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Ghost studies the holographic model of Lola Sayu while two of her ARCs hover in the doorway.
That is the first warning.
Latch and Penny never hover. They enter rooms like shaped charges, usually while arguing about whose plan caused the latest structural damage.
Ghost rotates the prison fortress above the tactical table. Narrow bridges connect towers suspended over rivers of molten rock. Searchlights sweep across landing platforms while simulated defenses highlight themselves in red.
Behind her, Latch clears his throat.
“Commander.”
Ghost marks a possible insertion route through the eastern ventilation system.
“Latch.”
“I would just like to remind you of how much you adore us.”
Ghost’s hand stops above the controls.
Penny leans around Latch’s shoulder. “And how boring your life would be without us.”
Ghost slowly turns.
Both ARCs wear red-and-black SpecOps armor. Latch’s helmet is tucked beneath his arm. Penny is trying to conceal something behind her back despite the fact that her entire body is angled around it.
Ghost looks at them.
They look at Ghost.
The silence stretches.
Latch’s smile weakens.
Ghost has spent years perfecting silence as an interrogation technique. ARC trainers named her for it after discovering that she could stand behind them unnoticed for deeply unreasonable lengths of time.
She sees no reason to abandon a successful method.
Penny shifts her weight.
Latch glances at her.
Ghost says nothing.
Penny breaks first. “Technically, we completed the assignment.”
“What did you do?”
Latch raises one finger. “Before we answer, we need to establish that Commander Hound said to use our initiative.”
“He did,” Penny agrees.
Ghost closes the Lola Sayu projection.
“What did you do?”
“We were filling in with Investigations,” Latch says.
“I know.”
“Because SpecOps is off-rotation.”
“I also know that.”
“And Hound needed someone to observe a suspected illegal weapons exchange on Level 1840.”
Ghost folds her arms.
Penny continues. “The suspects recognized the surveillance team.”
“Because Latch stared at them.”
“I was observing.”
“You were wearing full ARC armor.”
“It was a dangerous district.”
“You waved.”
“They waved first.”
Ghost’s stare moves back to Latch.
He looks offended. “It would’ve been rude not to.”
“What happened after they identified you?”
“They fled,” Penny says.
Ghost waits.
“We pursued,” Latch adds.
“In what?”
Neither answers.
Ghost’s gaze drops to Penny’s hands.
“What are you hiding?”
Penny reluctantly brings forward a broken steering control.
It is polished gold.
Ghost recognizes the crest stamped into the center.
“That belongs to Senator Orn Free Taa’s personal speeder.”
“It belonged to him,” Latch corrects.
Ghost feels the beginning of a headache.
“Why were you driving a senator’s speeder on Level 1840?”
“Our patrol transport was blocked in.”
“By what?”
“A market.”
“Markets don’t move.”
“This one was protesting rent increases.”
Penny nods. “Very stationary.”
Ghost points at the steering control. “How did you obtain the speeder?”
“It was parked nearby.”
“Locked?”
“Initially.”
Ghost closes her eyes.
Latch hurries on. “We requisitioned it under emergency pursuit authority.”
“You stole it.”
“We left a note.”
Penny brightens. “A very professional note.”
“What did it say?”
Latch looks at Penny.
Penny looks at Latch.
Ghost waits.
Penny sighs. “‘Borrowed for justice. Don’t be weird about it.’”
The room falls silent again.
Ghost looks toward the ceiling as though the Republic might collapse quickly enough to spare her the rest of the conversation.
“Where is the speeder now?”
Latch scratches the scar along his jaw.
“That depends on how strictly you define speeder.”
Ghost turns back to them.
Penny holds up the steering control. “We recovered this part.”
“What happened?”
“The suspects entered a tunnel.”
“So you followed them.”
“Yes.”
“In Senator Taa’s luxury airspeeder.”
“Yes.”
“Designed for upper-level traffic lanes.”
“Yes.”
“Through a lower-level industrial tunnel.”
Latch grimaces. “It handled surprisingly well.”
“For the first section,” Penny adds.
Ghost’s stare sharpens.
“There was a second section?”
“There was a freight tram.”
“Moving?”
“Very.”
Ghost grips the edge of the tactical table.
Latch raises both hands. “Nobody died.”
“That statement has never comforted me when either of you says it.”
“We caught the smugglers,” Penny offers.
“All twelve,” Latch says. “Recovered the weapons too.”
“And the speeder?”
They hesitate again.
Ghost’s comm-link chirps.
A message from Commander Hound appears across the tactical table.
It contains a security image of a gold luxury speeder lodged vertically in the side of a warehouse. Its rear engines are missing. One wing has punched through a sign advertising discount prosthetics.
Hound’s accompanying note reads:
THEY’RE YOURS. I REFUSE RESPONSIBILITY.
Ghost looks at the image.
Then at Latch and Penny.
Latch smiles carefully. “He seemed pleased about the arrests.”
“He threatened to feed us to Grizzer,” Penny says.
“He says that affectionately.”
“He had Grizzer with him.”
“That made it ambiguous.”
Ghost enlarges the damage report.
Three storefronts.
One freight tram.
Two traffic-control pylons.
A warehouse wall.
Senator Taa’s speeder.
No civilian injuries, somehow.
The recovered weapons are worth more than the total property damage, which is the only reason Fox might not transfer all three of them to sewage patrol.
Ghost points toward the door.
“Go report to Marshal Commander Thorn.”
Latch’s face falls. “Can’t you punish us?”
“No.”
“Commander, please.”
“Thorn likes paperwork.”
“That’s why we’re asking you.”
Penny steps forward. “We could clean the armory.”
“You already clean the armory.”
“We could clean it correctly.”
Ghost almost smiles.
Almost.
“Thorn. Now.”
The two ARCs turn toward the door with the solemnity of prisoners approaching execution.
Latch pauses.
“You do adore us, though.”
Ghost reactivates the Lola Sayu model.
“Ask me after Thorn finishes.”
Penny brightens. “That isn’t a no.”
They disappear into the corridor before Ghost can assign them separate shifts for the next six months.
Five minutes later, her comm-link chirps again.
This message is from Thorn.
WHY ARE TWO OF YOUR ARCS OUTSIDE MY OFFICE HOLDING PART OF ORN FREE TAA’S SPEEDER?