Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Pin-Lee is working late on their latest case - an issue to do with a supply contract for a vendor from the Corporation Rim - when Mensah sends them a ping in their feed. It is well past when she should be done for the day, but Pin-Lee isn't surprised. Mensah often works late when she's on station. When she's home on the planet with her partners and children, they make her stop at a reasonable hour. But Pin-Lee knows they can't bring it up, or Mensah will just raise one of her eyebrows in the look that says, Who are you to talk? and Pin-Lee hates feeling like a hypocrite.

Opening their private feed channel, Pin-Lee sends, What's up? It took over a year before they grew comfortable enough with Mensah to start speaking with her so casually. But Pin-Lee prefers to reserve formality for the courtroom. Sometimes you just need to call an asshole an asshole. Especially when you so frequently work with corporates. It has also made working with the rest of the Preservation Council somewhat explosive at times. Many of the councillors find Pin-Lee too irreverent and object to their bluntness. Mensah has never complained. She has even had to hide a smile behind her hand, or a cup of tea, or a tablet interface when Pin-Lee squares off with another self-important prig who thinks he knows better than they do.

I noticed that there's nothing on your calendar yet for the cycle after tomorrow, Mensah pulls Pin-Lee's calendar up in the feed. Are you available that day for an important meeting?

If Pin-Lee hasn't finished this work by then, chances are they'll be swearing and throwing things. Working on whatever Mensah needs will be a welcome break. I can be. What time?

I would like to block your time for the entire day. I don't know yet how long the meeting will take

Pin-Lee blinks, puzzled. Yeah, that's fine. Anything I need to know in advance?

Not right now. I'll brief you in the morning, before we get started.

Got it. Go ahead and add it.

Thank you. I will see you then. Mensah taps the feed, signing off.

A few moments later, a meeting appears in Pin-Lee's calendar. Mensah has scheduled a 15-minute check-in before the day-long meeting. The first to happen in her office; the latter in one of the meeting rooms nearby. The subject of the meeting reads: Interview with Dr. Gurathin.

Pin-Lee leans back in their chair, considering. It has been a little over two months since Mensah first contacted them in the feed, told them she needed help on a new refugee claim. For one Dr. Gurathin, a Corporation Rim spy. Former spy. Who had acted against Preservation's interests, who had acted against Mensah. And who was, apparently, gravely ill by the time Mensah got him back to Preservation. Which is why Mensah kept putting Pin-Lee off when they asked, repeatedly, to meet with him.

She had given Pin-Lee a summary of his confession, listing the actions he had taken that could have resulted in instability in the Preservation Council. It was light on details, but Mensah had refused to allow Pin-Lee to interrogate him in advance. She insisted that Pin-Lee fight for blanket amnesty without that information. And the council had eventually granted it, though it hadn't been easy. Dr. Gurathin officially became a citizen of Preservation almost a month ago, but Pin-Lee still hasn't met him. And like the report on his confession, Mensah had been light on the details of why.

But she had promised that Pin-Lee would eventually have the opportunity to interview him, to uncover all of his crimes - assuming he was forthcoming about them.

Now it seems they're finally getting that chance.

*

Still a few minutes early for their pre-meeting, Pin-Lee knocks on the doorframe to Mensah's office. Mensah is standing inside, gazing at the photos of her family on her desk. She looks at Pin-Lee, and smiles. "Please, come in. Close the door behind you."

Entering and doing so, Pin-Lee sets down the small camera they brought with them for recording the interview. "So, what do you want to tell me before we get started? And without this Dr. Gurathin hearing it?" There's no one else in the room.

Mensah frowns at the camera, "You will not be recording this interview, Pin-Lee. Nor making an audio recording either. You may take whatever notes you like, but that will be the only record." Her eyes travel to Pin-Lee's face, and her expression is solemn. "I expect you will write a full report, which Dr. Gurathin will review for accuracy before you share it with me - or anyone else. He has agreed that it will be added to Preservation's archive of materials about the Corporation Rim, with details to be anonymized for his protection. After his death, the full, uncensored report will be made available. In the mean time, if anything he shares would be useful in our current and future dealings with the Rim, he has agreed to provide evidence or further testimony as needed."

Taken aback, Pin-Lee asks, "Why did he agree to this interview if he is refusing for it to be recorded? He already has citizenship. He isn't obligated to do this. And the council can't use it against him now."

Picking up a teacup from her desk, Mensah waves it in small circles, staring at the whirling liquid inside. "He didn't refuse. I am telling you that we will not be making a recording." Her eyes return to Pin-Lee, and there's sadness on her face. "I believe he has been under enough surveillance. What he is offering could be very helpful to us. But I anticipate it will also be very personal, and painful. He deserves the... dignity, of not having everything about him scrutinized."

It must be strange to be Dr. Gurathin, Pin-Lee thinks. To have spent your entire life under constant surveillance, only to come here to Preservation and be immediately granted the right to near-total privacy. "Fine. What else?"

Mensah hesitates, "The meeting is happening at Dr. Gurathin's request. He has said the information he can share may be less useful as time passes, and he wants you to have it now. But he is still unwell. This will be the first time he has left Medical since he arrived on station. The doctors have agreed that he can take this meeting, although they are also concerned." She pauses, taking a sip from the cup and then sets it down on her desk carefully. "I know it is not in your nature, but I want you to go easy on him, Pin-Lee. If you sense that he is reluctant to elaborate on something, I want you to respect that."

And what's the point of offering up everything, if he won't give it? They shrug, and nod. "If you think I'm going too far, you can just tap me in the feed. I'll take the hint."

With a sigh, Mensah walks past Pin-Lee, opening the door to her office. "I won't be staying. Dr. Gurathin asked to have this interview with you alone."

Pin-Lee has no idea what to think of that. So they just follow Mensah out of her office, intrigued by this mystery.

*

When Pin-Lee enters the little meeting room, Dr. Gurathin is already there, near the window overlooking the admin plaza. The window has been adjusted to be partially opaqued, and Pin-Lee can see the profile of his pale face and dark eyes reflected. His hands are clasped behind his back, the fingers of his right wrapped around his left wrist. His shoulders are relaxed, but Pin-Lee suspects it's more purposeful than natural. He may seem engrossed with the view, but it's clear that he is actually watching the door behind him, waiting for it to open. He turns immediately when Mensah follows Pin-Lee into the room. Viewing his face in full, not just as a reflection, Pin-Lee notes that his skin is sallow, with a greyish cast.

Still unwell indeed.

"Dr. Mensah," the smile he gives them as he approaches is small, but it appears authentic. He nods his head in such a way that it becomes a slight bow and stops at a distance that is just outside common conversational range. Keeping his hands behind his back rather than offering one in greeting, he adds, "And you must be the honorable Pin-Lee. It is good to finally meet you."

Surprised, Pin-Lee just blinks at him for a moment. It's rare that they're so thrown off by a stranger, and yet... "That isn't a formal title, Dr. Gurathin. It's just something the station bots call me. Did you pick it up from them?"

It's all Ratthi's fault. Some time ago, they were spending time with him, Overse and Arada. Reminiscing about their university days, Ratthi started talking about his favourite class: ancient civilizations. He was particularly fond of the languages. And he brought up how lawyers or judges used to be referred to as "the honorable" before their names. Overse and Arada loved it. So they all went around calling them "the honorable Pin-Lee" for several weeks. Pin-Lee doesn't know which bot started to copy them first, but soon it had spread across the station. Ratthi, Overse, and Arada eventually moved on - Pin-Lee encouraged Ratthi to stop with some carefully applied physical violence - but the bots never did. Because they adored the nicknames Ratthi came up with for them. They considered it an honor. One and all, they decided it would be rude to call Pin-Lee anything else.

