“That will answer our concerns,” said Rchilthen Ishth.
“I am glad.” Lynn met both their gazes. “Because, you understand, even this much should be properly negotiated through the Confederation and with my superiors, but I think we can let it slide through, if it goes smoothly.”
“We will be ready as soon as you are,” said Byvant. “The Parliament chose the leaders of our preparatory team yesterday evening.” She looked straight at Arron again. “The tvkesh chvaniff of the Dayisen Rual, Lareet and Umat.”
“That will be a great honor for my hosts,” said Arron.
“We understand they were quite pleased,” said Byvant stiffly. She turned her attention back to Lynn. “We thank you for your concern and attention, Manager Lynn. If we have any further concerns, we will address them through the proper channels.”
“You have my thanks,” said Lynn, and she meant it. “I am going to terminate this connection now.”
They exchanged farewells and Lynn touched the comm station to cut the thread. The screen faded to black, and Lynn turned to Arron.
“Well, what did you think of that?”
Arron puffed out his cheeks. “I think something's wrong over there.”
Lynn shook her head and got up out of her chair. “Oh, you noticed, did you?” She stretched her arms over her head and let them swing down. “Any guesses on what it is?”
“None.” He stopped and stared into space. “And they might not have any either.”
“What?”
Arron focused his eyes on her again. “They said it, you said it. There's no precedent for what they're doing. It's completely unlike anything in history. There are no examples, no traditions, nothing to draw on, and nothing to win except everybody's lives. They are making this up as they go along. It's getting to them.”
Lynn frowned. “So, we're dealing with alien generalized anxiety?”
Arron nodded, straight-faced, and Lynn realized he was serious. She forced herself to think about what he had just said. It made some sense. Wearied and decimated by plague and war, forced to depend on aliens and unable to draw on anything in history, somebody—a lot of somebodies—could easily fall under a nameless dread and strike out at anything that presented itself as a target.
“All right,” she said slowly. “We'll need to look at that. See if we can reduce the worry. We've done everything we can think of to provide information about what's going on …” She sucked on her lower lip.
Arron laughed. “Lynn, you are the only person I know who believes the answer to every philosophical problem is good management.”
She grinned. “It's what they pay me for.”
“I guess.” Arron tapped his fingers on the back of the guest chair. He took a deep breath. “Lynn, if I had proof you were hurting the Families by being here, what would you do?”
Lynn stayed where she was for a few breaths. “Do you?”
Arron shifted his weight. “Maybe.”
“What kind?”
He actually studied her. Lynn felt her hands curl into fists. “Arron, what do you think you're doing?”
“I don't know.” He looked away. “Screwing up, I think. Look, I'd better get out of here. Cabal … the guy who brought me out here … He's in a hurry to get back. I need to get back home … to the Hundred Isles, too, so I can pack.”
Lynn forced her hands open. “Arron, we are not on opposite sides here. I've got Dedelphi friends, too, you know. I want this to work.”
“Exactly.” He stabbed a finger toward her. “You want this to work. You want to save the world on your terms.” His face took on an almost helpless expression. “You always did.” He turned away, opened the door, and walked out.
Lynn stared after him. She wanted to demand to know what was wrong, what had pushed him so far away that he wouldn't even talk to her about what frightened him. But all she did was sit there.
What just happened here? She silently asked the ocean outside her windows.
“Well, whatever it was”—she sighed—”I'd better tell Keale and the Marines we've got more than one problem piled on our little plates.”
As darkness swallowed up movement on the comm-station screen, Byvant stood up and stalked over to the broad desk with its stacks of paper and noters.
“Perhaps we should issue a progress report.” Her right ear laid itself against her scalp. “To the Prime Committee from the Sisters-Chosen-to-Lead. This day we did our best to confound the Human representative of Bioverse, Inc. into believing that we were the ones who sent Scholar Arron to her with a request to change the relocation schedule.”