Chevy saved his work, wiped his helmet display clean, and triggered the speakers. “Miss Kirkland?”
“Yes!”
“Are you all right?”
“We’re fine. Most of us. There’s a few troublema—” A scraping noise, and her voice cut off. Someone putting a hand over the mic? Was she with the antisocials, or were the antisocials making her talk to him?
Chevy waited. She would return, or she wouldn’t.
Miss Redding might have been right. Maybe the antisocials weren’t having it all their way. Even an authoritarian corporation had to have good people in it.
“Never mind that,” Miss Kirkland said. “Everyone in Maths is fine. They’re treating us well.”
They? So Miss Kirkland wasn’t in with the antisocials? Or was she an antisocial and playing him? “Good.”
“Listen. Chevy. President Kendall asked me to talk to
