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“Will there be forms?”

I look at him. “So many forms.”

He sighs. “I miss the collapsing planet. At least it was direct.”

Sira gathers her compads. “I will begin drafting the access-language framework.”

Brakk points at the door. “I will begin drafting my salary demands.”

“I look forward to rejecting your first six versions,” I say.

“Seven. I believe in ambitious beginnings.”

They leave together, arguing about whether Hazard King can be included as an informal nickname. Sira appears to be losing, though with Sira that may be strategy.

Then it is just Ghar and me in the emptied hearing room.

The quiet feels different from the quiet in our quarters. Less intimate, more consequential. The future has just acquired paperwork, staffing requirements, and budget lines. Somehow that makes it more real.

Ghar turns his chair toward me. “Director Prentiss.”

I grimace. “Don’t.”

“You dislike it?”

“I like it too much. That is dangerous.”

His mouth curves. “Then I will use it sparingly.”

“Liar.”

“Yes.”

I lean back, staring at the ceiling. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“Likely.”

“People will fight us.”

“Yes.”

“Governments will try to take over.”

“Yes.”

“Academics will leak things, clerics will condemn things, collectors will steal things, and Brakk will probably create an unauthorized tool locker in the first week.”

“He already has.”

I turn my head. “What?”

Ghar’s expression remains calm. “He asked me not to tell you.”

“Why did you?”

“Partnership.”

I laugh. “I love you.”