Hekate's Call, Chapter 46

Valuation. Legally necessary for insurance and profit speculation. It was always overseen by insurance suits and company stakeholders. Physical fitness tests. Combat tests. Intelligence tests. Reviews of reports and battle logs followed by interrogation of faults found. A deeply dehumanizing process where people wearing suits with clean hands called you a company asset and put a dollar value on your life and made bets about how much you could earn them in the next fiscal year.

It was Ilina’s twentieth or something valuation. They were so regularly handled at Carrion for business reasons, and it was always so nice having Morian standing within earshot correcting the suits that she was a pilot and not an asset. There was no such shield for her this time.

Velia hobbled along behind Crater, following the pilots through the various tests in various rooms deep in the red sectors of the base. Devoid of any of the character of the green sectors, and lacking even the spartan charm of the yellow sectors. The grey walls and little windowed observation chambers for their various activities and tests were familiar and calming in their own way.

It really was like being back home at Carrion.

Every time she glanced over to the observation window she expected Morian’s goofy grin and an unprofessional thumbs up to be waiting for her. Ilina was in a sour mood, so maybe Morian would even break out a cardboard sign like she was at a track meet at school to cheer her up. Morian was such a thoroughly embarrassing woman to be friends with.

Instead all she saw were the cold, smug, expecting faces of Crater and Velia.

It made her insides churn.

Focus. Just do what you’re told. One foot in front of the other until it is done.

Ilina completed test after test without fail. She was chastised for attaching the probes for the various medical check-ups, though apparently not because she’d done it wrong but instead because others have tried to cheat. The attendants in charge of her valuation in particular were a bit fussy about her getting steps ahead of them in the testing. She just wanted it to be over as soon as possible.

Eventually the Hekate pilots were all sent away for lunch while a team of expert armchair pilots evaluated all the combat log data they’d submitted. Velia warned Ilina that she’d likely be called back on her own to assist with parsing the logs from Again in Hell. The kind of combat data it produced was a dizzying array of vectors and inefficiency warnings. Morian taught her how to filter through the data to show the levels of force multipliers that Ilina was working into her actions.

Morian taught her a lot of things.

“I heard her callsign was Chaser.”

Some pitched laughter echoed through the hallways and the cafeteria the Hekate pilots had assembled in. The trio of pilots burst through the door giggling at their own jokes.

“One of the techs told me she was wearing a dog collar too.”

“Shit,” the average-looking one in front stopped as soon as they saw the Hekate pilots crowding a table. “Those cunts are at our table.”

 “Wait, she really is wearing a dog collar,” the meaty one laughed.

Ilina kept her head down and chewed on the food she’d been presented with. High quality printer food. If she hadn’t seen the industrial printers in the back of the kitchen for the raw materials she wouldn’t have known it wasn’t real food. A strange luxury to have a number of chefs whose jobs were to make printer calorie-filler and nutrient-pastes pass as anything organic.

“I feel bad asking,” Vigil said in a hushed voice from across the table. “Do you need me to run back to the Gestalt and pick you up some of those gel packs? You look like you’re struggling to finish that.”

“The fridge that had all the ones Morian made for me has been empty since yesterday.”

“They aren’t the normal kind?”

Manya groaned and fanned herself and undid her top just a bit more than it had been before cutting into the conversation. She seemed to have been overheating all day. “No, they’re like super thick and calorie dense. Velia told me the doctor had to reformulate them again because of how she’s been piloting recently.”

“Morian’s coddling her too much,” Krystyn grumbled. “What she needs is to drink actual water and eat actual food.”

Ilina took the conversation as an opportunity to continue to work away at the wrap of meat and rice and various sauces in her hands. Everyone else was mostly finished, or on their second serving in the case of Vigil.

The three Errant pilots had skittered off into the hall somewhere. Ilina missed what else they had said as they left because of Vigil. Nothing important, probably. She took another sip of the carbonated drink that tickled her nose just a bit. Wasn’t this all unhealthy? Morian always told her not to spike her sugar levels before examinations.

Another round of tests came and went in the early afternoon before another break. Crater informed Ilina in passing that Velia showed the techs how to parse her battle logs — that Crater separated from Velia and left her alone in the base somewhere threw up at least one alarm in her head, but she was too busy to actually do anything about it.

It wasn’t long before her body decided it had enough of the food she’d eaten.

