don't know what, but-"

McGowan killed the glass and tapped it against the metal counter.

"Another, miss"

Hard worker, hard drinker.

Suspicious, too.

"My guess is they're escorting us for some other reason."

Another slug. "And you know, Gage-"

Why the emphasis on my phony name?

"That makes two strange things that have happened so far this trip."

"Two?"

"Picking up you-and now this."

The man smiled, and his thick mustache curled up on either side of his mouth, almost touching the corners of his eyes.

"Kinda makes one wonder."

Ivan was about to say that his being here had more to do with his engine shitting the bed than anything else.

And how could that be connected with the troop ship escort?

Except-even he had to wonder.

Once the World Council knew he had been picked up, that his mission for them might be in danger of being compromised, did they decide to provide a little extra insurance to guarantee he would actually make it to Omega Nine?

Because they definitely wanted that ... some of them, anyway.

"I doubt that. See, when my Solo-"

"Attention. Passengers of SRV-66. Your Road ship is now boarding at gate four."

The voice over the speakers echoed in the wide, open area of the way station, girded with shops filled with the bare essentials and one odd kiosk selling souvenirs.

Why would anyone want a souvenir of this place?

Ivan looked around and saw Jordan in the doorway. He was expressionless as he came forward.

"We're heading out. Everybody on board-now!"

Ivan saw McGowan eyeing his near-empty glass number two. Maybe considering another?

Instead, the miner downed it and slid off the stool. He took some Council credits from his pocket and dropped them onto the bar beside his empty glass.

"Guess like a lot of things about the Road," the old man said, "we may never know."

As McGowan headed back to the SRV, Ivan sat at the bar for a few more seconds. He considered offering Jordan a drink, but Jordan didn't look like the kind of guy who would open up, even after a few.

But that old-timer McGowan had him thinking....

Annie watched the passengers file in while Lahti checked a screen showing the freight manifest.

"Okay. Mighty full load there, Captain. Slowing you down at all?"

Annie shook her head.

The air here was so dense with moisture, like having a hot, wet woolen scarf wrapped around your face.

Might be good for the complexion, but it wasn't the easiest stuff to breathe.

"Got plenty of power. No problem."

Lahti nodded and lowered the screen.

"We'll take the lead. You follow. We see anything ahead, we talk."

Annie scratched her head, pushing a strand of hair to the side.

She wanted to ask the commander what this was all about.

Runners? Really?

The Runners could show up anywhere. In front or behind. What made this route suddenly so dangerous?

"You're in charge," she said grudgingly. "We'll watch our screens, too."

Lahti opened his mouth-probably about to say, no need for that.

Instead: "Let's get going."

Annie nodded and followed her passengers into the SRV.

Nahara had stopped at the top of the stairs that led to the passenger compartment.

Watching.

The captain and Lahti.

What the hell are they talking about?

Sharing goddamned secrets?

He rubbed his chin.

Then told himself: Get a grip.

He started down the aisle, back to his seat. His nose was filled with the sour smell of his own sweat.

Jordan sat in place at the console. Ready. As always.

"Learn anything?" he asked.

"Yeah. That there are"-Annie let her voice mock Lahti's-"reports of Runners ahead."

Jordan glanced at her. Then went back to his readouts.

"You don't buy it?"

"Do you?"

Jordan didn't answer.

She shook her head. "Not much we can do about it, though. Is there?"

"Exactly."

Lahti's voice filled the cockpit.

"Ready for portal approach, Captain. Give yourself some distance for any maneuvers we may need to do after transit."

"Right, Commander."