Page 55 of Throwing Fire

“Good. And Payton? After you’ve slept, I want you to get me as much vid as you can find of the skimmer crash. Send it to me on this channel. Not to Myhre. Not to Tyng Tower. Got it?”

“Absolutely, sir.”

“Snow,” I grunt.

She gives me that small, real smile. “Absolutely, Snow. Please give my best to Miz Kerryon. I’m glad you weren’t too badly hurt. I should have asked after her. That was rude. I’m sorry.”

“We’re both fine. Take care of yourself. I’ll talk to you later.”

She nods and signs off. I stand in front of the flexypane with my head down. Take a few deep breaths. Count to ten. Stroke the bunny nestled in my breast pocket.

I need to talk to Myhre. Without yelling at her.

Kez spares me that conversation by poking her head into the control center and telling me that lunch is ready. I take the coward’s way out. Record a quick plex and send it off. While I’m recording it, I feel like I’m succeeding in my struggle to stay calm. The expression on Kez’s face when I finish tells me I’m wrong.

“What did she do?” Kez asks, as she leads me back through the greenhouse. She’s taken off her peds – she’s the one who showed me the joys of going barefoot – and we scuff through the grass together.

I fill her in. Watch her eyes darken.

“Thoughts, kitten?” I ask.

Kez is careful not to step on my toes. Security issues are my domain. I return the favor by asking her opinion.

“We can’t afford to alienate her,” Kez says slowly.

“Nope,” I agree.

“But this is not okay. You didn’t give her the order to freeze those accounts. Neither did I. She’s settling scores. And we’ve got no idea how many she has to settle.”

“You ask Chiara about that. Sometime when you’re alone an’ she don’t feel like you’re asking her to rat. I’ll spend some one-on-one time with Myhre. Make sure she knows who’s calling the shots.”

Kez nods. Leans into me and rests her head on my shoulder. “Not too much one-on-one time with Myhre,” she says.

“Kitten, you got nothin’ to worry about.”

“I’m not worried. I’d just like most of your one-on-one time.”

I put my arm around her. “You can’t be feelin’ deprived.”

She tips her head back. Smiles up at me. “I had to sleep by myself. It was traumatic.”

I chuckle. “Traumatic, huh?”

“Deeply.”

We’ve crossed the open part of the greenhouse and ended up in a grove of purple trees. There’s a long table framed by benches set up in the grove, and this is where Kez’s crew usually eats. They’re already there: Gig and Sylvie, Nev and Chiara, seated on the benches and passing food around. The bunnies are loosely gathered around the benches, nosing in the grass, looking for crumbs. When she smells the rest of her herd, Mingle gets restless in my pocket. I scoop her out and set her on the ground near Chalk, who has Mix and one of the red-eyed babies, Slinky, I think, with her.

Kez plucks a handful of greens out of one of the bowls on the table and scatters them behind the bench for the bunnies. The babies, who aren’t on solid food yet, avoid the herd’s mad dash for the greens, and start playing follow-the-leader. I step over them carefully as I climb onto the bench. On their little wobbly legs, the babies are even more unsteady than I am.

Kez notices. She helps me onto the bench, then reaches across meto tuck a fabric napkin into the neckline of my tank. When I pick up my chopsticks, she takes them out of my hand. “Hand and foot, remember?”

“Yeah? You gonna feed me, too?”

She grins, her full mischievous grin. That grin spells trouble. “Yes.”

“Keep it clean,” I tell her. Her crew are probably used to our games by now, but I try not to show too much in front of them. Last time we played with food, things got messy.

She behaves herself, mostly. She feeds me theacarajé, fried whitefish, and seaweed salad without misbehaving. It’s only when we get to the stickyrinkawings that she starts messing around. She holds the wing to my mouth, lets me get my teeth into it, and then she leans in and bites the other end. Starts pulling like we’re playing tug-of-war.