“Bathroom,” Ilina muttered as she broke off from the group. Krystyn reached out an arm to grab her before pulling herself back with a guilty expression on her face. “I’ll catch up. You’ll be in the lounge ahead, yeah?”

“Maybe Vigil can—“

“Black-bag me again? Not really the time for that, you think?.” Ilina cut off Krystyn’s weak plea. “I said I’ll catch up.”

Manya and Vigil continued on and made small talk, while Krystyn stood awkwardly in the hall. “I’ll go with you,” Krystyn forced. Ilina stared at her until the woman’s will buckled under her guilt. “Okay. Just, don’t take too long.”

With that Ilina was alone, shuffling down a side hall to the nearest washroom. Her stomach folded over itself. She’d be fine. Besides, Krystyn was wearing her stupid collar and Ilina hadn’t taken off the remote so Krystyn could just come and get her if she took too long.

The little washroom was as plain as the rest of the red zone. Six stalls long. Four sinks. One mirror that ran the length of the room. No cameras. Single entrance. The handy thing about Errant HQ being a gravity well was that it didn’t need the artificial normalization to have regular toilets. Ilina never cared for the Gestalt’s device, for lack of a better word. Zero-G requirements made everything at least a few steps too complicated, even if gravity was expected most of the time.

It was about where she was drying her hands when they showed up. They’d always been nearby since the Hekate pilots landed, even if they hadn’t been front and center. And they looked like they were in a foul mood too.

The scrawny one was standing lookout at the door, while the big one and the average one did their little intimidation routine. Ilina let out a sigh before they’d even opened her mouth, and let her arm dangle next to her gun.

“You got a nasty look in your eye,” the loud-mouthed one out front sneered. “Think you might be in the wrong washroom, pig.”

Ilina clicked her tongue. Krystyn had called her swine before. Heard it in passing planet side too. A Domon slur.

“Oh, c’mon Mary,” the big girl said from the side, advancing slowly. “What are the chances they hired two trannies?”

It would be too obvious if she reached for the leash dangling down the front of her shirt, so that was off the table. If she waited too long then drawing on them was out of the question too. They outnumbered her. None of them had reached for their weapons yet either.

She wasn’t about to try to shoot her way out.

Ilina raised her hands away from her side and watched the tension leave her would-be assailants. Just play along. Take a couple hits if you needed to. Morian had been avoiding her up till now, but the doctor would show up to put Ilina back together if they broke anything.

“There’s at least two of them,” Ilina grinned and leaned against the counter. No sign of resistance. We can be friends, can’t we? “Neither of them got off the Gestalt though. I guess this is why?”

“Little liar,” Mary moved past Ilina, boxing her in with the other girl. “Carie’s out there right now, isn’t he?”

“Huh?”

“You didn’t know?”

“Sure didn’t,” Ilina made a show of chewing her tongue. “Makes sense she’d be chasing that little mechanic around then.”

“She!” The big girl laughed. Right, right. Ilina couldn’t bring herself that low, even if she was angling to buddy up with them. “Cute.”

“Force of habit,” Ilina shrugged. “I’ve known Carie for a year, never been given reason to suspect anything of her— them.” It felt gross. Their malice hadn’t lightened up any either, which made it feel worse. They all had those same eyes Krystyn had the first time she got dragged into a dark, soundproof room.

“Toybox,” Mary shot her friend a sideways glance before reaching out for Ilina’s neck with a finger. She hooked the chain and pulled the little remote out of her shirt. “That’s sure as hell not dog tags. What do you think?”

Fuck.

“Looks like a panic button.”

Fuck.

Ilina didn’t put up a fight as it got torn off her neck. “Ah, shit,” she slipped. The two grinned wide. “I hate every one of those fucking bitches, and this is what I get for sticking my neck out for them anyways.”

Toybox took the chain and hung it on the inside of a stall and pulled it shut. “Why’d you do it then?”

“I ask myself that a lot.” She should have hit the button. Even a shock would have done as a quick call. “Ran into my mom recently. Haven’t been able to think straight since.”

“Sounds about right,” Mary snipped. “Moms do that to you.”

All four of them exchanged a nod. If she was more naive, she might have think she lucked out. Maybe we can be friends. Maybe you don’t have to kick the shit out of me for no reason. Maybe I make it through a single day without getting completely screwed. Maybe I made the right choice somewhere along the way, even once, and it didn’t have to be me.

