Tennal looked at them, and his mind circled back to all unit relationships are against regulations. He probably shouldn’t surface-read them, but he did anyway and got an impression of undirected defiance. Tennal could understand that.

“Does she know?” Tennal said.

There was a pause. “Does she know what?”

“That you”—for once in his life, Tennal stopped and picked his words. He could at least not be shitty to the people who’d helped him out—“want a chance. With her. Do you?”

“Oh, that,” Istara said, with a wave of relief. Then they seemed to reconsider the relief. “No, of course she doesn’t fucking know. That would be awkward.”

“Who cares about awkward?” Tennal said. “Awkward’s temporary.”

“Oh yeah?” Istara said. “That works for you, does it?”

“It doesn’t work,” Tennal said. “Nothing really works, I mean—”

“Are you giving me relationship advice?” Istara asked incredulously.

“Fuck no,” Tennal said. “Definitely not. You should listen very carefully to whatever I say and then do the exact opposite.”

“I got that already,” Istara said. “I think the lieutenant’s got it too.” Tennal made a rude gesture at them, which they returned with a grin.

Tennal thought he’d headed that off pretty well. He couldn’t afford to think about Surit. So, instead of obsessing about someone who wouldn’t sleep with him or mind-reading everyone on the station for an escape route and turning his brain into a smear of pulp in the process, Tennal threw himself into forging a travel pass.

It was an amateur effort. Even he could see that. He didn’t have the key pairs to generate the right encryption stamps, and he wasn’t sure how to fake them. But it was his only idea right now, so he worked on it long after Istara had left, late in the evening in his darkening office.

It was at that point that Surit walked in, looking tired. “Tennal, I need a case review.”

Tennal looked up. A file appeared on his desk, but Tennal squinted at Surit’s face instead. Usually case reviews were traffic fines or minor offenses Surit had decided hadn’t been proved. But, going by his face, something was different about this one. “What is it?”

“A citizen in detention has been receiving illegal communications. They’re from—” Surit hesitated. “Well. See for yourself.”

The file on Tennal’s desk glowed red as Surit highlighted an information bubble. Tennal said blankly, “A rights group that advocates for readers.”

“Yes.”

Something nagged at Tennal as he stared at the file. “Is your prisoner a reader?”

“They must be. I heard about the case secondhand,” Surit said, slightly uncomfortable. “It’s not related to our district. But Tennal—it’s not illegal to communicate with a legal advocacy group. This isn’t right.”