June 6, 2440
Hotel Hiro, Evening
By the time MJ Reyes, Y’kem T’all, and Rita Ashbury-Singh made it back to Hotel Hiro, they had all reached the same reluctant conclusion: Kevin Wood had probably done something incredibly boring.
It was the only explanation that made sense. Charity work. No messages. No emergency calls. No one urgently looking for him. Whatever mundane task he had volunteered for, they could thoroughly interrogate him after they changed out of their work clothes.
MJ was still internally debating whether she had enough time for a proper shower when the three of them pushed through the youth wing entrance.
And found Kevin waiting for them.
He was immaculate. Fresh uniform. Clean hair. Polished shoes. Not a single wrinkle to be found.
MJ stopped dead. Rita halted beside her. Y’kem, still chewing on whatever he had scavenged from the lobby, nearly walked into both of them.
Kevin looked at the three exhausted pilots. “You’re late.”
Rita stared at him. “What happened to you?”
“Nothing.”
MJ narrowed her eyes. “You disappeared.”
“I took the day off.”
“We heard.”
Kevin checked the time with maddening precision. “Don’t dawdle. We’re expected at the reception before nine-thirty.”
Rita ignored the pivot. “What charity?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
MJ looked him over again, her pilot’s eyes scanning for details. There was absolutely nothing useful to see. No makeup. No strange clothes. No evidence of injury. No glitter. No explanation whatsoever for ten hours of radio silence. Just Kevin Wood, looking like someone had unboxed him five minutes earlier.
Y’kem shrugged. “I told you.”
Kevin looked at him. “Told them what?”
“That you told Matt last night you were taking the day off to do charity work.”
“Yes.”
MJ folded her arms. “And that is all you were doing?”
Kevin gave her a flat, knowing look. “Were you doing anything today that you want to explain in the hallway?”
That landed like a physical blow. MJ snapped her mouth shut.
Rita looked between them, sensing the sudden shift in gravity. “What did she do?”
“Nothing,” MJ said quickly.
“Cargo,” Y’kem offered.
MJ turned on him, eyes blazing. “Shut up.”
Kevin blinked, his pristine facade cracking just a fraction. “Cargo?”
“Later,” MJ bit out.
“Fine.” Kevin pointed down the corridor. “Change. Shower if you can do it quickly. We have to appear together.”
“For what?” Rita asked, still suspicious.
“The reception.”
“We know about the reception.”
“Then why are you standing here?”
Rita gave him a dark look, but Kevin pressed his advantage. “We’re supposed to properly greet W’ren and K’rem before nine-thirty.”
That moved them. In the Freehold-V’ren ecosystem, there were things you could be casually late for. Being formally expected by W’ren Th’ron and K’rem T’all was not among them.
MJ started down the hallway, tossing a glare over her shoulder. “I still want to know where you were.”
Kevin followed. “Later.”
Rita walked backward for several steps, her eyes narrowed. “You look suspiciously clean.”
“I showered.”
“For charity?”
Kevin stared at her. Y’kem laughed.
“Go change,” Kevin ordered.
They split toward their respective rooms. Crucially, none of them reached for their phones.
MJ had spent the day flying a covert route from Chiba to Singapore and back, plunging headfirst into a Freehold black-book operation she still couldn’t discuss. Y’kem had co-piloted that mission, moving six vulnerable children across international boundaries before helping guide another shuttle into Yokohama. Rita had spent her day in the copilot seat of a colossal T-48, managing a waterfront construction site that involved forty-eight shuttles and enough autonomous equipment to strip and clear two hectares of industrial Yokohama before supper.
They were exhausted, hungry, and running completely out of time.
Kevin, meanwhile, had already checked his phone.
He knew the photographs were beginning to appear. He knew some of the major Harajuku fashion accounts were already posting the Ziggy Stardust and ballroom sets. He knew the schoolgirl video was rapidly achieving escape velocity on the internet.
And he knew, with the calm, quiet resignation of a man watching an unavoidable natural disaster approach the shoreline, that his friends hadn’t seen a single pixel of it yet.
He adjusted his collar.
There was no reason to ruin the surprise.
At 9:24 PM, the cadets entered the reception together. Kevin looked perfectly, impeccably respectable.
For another few minutes, the Grey Shogun remained a problem for later.