And now this stranger is using it, too. They study him, eyes narrowed in thought. Why would he have picked up that nickname from the bots? Why would he have been discussing them with the bots? Why would he have been conversing with the bots at all? Pin-Lee knows they can be suspicious by nature - it's part of their job - but Dr. Gurathin is a systems engineer and a corporate spy. Was he up to something?

"My apologies, I did. How should I address you, then?" He makes the nodding-slash-slight bow again.

"Pin-Lee is fine. I'm surprised that you have interacted enough with the station bots to have heard that... nickname."

"Ah... some of the medical bots needed minor repairs, code patches, that sort of thing. I haven't been able to do much while I've been... recovering... and my work has been slow. But I've spent some time with them now, and they knew I had a meeting with you today. Many of them assured me that I'd get along well with 'the honorable Pin-Lee'. I didn't realize it wasn't a formal title." Gurathin speaks fairly slowly, and his voice is quite low. Measured. Careful.

"Well, it sounds like you two are already getting along," Mensah's voice is brisk, but Pin-Lee can hear the thread of tension in it. She's worried. "Shall we all have a seat?" The table Mensah gestures to is set up with six chairs. Two along either side, one on either end. There's a pitcher of water and two glasses. She waits until Gurathin takes a chair on the side closest to him, then sits beside him.

Considering it, Pin-Lee moves to the far side of the table to sit down facing Gurathin.

Mensah shifts her chair at an angle so she can see them both, but it's Gurathin she's looking at. "Dr. Gurathin. I want to start by assuring you that there are no recording devices or cameras of any kind in this room. Pin-Lee has agreed not to use any of the audio recording functions on their interface. They will only be using it to take notes. And all notes will be shared with you after this meeting. As will the draft report, for your review. If you wish to make a recording of your own, I ask that you let us know now so we can discuss if that is something we all want to consent to."

Raising an eyebrow, Pin-Lee regards Gurathin. He has no external or portable interface of any kind that they can see. Nothing to record with. But Mensah had mentioned that he is an augmented human. It's one of the things that has been causing complications with his recovery, apparently. Mensah was vague on the details out of respect for Gurathin's privacy, but it's unlikely that Station Medical deals with his type of augments often. Pin-Lee doesn't know what they are, but he's from the Corporation Rim. Whatever else they may be, they're proprietary.

"I will not be recording this meeting, Dr. Mensah, Pin-Lee. You will have to take my word that those settings are turned off in my vision and hearing augments; I have no way of proving it to you." His arms are loose at his sides, his hands below the table. Possibly in his lap. It's a posture that isn't exactly hiding anything, but isn't open either. He looked at Mensah as she spoke, but turned to face Pin-Lee when he replied.

"Your word will more than suffice, Dr. Gurathin, thank you," Mensah is quick to assure him.

Pin-Lee makes a mental note to talk to Gurathin about Preservation privacy laws. If his augments are that advanced, there's no way any Preservation citizen would know if he was recording them. They're going to have to find out more about all his augments. If he is going to try to integrate into Preservation society, he'll have a lot to learn.

"Shall we get started?" Pin-Lee asks. Looking to Mensah, they add, "You're certain you won't be staying?"

"I'm certain." Mensah rises from the table, picking up the pitcher and filling both glasses with water. She places one in front of Dr. Gurathin, the other in front of Pin-Lee. "I'll be available by the feed if you need me for anything."

A channel invitation pops up in Pin-Lee's interface. They accept, noting that all three of them have access. Pin-Lee didn't have Dr. Gurathin's feed ID previously, and it seems to be masked from public access. It isn't the sort of thing Station Security would be happy about. But if this really is the first time he has left Station Medical, Pin-Lee figures that means he hasn't been interacting with other Preservation citizens yet.

With a soft murmur, Mensah says her goodbyes and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

Pin-Lee faces Gurathin squarely, studying his face for a moment. His expression is fairly neutral, but he is still smiling slightly. It's one of those polite, professional looks that Pin-Lee often sees on Mensah's face. One of vague warmth and welcome without giving away the person's actual thoughts or feelings.

"Well," Pin-Lee taps a forefinger on the table between them, thinking. "Let's begin."

Chapter Text

"...recording, and motion capture with real-time analysis for comparison against existing data. Language modules for all dialects spoken in the Corporation Rim, and dozens for various Non-Corporate Polities. Permanent memory storage, which requires me to initiate a manual transfer. Separate, encrypted data storage for code or files. Including a separate partition for anything that requires the highest level of security. And constant passive feed connectivity, unless the feed is sufficiently protected." Gurathin finishes listing off his augments, his neutral and dry recitation coming to a halt. At some point while he talked, he had leaned forward, putting both of his hands on the table, clasped together with his left thumb crossed over his right. His left index finger taps a steady rhythm against the back of his other hand.

Pin-Lee is already reeling. They have never heard of anyone having so many augments before. In Preservation, only specialists tended to have augments, and most of the time those were just for feed connectivity. Cases such as doctors who needed to be able to constantly monitor patients, for example, would get basic feed interface augments so they could stay linked to medical monitoring devices. But this...

They find themself wondering how there's still space for Gurathin's brain, with all of that hardware inside of his skull.

Unless the feed is sufficiently protected. Reading between the lines, Pin-Lee realizes that Gurathin means he can have access to any feed that he can hack. From anywhere he may be.

Mensah doesn't think he's a threat. Maybe she's right. But he absolutely could be, if he wanted to.

Needing a moment to regain their composure, Pin-Lee takes a drink of water. They look at the list on their interface, all of the things Gurathin just mentioned. The question on the tip of their tongue is one they shouldn't ask, but... "Isn't it dangerous, to make that many modifications?" Pin-Lee blurts out. "Why would you choose to have all of those augments?"

"I didn't."

The words are bland, but they hit Pin-Lee like a slap. Right. Gurathin is from the Corporation Rim, and they're not big on bodily autonomy there. Before they can think of what to say next, or whether to apologize, he continues speaking.

"Where I grew up, children were frequently tested for certain... aptitudes. I believe I was six or seven when my former employer took an interest in me. They arranged for the augments, the surgeries, and the rest of my education. It is necessary, with my number of augments, to install them when the recipient is still a child. To ensure their neural tissue adapts properly. In return, I was indebted to the company for the costs. Once I graduated and began work, a portion of my income would be deducted as payment. The amount owed was calculated in terms of time, not credits, although it would be possible to pay my debt at an accelerated rate for exceptionally high performance." His dark eyes are calm, and the slight smile is still on his face. But his voice has become more monotone than it was before; a tell, however slight. But a tell for what?

"How much was your debt?"

"Twenty years, by their proprietary calendar."

Pin-Lee latches on to those words, proprietary calendar. They're familiar with the phrase, but there's no standard anywhere in the Corporation Rim. Each company dictates its own terms. "How would that be calculated by the intergalactic standard calendar?" they ask.

"Sixty years, give or take a few months. The formula is complicated."

They're stunned. That's an entire lifespan. "And... how did your debt stand, when you left?"

Gurathin pauses, his eyes flicking briefly to the side. Pin-Lee assumes he must be using his augments to do some calculations. "I was with my former employer for nearly nine standard years. By their calculations, I would have paid off a little over 10% of my debt."

That math doesn't seem right, and Pin-Lee frowns. "Shouldn't it be closer to 15%?"

