The intention he needed was the urge to expose information. He could see the texture of the different currents, although he couldn’t have said what they were—he could only recognize one when he was looking for it. Expose information wasn’t too far in the depths, and when he found it, he took it and shaped it to what he needed.

A force stirred the waves as the sea churned around the stray current. But Surit had it, he felt it. He shaped the command like a hurricane.

Tell me if you’ve read anyone on this ship.

Back in the command room, Tennalhin sat up and said emotionlessly, “I’ve been reading surface thoughts a lot. Not deep reading, though, and I’ve never blackmailed anyone in my life.”

“You read serving personnel?” Surit heard the commander say.

Surit came back to himself slowly from that endless sea, his skin pricking with wonder. It had never—never—felt like that to write someone: exhilarating and terrifying and like you were wrestling with nature itself. He wondered if all readers had minds like that.

Tennalhin blinked and shook his head as if he were the one emerging from water. He gave Surit a startled glance. His uncertainty only lasted a moment, though; a split second later, Tennalhin had pulled the sardonic expression back onto his face. “Was that fun, Lieutenant?” he said. “Apparently I’m horrific to write when I haven’t taken enhancers. Yes, serving personnel. Who else have we got on this ship?”

Surit didn’t know what enhancers were, but he could make a guess, and that was another repellent concept. He forced himself to concentrate on the conversation.

“Okay, then,” the commander said. “You’re a civilian, and you’re conducting espionage on my soldiers. Here’s what I’m going to do.”

“Who would you say I’m spying for? My bingo group?” Tennalhin rested his elbows on his knees, sounding blasé, but the defensive hunch of his shoulders gave him away.

“I’m putting a civilian emergency order on you,” the commander said. Surit frowned. The commander was well within his rights to put an emergency order on a civilian on his ship, but there was no way that extended to syncing. But what the commander said next didn’t cover that. “Confined to cabin. All extraneous equipment confiscated. You don’t leave the room unless you’re told. If you agree to follow Lieutenant Yeni’s instructions and speak to no one else, you may accompany him around the ship, but further interference with the crew or with my staff will lead to indefinite confinement. Unless,” he said, slowing to a drawl, “you’re going to let Lieutenant Yeni sync you?”

“No,” Tennalhin said, his mouth barely moving. He was staring at the floor now.