Dionte and the committee looked toward the main monitor glass. The glass filled with colors and the image of Director Shontio appeared to the Father.
“Father Mihran, Seniors.” From his position behind his own desk aboard the station, Shontio saluted the committee. “We’re picking up some… disturbing signals up here.”
Father Mihran returned the salute. “We count on you to handle exo-atmospheric difficulties, Director Shontio.”
Shontio did not bother to hide his grimace at that reminder. “I don’t believe this is going to remain exo-atmospheric.” Shontio moved his hand to enter some command. The image on the screen split, showing Shontio on one half. The other half showed darkness and stars, and the white gleam of a distant ship.
No, not one ship. Dionte felt her jaw drop in surprise. A half dozen ships glittering in the darkness like swollen stars. The image jumped, showing a fresh half dozen. It jumped again, and yet another ragged cluster of ships, these scorched and scarred from hard use, appeared.
“We’ve got visual confirmation of six hundred and fifty distance-ships approaching from the jump point,” said Shontio. “We’re picking up beacon signals from three hundred more.”
“How can this be happening?” Senior Reve slammed his bony fist against the table. “The Authority swore—”
“These aren’t Authority ships,” Shontio cut him off grimly. “At least, not all of them.”
“What about those that are?” inquired Father Mihran. His voice was calm, but all the lines on his face had deepened.
“They say your time’s up.”
The entire committee froze at those words. Inside, Dionte felt all her urgency melt into victory. Now they would see. Now they would understand how the future was at stake and that the Authority was never going away, no matter how much Pandora gave them.
They would understand that Eden, and the others like him, had to become weapons so that Pandora and humanity could live. She would be able to work openly. She would be able to finish Basante’s tasks for him.
The father laid his hand on the table. “Can you get us a connection to one of the Authority fleets, Director?”
“I thought you’d want one. My people are working on it.” Shontio glanced down at his board. “We’re through.”
Shontio vanished. In his place appeared a woman in an Authority uniform coat. Flight straps held her in a station chair behind a fold-up screen. She looked toward the seniors as if they were an unwelcome distraction.
“I am Captain Kenna Denshyar of the Nova. Who am I addressing?”
“Captain?” For the first time, Father Mihran sounded surprised. “Where’s your commander?”
Annoyance and suspicion narrowed the woman’s eyes. “My commander is assisting with some technical difficulties the fleets are having. I am speaking for the fleet at this time. Who am I addressing?”
Father Mihran bowed his head, acquiescing the necessity of reply. “You are addressing the Senior Committee of Pandora. Why are you approaching our world?”
“Because I have ships in distress and people low on rations,” stated the captain as if it were obvious. “They will need to set down. Yours is the only one of the Called within reach.”
Now Father Mihran drew himself up and spoke with the force of his years and office. “You cannot land your people here. We have an agreement with the Authority.”
Captain Denshyar merely waved his words away. “You may have an agreement with the cities of the Authority, but we are shippers. We are bound to help our own.”
“I don’t believe, Captain—” began Father Mihran again.
The woman shrugged irritably. “You can believe what you like. We’re coming anyway.”
Senior Reve opened his mouth to speak. Father Mihran shook his head sharply, and the senior subsided.
“This is a violation of our agreement with the Authority,” Father Mihran thundered. “You are jeopardizing the Called’s chances of getting a cure for their Diversity Crisis.”
“What cure?” Denshyar spread her hands. “We’ve seen nothing. We have people dying up here and we’ve seen nothing from you.” She gripped her chair arms. “There are even rumors that all your spouting about the cure is some kind of bluff.”
Dionte felt her pulse hammering hard at the base of her throat as she watched the committee. Their expressions ranged from shocked to appalled. She could feel them again. Balance had returned, and with it came triumph, because her family now saw the future, even without her help.
“Your Council of Cities will be notified immediately,” Father Mihran was saying.