His smile widens, although his lips stay closed over his teeth. It doesn't reach his eyes, and to Pin-Lee they seem a little darker, a little harder. "I incurred additional debts. Had I not, I would have paid off nearly a quarter of my debt by the time I left."

"Because you were an exceptionally high performer." What did you do to rack up that much additional debt? They think, but don't ask.

"Yes."

What that entails is anyone's guess. Although, Pin-Lee reflects, that's what I'm here to find out about...

Taking a deep, bracing breath, Pin-Lee says, "Okay. Tell me about these... performances. Begin at the beginning."

Gurathin's clasped hands flex, squeezing briefly and relaxing again. He continues to tap his finger, and Pin-Lee notices that the skin around his cuticles and fingertips is red and raw. His bare nails are ragged, and a few are faintly rimmed in dry blood. It's very odd, for someone staying in Station Medical. Why wouldn't the damage have been treated?

Before they can ask, he gives a sharp nod, and says, "For my first field assignment, I was sent with an experienced mentor to a Non-Corporate Polity that was, at the time, called Benevolence. It is now part of the Rim, and was renamed CralVictu eight years, ten months, and seventeen standard cycles ago. There was a mining operation on planet that extracted ore that was rich in titanium. They did regular trade with my company, but had refused to increase supply, citing the health and safety of the miners and the ecological impact on the planet. Our job was to gain blackmail material on members of their council to ensure their removal. Two other council members agreed to a deal with our company, and with the dissenting faction out of the way..."

He continues in a similar vein for almost three hours, going through the details of the fall of dozens of Non-Corporate Polities to his company's control. Of smaller Corporation Rim companies that resisted buyouts, and were crushed instead. With each successful operation he lists, he shares additional facts: dates, names, and statistics for the number of lives ruined by his company. By him, and his exceptional performance at his job. Total indentures sold, with the workers always winding up worse-off. Body counts for large-scale "accidents" that resulted in the death of dozens and, once, thousands. Targeted assassinations he helped to set up by identifying and tracking targets. And then the names and descriptions of the company agents who carried those assassinations out. For each case, he pushes neatly tagged packets of data to Pin-Lee's interface, using a private channel - not the one they have open with Mensah - as corroborating evidence.

Through it all, his tone never changes. His eyes flick to the side regularly as he pulls files from his augments to send to Pin-Lee. The rest of the time, his gaze remains straight ahead, staring just past Pin-Lee's shoulder. His hands shift a few times in some sort of aborted gesture, but each time he stops the movement and squeezes them together, keeping them on the table. His finger continues to tap, perhaps a little faster than before, but if so it's barely perceptible. For all the horror he's sharing, he seems completely unphased.

Pin-Lee struggles with their own facial expression. When Gurathin mentioned the intentional murder of a competitor's children, they were unable to completely control their reaction. It was the only time that Gurathin had paused, waiting silently for Pin-Lee to take a few breaths before they could nod at him to continue.

An alert abruptly snaps Pin-Lee back to the present, out of the flow of taking notes and listening in silent dismay. It's a reminder for their medication. Glancing at their interface, they realize it's past time that they should stop for a meal break. They continue to take notes until Gurathin wraps up the latest operation he was disclosing, then hold up a hand to signal a pause. He clears his throat, takes a drink of water, and waits. He has emptied the glass several times, and Pin-Lee kept refilling it. He has drunk almost the entire pitcher. It's surprising he hasn't requested a break before now, but he shows no visible signs of discomfort.

With the dates so clear in their notes, Pin-Lee can tell there's almost two more standard years' worth of missions for Gurathin to reveal. Their stomach churns a little at the thought, although hunger likely plays a role in the flash of nausea. They're surprised they still can feel hungry right now.

"Let's take a break," Pin-Lee stands up abruptly from the table, bracing their hands against its surface. Gurathin's eyes track their movement, but he doesn't otherwise react. "We can ask Mensah if she is free to join us for a meal." They send a message into the shared feed, subvocalizing, Have you eaten, Mensah?

No, the response is so fast Pin-Lee wonders what Mensah has been doing. If she has just been waiting to hear from them, keeping an eye on her feed. You are both welcome to join me in my office. I'll ask one of my aides to bring us all something.

We would be delighted, thank you, Gurathin replies before Pin-Lee can respond. There's no tell-tale twitch of his jaw muscles. It seems that, with his augments, he doesn't need to sub-vocalize at all. But there's the tiniest flicker of his eyes. Invisible, if you're not looking for it. Subtle, even if you are.

Straightening up, Pin-Lee rubs their hands briefly against the sides of their jacket, trying to wipe away something that isn't there. They pick up their tablet interface with one hand, gesturing to Gurathin with the other, "Shall we?"

He rises, beating Pin-Lee to the door. He opens it, and gestures for them to go through, "Please, lead the way."

Pin-Lee turns right, heading for Mensah's office, only a few doors away. They resist the urge to look back over their shoulder at Gurathin, following as silently as a shadow.

Chapter Text

Two of Mensah's aides bring in several platters of foods. Small, bite-sized pieces of fruits, thinly-sliced vegetables, crackers, and a variety of other toppings. No meats, because Mensah is a vegetarian.

Pin-Lee might enjoy meat once in awhile, but it's a rare treat, so this doesn't bother them at all. Gurathin looks at the food with vague interest, but doesn't comment on the spread. Once the aides leave, he asks to excuse himself briefly, to use the facilities. Mensah offers to have an aide show him the way, but he waves a hand and dismisses the offer, saying that he has a map and won't get lost. He adds that even if he does he can always ask for assistance on their shared feed.

He seems to be waiting for Mensah's permission to leave. She nods, saying, "We'll wait for your return to get started."

"Please, begin without me," the smile Gurathin shows to them both is warmer, more like the first one Pin-Lee saw. "I would hate to inconvenience either of you." He offers his nod-meets-bow and leaves the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Pin-Lee collapses onto one of Mensah's couches, letting out a great sigh and tipping their head back to rest on the cushion. Staring at the office ceiling, they say, "Your little spy has done a remarkable amount of damage, Ayda. He's a very dangerous man to have here in Preservation."

There's a pause as Mensah considers Pin-Lee's words. Out of the corner of their eye, they can see her frowning. She picks up a plate, starts to add some foods from the platter, busying her hands. "I disagree," Her tone is firm, and she raises her free hand to stall Pin-Lee's immediate protest. "We can talk about this, Pin-Lee. I'm sure you're right, that he was dangerous, and could be again, if he chose. But he left the Corporation Rim because he couldn't bear it any longer. The things his company was making him do. He chose to walk away, and he knew it could cost him his life. That isn't a decision one makes lightly. If he is going to be a danger..." She hesitates, sitting on the couch beside Pin-Lee, resting her plate on her lap, "If he is, I suspect that danger will be entirely to those who are a threat to m... to Preservation."

Pin-Lee's eyes narrow. They've grown to know Mensah quite well, and they didn't miss that little slip. To me, she nearly said. Throughout this morning, Gurathin frequently mentioned handlers on his missions. It sounds as if he has picked a new one for himself: Mensah.

It isn't healthy, to fixate - or rely - on one person that way. But Gurathin doesn't have anyone else, does he?

They can't forget the horror of what they've heard this morning. "You say they made him do it, Ayda. But you haven't been listening to him... He talks about it as if he doesn't care about all the lives he ruined. People died because of his actions." They're so wound up that the miss the quiet noise of the door opening.

"Yes, they did."

