But he wouldn’t give Parsons the satisfaction of flinching. Or of appearing as anything but supremely confident. No one else had been called into see Parsons, so he couldn’t ask the other guys what was going on. When Parsons went on a tear, the Perseid Six liked to be unified. Parsons stared back, impassive and blank. He wasn’t angry, which should have been good. But he was always angry, so it wasn’t good. Basically, where Parsons was concerned, there was no good. “I should tell you right off,” Parsons started, the usual dislike in his voice, “that I don’t approve of this decision.” Kit kept silent. He didn’t even know what decision Parsons meant, but he wasn’t going to admit that. United front. No cracks. And a decision this close to launch? Kit’s muscles tensed, as if his chair were shifting. Parsons steepled his fingers and tapped them together. Still not angry—more pensive. And maybe worried? What the hell was going on? And was Parsons ever going to say it?
