Chapter 5 · Off the Death List

"Tell me the purge date again, and this time don't lie." Selena's pistol pressed under Kane's jaw hard enough to tilt his head back.

He kept his hands flat on the metal table. The restraint band around his left wrist blinked red. One twitch, one wrong word, and it would dump enough current into his muscles to drop him.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Selena leaned closer. Her black command jacket brushed his knuckles. She smelled like gun oil, cold coffee, and the sharp soap used in military barracks. Her eyes stayed on his face, hunting for the smallest crack.

"That's your third answer." She pushed the muzzle higher. "The first was that you didn't know my name. The second was that you didn't know where you were. Now you're pretending you don't know what a purge is. Pick a lie and commit to it."

"Maybe your interrogation skills need work."

Her thumb pulled the hammer back.

Kane's pulse jumped. His face didn't.

"Maybe my patience does," she said. "You were found inside a sealed maintenance shaft with a military access key in your pocket. The key belongs to a dead pilot. The pilot died six months ago. You have no records, no assigned unit, and no reason to be inside Bastion Nine."

"Sounds like you should call security."

"I am security."

"Then you're doing a terrible job."

Selena's mouth tightened. Not anger. Control. That was worse.

She grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him out of the chair. His knees struck the table. The restraint band snapped tight as she drove him backward into the wall.

The pistol stayed under his jaw.

"You have one hour before Commander Victor locks down this sector," she said. "When he does, you'll be marked as an infiltrator. They'll strip you for information, then throw what's left over the east wall."

Kane looked at the gun, then at her.

"You seem very invested in keeping me alive."

"I'm invested in finding out who sent you. Don't confuse the two."

"You could just ask nicely."

"I did. You wasted it."

The wall pressed cold through his shirt. Selena's forearm pinned his chest. She was close enough for him to feel the heat from her skin, but her grip never shook. Three years ago, he had watched that same hand sign the order that sent him into the death run.

He remembered her voice over the cockpit channel.

Pilot Kane, advance and hold the line.

Then the blast.

Then nothing.

Except it hadn't been nothing. He had opened his eyes three years earlier, with a dead man's access key in his pocket and every future death trapped behind his teeth.

Selena shoved the memory down with the pistol.

"Who gave you the purge date?"

"What purge date?"

"March seventeenth."

Kane's eyes flicked to hers before he could stop them.

Selena saw it.

Her grip changed. The pistol slid from beneath his jaw to the side of his throat.

"There it is," she whispered. "You know the date."

"I know a lot of dates. Birthdays. Paydays. The day this room gets repainted."

"March seventeenth isn't on any public schedule."

"Then maybe I'm bad at calendars."

She pressed the muzzle into his skin. "On March seventeenth, the lower districts lose power. The outer gates open for exactly ninety seconds. Someone inside the bastion disables the defense grid. By dawn, half the city is dead."

Kane said nothing.

Selena watched his silence turn into evidence.

"You knew," she said.

"You just told me."

"I told you the date. You knew the rest."

"Maybe I read a report."

"There is no report."

"Then your intelligence division is worse than your interrogation skills."

Her free hand closed around his wrist. Her fingers were warm. Strong. She twisted until pain shot up his arm.

"Try again."

"Get your hand off me."

"Make me."

The words landed between them, sharp and reckless.

For half a second, neither moved.

Kane felt her breath against his cheek. Selena's gaze dropped to his mouth, then snapped back to his eyes like she hated that it had happened. Her grip tightened instead.

He smiled without humor.

"Careful, Commander. Someone might think you enjoy this."

"Someone might think you have a death wish."

"I've had one for a while."

"Who are you?"

"Kane Vey. Pilot."

"There is no Kane Vey in the pilot registry."

"There was."

"When?"

"Before your registry got cleaned up."

Selena's eyes narrowed. "Who cleaned it?"

That question mattered. Too much.

Victor had erased every pilot who died during the first purge. Kane remembered the list. He remembered Victor standing beside the command table, calling it necessary. He remembered Selena saying nothing while Kane's name disappeared from the system.

He couldn't say Victor. Not yet.

"You want my name? Fine. You have it. You want my history? Buy me dinner."

She slammed his wrist against the wall.

"You don't get jokes in my command room."

"Then stop asking questions with obvious answers."

Selena released him so fast his shoulder pulled. She stepped back and raised the pistol to his forehead.

The red light on his restraint band blinked faster.

"Last chance," she said. "Who told you about March seventeenth?"

Kane stared down the barrel.

The room had one door. Two cameras. One ventilation grate above the light panel. Selena's sidearm was military issue, low charge, six rounds. Her left boot carried a knife. Her right hand had a thin scar across the thumb.

He knew the room because he had died in it once.

Not here. Two floors below. Victor had questioned him there before signing his transfer to the front line.

Selena waited.

"You don't have to shoot me," Kane said.

"I know."

"You need me."

"I need answers."

"No. You need a pilot."

Her expression changed by one fraction. Her eyes moved toward the sealed door.

Kane caught it.

"The synchronization trials failed again," he said.

Selena's pistol didn't move, but the air around her did.

"How many?" Kane asked. "Four pilots? Five?"

"You weren't briefed on the trials."

"I don't need a briefing. The black-level fighter rejects anyone who can't match its neural load. You lost your best pilot last night. The replacement lasted seventeen seconds."

Selena went still.

Kane's mouth dried.

That was too much. He had seen the report three years ago. He had watched the fighter tear through two hangars after the wrong pilot tried to force a launch.

Selena stepped forward again.

"Who gave you that information?"

"You did."

"I haven't spoken about the fighter."

"Not today."

The pistol touched his forehead.

"What did you say?"

Kane held her stare. He had slipped. Now he needed to turn the mistake into a weapon.

"You heard me."

"Say it again."

"Your next order will be to move me to the black-level hangar."