Pin-Lee whips around to face the doorway. Gurathin is standing there, stopped partway through the opening. He meets Pin-Lee's eyes, and his expression has slipped into a blank mask. Even the polite smile is gone. He may look a little paler than he did earlier, but it's difficult to judge for sure. He holds on to the door for a moment longer, his finger tapping against the wood. After several seconds, he steps through the rest of the way, closing it carefully behind him. "I don't believe they heard, but it may be good to check on your aides, Dr. Mensah." The two are seated just outside, at their desks.

Internally, Pin-Lee winces. They should have known better than to air this grievance right now.

"It wasn't your fault," Mensah is quick to jump to his defense, setting her plate aside and approaching him. She moves as if to take one of Gurathin's hands, and he quickly pulls it back behind his back, away from her. With her back to Pin-Lee, they can't make out Mensah's expression, but they can hear the pain in her voice as she insists, "You didn't have a choice."

His eyebrows twitch, drawing down, and there's a pinched look to his mouth. He studies Mensah's face for several long moments. "I always had a choice," he murmurs at last. His eyes rove past Mensah's shoulder, meeting Pin-Lee's gaze, "For many years I chose to survive, no matter the cost. Others paid the price for my survival. I should pay for those lives."

"You were granted amnesty," Pin-Lee replies evenly. The crimes he committed don't matter, here in Preservation. They have already given him a clean slate to start from. Pin-Lee wishes, futilely, that they could have done this interview before the council agreed to give Gurathin refugee status, and then citizenship. But Mensah had demanded that Pin-Lee fight for blanket amnesty, without divulging any details. And they did what she required of them. Did Mensah already know? Or is his past so much worse than she guessed?

"I was. That doesn't make me innocent." There's vitriol in that last word, the most emotion he has shown so far. For a brief moment, his teeth are bared in a grimace of anger or pain. He shakes his head, and the expression drops away. The slight smile returns, "I do not think this is the best topic to discuss at this time, to have an enjoyable meal."

Mensah jumps at the presented opportunity to steer the conversation in a different direction, "Yes, please, let's eat. I don't know about either of you, but I'm quite hungry. And you..." she falters, "...need to eat."

There's something in that gap, something private that Mensah won't say in front of Pin-Lee.

An awkward silence falls for several moments. Then Mensah begins to chatter about her day, sharing inconsequential news about an upcoming event, things that the council needs to review and approve, other trivial matters.

Pin-Lee waits until Gurathin has added several pieces of food to his plate and taken a seat on one of the chairs to get their own meal. Sitting back on the couch, they pull their medication from their jacket pocket, taking a dose and putting the rest away.

Gurathin pauses in his eating to watch them do so. When Pin-Lee frowns at him, he pulls a small vial from one of his pockets, raising it with a gesture that resembles clinking glasses together. Taking a small pill from the vial, he pops it into his mouth and swallows it dry. Closing it, he puts it away again. "It can be inconvenient, when you have to take them with food," is all he says.

They wonder what the medication is for, but it's none of their business. And Gurathin hasn't asked about theirs, either. It's a weird moment of... attempted camaraderie? They honestly don't know what to think of the exchange.

If Mensah knows about the medication he's taking, and that he's supposed to take it with food, that could explain her earlier comment. And yes, Gurathin's health isn't something that Pin-Lee has the right to know the details about. Not unless he chooses to share them.

Eventually, Mensah manages to convince Gurathin to tell them a little about the work he has done to some of the Medical Station bots who told him about "the honorable Pin-Lee". She's the one who arranged for the supplies and tools he needed, and is clearly curious to know what he did with them. Gurathin tells them the story of a mobile scan bot that wanted additional audio outputs. Not because it wanted to be able to talk, but because it wanted to be able to make different sounds to entertain children at their regular check-ups. It was particularly interested in being able to produce sounds that resembled human flatulence. Gurathin installed all of the physical components it required, and provided code patches so it could continue to add new sounds to its repertoire.

He's partway through explaining the way the code is designed to evolve when he clearly gets sidetracked talking about the technical details. Part of what slowed down his work, he explains, was the way the bot's base code was written. It's a very different style from bots in the Corporation Rim, even though the language was one he knew well. Pin-Lee can't help but be intrigued, and soon they're asking him follow-up questions. At first, Gurathin seems surprised by their knowledge and interest. But he answers readily. Soon, the two of them are arguing about coding possibilities and efficiencies while Mensah looks on, smiling indulgently.

It's the most comfortable Gurathin has seemed so far. His eyes light up, and his hands wave around as he gesticulates. One moment he's emphatically tapping the table with his palm, the next moment he runs his fingers through his hair, causing it to stick up. Without pause, he shifts to tap his fingertips against his left temple, then presses his thumb against his chin, index finger resting on the tip of his nose.

As engaged as they are in the conversation, part of Pin-Lee's mind is astonished by this transformation. He had come across as so... stony before. And none of that cold, smooth stillness remains.

The conversation winds down, and the three of them have finished eating, although Gurathin only picked at the food and hardly consumed any.

His face stills, his hands dropping back to his lap, one finger tapping his knee in the familiar rhythm from earlier. "Shall we resume our interview?" he asks, when it's clear that they have exhausted the subject of coding for now. His voice is back to calm and even. Not completely monotone, but without any animation. There's a brief flicker of eye movement, down to his hands, then back to Pin-Lee. They don't think it's him accessing his augments. They think it's something else.

And they realize that they've made a mistake in judgement. This is hard for him. And he's coping with it by withdrawing behind a mask, some sort of professional, Corporation-Rim-approved persona. They suddenly hope that he missed overhearing their words earlier, the part where they insisted to Mensah that he doesn't care. Because now they're sure he does, and they should have seen it sooner. When he was talking earlier, he hadn't needed to access his augments to look up the information on how many lives his work had destroyed. He knew them by heart. He's carrying them with him.

He had disagreed with Mensah when she said that his actions weren't his fault. Pin-Lee knows better than most in Preservation that choice is an illusion in the Corporation Rim. Only the most powerful have it, and only until a competitor wrenches it away. And debt to a company... Gurathin has been under indentured servitude since he was a child. He said that he isn't innocent, and he meant it, but his actions have always been coerced.

He was the tool, the weapon. Not the real perpetrator.

It's possible that he sees detailing his crimes as a form of payment for the salvation that Preservation offered him. And while Preservation would never rescind his citizenship, now that it has been granted, Pin-Lee doubts that he believes that. He must see Pin-Lee's interview of him as some sort of trial. He has been dispassionately providing them with the facts - all the facts - and is waiting for their verdict.

For his sentence.

And since well before this interview - which he asked for - he has been waiting for today. Spending his free time - while recovering from the unspecified illness that nearly killed him - using his frightfully masterful skills to make modifications to station bots. At their own request. So they can entertain children. Children who are probably nervous about undergoing a medical scan for the first time, even if it will be quick and painless. Maybe because his own childhood would have been far from painless.

Truly, Pin-Lee reflects, not the actions of someone dangerous to Preservation.

They could choose to stop, to let the rest go. But Gurathin hasn't disclosed his most recent missions yet. And while there's useful information in what he's said so far - there are several changes in Preservation's dealings with the Rim that Pin-Lee is going to recommend to the council - the rest of what he has to share could be even more vital.

"We should. If you're up to it," Pin-Lee stands, leaving their plate behind.

Gurathin copies them, one corner of his mouth twitching in a sardonic half-smile, "I suspect you would like to get this over with. And that you wish this interview had happened sooner."

He's perceptive, and he's right. But it doesn't matter anymore. Because he isn't going to become a threat to Preservation, even if he eventually chooses to leave. And Pin-Lee has figured out why Mensah has been his staunch defender since the beginning.

