“Tea delivery?” Ambrose asked as they piled in. He noted a ninth member of the security team, who had been waiting in the control seat.

“I’m sorry for not getting your approval for the cover vehicle,” Len said. “Short notice.”

Len’s voice could be like fingernails scraping plasteel. Ambrose winced. “Just making sure I wasn’t seeing things.”

“There’s no one I can trust at UniCorp. I can’t exactly requisition manpower and luxury transports to chauffeur you to HQ.”

Ambrose glanced warily at the security team.

“They’re my guys,” Len said. “Report directly to me. Dad has no oversight.”

“You think.”

“I know. So what did you find out when you were logged in?”

The transport pulled out into traffic and promptly sat still. Then the lifts engaged and they glided over the tops of the stalled scoots and carts.

“I’m sure that won’t draw attention to us,” Ambrose said, mimicking Len’s voice.

“If you’d rather we sit in subcanopy gridlock, I can tell the driver to put her back down.”

Ambrose sighed. “Okay. First thing. Can you give me back my Admin Deck?”

Len shook his head. “Maybe I can restore some backend privileges while you’re being calibrated, but I can’t give you Admin. They’ll trace a new high-level presence exactly one second after you shimmer in.”

“Then what am I supposed to do? Admire the furniture? I’m supposed to be finding out why I exist.”

“What did you find out?” Len prompted again. Ambrose wondered if his brother was being pushy because Martin was listening in. Then he remembered that paranoia was one of the side effects of the Level Seven.

“Who are these people you’re working with, Len?”

“Actually, Dad’s right about them: they’re basically low-level saboteurs.”

“Terrorists.”

“Eh. They told me the truth. Dad stopped doing that a long time ago.”

“What do they want?”

“Magnus and Ivor have been nursing a grudge against UniCorp ever since they got fired fifteen years ago. They had allies who either died or drifted away over the years. Finally possessing both you and the girl is a major victory.”

“Nobody possesses me. And Mistletoe’s gone.”

“Good. We’re all better off if she disappears. My priority is you.”

“I’ll go find her myself if I have to.”

“You’ll go where? Back to Little Saigon? Scream her name in the streets?”

Ambrose nodded. “If I have to.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“You don’t get to tell me how to be anymore, Len.”