Up Against It - M. J. Locke [104]
“Five more minutes, Mum.”
“No hurry. You can sleep in.”
“No, I need to get going, too.” With a groan, he sat up and took the tea. He sipped sleepily, dangling in the hammock, while Jane gathered her things.
“I’ll call you later,” she said finally.
“You’ve done the best you could. Hold on to that.”
“I will.” I’ll try.
* * *
Her direct reports were waiting. Jane’s stomach was so knotted by this time, and her arteries pumped so full of adrenaline, thinking about her upcoming meeting with the PM, that she couldn’t bear to perch at her desk, as distracting as Sean plainly found it. She needed to move. Better yet, bounce off the walls.
Aaron looked tired and distraught; Tania tired and haggard; Sean just plain tired. Jane said, “I only have a few minutes before my debriefing with the prime minister. Talk fast.” She gestured. “Aaron.”
“The Ogilvie & Sons shipment departed Ilion last night,” he said. “If we want to make a deal with them, today is the day.”
“Anything else?”
He opened his mouth, and closed it. “Perhaps we could talk on the way to your meeting. There’s a … private matter.”
Jane lifted her eyebrows, mystified, but he shook his head. “It’ll have to be after my meeting with the prime minister,” she said. “Tania.”
The young woman shrugged. “No progress on reactivating the sapient’s captive replica. Some crucial component is missing—some set of algorithms or key data structure—and I don’t know what it is.”
“Will it ever be recoverable? When will you know?”
“We don’t have the sapient’s responses to study any longer, so it’s all guesswork. Could be days, months, even years before we make a breakthrough. If ever.” She sighed, and rubbed at her eyes. “We’ll keep working on it, but don’t ride your pony.” The expression came from pony bottles, which were only used for quick jobs in vacuum, or short transfers from one place to another. In other words, don’t hold your breath.
Jane had been expecting this. Still.
“If you could get the PM to allocate us more tech and people resources…” Tania started hopefully. Jane gave her a bleak look. Yeah; right. “I’ll bear that in mind.”
Marty stuck his head in. “You have to head over right now, Chief. You’re going to be late.”
Ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump: her heart pumped more adrenaline into her veins. She was developing quite the headache. “One more minute, thanks. Sean?”
“The kid who lost his arm looks fair to make a complete recovery,” he replied. “No more news on the sabotage.”
She glanced at her heads-up. Two minutes to get there, and she did not dare be late. “All right. Marty, go catch me an elevator. Hustle!”
Aaron took her arm as she passed him. “I really need to talk to you. Privately.”
Jane said. “I just can’t. Come see me after my meeting.”
“But it’s—” He broke off, looking tense.
“Sorry,” she said. “Out of time.”
The protestors camped outside the PM’s offices were fewer in number this morning. As Jane started to launch herself out of the lift, Marty touched her arm. They exchanged a wordless look.
“We’re with you, Chief,” he finally said. A lump formed in her throat. She nodded, managed to squeeze out a thanks.
She left him there, and made her way through the protestors, who quieted as she passed through. They seemed to sense the importance of this moment. All we need now, she thought, is the cup of honeyed milk to pour over my head, and the sacrificial knife. She passed through the antimote veil. Security opened the doors for her, and Jane floated through the PM’s outer chamber, greeting all the secretaries, undersecretaries, assistant subministers, and the like. Everyone was eyeing her.
Don’t be paranoid, Navio. Let events unfold.
It was amazing what you could do in a few hours with sufficient juice and a staff of bug jocks. The nutrient reek made her eyes burn, but little visual evidence remained of the damage Benavidez’s offices must have sustained, other than a few embryonic items of furniture and cubicle walls still growing