Page 83 of Fought and Found

“The wife was dying. Slowly. The doctors couldn’t find a medical cause. Her body was just — shutting down.” I remember writing the entry. The handwriting is shakier than usual. “I didn’t know what bonded-pair separation did to the human half. I didn’t know about any of that, then.” I touch the bite mark at my collar. The skin still tender. “I know now.”

His tail tightens around my ankle. Not arousal. Fear. The specific fear of a bonded male imagining the bond going silent.

“We will find him,” he says. Quiet. Absolute.

Not someone. We.

The notebook is proof of concept. Twelve years of evidence that the work needs doing and nobody is doing it. My instinct found the gaps. His training knows how to fill them. We are, together, the thing I have been writing toward without knowing it.

“Morrison’s already found us a base.”

“Morrison found us a base before we asked for one?”

“Morrison found us a base before we existed. Sprout, show the floor plan.”

The holographic display populates between us. Unit 7, Finder’s Market, Level 2. Two private offices, a client intake area, service corridor access to the docking ring. Morrison has annotated the floor plan with suggestions — comm array placement, security panel locations, client seating arrangements. Morrison has also annotated it with criticisms — “ventilation inadequate, request upgrade before occupancy” and “the previous tenant left stains, unacceptable.”

“I have already assessed the structural vulnerabilities,” Sprout announces. “There are seven. I have also identified optimal placement for the fairy lights, the tea station, and a secondary exit in case of armed incursion. I have prioritized in that order.”

“Fairy lights before armed incursion?”

“Fairy lights are the foundation of any professional operation. I will not be moved on this.”

Xor studies the floor plan. I can see the Tier 1 brain working — sight lines, choke points, defensive positions. He is assessing a small commercial unit in a space station market as though it were a forward operating base. He is also, I notice, checking the distance between the two private offices.

“The offices share a wall.”

“Morrison knows what she’s doing.”

“Morrison is managing us.”

“Morrison is managing us from a location that is — what did she say — ‘operationally advantageous.’ That’s Morrison for ‘I love you, stay close.’” I zoom into the floor plan. The client intake area faces themarket corridor — foot traffic, visibility, the kind of position where people can find you. “It’s perfect. It’s exactly right.”

“The desk in the primary office is substantial,” he says. His voice is neutral. His tail is tightening on my ankle.

“Don’t.”

“I was assessing furniture durability.”

“You were assessing furniture durability for sex purposes.”

“I was assessing furniture durability for operational purposes. The fact that certain operations might occur on the desk is a secondary consideration.”

“We are not christening the office before we have clients.”

“After clients, then.”

“After — Xor, we are planning a business. A legitimate, professional, recovery services business. We cannot christen every surface.”

“The floor plan indicates seven distinct surfaces. I have conducted a preliminary structural assessment.”

“Seven — you’ve been counting surfaces?”

“Eight, if the client seating is reinforced. I would recommend reinforcement.”

“I would like it noted,” Sprout says, “that I will be the Communications Director operating from this office and I have auditory sensors in every room and I am deeply unhappy about the direction of this conversation.”

“Sprout, you monitor everything anyway.”