"It is not foolishness to consider the risks. You don't know--"

Locus's voice had begun to lift before he realized it, snapped his mouth shut, and sank back again. Arguing with an AI. This is what it's come to. But it's something. Even anger is better than the numb, is better than despair.

And he can only be truly angry at himself. His lips tighten, fingers squeezing before releasing, again and again, as if the gesture might ease his mind.

But the truth?

"I'm...compromised." Which translates as useless, so far as the Legion will be concerned.