“Yes, I understand,” McGregor said, waving his forearm near the bars, the chip in his sleeve unlocking and powering down a tiny door in the bars. “I must scan the passes issued to you. I know, bureaucracy, bureaucracy... But it’s simply a matter of security, you see, in order to avoid certain -” he paused, as if considering a word, “mishaps.” His smiling eyes stayed on Lao and H8, but he directed his voice to the side, towards the offices. “Liuetenant: Tell them what our motto is here,” he said, holding his free hand palm up just outside the open porthole.