Apocalyptic Rebirth: With a repairman system space, she rises again.-Chapter 617: The air has ears.

Nine scanned the area, his eyes darting back and forth as if checking for hidden microphones. He leaned in so close that Sunshine had to resist the urge to pull back.

His voice dropping to a gravelly, conspiratorial murmur.

"Look," he whispered, "we can’t talk about the details here. Too many ears. Whenever you are in council territory, it is better to assume that the air has ears. By involving the Glacis king in our affairs, we have made some enemies on the council.

People that will be looking for any opportunity to use what we say and do against us. If they hear us talking about that place, they will assume we are growing political affiliations and repairman are not allowed to have any. Let’s take this to a private channel later. A place where no one can hear us."

Sunshine arched a skeptical eyebrow, her arms crossing over her chest. "Why are you so secretive? I can understand the council but a place where no one can hear us!"

"Because who knows! Nothing good ever comes from that place and information about it costs a lot. I need to talk to an old friend first, he knows more than I do." The tension in Nine’s shoulders suddenly snapped, replaced by a restless, manic energy. He checked his time band, a wide, irrepressible grin breaking through his serious facade.

"I’ve gotta go," he said, his voice trembling with excitement. "I’m heading home. I need to look my wife in the eye and tell her the news myself... we’re rich, Sunshine. Actually, very rich."

Sunshine’s expression softened into a supportive smile. She gave him a small nod of approval. "Go on, then. Don’t keep Hyrnn waiting for news like that."

But before he turned to leave, his antennas drooped, and his expression turned uncharacteristically serious. "Sunshine?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful with Zevran. The female devil in the white veil."

Sunshine frowned. "Why? Because she doesn’t like me?"

"No," Nine whispered. "Because she doesn’t like you very much. Zevran is the type that will do anything to get you expelled from here. She has a thing against female repairman but previously, you were low ranked, so she was not bothered. Now that you have become a royal Repairman, you are not low ranked, and she will be after you. She is bad news."

"Shouldn’t you be afraid of her too?" Sunshine asked as she stood up. "You were also low ranked and now, a royal repairman."

Nine nodded. "But at least I have council member Tzar’s backing, you do not have anyone." He patted her shoulder, looking at her like she was a dog that had lost a bone. "We will have your back of course, but you need to be on your toes."

Sunshine watched him walk away, his shadow long on the grass. She let out a loud yawn and left the headquarters.

*****

The war craft descended upon the Drift lands like a falling god, its massive shadow swallowing the jagged rocks and rusted scrap heaps of the camp. Below, the air was thick and dry. One could hear the frantic clicking of safety catches.

All of the defenders of Heath’s territory marched forward with weapons. Alarms wailed louder than the shouts of a crowd scattering from gunfire.

Over the noise, Heath was roaring like a midnight cicada in the summer heat. He was barely clothed, in boxers and a vest. "Hold your fire!" He raised his hands though his eyes were narrowed to slits. "Nobody shoots until I say so!"

The mercenaries crouched behind barricades; their mismatched rifles aimed squarely at the craft’s shimmering hull. Then, a crackle of static erupted from the war craft’s speakers. "Easy, everyone. It’s Arwin Burton. Unless you want to spend the night in the wilderness, I suggest you point those pea-shooters at the ground."

The tension snapped like a dry twig. Heath stepped out from behind a rusted shipping container, his jaw practically hitting the dirt. The craft’s wings folded with a mechanical hiss_ a sound far too sophisticated for the scrap-metal reality of the Drift.

His Arwin was back! Was he dreaming? "Is that... is that thing real?" Heath whispered to no one.

The heavy bay door hissed open, and sand rose, before settling down. Arwin stepped out, looking far too clean for a man who had been gone for months. Behind him was Paula. The moment her boots hit the sand, she sprinted toward her father, her face a mask of relief.

"Father!" she cried, reaching out for a hug.

Heath didn’t even look at her. He stuck out a flat palm, physically shunting her to the side without breaking eye contact with the aircraft. "Welcome, darling. Look at the plating on this thing! What kind of alloy is it made from?"

Paula stumbled, her momentum dying in the dirt. She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Nice to see you too, dad. Glad to know I rank somewhere below a glorified flying machine"

She looked over at her mother, who was already sprinting toward her with tears streaming down her face. Paula’s expression softened as she was swept into a bone-crushing embrace. "At least someone missed me," she muttered into her mother’s shoulder.

Meanwhile, Heath was practically vibrating. He circled the craft like a hungry shark. "Where did this come from? Did you steal this from a military fort? Who and why would they give this to you? Arwin, did they know you were coming here? Can we keep it!"

"Dad, breathe," Arwin said, stepping between his father and a very expensive-looking sensor array. "It’s not a government plane. Sit down, let the boys offload the cargo, and I’ll tell you everything. Get some more people over here. We’ve got many crates to offload."

Heath was excited to hear that his son had brought supplies and once again, he started bellowing commands. As the mercenaries began hauling out crates of Dragonoids, sleek heat-suits and other supplies_ Heath’s questions came like rapid-fire pulse shots.

"You say those are Dragonoids? And these people in Westbrook made them? How? And these suits... how do they regulate the internal temperature? Is it a liquid-coolant system? What is the science here?"

Arwin laughed, throwing an arm around his father’s shoulder. "It’s both. It’s the Quinn’s, Hades and his wife. They are on their way to building an empire, father. They’re expanding faster than a wildfire in a dry season."

For the next hour, over food that had come from fortress four, the camp sat in stunned silence. Arwin spun a tale of high-tech citadels, exo suits for soldiers, devices that killed mutants and a world that made their dusty little corner of the Drift look like a prehistoric cave. "They have phones that work!" Arwin’s announcement shocked everyone.

Heath sat hunched over his plate, uncharacteristically silent. He poked at a piece of meat, his eyes distant. For a moment, Paula thought her father was actually reflecting on the danger his children had faced. She thought maybe, just maybe, he was feeling a flicker of fatherly pride.