Besca was silent until they were outside, and the soldiers had formed around them. They mirrored her tension, shuffling hurriedly to keep up with her. The crowd was still outside, behind the barricade, and their cheering took on a confused twinge when it was clear that Quinn was leaving in a hurry. 

“[color=gray]I don’t know,[/color]” Besca muttered, and then realized how poor of an answer that was. “[color=gray]I mean—no, no one’s hurt. Everyone’s okay. I just…I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on.[/color]”

As they made their way onto the elevator, and the hard light barrier sprung back to life, Besca scooped her phone back out. They began to ascend. 

“[color=gray]Hey,[/color]” she snapped. “[color=gray]Get Dahlia up to the briefing room. And get ahold of Caster—double the guards in the medical ward. No, no one moves Tormont. Just the guards. Have the info prepped and I want the room [i]clear[/i] when we arrive, got it? Good.[/color]” 

Stuffing the phone away again, Besca suddenly realized they were out of the public eye again. As if by reflex, she snatched Quinn into a tight hug. “[color=gray]Forget what happened down there,[/color]” she said, burying her face into Quinn’s hair. “[color=gray]I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you, and that’s not gonna change.[/color]”

Eventually she did let go, but for the rest of the ride up, she held Quinn’s hand. The pastel world blurred below, and the evening sky darkened to a cold, black void as they finally docked back in the Aerie. 

The railing lowered. Still holding Quinn’s hand, Besca waved off the approaching crewmen and hurried for the lift. Eyes followed them, as did the confused whispers. The TV screens about the station were mainly tuned to Mona’s show, where the woman was now explaining that something had come up and the interview would be delayed for later. “Everything is fine,” she said. “No one is in danger.”

The briefing room was empty, just as Besca ordered, save for Dahlia, who jolted at the sight of them. 

“[color=skyblue]Hey![/color] she squeaked, and bolted over. She threw her arms around Quinn, then hugged Besca. “[color=skyblue]What’s going on? No one told me anything—why are you back so early?[/color]”

Besca didn’t answer her right away. She went to the center table and checked something, stared for a long time. Eventually she snapped up, and brought an image up on one of the larger screens. 

It was a man, perhaps in his thirties. He had swept black hair and a short beard, which was parted down one cheek by a long scar that trailed up to split his eyebrow as well. There was growth scarring on his neck, trailing down beneath the collar of his dark uniform, beneath which was the tip of a pilot's undersuit. The picture was clearly old, and had been taken of him while he was on the move, half turned away. His eyes were earthen but bright, like gold under a thin layer of dirt. He did not look pleased. 

“[color=gray]Quinn,[/color]” Besca said, staring at the picture. “[color=gray]Do you know this man? Have you ever seen him before?[/color]”