“I came to beg your forgiveness,” Lionel pointed out, feeling oddly unsteady. “Leaving me in charge of all this—” he swung a finger in a grand loop, “—is not what I expected.” Or deserved.
Amusement crinkled the tiny lines framing his eyes, but Paul’s look held nothing but resolve. “I’ll admit it’s sudden, but I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have full confidence in you.”
Or if there’d been another in range with his qualifications, which included firsthand knowledge of Web-beings. Collecting himself, Lionel nodded. “I understand.”
“Good. I’ve left instructions for the staff—your staff now—to continue our normal routine. Skalet’ll take care of security, no doubt, but if you need other help, rely on Lambo—”
Lionel frowned. “I thought Lambo was implicated in this Sidereal Pathfinder business.”
“He has an interest,” Paul corrected. “For the moment, we should consider Lambo a resource, hopefully one with useful insights. Es is consulting with him now. Just—don’t go to the Chow to eat. Use the farmhouse kitchen, or get Henri to show you how to order from the hamlet. Don’t worry, Lionel. With any luck,” now the amusement grew to include both eyes and a dimple, “your most demanding role while we’re gone will be interpreting client requests and their answers. Sound familiar?”
It sounded—wonderful. Nevertheless, he had to be honest. “I wish I could come with you—to meet this new species.” Despite its positive meaning to Dokeci, Lionel couldn’t call them Elves. The word was too loaded with Human connotation and its use, by Humans? Unsafe, described it. He’d said as much to Paul.
Who now startled him by putting a friendly hand on his shoulder. “I wish you could, too.”
They’d never been friends before. He’d been Paul’s senior officer, his mentor, on the Rigus’ First Contact Team. Then captain. Then—
Lionel dared return the gesture. Wanted, in this splendid moment, to say something, to express his gratitude, his regret, to—
No need, he realized, relaxing with a smile. They were—
An almost silent WHOOMPH of force dropped them to the floor, debris falling around them. “Stay down!” Paul ordered, but Lionel looked up with him.
They were—outside. Rather, the outside was in, the transparent wall of the office gone, dirt and roots littering the floor, leaves drifting through the air. Before Lionel could do more than tense, four figures cloaked in black mesh darted in, weapons raised.
When Paul lunged for his desk, those weapons fired.