Sigurd goes for connectivity; it can be hard to see where their jockeys end and their flight suits begin.

“You were sewn in.”

“I was. Not that it helped. I was weeks old; only just finished basic before they assigned me to this place. Ten days into my assignment, we were spotted by a NorCol surveyor. I didn’t even realise it until later.”

“You said this thing was an obs facility. You didn’t see them coming?”

“That was the idea when they built this thing. It would’ve worked, anywhere else.”

“Anywhere but here?”

She nods. “The Eye is one big ball of noise, and the froth gets in the way of everything else.”

“So a surveyor tagged you, and Horizon put a shell flight on the case.”

“Three flights.” She holds up her fingers. “Two up front, one in support. There were four crew assigned to this place: two techs and two jockeys flying old Caspians.”

“Against twelve NorCol machines?”

She nodded. “All but one were Spirits; this was before Decaturs. My wingmate caught sight of them and decided he didn’t like the odds. He was a lifer, been in-saddle nearly thirty years, in the breeze for half of that.”

“He ran?”

Hail smiles, but it’s bitter. “Didn’t say a word. Just walked out the airlock, strapped himself in. He was already flying when NorCol made us. Dropped a bunch of screamers right then, cut and ran before I’d even cleared my cockpit.”

“One against twelve, then.”

She laughs at that, short and sharp. “One rookie, against twelve of NorCol’s finest. Was my first brush with a Werewolf; the surveyor figured this place was worth something, went through the back channels. NorCol arrived expecting a fight.”

“And they found you instead.”

“I wasn’t even in the saddle when the alarms started going off. The lead was an old hacksaw called Sajjan. He offered me my rights, on the spot.”

“Kill your engines, or yourself?”

“In the end, it didn’t make much difference.”

“Oh?”

“The Caspian was a hunk of junk. Looking back, I must’ve flown it right out of the scrapheap. It stuttered when I tried to sync, then powered down for me.”

I look around. “So this is NorCol turf, then?”

“Not that it matters. A listening post doesn’t do you any good when you’re drowning in noise. That’s why Sigurd abandoned it in the first place. They didn’t even respond to our SOS.” She grits her teeth. “At least NorCol had the decency to take me back in chains.”

“I thought you were a con.”

“Out here, it makes no difference. I’m a prisoner of war, but the company mixed me in with all the others. Sajjan, the Werewolf—he bought me out. He trained Andrade, trained me right after like I belonged to him as well. Three years on my feet, and he found me a saddle.” She points at me. “The Juno used to be his.”

“WHAT ARE WE doing here?” My voice echoes.