Free Persona by Genevieve Valentine

reason he does so well.”
    It was a professional assessment. No lingering feelings that could be mined for a relationship story. Interesting. “So how did the Chordata people first reach you?”
    She looked up sharply. Something in it must have sounded too much like a reporter, or too eager—her expression was the face she’d given Magnus, not looking at him so much as watching him.
    He felt, weirdly, like he was slipping away from something important.
    Then there was a knock at the door, and the guy with the knife (Nattereri, he remembered) came in, holding a pizza box and water bottles.
    â€œDon’t suppose you have a nice red wine somewhere,” Daniel tried.
    Nattereri didn’t even spare him a glance as he set it all down and looked at Suyana, slouched against the wall.
    â€œDo you need the medic?”
    â€œNo, thank you. I’ll get him to check on me soon.” She frowned. “Is everything all right?”
    Nattereri looked over at Daniel, which meant bad news that shouldn’t be shared with strangers. Daniel bristled—who’d gotten her out of gunfire and broken her out of the hospital?—but maybe it was the sort of moral high ground he should avoid.
    â€œEat first,” Nattereri said. “There’s time later.”
    â€œThere’s time now.”
    Daniel didn’t know how she could say that. He was so hungry the smell of pizza was making him dizzy, and without meaning to, he said, “You sure?”
    Her eyes slid to him without her head moving.
    â€œGive us ten minutes,” she said to Nattereri.
    When the door was closed again, she sat up and looked at Daniel full-on. “You might not want to question me again while we’re here.”
    It felt like she’d just advanced on him. He squared his shoulders. “Is that an order?”
    She slid off the bed far enough to reach the pizza and put it on the bed between them. “When you know the stakes, you can give the orders.”
    He thought about what she’d been through. He thought how odd and awful it was, that this was advice from experience. Whatever bad news was coming over the transom, he didn’t want to ask what she suspected. (He worried he’d even survive long enough to find out.)
    Instead he said, “All right,” and handed her the first slice.
    They ate in silence, their eyes on the door, Daniel’s mind working in tight circles about whatever would be coming down on them next.
    Ã—  ×  ×  ×  ×  ×  ×
    Two slices later, she said, “I’m ready,” like she was talking to herself. As she stood, she reached for her hair with both hands—flinched, hissed.
    Oh shit, he thought, her arm.
    He reached for her braid. “I can help.”
    â€œI have it,” she said through gritted teeth.
    After a second, he dropped his hands.
    She twisted it into a black rope one-handed and coiled it into a loose knot at her neck. Apparently she wanted to look elegant before the worst happened. Diplomat habits.
    Daniel stood and brushed pizza crumbs off his coat. He debated taking it off—he’d look more as if he belonged—but there was something to be said for being ready to bolt if things turned sour.
    Before he could make up his mind, she was pulling the door open and walking out as smoothly as she could for someone with only one good leg.
    After a moment’s hesitation, he followed. This was a story, and he couldn’t let second-guessing get in his way.
    (He thought how perfect her profile would look just like this, determined and grim, on the front page of the paper, and wished for his camera before he could help himself.)
    Nattereri had taken up a new post. He was sitting in the hall, facing the door, his knife drawn.
    Suyana was already standing beside one of the computer desks with Onca, looking over Ocyale the medic’s shoulder at his screen—audio editing, it