Eventually Tennal got shop-bought analgesics—which were as much use for this kind of thing as an umbrella in a tornado, but the alternative was a shot—and a sedative strip. He didn’t want a sedative. He needed something to lift his mood and distract him from the muscle aches and the headache, not smother him until he fell asleep. If he could get his hands on some enhancers, he could get someone to write him into distraction. He remembered with a jolt that there was an architect on the station who didn’t need enhancers for him. Surit could have written this whole shitty feeling out of him, if he didn’t have all the adventurous nature of a tax accountant.

He had to work out what to do about Surit.

Tennal tried the canteen for dinner. It turned out, at the end of a shift, one of the dispensers disgorged a brightly colored cup of alcohol that tasted like you could pour it into a fuel tank. Tennal took the cup, used his civilian codes to get another one, and downed half of the first as he thought. He could swear he had seen hints of Surit being attracted to him, if at an odd, different angle to the way people were usually attracted to Tennal. That might explain why Surit had volunteered to help him escape.

Tennal could work with physical attraction, though he wished he knew why Surit hadn’t acted on it already. Surit was so fucking hard to read.

He picked up the unopened cup and left the canteen for the room he and Surit shared.

As he gave the door his handprint, it occurred to Tennal that Surit might not even be in—didn’t officers socialize after their shifts or something?—but he relaxed a moment later when the door folded itself aside to reveal Surit and his neutral expression filling all the available space behind it. Surit’s mind was locked down tight as usual.

Tennal held up the drinks in their bright cups. “Lights guide your path, my brother,” he said. “Blessings on this holy meal.”

Surit accepted the proffered cup with careful, controlled hands. He stepped back and broke the seal without jolting the liquid inside. “Are you all right?” he said. “Sorry I couldn’t check in with you. I had to go over the hull.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, and I’m just peachy,” Tennal said. “Did six hours of mathematics and half my exercise program, and it nearly killed me. Don’t let my ambulatory corpse distract you from your work.”