Tennal had to lower his voice as they passed a group of soldiers jogging past. “You mean syncing me wasn’t your only very special project? I’m hurt. What’s a retrieval unit?”

Surit explained, in snatches between passing soldiers. Tennal’s face grew more and more incredulous.

“A debris retrieval unit?” Tennal said. “I thought you were an army lieutenant, not a low-tech trash collector.”

“A retrieval shuttle is just as useful as that scanning ship,” Surit said, gesturing to the research ship with its bristling array of antennae. “Chaotic space is unpredictable. Sometimes you need a sonic manipulator. Sometimes you need people with pliers.”

“That has to be the worst assignment in the army,” Tennal said as they stepped off the bridge. Surit couldn’t immediately find a way to deny that, though he objected to the way Tennal said it. “Why did you end up with it, Officer Ninety-Six-Percent-in-My-Exams?”

“Someone has to do it,” Surit said. He didn’t mention his mother. If Tennal didn’t know, he’d find out soon enough. “All jobs are worth doing.”

Tennal frowned. “You’re a Rank One architect with a synced reader,” he said, as if to a particularly slow pupil. “If you couldn’t parlay that into a better assignment than trash collector, you desperately need advice on how to play politics. Though obviously not from me.”

Surit was prepared to take that as a gibe, but it didn’t sound like one. Something about the way Tennal said it made Surit’s hindbrain uneasy, as if he’d just unwittingly started a timer on an explosive. “It’s fine. I do what I’m told.”

The sound of their footsteps disappeared as they crossed into the command module, muffled by the wine-red carpet underfoot. “Do you?” Tennal said.

He’d timed it just as they turned a corner that led to the bridge, so Surit couldn’t answer. They both stopped when they saw the officer coming up the corridor.

Commander Vinys. Tennal’s breath came out in a low hiss.

The commander was flanked by the chief of staff, trailing some ghostly documents behind her while she explained something. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Tennal.

“Fifty-Six,” Commander Vinys said. “Lieutenant Yeni reports that you’ve decided to join us.”

Surit was prepared for almost anything from Tennal, but despite their deal, it was still a shock when Tennal drew up to a reasonable copy of attention beside him and colorlessly said, “Yes, sir.” His posture wouldn’t have passed muster at academy classes, but it might have fooled a civilian watching a media drama. His eyes were hooded, as if he didn’t usually have a gaze that could set light to charcoal.

The commander raked his sardonic gaze over him. One of Tennal’s feet started to twitch.

“Go on,” the commander said. “Salute.”