The transport rumbled beneath us, eating up miles of countryside as we headed toward the Gate site after hitting the main land. Six hours trapped in a metal box with five other people was exactly as fun as it sounded.
I sat near the back, giving me a clear view of everyone. Monica and Celeste had ended up together, heads bent over a datapad as Celeste quietly explained something about Gate navigation protocols. Noah stood in the aisle beside them, her eyes constantly scanning for threats despite the fact that we were in a secure transport on a VHC-patrolled highway.
Talk about paranoia.
Then again, someone had tried to murder her charge, so maybe it was justified.
Juan stirred as the transport hit a particularly rough patch of road, his eyes blinking open with the reluctant awareness of someone who would rather stay unconscious. He glanced around, oriented himself, then sighed dramatically when he caught me watching him.
"What a drag," he muttered.
