Eugene’s tough leather boots carried him across the dirt before he decided to move. The arena floor felt different after the ride, looser underfoot, and the noise of the crowd had flattened into a single tone that pressed against his ears. Crow’s voice reached him from behind, low and sharp, but the words didn’t catch. Eugene kept walking.
Albright descended the grandstand stairs with the deliberate pace of a man who had already waited as long as he intended to. The tattered baseball cap was gone now, and the dark sports jacket hung open over a white shirt that had not been pressed recently. His face gave nothing away except the fact of his attention, which was fixed on Eugene with the same unblinking focus Eugene remembered from the room.
They met at the rail. The metal pipe was cool under Eugene’s palm, and he felt the vibration of the crowd through it before he heard the announcer calling the next rider’s name somewhere behind him.
“You can never leave Texas safely without federal clearance,” Albright said. His voice carried no more weight than if he had been reading a weather report. “That is not a negotiation.”
Eugene’s jaw tightened. “Why did you take us? What did you think we were?”
“The silver device in your possession is a communication relay. It was constructed by your father’s people. “They monitor Earth through genetic anchors. Individuals whose DNA carries their sequences. You are one of those anchors.”
The words landed in Eugene’s chest heavy and still. He pulled the silver device from his pocket. The etched patterns caught the morning light, and the metal was warm, warmer than his own skin. He closed his fingers around it.
The hum started low, a frequency he felt in his molars before he heard it. Then the voice came, not through his ears but inside the bone of his skull.
Eugene.
Clear. Close. His father’s voice.
“You hear him now,” Albright confirmed
Crow stepped between them. His shoulders squared and his posture shifted into something older than the fairgrounds, older than the government, older than any authority Albright carried his white shirt. The silver jewelry at his throat caught the light.
“This boy is under tribal protection,” Crow said. “You have no jurisdiction here.”
Albright studied Crow for a long moment. Then he reached into his jacket and withdrew a folded paper, which he held out to Eugene. “A sponsorship offer. Defense contractor out of San Antonio. They watched your ride and the terms are generous. The best part is you don't have to leave Texas to compete."
Eugene declined the paper. The device was still warm in his hand, and his father’s voice had gone quiet, but the echo of it lingered in the space behind his thoughts. He looked at the offer, then at Albright’s face.
“I don’t want your contractor’s money,” Eugene said. “And I want you to leave. Now.”
Albright folded the paper once and returned it to his jacket. His expression did not change. “The offer stands. The clearance requirement also stands.” He turned and walked up the grandstand stairs without looking back.
Crow put a hand on Eugene’s shoulder and turned him toward the chutes. “Come. Lone Blaze is being loaded out. You should see him before they haul him off.”
Eugene let himself be led. The device had gone silent in his grip, cool again, just etched metal and weight. He slid it back into his pocket and walked with Crow across the dirt toward the holding pens, where the gray bull with the scar on its flank was being guided into a trailer by two handlers who spoke to it in low, but stern voices.
The bull’s eye rolled toward Eugene as he approached, crusty, wet and unreadable. Then the trailer door swung shut, and the latch dropped into place with a sound that carried across the empty space between them.