Argent looks at me speculatively for a half a minute, his lips set in a tight line. For a few moments I think he’s going to flare back at me—frag, that’s what I’m looking for, isn’t it, pushing him the way I’m doing? But he doesn’t. Eventually he shrugs millimetrically. "Either way," he says calmly, "something’s out of line within Lone Star. Either the corporation’s seriously penetrated, seriously compromised, or ..." His voice trails off reflectively.