Jacques says, “Add to the sins of my administration the killing of Walter Tanmola. He was a good guy.”
“He had an infection, Mr. Mayor. You didn’t kill him,” says Femi. “Either that or your powers extend a considerable amount further than I gave you credit for.”
“Oh, you give me credit?”
Femi waves her hands dismissively. “What do you want done with the document he wrote and the voice recordings?”
“Is it out of our network?”
“It was never on it. He worked offline. Nobody else has it.”
“What’s it called?”
“Notes on the Insurrection.” Femi says this with fake fanfare.
Jack rubs his temples. “That’s terrible. Store it in a vault somewhere. If we win this war we’ll get back to it. Where’s Lora?”
“In her room. She said she is in mourning.”
“For how long?”
“I didn’t ask. She’s hostile to me.”
“So is everybody else. You’re not nice, Femi.”
“I make up for it in other ways. What are we doing?”
There is a hologram of Rosewater in front of them, updated live from arthrodrones sending data back constantly. The dome occupies its normal place in the centre, but diminished in dominion because of the perforations. The Beynon is a couple of miles to its west and arrows indicate the travel of the cherubim from plant to dome in a sustained action. The borders hold still with wobbles here and there. Civil unrest flickers in and out as transient green clouds.
“The way I see it, we need to kill the Beynon, then we need to heal Wormwood. We’re holding against the Nigerians, so that can stay as is for now.”
“Can we concentrate fire on the Beynon?”
“It’s taking all we have to keep the invaders at bay. When we have fired at it or tried to burn it, it doesn’t even acknowledge us as a threat. Dr. Bodard is exhausted, and can’t find a weakness. This is your area, Femi; tell me how to deploy our assets.”
“Send Kaaro into the dome,” she says. “Kaaro and Bodard. He’s a coward… no, really, despite the people he killed, he won’t want to go, but Aminat obeys orders, and I’ll ask her to be their guide. Where she goes, Kaaro follows. His job will be to find Anthony, the Wormwood human proxy, and Bodard can help heal the dome or find a weakness for the Beynon.”
“Is it dangerous in there?”
“Kaaro has been there before.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“I don’t know. The attacks could have any kind of effects on the… disposition of the alien. Plus the place has always swarmed with floaters, droppers, lanterns and renegade homunculi. The alien usually kept them docile. I’m not sure what the situation will be right now.”
“Can’t Kaaro just query the xenosphere?”
“Ordinarily, yes, but he said the dome now blocks anything from coming out, and the Beynon has a distortion field. Inside, the situation might be different.”
“Why does it feel like I’m sending these people to die?”
“Because this is grasping at straws and there are too many unknowns. Sir.”
He doesn’t like it. He particularly hates sending Bodard, their only competent xenobiologist, into harm’s way. Kaaro he doesn’t give a fuck about and borderline despises, but both the sensitive and his paramour have had S45 training. Most of his soldiers have only had the slapdash courses that Dahun runs. He wants the properly trained personnel ready for war. But no drones can get into the dome, even through the holes, and that giant fucking plant has resisted everything.
“I’m not risking Dr. Bodard. Send Kaaro and Aminat. Kit them out properly. I want a live feed and as much telemetry as possible so that the good doctor can work on it from here.”
Her phone is up before he has finished his sentence.
“Where’s Hannah?” Jack asks the guard.
“She went out, sir.”
“Does she have a meeting?” Jack checks the time.
“She went outside the bunker, sir.”
“Haba! When? Why?”
“I don’t know, but she had her bodyguard detail with her.”
Jack lifts his right crutch and points it at the guard. “So did I.”
He wants to charge into the apartment, but he can’t because of his crutches. He has fallen a number of times since the amputation, undignified and not a look he wants to repeat in public. As soon as he is inside, he says, “privacy” and a number of shields come down. Then he phones Hannah, full 3D.
“Yes, baby?” says Hannah. Her hair is ruffling in the wind, and she is either in a top-down jeep or has a window open.
“Where are you?”
“Out. I’m going to help the less fortunate.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means there are starving people out here, and reanimates are being killed for target practice by the criminals you put in charge. Nobody thinks they are worth anything or important enough to save. I’m going to do what I can.”
“Hannah, it’s dangerous.”
“I know, which means it’s dangerous for all the citizens. I should not be ensconced in a tower making sympathetic noises. We should share the danger of the war.”
“Haven’t I shared enough of the danger for our family?” His missing leg itches.
“That’s a craven use of emotional blackmail, Jack. Clearly, you need discipline. We will sort this out when I get back. Goodbye.”
The plasma fizzes out.
Hannah was never a person Jack would be able to control.