Tennal gave a ghost of a salute, with the impression that it could have been a rude gesture. Surit was about to return to his station when the shuttle gave a ping.

“They want to cut our patrol short, sir,” Basavi reported, sounding as baffled as Surit felt at the news. “Return to dock?”

In the same data burst, Surit and Tennal’s wristbands both buzzed. Surit looked down automatically at what could make it do that: a communication of high enough priority that it overrode everything else.

The Archer symbol pulsing on his wristband didn’t even make sense at first. Then he realized it was a modified version of Archer Station’s stamp. The Archer Station governor.

The instant it came, another order followed on its heels, from the commander:

NO COMMUNICATION IS PERMISSIBLE WITH NON-FLEET OFFICERS. REPORT IMMEDIATELY.

He looked to Tennal, who had his own fingers frozen in a gesture over his wristband as if he knew what this was. He met Surit’s eyes unrepentantly.

“Whoops,” Tennal said.

CHAPTER 13

It was hard to say who was more in trouble.

Governor Oma, projected at twice life-size on the screen of the flag chamber, was just as Tennal remembered: a serene presence with a close-shaved head and gilt Archer pins at her neck. She sat framed by golden drapes in what must be the station governor’s office, a large space with high ceilings built for beauty, not utility. Like Tennal’s aunt, she favored a civilian-style wrap-jacket; unlike his aunt, her broad face gave off a general air of benignity, as if the stars were permanently aligned in her favor. “A whole cavalcade!” she said. “Commander Vinys, thank you for joining us! I thought I only placed a call to one of your soldiers.”

Tennal, by now a connoisseur of ways to enrage his senior officers, admired the sheer speed at which this made a vein in the commander’s cheek twitch. Tennal raised a hand and waved from the spot where he had been told to stand. “I think you were trying to get to me, Governor. Pleasure to see you. How are you?”

Commander Vinys made a curt chopping motion with his hand, and Tennal fell quiet. The flag chamber should have felt larger when empty of its normal audience, only the commander seated at a desk and Surit and Tennal standing, but the commander’s rage occupied the whole space like a bad-tempered cloud. “Governor-General Oma.”

The face on the screen smiled. Every space station and planetary district had a governor. They should’ve been a civilian; it was unusual for a serving general to be in charge. But hadn’t she mentioned a coup, earlier, when she’d called his aunt? The military took charge where there were problems; it was what they did. Found a power vacuum and filled it.