Caldris spoke at last from the small display above the fuel gauge, and the first thing she said was not an order.
“The restricted file,” she said, “was opened before my office.”
Mara had come forward from the cabin to the cockpit’s door. She stood there with her hand on the frame. Sera sat at the controls with her hands on her knees, not touching anything, looking at the display. Eshel stood behind Mara in the narrow passage, his slate held against his chest.
“The station’s restricted file,” Caldris said. “The trials. The staff assigned to them. It was opened years before I was appointed auditor. I inherited it, the way I inherited Sorrel and Whitlow and Lorn. A file in a drawer, sealed, marked as closed.” Her voice was even. Every sentence complete. But it was slower than it had been in the laboratory, as though each sentence had to be lifted into place. “When I was appointed, I was given a list of transfer orders to sign. Staff of restricted projects, reassigned or retired, their records sealed. It is a routine part of an auditor’s appointment. One signs the transfers of the files one inherits.”
She paused.
“I signed the transfer of its staff,” she said, “without reading the names.”
