Professional, Fred murmured in her head. They were searching for something. This wasn’t vandalism.
No. It wasn’t.
A boot scuffed against the floor behind her. She spun, hand going to her blade?—
An older Latharian male stood in the corridor, grey threading through his dark hair, and his expression caught somewhere between suspicion and alarm. He was shorter than Raaze and softer around the middle. The kind of man who’d spent decades pushing data instead of weights.
“What are you doing in the healer’s quarters?” He demanded. “This section is restricted.”
Raaze stepped forward, positioning himself between Cait and the newcomer. His whole demeanor shifted—shoulders back, chin up, that lazy arrogance hardening into something official.
“Investigation team from Lathar Prime.” His voice had gone clipped. Formal. “We’re following up on irregularities in the healer’s case files.”
The neighbor’s eyes narrowed, sliding past Raaze to Cait.
“Why is there a human here?”
Raaze didn’t miss a beat. “She is a specialist consultant secondment from the human home planet. Her credentials are classified.”
The neighbor studied her for a long moment. She held his gaze, keeping her expression neutral, and tried to look like someone whose credentials might be classified. Finally, something in his posture eased.
“I didn’t realize the investigation was still active.”
“It’s ongoing.” Raaze’s tone brooked no argument. “What happened to the healer? In your own words, please.”
“Shuttle malfunction.” The neighbor shook his head. “Three weeks ago. Terrible thing. The craft depressurized before anyone could respond.”
She watched Raaze’s jaw tighten, just a fraction, and he nodded. “Was there an inquiry into events leading to his death?”
“Standard procedure. Mechanical failure, they said.” The neighbor shrugged. “Healer V’Teth was old. His shuttle was older.”
Raaze nodded slowly. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
The neighbor lingered another moment, curiosity warring with the instinct not to involve himself further. Self-preservation won out in the end, and he retreated down the corridor without another word, the door sliding shut behind him.
Raaze stood motionless, staring at the wreckage of the room.
“He’s dead,” he murmured, his expression blank.
The words hung in the air between them. She watched his face, searching for some crack in that careful mask. There wasn’t one. Just… nothing. Like someone had reached inside and switched off the lights.
“We need to leave.” His voice was flat. “Now.”
“Raaze—”
“Now.” He grabbed her arm, not roughly but with an urgency that made her stomach drop. “Think about it. The healer who diagnosed me is dead. His quarters are ransacked. If someone killed him to cover the trail?—”
“Then whoever did it is still active.”
“Yeah, and they’ll have eyes on this place.” His jaw was tight. “Coming here was the obvious move for anyone trying to prove the diagnosis was wrong. Which means we just walked into exactly the place someone might be watching.”
Oh, fudge.
He’s right, Fred murmured through her implant. You two need to get out of there, now!
She scanned the wrecked room one more time, her gaze catching on a desk shoved against the far wall. Something was wedged beneath it. A rectangular shape, half-buried under scattered debris.
“Wait.”
