“Okay, all right.” I try a different route. “What happens if the sergeant pushes for details?”
“She won’t.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I’m not,” he admits.
I frown. If Lament is working to uncover details about Bast’s death, why wouldn’t he want Sergeant Forst knowing? And why can’t he rely on the Legion’s help? Bast was a member of the Sixth. And the Legion alreadyhasinvestigated his death. I read the report myself. So what am I missing?
My impulse is to press Lament, push for a better explanation. I could probably make him tell me the truth, seeing as I now possess a secret about the cave raptors that he wants kept. But I don’t like the idea of blackmailing him. I want him to trust me enough to give me a straight answer. He doesn’t yet, obviously, and I get that, but… maybe he will. One day. If I can earn his trust first.
“Okay,” I say.
He looks momentarily perplexed. “Okay?”
“I’ll keep quiet.”
“It’s technically still lying by omission.” He’s staring at me a little too hard. “You’ll be in even more trouble if the sergeant discovers the truth.”
“I can handle it.”
“You might get a red card.”
“I’m confused. Do you or do you not want me to lie for you?”
A flush crawls up his cheekbones, and for some unfathomable reason, my eyes fix on it. I watch in fascination as the blush spreads around his temples and down his throat, over his ears. It makes his eyes look greener.
Which is not something I’m supposed to be noticing.
Like, at all.
He says, “I just need to be sure you know what you’re agreeing to.”
“You didn’t want me tagging along to Purvuva in the first place. You tried to stop me. I practically forced myself on you.”
His blush deepens. “That’s… true.”
“I get it, Lament. If this is what you want, I’ll do it.”
Our gazes hold. Lament’s eyes are still guarded, locked away, but also… not. I see it. Around the edges. The hint of something new.
He gives me a single nod and moves to leave, but when he gets to the door he pauses, his fist tight on the knob. “I never thanked you for saving my life. With the sand cephalopod. I thought…” He clears his throat. “I thought it was over for me.”
“That’s what partners—”Are for, I don’t reply, because I’m too busy trying to swallow the words back down my throat. I give an awkward cough. “I mean, anytime.”
He still looks somewhat conflicted, except then his eyes seem blue, going soft and earnest as he says, “I think—”
A knock startles us both. We hear Vera hiss, “Jester, no!” before the door swings open to reveal Vera pulling at the back of Jester’s collar as he strides forcibly into the room. Vera squeals, “You’re ruining it!”
“Ruining what?” Lament asks.
Vera releases Jester and grimaces, then tries to hide her grimace. “Just—oh. Well, the sergeant sent another message, and she seems a bit impatient…” Which doesn’t answer Lament’s question but reminds us we don’t have time to waste. As if to highlight this point, Jester motions emphatically at his handheld, which displays a new memo from Sergeant Forst.
I expect you here by 0600. Don’t keep me waiting.
08
The tram journey fromThe Hub back to Detachment 94 doesn’t take long. Much less time, in fact, than I would have liked. When we walk through the detachment’s smooth glass entry doors, most of the other Sixers are there in the common room waiting for us: Avi, Toph, the Youvu Hums, plus a redhead with a stocky build and an undercut who I recognize as Caspen, the Sixth’s cargo pilot. I don’t understand why they’re all here until I see their grim expressions and realize they’ve come for moral support.