Toybox threw an arm around her shoulder and pulled her away from the counter. “You’re a good sport,” she laughed. “Let’s go for a walk. Somewhere quiet.”

“Somewhere romantic?” Ilina realized that gallows humor wasn’t going to save her, but it made it hurt less.

“Yeah. Romantic.”

Their romantic date spot was a small storeroom less than a minute’s walk away. If the Gestalt was south, then the storeroom was even farther north from the lounge where the Hekate pilots were sitting around waiting for the next assessment to be called. East of the main path where all the rooms they’d been assessed in. The cameras were sparser in the area, since if you’d made it all the way into Red then you didn’t need to be verified for every single door — you belonged there. The foot traffic was nonexistent.

Toybox shoved her into the store room as they all filed in, and one of them locked the door behind them. Deep shelves along the walls, packed tight with large long-storage containers, probably raw fabricator materials. There was a familiar looking steel table in the middle of the room, and Ilina spied a little duffle bag on the floor that didn’t belong here.

Premeditated.

“Surprised you didn’t scream on the way over,” Toybox said, giving her another push toward the table.

It was always going to end up like this. It was always going to be her. There wasn’t anything she could have done to prevent it. Maybe it would have been someone else if she hadn’t embarrassed herself in front of Manning. Maybe if she’d been more gracious about Krystyn’s hangups she wouldn’t have been alone long enough to get caught like this. There was always a lot of maybes and not a single one of them mattered. It was a fun thing to distract yourself with while you’re waiting for it all to be over though.

Ilina tilted her head back to look at the three of them. “It’s a bit early for a candlelit dinner, but I won’t complain. MREs or printer slop?”

Toybox was the first to swing. She span Ilina around and put a heavy fist in her gut. Ilina would have hit the ground if Mary hadn’t caught her by the ponytail. The two of them dragged her across the table.

“How long do you think we have?” The redhead by the door asked. What was her name again? Did it even matter?

“Pig thinks it’s clever,” Marionette snarled.

Ilina wheezed something, but only managed to form words on her second attempt. “Trying to keep things light.”

Toybox had moved over to grab the toolbag somewhere out of Ilina’s sight. Face down on the table with her toes barely touching the ground. Well, they couldn’t do anything with her clothes still on, so that was what they were gonna do next.

A moment later Ilina could feel the medical shears against her skin. It had been a long time since she’d had to be cut out of her suit back at Carrion. At least these kids were being about as gentle as Morian’s automated assistants — despite Morian’s claims, Ilina was certain those mechanical arms were for factory work and not surgical work. Her shirt and bra came off easily.

“Wait, wait, what size is that?” Ragdoll asked while she fumbled at Ilina’s belt, trying to pull her pants down around her knees.

“Size nothing. Might as well be a binder.”

One of Toybox’s hands forced its way under Ilina from the side, grabbing at her breasts. “It’s not much, but its got tits.”

“Wonder how long its been on hormones,” Marionette laughed and slammed the table with her free hand right next to Ilina’s face. Just to make her jump a bit.

“There’s nothing back here,” Ragdoll said as she prodded around Ilina’s mound.

“Oh, hold up. Lemme check.”

The three of them shuffled positions. This was going to take a bit, wasn’t it? They wouldn’t listen to Ilina if she said anything, so she just stayed quiet. There was a brief moment before Toybox shoved a pair of thick, muscular fingers unceremoniously into her cunt where Ilina wondered how much of this treatment Krystyn had been put through.

“Learned something from our last plaything,” Toybox laughed as she pushed her fingers deep. “Damn, you’re soaked. You really do like getting hit, huh?”

Genius observation! Dumb bitch.

“Surgeons move the prostate so you can hit it from the front,” she explained as she probed and searched and scraped the sharp of her nails around inside Ilina. “They really want to sell you the fantasy of fucking a woman, so they make sure they moan like porn stars.”

“Forgot he loved to cuddle up in your bunk,” Mary sneered.

Toybox shifted slightly and pulled Ilina off her feet and slid her further across the table. Ilina’s feet dangled just off the ground. The corner of that table was going to hurt by the end of this. Ilina shifted her hand just over the lip of the table to try to take some of the pressure off. It didn’t work.

