Page 83

His silver gaze narrowed.

“No.”

“So this is a special occasion.”

“Kesta.”

There was enough warning in the way he said her name to make her smile.

She turned back to the case before he could see too much of it.

Fine red dust had collected around the hinge assembly. Beneath it, almost invisible against the metal, lay a narrow smear of pale blue lubricant.

Kesta touched it with the end of a sterile swab.

“Orbital-grade.”

Dreven’s amusement disappeared.

“You are certain?”

“I used this on transport equipment before military procurement switched suppliers. It doesn't belong on anything assembled locally.”

He shifted closer again, this time because he was looking at the hinge rather than her.

“What are you thinking?”

“That your supposedly abandoned planet has an unusually healthy relationship with current imperial manufacturing.”

His jaw tightened.

Kesta laid the swab aside. “Where exactly was the supply pod?”

“South of the ridge. A patrol found it half buried.”

“Bodies?”

“No.”

“Tracks?”

“Old enough to be useless.”

“And the pod itself?”

“Burned after we removed the supplies.”

Kesta looked at him.

“Why?”

“Standing procedure. Unclaimed imperial equipment can contain trackers.”

“That was sensible.”

Dreven’s brow rose.

“What?”