He took a deep breath, reaching out with a hand—and he distorted. Teleportation wasn’t the right word. It made me think of Vista closing the space between herself and something else, to get where she wanted to be faster, but it was instant, a snap, and Cradle was perched on the side of his mech, crouching with no regard for gravity, one hand at a panel window.

He didn’t need a deep breath for the movements that followed. There was a tall toolbox resting against the wall, and he was there.

Okay, it was kind of like teleportation, but not like I’d dealt with. A surgical removal of everything between point A and B, including reorientation. It made me think of someone walking through a hall of mirrors, some mirrors angled or set up to portray things at right angles. He was getting more fluid with it by the second, snatching up a dangling wire while upside-down, and bringing it with him to a point where he was standing perpendicular to the ground, to the vent he pried open with the tool from the toolbox. The mechanisms at the interior of the vent illuminated him.

Cradle wasn’t shaking anymore, but Rain was right next to me, and Rain was trembling.

“Easy,” I whispered.

“We have to fight that,” he said.

“We have to deal with it, not necessarily fight,” I said. “Remember what you were doing.”

“Yeah,” he responded.

I wanted to have something to recommend or to say. To be able to point out a chink in the armor or a particular individual. It had been part of why I was studying Cradle’s ‘leadership’, or the lack therein. Even now, he was indicating with the tool, which looked more like a taser than anything, directing people, while he made some adjustments to his mech.

Some people started toward the stairs. I tensed, ready to head up and warn Sveta, Foil, and Brandish, and Rain touched my arm, stopping me.

Cradle made the people near the stairwell stop. The leader leaned against the wall, arms folded.

Not sending the next patrol up here? Why?

Adherence to schedule? The last patrol hadn’t been that long. Was it a question of control?

“Was that you?” I asked.

Rain shook his head.

“What the hell is he doing?”

“What I’m doing is adding pressure,” Rain said.

“Okay.”

The one with folded arms by the wall stood up, stepping away from the wall. He said something.

Cradle responded, still tinkering.

A pause, the soldier practically tapping their foot as they stood there.

“Make it feel bad to sit and wait…” Rain murmured.

The soldier said something again. Red called out to him, and his head turned…

“Feels bad to listen…”

“That’s some fine control you’re—”

“Shh,” Rain said.

I pressed my lips together. Fair play.