Page 229 of Commander’s Mate

“Why do you both look offended?”

“Numbers,” I said.

“Understandable.”

Tivid ignored her.

He pulled raw auction records from the Ursaga archive.

Different captives.

Different species.

Different destination buyers.

Same route numbers.

I leaned closer.

“They’re not transport routes.”

“What are they?”

“I don’t know.”

Scarlet drank.

“Excellent analysis.”

“Shut up.”

Tivid isolated the records by seller.

Then by acquisition date.

Then by medical classification.

Route seventeen clustered around people labeled technically useful.

Mechanics.

Engineers.

Medical workers.

System operators.

Route twelve clustered around domestic labor.

Route nine around reproductive classifications.

My stomach turned.

“They’re sorting codes.”

Tivid’s hands stopped.

“Yes.”