He's a self-sacrificing idiot. He truly believes he's beyond redemption.

And Mensah has a terminal weakness for hopeless cases.

Chapter Text

When they return to their seats at the table, Gurathin doesn't resume the narrative of his past right away. His hands are flat on the table's surface, palms down, and he's gazing at the wall, eyes unfocused in a way that suggests he isn't seeing anything. He could be watching something in his augments, but he's so still that Pin-Lee doubts it. After a moment, he turns his head slightly to look Pin-Lee in the eyes, leaning forward. "You understand, do you not?" he asks, voice low, "I am - albeit indirectly - a mass murderer. I am responsible for all of those deaths." His tone is similar to the one he had before when he said, I always had a choice. He believes what he's saying.

As if he doesn't care about the lives he ruined... Pin-Lee shakes their head, growing angrier with themself. "Well, I'm your lawyer now," they retort, their inner turmoil making the response sharper than they intended. "I'd get you acquitted like that," they snap their fingers in front of Gurathin's face.

Startled, he jerks back in his chair, causing the legs to scrape noisily against the floor. He blinks rapidly, then barks out a short, sharp laugh that is devoid of humor. "You are, are you? I thought you would be my prosecutor, not my defense."

Pin-Lee waves the hand they used to snap at him, "No, not really. You're not on trial, and you aren't going to be. Not unless you're worried that someone from your company will find you, take you back to the Rim, and put you on trial there. Which isn't going to happen. Mensah would never allow it, and once the doctors decide you're healthy enough to be permanently discharged, I'm going to put you to work with Station Security. And you're going to take a look at our systems to see what we can add to protect ourselves from... well, from the sort of spy you were."

Gurathin's shoulders have been slowly dropping as Pin-Lee speaks, some tension seeping out of them. He returns his hands to the table's surface, and his left index finger resumes its tapping. It's a soft, quiet sound. Not silent, like when he was tapping on the back of his hand. But easy to ignore.

Given how animated he was earlier, when talking about coding, Pin-Lee wonders if Gurathin has trouble staying still. If his motionlessness is something he learned. Something he was trained for.

"That is..." he hesitates, stops, glances down at his hands as he struggles for what to say. Pin-Lee isn't sure if he's really at a loss for words, or if he's simply rejecting all of the ones that come to mind. So far, he has come across as someone who thinks very quickly, but considers very carefully what he actually says.

Probably a spy thing. Hard to work undercover if you go around blurting out the first thing on your mind.

Which is why Pin-Lee could never be a spy. They can be professional enough in the courtroom, but having to constantly weigh and consider their words? No. They're happy to be a blunt instrument, in more ways that one.

If they wanted to think of a comparison for Gurathin, Pin-Lee would say he's a sharp instrument. A knife. But they don't want to think of him as a weapon. That's what he was. Now, he's a person.

"Understood," Gurathin finally concludes, clearly making a conscious decision not to address most of what Pin-Lee had to say. "As soon as I am cleared for work I will be immediately at your disposal. Whatever you need, I would be delighted to assist with."

Pin-Lee rolls their eyes, "You don't need to be so formal, Dr. Gurathin."

He tilts his head to one side, considering. Slowly, as though he's questioning the wisdom of his words, he says, "That isn't a necessary title, honorable Pin-Lee."

The station bots told him we'd get along, huh? "Mensah never told me you have a sense of humor."

"She would not. I have no sense of humor," His delivery is so deadpan that Pin-Lee snorts, a completely undignified noise. And is rewarded with another twitching half-smile.

"Okay, Gurathin..." This brief moment of levity has been a wonderful respite, but... "We should... get this done with."

The tapping stills for a moment, then resumes. With a nod, Gurathin continues, "Roughly twenty-two months ago, by the standard calendar, I was sent to a transit station on the edge of the Rim. There was a nearby planet, a candidate for terraforming, that my company was interested in. They didn't want to bid on it, but they wanted to control whose bid was accepted..."

*

Gurathin has just finished talking about a sixth mission in which he acted as a mentor for a new systems analyst. Pin-Lee has relaxed a little; these last few missions have been, well, inconsequential in the overall impact of Gurathin's espionage career. He grew quieter towards the end of his account, and was now sitting silently, his finger tapping the table in a much faster rhythm than before. While he outwardly seems quite calm otherwise, something to do with talking about these last few missions seems to have affected him more.

Pin-Lee decides it must have something to do with his mentee. They don't know the young man's name - in fact, it's the only name Gurathin hasn't shared - and Pin-Lee wonders if it's because he feels responsible. Gurathin blames himself for the harm he caused, and he taught this young man how to do the same. From his view of things, Gurathin may believe that he had a role in creating another murderer. If so, he may view this man's crimes as his own.

Or maybe their relationship wasn't just one of mentor and mentee?

It would be unforgivably rude to ask. Pin-Lee can't squash their innate curiosity, but they are capable of tact. When necessary.

The silence stretches on for several long moments, broken only by the soft sound of Gurathin tapping on the table. Pin-Lee hasn't figured out yet what that's about. Earlier, the rhythm made them think of the beating of one's heart. It was actually kind of soothing. But the tapping is much louder now, and no one's heart should beat this fast.

It's becoming a little irritating, if they're being honest. Pin-Lee is about to ask Gurathin if it's something he can control, or if it's something he needs to do, or if he needs a break, when he suddenly stops, uttering what sounds like a curse but not in any language that Pin-Lee recognizes. His eyes flicker, doing something in his augments. In the shared feed channel with Pin-Lee and Mensah, he sends, I am contacting Station Medical to let them know their assistance is urgently required. He shifts abruptly from his chair, half-falling to sit on the ground.

"What?" Pin-Lee springs up, moving around the table, "Gurathin? Are you okay?"

His presses his left hand to his chest, rubbing the heel in circles around his sternum. A pained hiss escapes him. He opens his mouth as if to reply, but gasps instead of speaking. Whatever color his face had suddenly drains away - his parted lips are unnaturally pale. His eyes flutter half-closed and he sways, nearly hitting his head on the edge of the table, just managing to catch himself before he makes contact with the wood. He grabs the chair with his free hand, wrapping his fingers around one of the slats in the back.

Pin-Lee kneels beside him, grabbing hold of his shoulders as he sways again, tipping sideways until he falls against them. Tremors shake his entire frame. His head is bowed, but Pin-Lee can tell from the rise and fall of his back and shoulders that his breathing is becoming increasingly uneven, and he makes soft noises of pain with every inhale.

A data stream pops up in the shared feed. It contains real-time monitoring of a heart rate, showing 173 beats per minute. It increases to 174. 175. Pin-Lee throws a startled glance at Gurathin, who is leaning even harder against them, almost a dead weight. His? Although they haven't had medical training, Pin-Lee thinks that number seems way, way too high.

Mensah bursts through the door to the meeting room. She rushes over to Pin-Lee and Gurathin, taking hold of one of his arms, "Lie down, Gurathin. You need to lie down." Her expression is a mix of concern and concentration. Although she seems worried, she is nowhere near as panicked as Pin-Lee thought she may be. Together, they lower Gurathin down onto his back. Mensah shoves the chair away, making space. She supports his head until he is flat on his back and then leaves one hand beneath it. Without looking up, she says to Pin-Lee, "Medical will be here in less than two minutes. Keep an eye on the feed. Tell me if his heart rate gets close to 200, or suddenly drops."

So this isn't the first time this has happened to him, Pin-Lee thinks. Nor, it's becoming clear, is it the first time Mensah has been there to help. "Is there anything else I can do?"