“They break faster if no one’s nice to them!” Toybox jammed a third finger in and pushed as deep as she could, scratching and pushing with more intention. Eventually she relented and withdrew her fingers with a wet sucking sound. That part was a little embarrassing.

“Girl?”

“Yeah,” Toybox trailed off as she rested her hands on Ilina’s hips for a moment. “God damn she’s got a good ass.” A squeeze and a slap. “And these fuckable hips too? Damn, she’s gotta be real popular.”

Ilina snorted as she stifled a laugh. Krystyn said the same thing for different reasons. Beyond her figure, sexual availability was always attractive to someone. Lots of ways to be useful. Useful things get kept around longer.

“Something funny, dyke?” Marionette pulled her head back by the ponytail and worked her pistol between Ilina’s teeth.

Don’t suck on it.

Gods, please don’t do it.

Ilina choked as it was shoved deeper into her both just to really drive it home that she was supposed to be quiet. A muffled moan around the barrel when Mary relented. At least she was able to suppress her instinct.

“Don’t move.”

Stupid order. Just where was she going to go?

The others shuffled off to do something.

She was calm about the situation so far. Krystyn was on the whole rougher with her. The first hit from Toybox had bad form behind it, so even when Krystyn was pulling her punches it hurt more than that. The mechanics were way rougher, especially when the big girls wanted a piece. This was fine.

Nothing broken. Nothing she hadn’t felt before.

“So you knew Carie growing up?” Toybox was quite the conversationalist. The large woman clambered up onto the table, using what sounded like one of the bins from the shelves as a stool, and straddled Ilina’s back.

“Now isn’t the time,” Mary snapped. “Get on with it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Toybox played with something out of Ilina’s sight. It sounded like an air compressor.

Toybox continued to try to make conversation. Thankfully not with Ilina. “I thought you went to a technical school. How’d you both end up pilots?”

“I don’t know how he became a pilot, but I did one year of infantry before passing the exam to get my wings. Infantry sucks, by the way.”

“Infantry?” Toybox laughed. “I was in engineering before I got my wings. Well, we can’t all be perfect little princesses like Rags.”

“I didn’t want to be a pilot.” The third voice was quiet. Someone behind Toybox and Ilina. She didn’t like the excited waver in that one’s voice. “I wanted engineering. Anything but combat, you know?”

“You know they send engineers into combat too, right?” Toybox turned, squishing the air out of Ilina in the process. “Who do you think carves the bodies out of usable machines? Or sets up infrastructure? Everyone but pilots go through basic conditioning.”

The little whirring sound stopped as the compressor came up to pressure.

“Finally!” Toybox reached over and grabbed something. Ilina’s head was being pulled in the other direction by the gun in her mouth so she couldn’t see what it was.

The first stab of pain in her back didn’t elucidate her any. But it kept going. Stab. Stab. Stab. Ilina had tensed up at the start, but relaxed into it as the pain lingered. Stab. Stab. Stab. It was easier not to think when there was pain to dull herself in. Stab. Stab. Stab. She could barely feel the little trails of blood rolling down her side. Stab. Stab. Stab.

“Attagirl, just like that. Don’t move your arm.” Toybox’s voice was kind of soothing. Ilina let out some kind of moan in response, but only got the gun in her mouth jostled a bit.

“That’s a lot of blood,” Ragdoll said quietly from the side. She was moving around a lot, moving in and out of Ilina’s narrow vision. “Is it supposed to bleed like that?”

“Sure isn’t,” Toybox laughed. “I’m going deep, and she’s barely made a peep. Those girls are so lucky to have a little pain-pet like this around.”

What was there to scream about? Ilina figured it was a pneumatic tattoo gun. You could get tattoos removed. Morian would put her on antibiotics to stop an infection caused by going too deep. It would hurt a lot for days and she might be out of commission for a bit. But she could endure it. She could endure a lot of things. The list of things Ilina could endure seemed to stretch on to infinity.

Ragdoll seemed to be anxious, wherever she was. The other two were having fun chatting. Ilina might have been able to take a nap if the edge of the table wasn’t biting into her legs and she didn’t have a loaded gun in her mouth.

A hand grabbed at her ass. It was fine. They were going to what? Shove more fingers in her? Tease her about the slick running down her thighs? Maybe they’d take a swing or two at it.

It was fine.

Just don’t think.

Sink into that dull pain and ignore the blood streaking across your back.

Ignore the taste of metal and grease in your mouth.

