"Hey, you alive in there?" Gunner's voice rattled the cell bars. "Depends," Alyssa said, mouth on a nutrient vial. "Do you have coffee or just small talk?" "Man, don't be like that." Gunner banged the palm-sized window. "Name's Gunner Bell. Cell's assigned to echo block six. You a transfer or one of the black-ID ghosts?" "You tell me." She swallowed. The liquid burned like fuel and warmed her from the inside. "I'm Alyssa Mustafa." Gunner whistled. "That's a proper name. You from the Academy? Or one of those draft sweeps?" "I'm not on any roster I can see." She set the empty vial on the concrete lip and watched him. "Why do you care?" "Because you woke up in a place where care equals survival." He leaned closer, all chattery teeth and nervous elbows. "Listen, I can— I can get you a blanket, find out your status. You got a family? A sponsor? Anyone in High Command?" "I have a body. That counts for something." She tilted her head and let her sight run over him. Lines hovered like faint scratches across his aura. She counted three and a half clean threads, then a thicker sweep near his left shoulder. "You're bluffing about the blanket." Gunner blinked. "What?" "You smell like synth-sweat and cheap coffee. You're not one of them. You were probably stopped near Dock Nine. You were carrying a packet of spice in your boot. You