If I could borrow your jacket so that Dr. Mensah does not need to serve as a pillow, I would appreciate it, Gurathin sends in the feed. His eyes are closed, his mouth slightly open as he pants shallowly. He didn't have to sub-vocalize to send the message, of course. And there's no sense of his voice in it, no tone. It feels like a feed message from a bot.

Bots do not have heart rates of 181 beats per minute.

Pin-Lee pulls off their jacket, removing their medicine from the pocket, and quickly folding it. They suddenly remember him taking medication of his own at the meal break, "Do you need medication? More of what you took earlier? Something else?"

No. Gurathin sends in the feed.

"I'm not sure," Mensah says at the same time. "I don't think so."

No, Gurathin repeats. This is a side effect from one of the medications the doctors prescribed. Very rare. Occurs in less than 0.5% of patients. It is not dangerous, just unpleasant.

"It's dangerous when your heart rate is over 150, and you know it. Or you wouldn't have contacted Station Medical," Mensah sounds exasperated. "How many attacks is this now?"

Three. The last one was four days ago, so the doctors thought this medication may be the right one. But another attack means it is time to try something else. Again.

Pin-Lee passes the folded jacket to Mensah, and she slips it under his head. She moves her hand away, but stays beside him. "That isn't enough of a pillow if you have another seizure."

Checking the feed, Pin-Lee can see that Guratin's heart rate is now 178. They don't think that counts as a drop, and hope it's a good sign that it hasn't continued to climb.

That only happened once.

"In the past two weeks."

That was the other medication.

Pin-Lee feels a bit like they're eavesdropping. While Gurathin can't seem to breathe enough to speak, he clearly has no issue communicating on the feed. He's coherent, but he still looks like he could lose consciousness at any moment. And Mensah is obviously very familiar with his situation. Which means, as she isn't family, Gurathin must have waived his medical privacy rights for her. It also makes sense. As a refugee from the Rim, Gurathin wouldn't have anyone else here to make medical choices for him if he couldn't make them himself.

He nearly died, Pin-Lee remembers again. And, by the look and sound of things, the nearly dying is still a semi-regular occurrence. Yet he pushed for this meeting, and the doctors had, apparently, cleared him.

Definitely a self-sacrificing idiot.

A doctor from Station Medical arrives at a run, followed by one of the mobile scanner bots. "Dr. Gurathin. Not again." There's a large dose of exasperation in that tone. Pin-Lee doesn't even know this doctor, but it comes through crystal clear.

With its scanners and processing power, the scanner bot is faster and more accurate than a portable handheld medical scanner. Not as good as a MedSystem, but those don't move. This particular bot has an unusual structure. It is made up of multiple folded segments, shaped like a cube with several additional limbs or appendages sticking out. It travels on lifters, hovering several inches above the floor. Once in the room, it seems to tip, then elongates along the horizontal to until it resembles a lifter gurney.

The bot makes a noise that sounds like an angry, buzzing insect, followed by what is clearly a humanlike fart. Gurathin's lips twitch slightly in what might be a smile, though it's hard to tell with his laboured breathing. The doctor's and bot's feed IDs - Dr. Lage and Quadrate - pop up in Pin-Lee's feed. Gurathin has added them to the channel they share with Mensah. Dr. Lage frowns, reviewing the data stream. He glances over at Pin-Lee, then back to his patient. "Dr. Gurathin, we need to take you back to Medical to monitor you until this passes. Do you wish for Dr. Ayda Mensah and Pin-Lee to accompany you?"

I'm sure they both have other things to do.

Mensah opens her mouth to object, then stops. Pin-Lee assumes Gurathin has sent her something else, privately.

The bot shifts and slides in a way Pin-Lee's eyes can't quite process, slipping some of its - limbs? appendages? torso? - underneath Gurathin, then maneuvering him atop itself. It rises up on its lifters, ready to depart. Dr. Lage nods to Pin-Lee and Mensah, turning to follow it.

"I expect an update later," Mensah calls after them. Whether she's talking to Gurathin or Dr. Lage, Pin-Lee isn't sure. Maybe it's both. Sighing, Mensah uses the table to pull herself up off the floor. She sinks into one of the chairs, propping her elbows on the table and letting her head fall into her hands.

Pin-Lee returns to their chair across from her. It is always interesting to spend time with Mensah-the-person, not Mensah-the-Head of the Preservation Alliance. "Are you all right, Ayda?" They're dimly aware that they have been cut from the shared feed channel. But they still have the private one that Gurathin opened earlier.

"I have lost count," the words are muffled.

"Lost count of what?"

Mensah raises her face to look at Pin-Lee, and she's scowling in a way that she would never do in front of anyone else. "The number of medical emergencies that Dr. Gurathin has had in the past ten weeks." From the way her lips twist, she's biting something back. Something that she thinks it too private to share, "For the first six weeks, they occurred multiple times per day. When I contacted you and asked you to take this meeting, it had only been two days without..." She stops.

"A heart attack?" That's what they guess he just had, but it may not be the right term. And if Pin-Lee fills in some of the gaps, it may help Mensah decide what's okay to share.

"It's called a tachycardia. He would tell you it doesn't count as a heart attack unless his heart beats so fast that it leads to insufficient blood flow, causing further complications." Mensah's scowl deepens. Her attention shifts, and she sub-vocalizes something into the feed. After a moment, she must get a reply, because she adds, "Dr. Gurathin suffered significant damage to several organs. His liver, kidneys, heart... and brain. MedSystem was able to repair most of it, but there have been... unexpected complications." The last is said very quietly, almost a whisper.

Mensah is afraid for Gurathin. And with good reason.

"Will he be okay?" It feels like a stupid question, but Pin-Lee doesn't know what else to say or ask.

"If this is the same as his last few tachycardias, they won't do much more than monitor him until it stops. They don't usually last long. The real danger is if... something were to change suddenly, unexpectedly." Mensah sighs, "He won't admit it, but I've seen him go through them before. It's obvious they cause significant pain."

Pin-Lee thinks of the way he was struggling to breathe, especially before Mensah got him lying down. It hurt to listen to, let alone experience.

"You're a medical signatory for him, I take it?"

Mensah nods. "He couldn't consent to give me it when we first got back. But he wasn't able to... make decisions for himself, and someone had to. He granted it as soon as he was able to understand what it was for."

Pin-Lee needs to stop asking questions before they pry too far into things that aren't their business, but... "Were you on the feed with him just now? Asking permission to share this with me?"

Mensah snorts, "I asked permission to let you know that he'd be okay, so long as he was back in Medical being monitored. He told me I could 'share with the honorable Pin-Lee any private information that I felt would be appropriate'." She says it in a poor impression of Gurathin's voice, the words coming slow and carefully measured.

Huffing out a soft laugh, Pin-Lee shakes their head. "What the fuck, Ayda. What kind of divergent, idiotic genius did you bring home?"

Arching an eyebrow, she replies, "A new friend for you, I expect."

Chapter Text

It's six days before Pin-Lee sees Gurathin again. This time in Station Medical. He had wanted to leave, meet Pin-Lee at one of the offices again, but the doctors refused.

When Gurathin suggested they could wait to meet, Pin-Lee decided to play dirty. In the feed, they sent him, You owe me the end of that interview. If you want it over with as badly as I do, you'll let me meet you in Medical. It wasn't really about the interview; there isn't much more time to cover. They want to see for themself how he's doing.

He relented.

