I fold my arms and say nothing, signaling that I wish the conversation to end. But Tyler Jones keeps at it, like a keddai on a corpse.
“Look, I know it can’t be easy, Kal. I know I can’t really understand it. But you need to understand how close to the edge we are here. We can’t afford these kinds of entanglements right now. I need you to keep a lid on it.”
“I might say the same about you. Sir.”
Tyler blinks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I see the way Legionnaire Brannock looks at you.”
He bristles at that, standing a little taller. He still only comes up to my chin.
“That’s none of your business, Legionnaire.”
“I agree, sir. It is none of my business at all.”
We stand there in silence, electricity crackling between us. The thing I was raised to be is acutely aware of how easy it would be to reach out and break this human boy. But the man I try to be keeps his arms folded instead. His face expressionless. His pulse calm. The turbolift hisses to a halt, the door slides open with a small chime. Time stands still, and so do we, until the door starts to close.
My hand flashes out, holds it open.
“After you, sir.”
Tyler exits the lift after a few more moments of staring, tapping his uniglass as he goes. “Finian, this is Tyler, do you read?”
“Loud and clear, Goldenboy.”
“We’re on level seventy-one. Point us in the direction of the security hub.”
“On it. Shift changeover is in five minutes according to Dariel, so you wanna hustle if you’re going to get overlooked in the crush.”
We hurry down the halls at Finian’s direction, into a broad, open space. Dozens of other security crew in power armor matching ours are converging on the airlock of what looks to be an old Neltaarian cruiser, flashing their IDs at the guards on duty before being waved through. The hour is late—almost midnight shipboard time—and the guards on duty look both bored and tired.
A good combination.
A broad-shouldered Terran in front of us pushes his ID badge under the scanner, met with a flashing red light and an angry buzz. The guard on duty sighs and tells the Terran to run it again, only to be met with another angry beep.
“Piece of crap,” the guard says, kicking the scanner.
“In a hurry, boss,” Tyler says smoothly, waving his ID with his thumb over the photograph. “Meeting some ladies, and they don’t like to wait.”
“Yeah, yeah, go through,” the guard says, thumping the scanner again.
As the big Terran complains behind us, we shuffle past into the security hub. Walking down a long main hallway, Tyler taps the commlink in his ear.
“Good work, Finian,” he murmurs.
“Child’s play. Get your uniglass within a meter of any wireless system and I can work miracles. You want to look for a sign to the central core.”
Stepping through the airlock, another scanner runs a series of red lasers over our badges and armor, an electronic voice urges us to proceed. The hallways are almost busy, SecTeam members either clocking off or clocking on. I spot a sign for the server systems, point it out to Tyler. I keep my stride easy, my smile polite. I ignore the tension in my muscles, the feeling of enemies on all sides, the violence simmering inside me. Walking softly. Hearing my father’s voice in my head.
We arrive at a set of double doors, sealed with an electronic keypad and marked server core. We pretend to chat as a man in an administrator’s uniform hurries past. When the corridor is clear, Tyler holds his uniglass near the lock.
We wait. Trying not to look suspicious. Which, given that we are breaking into this room in the middle of an armed facility, is somewhat difficult.
“Take your time, Finian,” Tyler mutters into his commlink.
“Look if you know someone else who can run a wireless hack on an eighteen-digit encryption, be my guest,” comes the reply.
“I thought you said you were a miracle worker.”
The lock beeps. The server door clicks open.
“Well, hey now, would you look at that.”
We steal inside the room, pulling the door closed behind us. The air is cool, filled with a subsonic hum, the room lit by flickering LEDs and overhead fluorescents, lined with rows of servers and tangles of cable. Finian’s voice crackles in our ears.
“Wow, that was amazing, Finian. You really are a miracle worker. I think I’m going to name my firstborn dirtchild after you beca—”