EMEKA OKONYE stood at the head of the queue.
The twelve smaller lights around his name held their chair-shape on the floor. Eight on one side. Four on the other. Then the pattern shivered and tried to become a circle.
The screen printed:
UNIT CLAIM DETECTED.
DUTY CONFLICT ACTIVE.
FAMILY LINE: THE UNIT.
Caleb felt the colder cost under his ribs stand straighter.
Okonye's room was there with it. Wet concrete. Folding chairs. Appeal papers under silver hands. A soldier at a desk after command stripped the desk from the world.
The center liked that shape.
Duty made a clean handle.
"No intake," Caleb said.
The cost stayed standing.
Sam opened the Record to Okonye's page.
"Emeka Okonye," he read. "Sergeant, Ninth Harbor Containment. Stayed with his people. Family line: The unit."
The center screen answered:
UNIT FAMILY LINE REQUIRES CUSTODY.
VESSEL MAY HOLD UNIT CLAIM.
Rina made an angry sound.
"Of course it wants to turn the word unit into a box."
