When Istara and Tennal reached the retrieval shuttle where Surit was waiting, Tennal gestured Istara through the airlock first then ate the rest of his cake behind their back. His limbs felt like they were at least one tenth putty. The days after withdrawal were only marginally less rubbish than the peak of it; he never remembered that when he took a soother.

The tiny operations room was bustling with the errant rankers Surit had rounded up. Retrieval Unit 287—they seemed to call themselves Retrieval Two—was all here. Surit himself leaned over a workstation with a ranker; Tennal shouldered his way toward him through the cramped space between the chairs. When Tennal passed Basavi, still hunched earnestly over her workstation, he waited until she wasn’t looking and dropped the extra cake on her desk as he went. He noticed someone else had put a meal tray there, so maybe the rest of her unit wasn’t entirely shitheads after all. Istara had taken the workstation next to Basavi, and Tennal heard Halkana, not in a complimentary tone, as the two bent their heads together.

That wasn’t his problem. Everyone in this unit was just a minor obstacle in Tennal’s eventual escape. Except for Surit, admittedly, who could scotch the whole thing with a single word.

Tennal owed Surit. The knowledge loomed over him like the ever-present rumbling of chaotic space. Tennal still didn’t fully understand why Surit hadn’t gotten cold feet yet—principles, sure, but nobody was principled enough to risk a court-martial for someone like Tennal—which meant he had to find a way to pay him back. There was no way Tennal could escape until after this mission, so he needed Surit’s finer feelings to last for a few weeks, until they were at a more populated spaceport.

Getting someone to like Tennal for a few weeks was a tall order.

For now, he stopped in front of Surit and saluted. “Last ranker accounted for, sir.”

“Thank you,” Surit said, as the rankers next to him gave Tennal curious glances. “I think that’s all of us.” It was still enormously frustrating that Surit’s mind was too locked up for Tennal to read him, but Tennal caught the glance he gave the room before he pressed the buzzer for attention. Surit was still nervous.

That made sense. Despite his bulk and his supernatural grasp of the rule book, Surit was the type of nice that wouldn’t have survived in high-society circles, let alone among a bunch of soldiers. Tennal leaned against the wall and folded his arms as Surit cleared his throat.

“Good morning,” Surit said to the two dozen people crammed into the operations room. Tennal was expecting a jolly all-in-this-together speech, but what Surit said was, “Is Comms Technician Thet present, please?”

There was a moment of murmured confusion among the rankers. Eventually a burly ranker tentatively raised her hand.