Now, Pin-Lee is in Station Medical, looking around the room. It's one used for long-term patients, and it looks more like one of the transient rooms on station than a medical space. There's a low table in front of a couch with a bowl of citrus fruits, a tin of crackers, and a carafe. From what has been said, Pin-Lee suspects it's an attempt at "see it, eat it," and that it's a challenge to convince Gurathin to eat enough. They wonder if it's because the food here in Preservation is so different from what he's used to, or if this has always been a problem.

It isn't like he included those sorts of personal details in his history.

"Would you like some tea?" Gurathin gestures to the carafe, "It's a herbal blend." He isn't as pale as the last time Pin-Lee saw him, but there are dark circles under his eyes as if he hasn't been sleeping. A new side effect from a new medication, maybe?

"Yeah, okay, thanks," Pin-Lee takes a seat at one end of the couch, watching Gurathin pour the tea into two cups. Their attention is caught by his hands. They tremble a little as he pours the tea. But, unlike at their last meeting, the skin around his fingertips is undamaged - yet blemished by a few smears of black. Several of the fingernails on his left hand are painted, the edges a little uneven. He must have been applying polish just before Pin-Lee arrived and interrupted him.

Pin-Lee has never understood the appeal of painting your nails. It flakes off so easily, and then you need to do it again. Perhaps the do it again is part of the appeal for Gurathin. He does seem to have a thing for repetition.

Gurathin slides one of the cups across the table to Pin-Lee, then hesitates, glancing between the couch and the desk chair.

Pin-Lee picks up the tea, leaning back and gesturing to the couch, "Are you going to sit?" It's big enough for three, so they won't be squished together. But it would put them in touching distance.

With a decisive nod, Gurathin moves his tea across the table and sits down.

"How have you been?"

There's a pause before Gurathin replies, "I have been worse." It's a terrible attempt at a joke, and it's painful to consider the truth of it too long.

"Do you mind if I ask..." Pin-Lee isn't sure how to finish that statement. They're trying not to be too nosy and intrusive. But they're not sure where the line is with this man.

"What did Dr. Mensah tell you about my... health?" Gurathin responds, answering their unfinished question with one of his own. He sounds more reluctant than Pin-Lee has heard from him so far.

"Nothing that you'd object to, I think. When we last met she told me that you gave her permission to share 'any private information that she thought was appropriate'. Before that, she had only told me that you nearly died on the way back to Preservation. She mentioned that there are... factors complicating your recovery," Pin-Lee waves a hand around, the one not holding the tea. They hope that answers his question while treading lightly enough to avoid making him even more uncomfortable.

"I see." Gurathin plucks a piece of fruit from the bowl, pushing his thumbnail - the one not covered in polish - through its skin. Picking at this first rip, he starts to peel it, making a little pile of pieces on the edge of the table. He seems engrossed in what he's doing, and Pin-Lee waits as patiently as they can for him to continue. "My... recovery... is complicated, yes. I have not had another tachycardia since our meeting, but a few days ago... I understand why the doctors are concerned about allowing me to leave." He pauses for a moment, looking up, "Would you like some fruit?"

"No thanks, too sour for me. I like my fruit sweeter."

He nods. After several moments he says, softly, "We had just finished with my... stint as a mentor, I believe."

He'd rather talk about his past than his health? That's somewhat alarming, but Pin-Lee isn't going to push. They'll respect his privacy and leave the matter be. Maybe he'll open up more about it later, maybe he won't.

Accepting the change of topic, Pin-Lee sets down their tea to balance their tablet interface on their knees, tapping it to wake it. "Yes, the young analyst. Was there anything else you wanted to add about your time working with him?"

Gurathin's gaze flicks to the side, looking at Pin-Lee in his peripheral vision. His hands still, and he doesn't turn his head. "There is not much more to say. After that sixth mission, he was sent out solo," He taps one finger against the fruit. Pin-Lee is sure, now, that he's tapping out his heartbeat. Thankfully, it's a regular pace, at least for the moment. Taking a sharp breath in, Gurathin says, "He failed. He died. I was a poor mentor." His teeth are clenched as he says it, each word sharply broken off from the others. His gaze returns to his hands, which are wrapped around the fruit, and trembling.

Pin-Lee shifts, deeply uncomfortable. They had known that something to do with his mentee deeply affected Gurathin. And now they know what that was. The other deaths, those were consequences of his successes. This one, the consequence of failure.

In all of his recounting, Gurathin never shared a case where he had failed at a mission. Suffered setbacks and delays, yes. But failed? No. And Pin-Lee doesn't think it's because he would have omitted it. They're pretty sure it's because it never happened.

Exceptional performance.

After several long moments, Gurathin goes back to carefully peeling the fruit. "My next assignment was to attend a conference of Free Polities, to get close to one Dr. Ayda Mensah, Head of the Preservation Alliance Council, and dig up blackmail material on her. I was also to spend time getting to know more about the leaders from other polities, to determine which ones had vices that could be exploited or access to valuable resources. I believe Dr. Mensah already provided my confession about my actions against her... Was there anything there that you had questions about?"

Pin-Lee shakes their head, "No. I already know you didn't find anything useful, and that you helped secure our ship's systems when you left. Wait..." Pin-Lee frowns, suddenly thinking of an inconsistency, "If you nearly died on the trip back, what was the timeline like? How did you secure our systems, if you were that ill...?"

Gurathin pulls a segment from the fruit, staring at it and turning it over in his fingers. "I had already made several security changes to Dr. Mensah's personal data systems, those of her retinue, and the Preservation ship prior to my confession to Dr. Mensah," Gurathin admits. "When I met with her, I gave her the key code that could control them, and the data and annotations that another analyst would need to understand, replicate, or modify those changes."

Pin-Lee blinks, I don't think I've ever heard of...hacking someone's systems in a beneficial way before. "So you did that first? I had assumed that you had... done it in payment, for her helping you to leave the Rim. Or was it intended as a bribe?"

A hollow laugh bursts from Gurathin, and it sounds quite pained. "No... no. It was given freely, a gift. If I had not... I was already dying, when I confessed to Dr. Mensah. I had taken... poison." His mouth twists, and there's a hint of wryness to his tone when he adds, "I did not plan on leaving the Rim... alive. Ay... Mensah did not give me a choice. She refused to return to the Preservation ship and leave without me."

Words fail Pin-Lee completely, they're so shocked. Mensah tried to emotionally blackmail a corporate spy into leaving the Rim with her?

And it worked?

They flounder for something to say, but the absurdity of the whole thing. It sounds like a tale from the sort of romantic media several of their friends enjoy so much. But there's an undercurrent to their thoughts, a repetition of what Gurathin had just said: I had taken poison. When Pin-Lee finally speaks again - and Gurathin has waited while they processed his words, watching silently - they say, "You didn't think you'd survive even if you left with Mensah, did you?"

His mouth twists again, and he shrugs. "Some days it still seems I may not."

Pin-Lee narrows their eyes. He said that entirely too calmly. "Mensah would be devastated if you died. You realize that, don't you?"

"Yes, I do."

It's the matter-of-fact, bland tone that he spoke with before at their interview. The same way he casually dropped the fact that he didn't consent to receive his augments. The way he agreed that people had died from his actions. Pin-Lee wants to grab him and shake him, but he's shaking enough already that they don't think it would have any useful impact.

"Do you want to stay here in Preservation? When you're well, you could go anywhere." They're going to have to confront Mensah about this later. If Gurathin never chose to come here, it would be wrong to force him to stay.

"Yes, I do." The same words, in a very different tone. After a pause, he adds, "I think."

Pin-Lee shakes their head, sucking in a deep breath and blowing it out again. "We have... gotten off track. I don't have any questions about the actions you took against, and for, Mensah and Preservation at the conference. You said something before about the leaders of other polities?"

