SECOND DRAFT: Hard Bank Left

39

"I'm sorry?" she asked politely, not fully understanding the implication of Jarreth's news. Nathan and Jarreth were already downstairs and Krys turned to Graham for an explanation. "Did I miss something?"

"Alasier's put out the call. He's looking for assistance for a last hurrah."

Krys studied Graham for a moment, being sure that he understood what that implied. His serious demeanor told her that he did. Alasier never called for action. Yes, he would assist his daughter when she got in a bind as he had in Chicago, but for the most part Alasier was the most conservative leader the Caste had. If he was pulling a call to arms...

"He's onto something big, isn't he?"

Graham shrugged. "Whatever it is, he's sure to have the remainder of the Caste behind him."

"So it's something big."

"Most likely."

Eager to hear news, Krys left her bowl on the table, forgetting her previous hunger. Moving with brisk excitement, she descended the stairs, pulling her pocket watch over her head as she went. Rounding the corner through the sitting room she found everyone in the kitchen hovering around the radio. Nathan had a Caste transcriber up and was fiddling with the dials, desperately trying to find the right settings while Alasier's message played on repeat.

...transmitting on Caste frequencies. CTA. Call and response needed. Direct communications transmitting on Caste frequencies. CTA. Call and response...

"I've got it," Nathan announced. The translation of the accompanying message left them with a direct line frequency and encoding settings when filtered through the transcriber.

"Call and response?" asked the voice on the other end of the line.

Cadence leaned forward, but Krys picked up the transceiver before he had a chance to even reach across the counter. "Flying on a Song."

"Wind is picking up," the voice responded. "Welcome aboard WindSong and crew. I'll get you over to the main call."

A long tone played over the radio for several minutes before a familiar voice picked up the call. "This is Helmstaar actual. Welcome to the fight WindSong."

"Good to hear from you, Christian. Two questions, when and where?"

"Forty four hours. Chicago."

"Again?"

"We have it on good authority that Madam Constantine is being moved to a central care facility there."

"That leaves us with... god... thirty four hours? prep time, Helmstaar Actual."

"I'd apologize for the short notice, but we're scrambling here too."

"Do we have an exact rendezvous?"

"Call on this frequency and encodation when you get close and we'll fill you in."

"Gotcha, Actual. We'll see you then."

"Copy that. Actual out."

Krys hung up the transceiver, and looked sternly around the kitchen. "We have thirty four hours before we leave for Chicago. I want us working the whole time. We can have Celeste take us in. We can sleep on the way. Nathan, please get me the frequency and encoder settings for this call. Graham, if you want weapons set up you have thirty two hours to get it done. I want to run the full preflight and clean up before we launch."

Nathan rummaged through a drawer looking for paper and a pen.

"Cadence, Jarret, I need you two to get everything packed before helping with weapons installations. And I don't want any of your shit, Cade. Graham's in charge of project. You do what he says when he says it. Got it?"