Chapter 7: Doss and the Commissary Ritual

Doss was already at the table when Kael arrived — second row from the far wall, the same position Doss had occupied at every shared meal Kael could remember across three postings and eleven years. He had selected it, Kael had once noted, because it faced the entrance without being directly opposite it. A position that offered visibility without the appearance of watching.

Kael set his tray down across from him. The commissary was at thirty percent capacity, the midday rush already thinning. Someone had fixed the light panel over the eastern servery; it no longer flickered at irregular intervals the way it had for the previous two weeks. Kael noticed this. He sat.

"You look pale," Doss said. He said it without looking up from his tray.