A nod, and Gurathin pushes another data packet to Pin-Lee's interface, "Yes, there are three that you should inform your council about. None that would immediately be treacherous to partner with, but they could be targeted and compromised..." Of the three leaders, one is having an inappropriate relationship with a subordinate. The second is simply greedy, eager to have more than anyone else. The third is...

"...addicted to several substances that are proprietary Corporation Rim formulas. The drug addiction itself is would be concerning, but ter being reliant on suppliers from the Rim makes the situation worse. Te could easily be threatened, and coerced, if ter supply was cut off."

"What a mess," Pin-Lee reviews the data in the packet. As with the rest of the information Gurathin has provided, it is very organized and detailed. Disturbingly detailed, even. "Te met with a Corporation Rim contact, a dealer, at the conference?"

"Yes."

"Did you witness this yourself? Or did you steal this data from the dealer or councillor?" They twist their interface to show Gurathin what they've highlighted, the detailed list of chemicals the councillor paid for.

"I witnessed it." He doesn't even glance at the tablet.

"Did you share this with Mensah already? She should know. She knows the councillor personally. Perhaps she can convince ter to speak with ter Medical team, get treatment."

"No. I have not shared this with Dr. Mensah."

They nod, absently, scrolling through the data, "I'll make sure to pass it along to her. I trust that she'll handle it appropriately." They look up from the interface, studying Gurathin, "Is that all right with you? If I share this with Mensah now, separate from the rest of the report? Which I will, of course, provide to you for review before providing access to anyone else."

Instead of replying aloud, Gurathin pops a segment of fruit into his mouth. He nods, making an affirmative sound.

"Is there anything else I should know?" Pin-Lee gives Gurathin their full attention, lowering the tablet. "Anything else you want to tell me?"

After swallowing, Gurathin replies, "No. Nothing." He rises from the couch, setting the fruit down on the table. "I hope this has been... useful, to you and to the Preservation Council, Pin-Lee."

Surprised, Pin-Lee rises to their feet as well. It's a clear dismissal, though they aren't sure why.

Which is a ridiculous thing to wonder. Gurathin looks unsteady on his feet, and he's clearly exhausted. "Should I message one of the doctors?" They wonder what happened a few days ago, if he will be okay alone.

"I am simply... tired. I am more used to spending time alone than in company. Not that I am unappreciative of your visit, but I believe it would be wise if I were to rest now." His voice has smoothed out again, his tone regaining its formality. He has clearly retreated back behind the mask.

"I will have a draft report for your review in a few cycles, Dr. Gurathin. Please take all the time you need to review it, at whatever pace is comfortable for you." And now Pin-Lee is doing the same, a reflexive response.

Gurathin inclines his head, walking with Pin-Lee to the door of his room. He holds it until they leave, then closes it firmly behind them.

After a moment's hesitation, Pin-Lee leaves Station Medical and returns to their office to get down to work.

*

Mensah comes by a few hours later. Pin-Lee has already sent her a message about the three Free Polity councilors, and Mensah had acknowledged, but hadn't replied.

Stepping into Pin-Lee's office, Mensah pulls the chair Pin-Lee keeps for guests over to the lawyer's desk and sits down. Pin-Lee is in the middle of a section of their report, and ignores her for a few moments to finish organizing their thoughts.

When they finally look up, Mensah immediately asks, "How is Dr. Gurathin doing?"

"Considering how he was doing six days ago, I'll say better. He looked like shit, though," Pin-Lee's answer is somewhat flippant, because they assume Mensah already knows. When her face falls in response to their words, they're suddenly unsure. "You haven't seen him recently?"

"No. We've talked over the feed, but... After the first month or so, I started getting the impression he didn't really want me to visit him in Medical. I see him less and less often face to face." Mensah folds her hands in her lap, and sighs. "Three days ago he took me off as a medical signatory, and revoked my access to his medical records as well."

Pin-Lee frowns, "Did something happen between you two?"

"Nothing that I can think of. He said it simply wasn't necessary any more."

"Was that before or after the latest... Incident? Emergency?" Pin-Lee isn't sure what word to use, because Gurathin had not been forthcoming with what had happened a few days ago.

Mensah frowns, "I wasn't aware there was another incident. So before. What happened?"

Mentally, Pin-Lee curses themself for not asking more. "He didn't tell me. And he obviously didn't want me to ask about it either."

"I imagine he wouldn't..." Mensah shakes her head, and changes the subject, "Yesterday, he agreed to come and stay with me at our farm when he is finally discharged. It was Farai's idea, and everyone reached consensus on it quite easily." Mensah hesitates, "They only know he's a refugee from the Rim and that I sponsored his claim. Nothing else."

"Are you going to tell them?"

"I think I should leave it up to Dr. Gurathin. I suspect I may have... made enough choices for him. And perhaps that's why he revoked my medical access."

"Perhaps it is." Which reminds Pin-Lee that there's something they wanted to talk to Mensah about. "He told me that he didn't consent to come with you to Preservation, Ayda."

"He was not in a state to be able to give informed consent, no." Mensah makes eye contact with Pin-Lee, and her expression shows no guilt. Only stubborn determination, a certain defiance. Clearly, she would take the same action again.

"Dr. Gurathin told me he had taken poison."

"Poison... Yes, I suppose." Her gaze shifts away, and she sighs, "What is it you want to say, Pin-Lee?"

"I think that Dr. Gurathin needs to feel like he's allowed to make his own choices. Without any more coercion, no matter how well-intended it is." Pin-Lee can't catch Mensah's eyes, but they know she's listening from the way her shoulders tighten. "Either you trust him to do that, or you don't. But so long as you can take that agency away from him, he won't have the chance to get better, to decide who he wants to be and where he wants to be. If he does come and stay with you and your family, you'll need to figure out how to give him space."

"I cannot believe that you suddenly trust him that easily."

Pin-Lee scoffs, "He's an adult. I trust him to make choices about his health, or where he lives. Do I trust him generally? Of course I don't, not yet. How could I? But I trust that he doesn't intend anyone in Preservation harm, and that's enough for now. Maybe one day I'll get to know the new Dr. Gurathin, the one who isn't just a former corporate spy. As you said before, I think we could be friends." They tap a finger on the table. Not in a rhythmn, but to emphasize their next words, "At some point you need to let go, Ayda."

Abruptly, Mensah stands up from the chair. For a moment she stops there, just a frustrated person with good intentions, before she seems to shake off that feeling, her expression shifting to one of calm contemplation. "I will take what you have said under consideration," she says.

Translation: You're right but I'm too proud to admit that right now, Pin-Lee thinks.

"I don't want to read the report when you're finished with it," Mensah says.

Raising an eyebrow, Pin-Lee studies Mensah for a moment. Her hands are loose at her sides, her chin is tilted up a little. But there's something in her eyes that looks a bit like fear. So, she didn't know the details. She took a blind leap of faith, and she isn't completely certain all of her choices since then were the right ones. Even if she'd do it all again in half a heartbeat. "Don't read it then. If you change your mind one day, it will be there in the archives waiting."

Mensah nods, "I should return to my office." When Pin-Lee acknowledges this with a wave of their hand, she turns to go, closing Pin-Lee's door behind her.

Pin-Lee could speculate on Mensah's reasons why, but they won't. The sooner they finish this report, get Gurathin to approve it, and share it with the archivists, the better. Once that's done, and this slew of devastation isn't staring Pin-Lee in the face...

Maybe then they can be friends with Dr. Gurathin.

If he also chooses to be friends with them.