When he craned his neck, he could see he was right. Surit sat, upright and serious, next to a pair of grave-looking politicians. He’d found a Cavalry uniform and looked, against all odds, like a model soldier again. There was only a tinge of gray under his eyes.

Tennal looked at the ankles of Surit’s new uniform trousers, which Surit had hurriedly let down so they fit. He imagined Surit in the gray predawn light in a hospital room, waking up so he could use a travel sewing kit and make himself neat enough to testify on behalf of an army that had been happy to kill him.

Tennal had been in love before. Generally, he knew it as an adrenaline high, three days without sleep, a weeklong obsession with someone just as reckless as him. It hadn’t ever been a steady, quiet pulse like this before. But it hadn’t involved syncing and civil war and alien ghosts either.

Did this kind of feeling last? It might tug at Tennal like a tap on his chest every time he thought of it, but maybe Surit had forgotten already. Surit might have come to his senses the moment he had time to breathe and think.

And if not—then what? Tennal was not used to taking things slowly and sensibly. It was a terrifying idea. He’d almost rather face the Resolution.

Then he tuned in to what the commander on the speaker’s platform was saying.

“—rogue architect, Yeni.” The commander didn’t even glance at Surit. “Yeni went over to Governor Oma’s side weeks back; I assume he was coerced. Must have convinced Halkana to join him. Oma didn’t have any remnants as far as I know. My soldiers searched her study when they cleaned up.”

That was news to Tennal. The Resolution eyes clearly transmitted back some visuals. But then, it was possible some quick-thinking soldier had simply flipped the lid back on the case and it had looked like any other storage box. It might have been moved even now, while the Resolution wasn’t paying attention. Just another black hole in the army’s assets.

“Yes—certainly, some of us are neuromods,” the commander said, in response to a question. “Some of my soldiers, yes. But you people”—a gesture toward the Resolution eyes—“agreed to the neuromods years ago. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“And the projection event?” one of the Resolution’s staffers said from their screen. Tennal didn’t think he was imagining the dry tone.

“Must have been an accident,” Commander Vinys said. “A malfunction in your sensors.”

There was a silence. Then the Resolution staffer said, “No further questions.”