“Strange,” Zeet sneered, his thin voice as weedy as the powersuit was imposing. “I thought we were all the same. Three Tempest Runners together. Equal in all matters.”

“Yeah?” Pan replied, holding his ground as Zeetar clumped forward in an attempt to make Pan step back. “Why don’t you jump out of that rig and we’ll see just how equal we are.”

Zeetar pursed his lips and cocked his large head. “Aww, are you feeling threatened? Poor little Dow-Dow.”

Pan swung in hard from the right, only for his massive fist to be caught easily in the powersuit’s steel grip. Zeetar squeezed his own hand, his suit mirroring the action thanks to the sensors that snaked up from the control gloves he wore over his stubby hands. There was a sickening crunch of bone and a grunt from Pan, the Dowutin’s free hand immediately going for the blaster hanging from his belt.

“Enough!”

Neither Tempest Runner looked at Lourna, but the effect of her voice was instantaneous. The pair froze, glaring into each other’s faces.

“Zeetar, release him. Pan, back off.”

Now Pan’s head snapped around to face her. “Who died and made you Eye?”

“Who made you stupid?” Her gaze turned to Zeetar. “Both of you. Squabbling like new recruits. We are supposed to direct the Storm, especially in Ro’s absence.”

Zeetar was the first to back down, releasing Pan’s fist. “You are right, of course. That was foolish of me. I apologize.”

“Damn right it was foolish,” Pan snapped, rubbing his bruised knuckles. “And don’t think we can’t see through your stupid apology.”

Zeetar spread his mech’s arms, a smirk on his round face. “Just trying to be the bigger man.”

Pan snarled, taking a step forward, but Lourna stepped into his path before he could resume the fight.

“Do I have to stop you myself?”

He glared at her, his breath hot against her face. Lourna didn’t speak, letting the silence work for her. All the time Lourna considered her options: a headbutt to break his thick nose, a knife in the guts, slipped between the armor plates that were hidden beneath Pan’s Saava silk shirt, maybe even a well-directed knee to the groin if she really wanted to humiliate the big oaf. In the end, all she had to do was remain obstinate. Pan’s eyes flicked between Zeetar and Lourna before he finally relented with a snort, turning his broad back to her, proof of how much he trusted her, the ignorant fool. How easy would it be to blast a hole between those broad shoulders?

“What’s this about?” he grunted, trying to take control of a situation that had rapidly accelerated out of his control. “Why did you call me back to this stinking hole?”

“What do you think?” Zeetar asked. “You messed up, Pan. You messed up badly.”

Pan wheeled around angrily. “What did you say?”