Surit was always the lieutenant, whereas Tennal was still, faintly derisively, Halkana. Istara leaned back in their chair, under a checkered banner hung by one of the station staff that advertised LOW-GRAV WRESTLING SOCIETY. Surit had tapped Istara and Basavi as his deputies the instant they came back into the unit. Basavi now managed day-to-day operations for two hundred staff members in their office. Istara wrangled freight supplies for the entire district. That was the thing about Surit: he had high expectations, and you found yourself living up to them.

Istara helped Tennal in their spare time. Tennal found himself leaning on them more than he’d meant to. He’d never had people he could rely on before.

Tennal looked blankly at his workstation then realized what they meant. “Me and Surit? Doing what, low-grav wrestling?” That made Istara snort. “We’re not. Chain-of-command relationships are against the regulations.”

“Yeah, so are all unit relationships,” Istara said. “Didn’t think you’d worry about that.”

“I’m an officer now,” Tennal said piously, to see if they’d rise to the bait.

Istara made a low, dubious noise in the back of their throat. Tennal wondered if they were going to tell him his rank was fake. “Do you know why the Governor promoted you?”

“I think to spite my aunt,” Tennal said honestly. “Politics. But listen, it shouldn’t affect you. I know that whatever happens, Surit will make sure Retrieval Two gets traded back to Cavalry. He’s stubborn.”

“It’s not the trading—it’s the risk they’ll demote us,” Istara said darkly. “I’ve only got three years left, and I don’t want to leave at second class.”

“Three years?” Tennal had never thought about other people’s service periods. “I thought you lot were all in for life. Retiring with gray hair decked out with medals.”

Istara lifted their feet up and thunked them on the terminal. A ring of smaller light-screens circled their chair. “What, are we just one faceless mass to you? I’m out as soon as possible.”

“To do what?” Tennal said, fascinated. He’d never actually asked why normal people volunteered to join the army. He’d vaguely assumed it was about power and glory, or about honor if you were like Surit and could also ignore what the army actually was.

“Construction,” Istara said unexpectedly. They looked at his expression and laughed. “What? My whole family is in the business. I’m the sixth of ten. But you gotta be ex-military to get anywhere with the suppliers, and Cavalry’s a decent division. The plan was to transfer to an engineering unit once I got my pilot license.”

“But you’re still here,” Tennal said.

Istara suddenly seemed very interested in the light-screen that held Surit’s to-do list. “Well, you know … Basavi.”