Surit didn’t belong here at all. He had standard dinner manners from officer academy, but he’d grown up on a small farm, and he knew it showed at places like this. But he didn’t even have the chance for an awkward exchange with the doorkeeper, because what he did have was Tennalhin Halkana at his elbow.

Tennal flashed the doorkeeper a lazy smile, said, “Reservation for the group tonight,” without even giving his name, and the doorkeeper waved them past. That shouldn’t have worked. But it was Tennal; of course it had.

Surit had been on this station with Tennal for twelve days. Every single one of them had been like this.

He’d thought he was in trouble when Tennal had been a ranker on the Fractal Note. Surit hadn’t been able to look away from the controlled chaos then, and he hadn’t realized just how much that was Tennal being discreet. Now Tennal had a hundred places to channel his energy and Surit couldn’t look away. They were working together, they were rooming together, and every time he turned around, there was Tennal—unpredictable and razor-edged, crackling like the end of a live wire. Surit worked in a universe of fixed possibilities. Tennal was a chaos event. Surit was drawn to it like a gravity well.

“Relax,” Tennal murmured. “It’ll be fun.”

“Why am I here?” Surit asked quietly.

Without turning, Tennal gave him a lopsided smile. “Because I need backup. Don’t let me get too drunk.”

“Halkana!” a figure called from a group of couches. The officers’ gathering was scattered over half the room. Tennal’s moment of candor was gone as he pulled Surit with him to the nearest group.

Surit started getting looks the moment they slipped in to find seats. Tennal glanced at him, saw his uncertainty, and gave a dark smile.

“This is Yeni,” Tennal announced to the group, as he insinuated himself into a space on the couch that was technically too small. “He’s my synced architect. Yes, that line of Yeni; no, he won’t tell you about it, the regulators have to murder anyone he mentions his mother to. Try asking him about military strategy instead. He could probably take over this station with two ships and a textbook. Someone get us drinks—no, not silverberry, does nobody here have any taste, Lights, did all of you grow up in a swamp? Here, someone make room.”

There was a stunned silence, of the sort that frequently followed Tennal at full bore, and then the woman next to him laughed and waved for someone to pass them a different drinks tray. People shifted aside to give Surit a seat.

And that was it. Surit was in the group now. Someone handed him a tiny glass of something that seemed expensive, while across from him, Tennal proceeded to smile, verbally unsheathe his edges, and suck up all the air in the room.