Eltoro
Dock D
Formyne was leaning against the ramp rail, arms crossed over her chest, her expression bored. There was a faint shimmer in the air where the ramp touched the dock, which would be the privacy field. Not unexpected.
Delia hefted the crate she was carrying.
“Eltoro? Got them items you wanted.”
Formyne didn’t move.
“Took you long enough,” she said. “Bring it up here.”
Delia stepped onto the ramp, feeling the prickle along her scalp and skin, which was the field taking note of her.
She put the box down next to Formyne’s boots and straightened, feeling the unaccustomed movement in her hair as she straightened.
“So.” Formyne considered her dispassionately. “Tell me the truth, Delia Bell.”
She felt a shiver of nausea, and for a panicked second, thought—and the feeling faded into a specific warm glow of health and well-being. She took a careful breath, and defeated the urge to smile.
Instead, she bent her head, that being the proper respect to a Director, unless she was ordered to look up.
“According to orders, I became part of the work team building the station’s new core array. I was given my own workbench, allowed to use my own tools and material. The mission proceeded as planned, until Light Keeper yos’Phelium, under orders from Seignur Veeoni, destroyed the array.”
“Why destroy the array?”
“Because Seignur Veeoni has another, more efficient system in place. The rack-and-tile rebuild was only ever s’posed to hold the station stable until she could install the upgrade.”
“I want control of this station,” Formyne said, not mincing words. “Deliver it to me.”
Delia shrugged.
“I can’t get in the new core, ’cept I’m with the researcher. She’s the key. You want in, you gotta follow Veeoni inside and re-initialize with yourself as primary director.”
Formyne looked at her, thoughtfully, which wasn’t what she’d necessarily hoped for, then her eyes narrowed.
“What’s that in your hair? Memory beads?”
Gotcha, Delia thought, raising a tentative hand to her head.
“Not memory beads. Not as such. These deflect the field emitted by the new installation. There was a glitch—”
“Is that what drove off fourteen agents, and a Director, and killed Director Ling?”
“That’s it,” Delia said earnestly.
“But nobody else.”
“Proximity matters. I got beads ’cause the materials we’re working with aren’t stable, quite.” She nodded at the box sitting on the ramp. “There’s a set in there for you. That’s all I could risk.”
Formyne looked down at the box, like she was weighing having Delia open it, which she wouldn’t do, not out on the ramp, even with the privacy field up.
Delia shifted her feet slightly. Formyne looked up with a frown.
“The researcher keeps a tight watch,” Delia said, apologetically. “Best I don’t call attention to myself.”
“Prudent,” Director Formyne said. “Go.”
“Yes, Director,” Delia said—and went.