More pointless arguments. They were talking in circles.
Headquarters was built to be virtually impenetrable, the last
fortress of its kind. No Ranger had ever expected to be
trying to break into it.
Elbows on the table, Up put his head in his hands and
rubbed his temples. They were getting nowhere. He found
himself wondering what Taz would have to say about the
situation. She would likely cut through the pragmatic
bullshit and get right to the point, help them find some
brilliant, simple solution they were overlooking.
She couldn’t though, because she was still confined to
quarters. A minimum of twenty-four hours had to pass
before Up could release her, according to G.L.E.E.
regulations, and he just couldn’t bend the rules for her this
time. There were already too many people asking questions
about their relationship. If the wrong people thought that
Up was treating Taz differently from any of his other
crewmen, she could find herself reassigned to another ship,
and he needed her on the Cazadora, on his team – with
him.
She hadn’t been real pleased when he told her to stay
put.
The arguing faltered. Up raised his head as the door
opened and a large, imposing figure in black entered the
room.
“Making any progress, gentlemen?”
Taz stared at the ceiling of her quarters, watching it
move back and forth as she pulled herself up into a crunch
and down again, her hands resting behind her head, her rep
count rounding into the three hundreds. What she’d really
like was a punching bag – maybe with Up’s face on it. Like
anyone was really going to care if he followed the rules at a
time like this, when the biggest development in the history