We came down from the parking deck and circled wide, approaching the gates from the south, where a steady trickle of foot traffic was working its way in.
Zero had been clear that walking up like we owned the place was the wrong move, and walking up looking too furtive was an even worse one.
The right move was to look boring, which she pointed out was, frankly, my natural state.
I pretended that wasn't a compliment.
The gate guards were two men in patched armor that looked like it had been welded together from kitchen appliances, cradling rifles that I recognized as old Earth make from the platform shape.
They glanced at us, glanced at Zero's face, and then very pointedly did not glance at Zero's face again, like men who wanted to keep their teeth glanced at women who could clearly hurt them. We walked past without a word.
I was trying to take in everything at once, which is harder than it sounds.