Amidst the noise of the compressor and the echoing laughter slowly drilling into her head she barely caught the sound. The sound of steel scraping against leather. A knife being drawn.

“Relax,” Toybox soothed. “If you randomly tense up like that this is going to hurt a lot more than it need to.”

The icy flat of a blade was pressed up against her mound and it made Ilina’s legs jerk suddenly. Toybox pulled the needle from her back and slammed her weight down on the back of Ilina’s neck as Ragdoll started cackling in the back.

Toybox growled at her. “Stop wiggling!”

“Rags, what the fuck are you doing over there?” Mary snapped.

The sharp of the knife dragged across Ilina’s lips slowly, prompting a series of fruitless whimpers around the barrel of the gun. Marionette flicked the safety off in an attempt to keep Ilina quiet. The sounds were involuntary panic! There was nothing she could do. Fingers slid in wetly as the flat of the blade held her open. Her head was spinning from a lack of oxygen as she hyperventilated.

“We don’t have forever here, hurry the fuck up!”

At Mary’s command all the hands holding Ilina pushed down as hard as they could and Toybox got back to work on the tattoo. Ilina was able to calm herself down the tiniest amount when Ragdoll pulled the blade away from her genitals, but the sensation was quickly replaced by the tip of the knife breaking skin on Ilina’s thighs and ass. Blood running down the back and inside of her thighs.

Better than the alternative.

“I’m done.”

“Good. Rags, get over here!”

The energy shifted to something frantic as the three of them shifted positions. They pulled the gun out of her mouth finally and shifted Ilina on the table so they could lay her head sideways.

Ragdoll passed Mary something. The sharp angle of it caught the light. A twist of steel and those color coded handles. She’d seen the same kinds of shears on the belts of the mechanics.

Odd choice for cutting hair.

It’d grow back.

It was fine.

Ilina chewed on her bottom lip. Even if the pain had mostly dulled, the sensation of blood streaking and drying across her body was threatening a bubble of panic and violence she wasn’t going to be able to keep in check if it burst. They said they were on a clock. They were in a hurry. That meant it was almost over.

Marionette stood over her with a dark smile. Her finger dislodged the clip on the shears that kept them closed and they snapped open with force. She moved them this way and that, watching the non-reaction in Ilina’s eyes before setting off a chain reaction of horrific piercing laughter.

A pair of fingers grabbed her ear and just about pulled it off, twisting it forward so the shears could find purchase easier.

Maybe she should send Vigil to go check on Ilina. The girl was in a bad enough mood that if Krystyn showed her face things could get worse. But it felt like it had been too long. Krystyn sat at the table in the little lounge and bounced her leg restlessly, toying at her collar with a finger. Ilina hadn’t moved in a while. Not an inch. That felt wrong too.

Vigil placed a hand on Krystyn’s shoulder and made her jump. “We should go check on her,” Vigil kept her voice low. “Worst case, she yells at us and stamps her feet some.”

“No. The worst case is someone did something to her.”

“Then why are you sitting here doing nothing?” The mutt growled at her.

Doing nothing?

Nothing?

Symeon got a reaction she wanted, judging by the little grin that spread on her face. The more self and agency the woman got the more insufferable she became.

Why the fuck was she sitting here doing nothing? Why did she let Ilina be alone in the first place? Nothing that brat said should have mattered. How many times had Ilina boxed her in with that awful little mouth of hers until she got exactly what she wanted? This wasn’t any different. Even if she didn’t want the attention, she was going to get it.

Krystyn pushed away from the table moved into the hallway with Symeon. No way for Krystyn to get lost when she had a beacon directly to Ilina. It still hadn’t moved by the time they reached the washroom.

There was some water pooled by the sinks where someone shook their hands dry.

Everything felt distant.

The stalls were empty.

Her body felt distant.

The leash hung around the coat hook on the inside of the stall.

“Crater,” Symeon said before breaking off on her own. She was at a sprint by the time she’d gotten out of the washroom. At least one of them had initiative.

Krystyn stepped out holding the leash in her hands, waiting for the flood of accompanying emotion to sweep her away. Anger, obviously. She would blame Ilina for taking it off. Guilt would follow, knowing she should have never left her alone in the first place. The anger would overtake the guilt like it always did. She would lash out at Velia first, and then Manya when she stepped in to defend her. Maybe the swell would be big enough to make her feel brave enough to pick a fight with Symeon, even though this wasn’t her fault in any way.

