22: Deva
Deva
Chiron’s office was locked. The doors in Haven’s base had manual rather than screen locks—and no lattice-enabled doors. And while Deva reckoned she could learn to pick these manual locks, she wouldn’t do that to Chiron’s office.
She knocked. She brushed down her top as footsteps approached. There was a sensor above the door, and she looked up at it, nodded in greeting.
There was a click, then the door opened. Chiron stood there in a short-sleeved top and casual trousers, boots on his feet. He’d shaved, had a small cut by his left ear, a patch that he’d missed under his chin. His eyes looked old, and his brow was lined.
His appearance improved when he smiled. “Come in,” he said, stepping aside for her.
He kept his office sparse and practical—a desk, a couple of chair
