the manager’s retina, and after a magnetic sweep for weapons and subdermals, we are through to the deposit room, Aurora’s shouts still ringing behind us. In contrast to the extravagance of the foyer, this room is bland in design. A long plastene table sits in its center. The white walls are lined with thousands of small hatches made of case-hardened stellite.
“If I may, Imperatrix?” the manager says, holding up a tiny swab.
“Of course you may,” she smiles, jutting out her chin and forming a perfect pout. The manager touches the swab to her lips.
“Seven one eight four alpha,” she purrs.
The manager nods, turns to the appropriate hatch. As he presses the DNA swab to the receptor, I find myself holding my breath. If this is some kind of ruse, if we are forced to fight our way out of here—
The diode on the door shifts from red to blue. I hear an electronic trill as the compartment unlocks. The manager smiles, and I open the hatch, dragging out a long metal box from inside.
“My husband is terrible with dates,” Scarlett says, tapping her lip. “Could you be a dear and tell me how long ago he made this deposit for me?”
“Of course.” The manager consults his uniglass. “This box was acquired … 17/9/2372.”
“Seventy-two?” I frown. “But that was eight years ago.”
Scarlett gives a sharp snap on the leash. “Thank you, Germaen, we can count. Now hush your tongue or there’ll be no punishment for you tonight!”
I bite down on my protest as she turns to the manager, smiling sweetly.
“Some privacy, if we may?”
With a bow and a small smile, the man backs out of the room, leaving us alone. I glance up at the security lenses in each corner, praying to the Void that Finian is as good as we hope him to be. I frown at Scarlett sidelong.
“You are enjoying this far too much,” I mutter.
“You have noooo idea,” Scarlett whispers.
I open the box, checking the contents before we leave. I can see half a dozen packages, each marked with a small tag. TYLER. SCARLETT. KALIIS. FINIAN. ZILA. Another package, marked SQUAD 312.
“This box has waited here for almost a decade,” I say.
“I know,” Scarlett replies, bewilderment in her eyes. “That’s before we knew each other. Before any of us even joined the academy.”
“How?” I demand. “How could Admiral Adams possibly have had your DNA sequence before he ever met you? How could he have known our squad designation? Our names? The fact that we would even be here?”
“If you want to really set your brain to spin,” Scarlett murmurs, voice trembling, “ask yourself how he knew Cat wouldn’t be?”
I glance at the contents of the deposit box again and realize she is correct—I see no package for Zero anywhere. But, under the other bundles, there is a set of passkeys, and a tag with a berth number at the Emerald City docks.
SECTION 6, GAMMA PROMENADE. BERTH 9[A].
I hand the key to Scarlett, my mind racing. “Whatever is happening here, at least Adams saw fit to supply us with a ship. That is a beginning.”
Scarlett glances up to the cams. “We better get moving.”
I nod, shut the lid, and sling the box under one arm. We make our way from the deposit room, Scarlett in front, me stalking obediently behind. As we walk back out into the foyer, Finian looks up at us, relief plain on his face. Zila is nowhere to be seen, but Aurora and Tyler are on the thoroughfare outside. Aurora is still gesticulating wildly, her outrage only slightly muted by the glass.
“She’s having more fun than I am.” Scarlett smiles.
The pair of us walk calmly across the vast foyer, each step toward the door seeming a mile. Finian stands slowly, limping to the other exit. The crowd around us mills and sways; the manager smiles farewell. And it seems, for the moment, we may have succeeded in our deception. We may be home free.
“May I ask you a question?” I say softly.
“You’re not going to ask me to marry you, are you?” Scarlett murmurs.
“No. And I know it is foolish to ask this now. But we are seldom alone, and there may be little opportunity to ask another time.”
“This sounds serious.”
I swallow hard, suddenly and deeply uncomfortable. “I have done much reading on … human courting. But there is a vast gulf between the written word and reality. And you seem … well acquainted with romantic entanglements.”