Artemis flinched, “Sorry, sir, but my point is that it feels like internal warfare. No one else would know.”

I made a mental note that whoever Artemis was, she didn’t believe she was the goddess. If she had, she wouldn’t be quite so deferential.

Dixieclone nodded and then sighed, “That’s not a good sign. The moment’s too crucial to handle everything we need to and that too.”

Artemis looked from side to side as if to check who was in earshot, saying, “That’s my worry.”

Dixieclone raised his voice, “If I hear that anyone unauthorized to share what Artemis said spreads her suspicion, I will personally execute that person.”

The soldiers continued helping henchrooks out of the ships, but no one said more than a few words.

Knowing that the bots’ transmissions were being recorded, I turned my attention back to the jet I was sitting in. “Hey, everybody, they might genuinely believe that other people in the Nine hired us—or at least the people we were pretending to be. I would have been happy if they assumed we were who we appeared to be, but this is better.”

“Much better,” Rachel said, “I’ve been listening in too. They might not have time to target us if they start fighting each other. I know you were thinking of waiting here and using the Mystic to listen in and find Magnus. I’d say that we should get home and get rid of that stuff as soon as we can.”

While I’d have assumed that everyone could guess what she meant by “that stuff,” she didn’t, gesturing to the heavy-duty trash bags of Artificer gear in the back of the jet. The bags sat next to the door to the bathroom but didn’t block it because you don’t block the bathroom.

“Yeah,” I said, checking the jet’s radar and other sensors to reassure myself that no one was following us or showing interest. It was pure paranoia given our cloaking system, but what you considered the world’s collection of random, weird superpowers, paranoia made sense.

For all I knew, someone out there in the world could unerringly detect soup, and we did have food supplies, including soup, on the jet. If that person worked for the Nine, we were screwed.

My stomach rumbled and it struck me that it had been a bit since I’d last eaten. I’d been to Mars. We still had some food bars from when we’d flown to Hideaway. They were probably still good, but if they had a “best by” date, my implant could translate the alien script.

The jet’s sensors didn’t show anything flying toward us. I asked, “Hal, do you see any reason to believe we’ll be discovered if we turn on the main drive soon? I can’t think of anything that would detect us. Am I missing something?”

Hal’s reply appeared in my implant as well as the screen on the dashboard.

[There’s no reason except for the amount of Artificer and Abominator technology retrieved by Rook’s crews. That technology has not been fully cataloged and can’t be adequately accounted for in my calculations.]

“Okay,” I said, “then I guess I’m going to head home. I know we were thinking about having Blue bring the Mystic here, but I’m not going to feel good until we get all of the Artificer tech into the storage rooms.”

Jaclyn laughed, “I’m not going to argue. I agree. I wish we didn’t even have it on the planet.”

“Me either,” Marcus said, glancing back at the garbage bags.

From the weapons console next to me, Cassie said, “Let’s go.”

“Go,” Rachel added.

“Great,” I said. “Would anybody be willing to grab one of the food bars for me? One of the purple ones, maybe? If there aren’t any left, I’ll take red.”

Marcus blinked, “How long has it been since we ate?”

“Too long,” Jaclyn stood up and walked to the back, passing the garbage bags, sniffing, shaking her head, and opening up a storage locker on the wall. Grabbing a selection, she walked back to the front and handed them out to everyone.

Rachel stared at the food bar before tearing off the wrapper, “I think these things were the only solid food I had when I was with the Ghosts. They don’t eat. They absorb… It doesn’t matter.”

She started eating and so did the rest of us.

After a moment, Jaclyn stopped eating to ask, “Is it me or does it smell like lavender in here?”

“Is that what that is?” I asked, readying the jet’s main engine. “I didn’t notice it until we got back. You’re not thinking it’s from the Artificer stuff, are you?”

Cassie stopped eating and her eyes narrowed as she looked at me, “I bought scented garbage bags for the jet. They smell like lavender. What’s wrong with lavender?”

“Nothing,” I said, “I didn’t know they were scented garbage bags.”

Giving the engine power, I took the jet higher, aiming for home and higher altitudes where we wouldn’t have to dodge passenger jets. It wasn’t as if I were going log a flight plan.

The jet responded perfectly, but something didn’t feel right. I couldn’t say how, but my gut feeling was that the air felt thicker. I checked the jet’s speed and we weren’t having any issue flying. We weren’t going slowly, for sure. We’d passed Mach 2.

It had to be in my head.