Crater approached and said something to her. Normally that would have brought Krystyn back to earth. Manning was there too. Symeon had gone to fetch the others. How long had Ilina been left unattended? Maybe she answered that question, maybe she didn’t. Manning was being dismissive, saying she would have security page her. That was a waste of time, but that was probably the point.

There was an argument between Crater and Manning, with polite but stern and pointed language. Manning checked something on her slate as Vigil arrived with the others, and after a few moments of cursing an updated interface led the way.

After leading them astray for a few minutes, Elisabet snatched the slate from the woman and called her incompetent to her face. Who knew Liz had a spine hidden away somewhere? It only took another minute to find the right storeroom with Elisabet at the helm.

The door slid open unceremoniously with a wave of Manning’s hand.

Krystyn’s entire body shook like she’d just been punted through a building by the Scandal when the echoing, pitched laughter erupted from the room. It slowed, and then stopped as Manning and Crater stepped inside.

But it was the first time in Krystyn’s miserable existence she was thankful to hear that back room laughter again because there might have been nothing else in the world that could bring her back to her senses as quickly.

Krystyn shoved Symeon out of the door as she stalked in after the two. Three children in their stupid little shorts staring at their shoes like they’d just been caught stealing out of the cookie jar. On the other side of the room was an unrecognizable bloody heap.

The sensation of being apart by herself was replaced by an annoying atonal droning that blocked out pretty much everything else.

The naked heap was curled in on itself, clutching at the side of its head with both hands. Blood dripping between the fingers. Krystyn grabbed a discarded piece of Ilina’s shredded shirt off the ground and pressed it over the hands.

Ilina shook at the touch and turned her head. One would expect her dead, empty eyes. No, instead they were wild and terrified. White orbs surrounded by smears of blood and matted hair. But she took the shirt and used it to apply pressure to the wound without instruction. Thank the goddess that nearly every pilot on every world was capable of doing basic triage and first aid.

The girl’s pants weren’t completely off, but her legs were covered in blood. As Krystyn tried to pull up the girl’s trousers she saw all the cuts on her ass and down the back of her thighs. To make it hurt to sit in the cockpit of a mech. A reminder of what happened when the blood soaked through your bandages and you got chewed out for the stains on the seat after a sortie. The walk of shame down the pier hearing all the snickers at how wet the back of your pants were.

“Here,” Crater’s voice cut through the droning sound. Krystyn turned to see the woman had taken off her shirt and was offering it her. Standing in her sweat-soaked undershirt. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Manning step forward and backhand Marionette. “Cover her up.”

The blood oozed thick out of Ilina’s back, and the smear where she’d rolled off the table and onto the floor made it hard to see whatever was hiding underneath.

“Here, put this on.” Krystyn urged Ilina’s arms into the oversized sleeves. She didn’t bother doing up the front before scooping Ilina up in her arms. She’d have to take it off once they were on the Gestalt anyways, but it would do till then.

“Caught with your hands in the cookie jar,” Elisabet’s laugh cracked strangely. “Manya, you have the footage?”

“Yes, sir.” Manya said from outside the room.

Symeon Vigil stood beside Krystyn with a familiar face. Expressionless, but not neutral. And those dead hateful eyes. Like the early days of Hekate, when the woman was nothing but a weapon waiting for a target and permission. When the two of them looked each other in the eyes it was like that droning sound in her head amplified. Vigil could hear it too, couldn’t she? The dog looked like the static was overflowing in her skull too.

“Oh, you’ve had your pig hack the cameras? You know you won’t be able to use it as evidence, Liz.”

Elisabet rolled her shoulders. “Oh, please, Bea. There isn’t going to be a tribunal over this.” She jerked forward suddenly over Manning, nearly throwing her into a wall. “All Jesse needs is a hint that you’ve been cooking the books, and you’ll be facing audits for the rest of your life.”

Krystyn couldn’t give less of a fuck about their little games right now. But that was the gap she’d been waiting for. She shouldered past Elisabet and Velia in the doorway. Vigil took one step in front, eyes forward with one hand near her pistol and the other holding her security badge. 

Nobody on the station stopped them, even at the security checkpoint on the way to the docks. Not a soul in Errant doing it for the mission. No one was about to volunteer to be the first body in the morgue.