7: Deva
Deva
They couldn’t fly in, Chiron said. Kaiahive controlled the air-space around Haven’s Deep. They watched the roads too. But they couldn’t monitor all the oceans.
The nearest harbour—boat dock, terminal, whatever it was called—was in Avegen, thousands of kilometres away. A twenty-hour flight in a Proteus, with rigged boosters and a pilot who didn’t care about overloading the system. But that was too blatant, would alert the company. And Chiron didn’t want them to travel as a large group. Again, that would attract too much attention.
Which was how Deva and Wrench came to be sitting in the viewing gallery of the tourist mag-train. Close friends, using their savings to take a trip they’d promised themselves for years.
The train would take six days, would only stop at five
