"He's supposed to be dead," she says.
"He's not."
"He should be."
"Yes."
She looks up at me. The hatred is still there. But there's something else now. Something that tastes like purpose. Like hunt. Like the thing that kept her alive through six years of becoming someone who doesn't need rescue.
"We're going after him," she says. Not a question.
"We are."
"Together."
The word hangs between us. Together. Like we used to be, before Sigma-9, before the choice, before everything broke.
"Together," I confirm.
Her smile is cold. Sharp. The smile of someone who's spent years sharpening herself on grief.
"Good," she says. "Because when I kill him, I want you to watch."
Chapter 3
Astra
The file arrives at0600 hours. I know what it is before I open it.
Lieutenant Commander Marcus Webb. Intelligence officer. KIA six months after Sigma-9.
Except the Vex operative Dexter flagged yesterday has Webb's biometrics. His retinal scan. His fucking gait pattern, analyzed from three different surveillance angles.
The dead man is walking. Has been for six years.
My coffee goes cold in my hand.
The intelligence hubsmells like ozone and the burnt-metal ghost of overworked processors. Zane's already there when I arrive, Talia at his elbow like she's grown roots beside him. His bioluminescence pulses steady along his forearms. Calm. Controlled.
Mine would be flickering like a dying star if I had any.
"Venn." He doesn't look up from the datastream. "You've read the file."
"Every word."
"Conclusions?"
I set my cold coffee on the table hard enough that Talia flinches. Zane doesn't. He's learned not to.
"Webb sold us. Sigma-9. The ambush wasn't random. Someone gave our coordinates, our assets, our extraction window. He had access to all of it."
Dexter's voice comes from behind me. I didn't hear him enter. I should have.
"We don't know that for certain."
I turn. He's standing in the doorway, turquoise skin catching the blue-tinted light, electric eyes steady on mine. His bioluminescence is dim. Controlled. Like he thinks keeping himself muted will make this easier.
"Yes. We do." My voice is flat. Professional. Dead. "You know we do."
