Marquis’ car slowed down. We came to a stop on a hill with the cars leaning at almost a forty-five degree angle. It felt like they would roll down the hill with one good push.

Not that I was thinking of petty, stupid violence as a way of releasing pent-up stress.

Marquis. He stepped out of his car, Spruce at the other side. Marquis was disheveled in a way that looked very calculated, and it was made all the more pointed by Spruce’s neatness.

The hill had woods on the other side, and the woods served as a barrier to give us a view of the cabin, while not letting anyone in the cabin get a view of us.

No guarantee it was empty.

“Lookout, can you give us a scan?” Capricorn asked.

“Not really a scan. I can do a camera shot aimed at some special kinds of interpretation.”

“That works. Whatever you got.”

She rummaged for a bit. She had her bag at her back, cloaked, and she had stuff in her belt, with all its little pouches. She found what she was looking for, aimed it, and took some pictures, adjusting various dials.

Her phone had the images. Capricorn looked at them first, Sveta looking over his shoulder. Then he showed Chris and I, starting with the better pictures. Dark, with blurs where the grass caught the light, a vaguely human-shaped blur within the building. Low to the ground, as if the person was sleeping on the floor.

Another shot, with more darkness, the grass wasn’t even visible, with only some faint striations running through it. The power line that ran along the forest floor and up to the cabins glowed, and the electronics within. There was a computer on the desk. There was more on the wall and a great deal hooked up to the door.

Several came out all white.

“What are these?” Sveta asked.

“Tests. Ignore them. It’s the kind of thing I’m trying to figure out for secret project six-dash-nine, for our teammates.”

“Heat and electric resolutions are good,” I said, looking at the last few images. One looked hyper-detailed, many more were fuzzy. Another had fog rolling through it, that didn’t exist in reality.

“Can we get another heat pic, Lookout?” Capricorn asked.

“One second. Lots of dials to adjust.”

I was very conscious of Marquis’ presence nearby. It was as bad as seeing Presley on the train had been. Someone reminiscent of Amy lurking in the corner of my vision.

He’d been fair, he’d been fine. He’d explained my background without asking, but he’d also offered a favor. Did I trust him? No.

Did that list of pluses and minuses account for a net negative, to warrant how much I hated him? Could I explain why I hated him?