“Everybody's scared, Arron. This is not something they've ever done before. I've got the t'Therians going berserk just because it was the Getesaph who contacted us first. They think there must be some kind of conspiracy going on between the Getesaph and the Humans.”
Arron rubbed his hands together in silence for a moment. “Are they so scared they might pull out?”
Stunned, Lynn sat there, unable to say anything. Outside, the waves crashed against the cliffs, and crashed again.
“The Getesaph told you that?”
Arron nodded slowly.
“Damn!” The word jerked Lynn to her feet. She paced to the window and pounded her fist against the glass. “Damn! Damn! Damn!”
Behind her back, Arron said nothing.
She whirled around and planted both hands on her comm station. “Claude, open up my station. I want a list of all grievance committee reports about the pacing of the schedule put in by any Getesaph citizens or representatives. Fast display.” She dropped her voice to subvocal. “Record and sort, by method of input, by social hierarchy. Parliament members first.” She could have had Claude do that, of course, but she wanted the information stored with her in case she needed it.
The information scrolled by on the comm-station screen so fast it was nothing but a blur of amber and black. Lynn stared at the blur without blinking. She used the pause between her implant seeing and her implant sorting to try to get a grip on her breathing and her whirl of thoughts. Something was wrong, something was very wrong. If the Getesaph were this concerned, they should have caught it by now.
A chime sounded in her ear, indicating the sort was finished. “Display,” she murmured.
The reports scrolled by her right eye. There was nothing from the Parliament, just a dozen complaints from citizens worried about being separated from family.
“End display.” The words vanished.
“Well,” she lifted her voice, and turned back to Arron, “they haven't exactly inundated us with complaints.”
“It probably has something to do with where you're headquartered.”
Lynn gaped at him. “You can't be serious. It's only one base. We've got plenty of people stationed out in the Hundred Isles.”
“Yes, but you're the head of the relocation.” His gaze darted around the room, as if he were searching for words in the corners. “Look, I've lived here for ten years. I've seen the way it works. Somebody kills somebody else, which leads to retribution, which turns into a skirmish, which turns into a battle, which turns into a war. With the Getesaph and the t'Theria sometimes all it takes is two ships spotting each other on the open sea to start it off.
“Since the plague started, the t'Theria have been winning the fight. They've razed island after island that belongs to the Getesaph. The Getesaph have next to no buffer territory left, and their allies are starting to change their minds, and their sides. Or they were until the Confederation started.” He stood up. “The Getesaph are in danger of being wiped out Lynn, either by the plague or the t'Therians, and they know it.” He let out a long sigh. “Some of them even believe the t'Therians got the Octrel to start the plague.”
Despite herself, Lynn laughed.
“What?” asked Arron, startled.
She waved her hand. “The t'Therians think the Getesaph started the plague, then bombed the Octrel to get rid of the evidence.” A thought struck her. “How come they sent you?”
“They know me, and they know you and I were—”
Lynn held up one hand. “Please don't even try to summarize what you and I were, Arron.”
He shrugged. “They probably figured I have some personal pull.”
Lynn dropped back into her chair. “I can't do this,” she said to the windows and the ocean. “The political situation here is frighteningly unstable. The Queens and their Council are barely speaking to each other. Do you have any idea what they'd say if I told them, ‘Sorry, your blood-and-soul enemies want the schedule changed …’ “
“Probably something very close to what the Sisters-Chosen-to-Lead would say if it was the other way around.”
Lynn sat silent for a moment, then she muttered, “time,” to her implant. In front of her right eye, 2:14:02 flashed. “Okay, it's about nine-thirty in the Hundred Isles, so it's not too early to put a thread through.” She touched the comm station again. “Claude, put through a message to the Sisters-Chosen-to-Lead. Say that Manager Lynn Nussbaumer requests to speak with them.”
She turned back to Arron. “It's not that I don't trust you …”
He waved her words away. “How else could you know I'm giving you the whole picture?” He folded his arms. “Everybody knows I've gone blind in both eyes and native on top of it.”