A faint alarm chimed on Oma’s desk. She silenced it. “Good,” she said. “I know you have a … chaotic way of operating. I look forward to seeing what you do with a peacekeeping brief.” Before Tennal could ask what that meant, she held out a bios pad. “You’ll need to register your change of division. The Fractal Note commander has agreed to your release from Cavalry. All that remains, if you agree, is to enter Archer.”

“Oh, Commander Vinys released me, did he?” Tennal said, fascinated. He took the pad and gave it his fingerprint. “Voluntarily?”

“In a way,” Oma said, and smiled.

To be fair, Cavalry had given Tennal even less of a choice. He lifted the pad for a retina scan and completed the bios process. An Archer captain. His aunt would spit nails. “You know I’m still synced to a Cavalry lieutenant. Will that be a problem? Cross-division fraternization and all that, not to mention Surit Yeni can write me whenever he wants.”

“Ah, yes, that,” Oma said. She touched an area of her desk, and the chiming bell sounded again. “Enter.”

After a few moments, the door slid open. Two rankers, armed with cappers, stood on either side of a third person: unarmed, uniform disheveled, head down.

The prisoner was Surit.

A shock ran through Tennal. He hadn’t ever seen Surit less than fully put together before. Now Surit was in a uniform two days old, a shadow of stubble across his jaw, stumbling to a halt just inside the door. He looked up in naked surprise at seeing Tennal lounging against Oma’s desk, then looked from him to Oma warily. As if Tennal had switched sides in more than just name. Tennal bit his tongue before he could say, No, that’s not it—

“Lieutenant Yeni.” Governor Oma’s voice was velvet smooth. “Please be seated.”

Surit carefully saluted: first Oma, then Tennal, who fought the ridiculous urge to salute back. “Governor,” Surit said. His voice was rusty, as if he hadn’t used it since Tennal had last seen him.

He avoided Tennal’s eyes as he trod heavily across the room and sat in front of Governor Oma’s desk.

Tennal had been in Surit’s mind. He stared at the top of Surit’s bent head as if his gaze could burn a hole in it. Look up.

“I understand you were the one to locate the remnants,” Oma said gently, sitting with her elbows propped on her desk. Surit studied the floor by his own feet. “In a prohibited and unstable area, of course, as a side effect of a dangerous and dubiously legal mission”—Surit flinched—“but where would we be without soldiers taking the initiative? My fleet reports that you wouldn’t help retrieve them.”