“I don’t care if it should. I only care if it is!” Suriya slammed a fist onto the desk, sending a mug of pens flying and making Gin flinch. “Every minute this system is down, we’re losing messages! I need you to find out what’s wrong, and I need it fixed. Now.”

“Don’t yell at her,” Maren snapped, aware that she was skating on thin ice but unable to stop herself. “Can’t you see she’s trying? She’s smart. Give her some space, and she’ll work it out.”

“It—it could be an external fault,” Gin said, glancing between the two women. “The receivers could be damaged, or—”

“Ah.” Suriya stepped closer to Maren. The harsh lights made the lines on her face seem deeper than normal, turning them into heavy crevices in her pale skin. Her eyes were wide and demented, and in that second, Maren realised that Saul had been right to warn her to be careful around their leader. “So it’s maintenance’s fault, then?”

“I didn’t say that!” Gin protested, but Suriya ignored her.

“Forgot to check the external systems, maybe? Or couldn’t be bothered to fix a fault you found?”

Maren bristled. Maintenance might not have been her first choice of career—or even her twentieth—but she worked hard and had not once in her eight months of duty neglected her job. She struggled to keep her voice calm and even as she replied, “Flares can have unpredictable effects. Even the best-maintained system isn’t immune to issues. You know that.”

“The systems haven’t failed in the last eight years!” Suriya screamed, her voice cracking from the strain. “Someone is responsible for this! And it’s you, Maren. I knew from the moment I saw your weaselly little face that you would be a failure, and now you’ve broken the whole damn system. I swear—”

“Enough.”

Everyone jumped as the bellow cut through Suriya’s screams. Saul stepped closer to his commander, his grey eyes fixed on her. Maren had never seen the defence technician angry before, and it was a terrifying sight. Saul, who usually leaned against walls or lounged in a chair, had straightened his back and broadened his shoulders. His hands hung by his side, their backs facing outwards in a subtle sign of aggression. His lips were pale, and there was pure animalistic ferocity in his eyes. His voice was a hard and deep rumble as he addressed Suriya. “Systems break. No one in this room is to blame. I will not let you abuse your team like this.”

Suriya took a step back and licked her lips as she stared at her defence technician. He seemed huge, so much larger than he looked normally, as though he’d grown to take up at least half of the room. He’s like a lion, Maren thought dumbly as she held the trembling Gin in her arms. A lion that can pass itself off as a lapcat.

“Stand down,” Suriya managed. Her eyes were bulging in her skull, but she’d reduced her voice to a whisper. “That’s an order.”