He finally looked down at the work screens Surit had floated between them. There was a pile of thirty-seven items for sign-off. “Surit, I think you’ve forgotten we don’t actually work here.”

“We do,” Surit said. “Work here, I mean.”

Tennal shoved the screens around. “Complaints, damage compensation, missing people—Surit, this is not your job. They’re not going to promote you for doing this when you get back to Cavalry, and Governor Oma doesn’t like you.”

“These things need fixing,” Surit said stubbornly. “We’re the only ones here.”

Tennal recognized the tone. It was exactly the same obstinate certainty as when Surit had told him, There is literally nothing you could say to make me sync you.

Tennal put his head on the desk. “Fine,” he said. “Fine.”

Surit looked up from one of his work screens, frowning, and said, “I do think Governor Oma should have stepped down by now. Regulations say—”

The door to the outer office was open. “Lieutenant Yeni,” Tennal snapped, “shut up.”

Surit fell quiet. His eyes narrowed.

Tennal should have seen this coming. Of course Surit would know the regulations about how long martial law should last. But the politics of Archer Link Station wasn’t their business. They were just passing through. And Lights knew there was nothing two junior officers could do about division-level games. “All right,” Tennal said, much more quietly. “I’ll help with whatever you think needs it, but don’t rock the boat.”

Surit hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

By the tenth day of working with Surit, Tennal felt like he’d been doing this for weeks. Running a small district turned out to be mainly arguing and paperwork, and Tennal was good at one of those. He had a lieutenant with an encyclopedic memory for the other one.

It felt like an acrobatics act. Tennal would pick a fight with another officer over Surit’s latest case review, make an outrageous claim—This is how they do it on Orshan Central—and Surit would unearth a fact to back it up. Their messages worked in tandem, both increasingly sure the other would catch them if they took a leap. It was a new experience for Tennal. Was this what normal people felt while they were doing their jobs? Surely someone would have told him if politics were more fun than it looked.

He was still working on his escape on the side. His biggest problem was the galactic travel permit: the one time he tried to get one, the system asked for authorizations Tennal didn’t dare apply for without knowing who would see the request. He needed to find whoever was responsible for permits and work out how to bribe them.