Captain Vorpatril's Alliance

Chapter Twenty-Three

Tej tore her gaze from the gray circle of heaven, or at least Barrayaran sky, now visible through the roof of the lab and being crossed by banking military grav vehicles. She set down the box of those daggers Ivan Xav was so taken with and hurried to his side in time to interrupt the start of some What took you so long? exchange with Byerly.

“Have you seen Rish and Jet on your end?” she demanded.

Byerly jerked around to her. “No. They’re not safe with you? Star hoped they might be.”

Star is rescued? That’s one…Tej shook her head. “They were in the tunnels when the old bomb went off.” Tej pointed toward their entry. “We haven’t seen them since. We were trapped on this end by the rising water, and they—we don’t know.”

“I’ve only seen Star,” said By. “She’s in a state, or she was—she’s waiting now above with, er, everybody.” He freed himself from his harness and hurried to the aperture.

The second soldier, now kneeling by the tunnel door and laying out equipment, flung out a stern hand and said, “Wait, please, sir.” He picked up and aimed a remote probe: “Go, Rover!” The little grav device blinked on a brilliant headlight and flew away into the shadows. The soldier became intent upon his control panel.

Ivan Xav took Byerly by the shoulder and pulled him back. “Corps of Engineers,” he said, mystically. “You just have to get out of their way.”

“But,” By sputtered, “if she’s still in, uh, if they’re in there—”

“Then we’ll find out in a couple of minutes, without having to send a second rescue team to rescue the first. Lady ghem Estif thinks the tunnels are very unstable, after the explosion and the immersion.”

By stood and jittered a moment, then wheeled about and made a quick head-count of people in the chamber. He had to start over at least once, both lips and fingers moving. “Then all the Arquas—and you, Ivan—are accounted for except Rish and Jet? And who are the three spares?”

Imola and his brace of goons were just waking up, groggy and disoriented.

“Ser Vigo Imola,” Tej put in, “a very bad man whom ImpSec should arrest at once, and his two unfortunate employees. At least, I’d think he was a bad boss. I bet they will, too. And that’s not his real name.”

“Oh. Good. We were looking for him.”

By went to consult briefly with the first soldier, who had gathered all the Arquas together and was inquiring in a not-unfriendly military bellow, “All right, to start with, are there any medical emergencies here…?”

When By came back, Ivan Xav asked, “So, while we’ve been sitting around in the treasury all night contemplating the true nature of wealth, what have you been doing?”

“Going mad in white linen, pretty much. By midnight, when I realized that all my surveillance subjects, plus you, had simultaneously vanished, I knew something was up. When the first garbled news came through of someone trying to incompetently bomb ImpSec, I didn’t connect it instantly. Because, you know, I’d thought Simon and Shiv had a pretty friendly rivalry going, till then. Also, I thought Shiv would have done a better job.”

“Probably,” allowed Ivan Xav.

“It had started when an ImpSec ground patrol went to check out some excess energy signals coming from that garage on the next block, and they surprised a quartet of thugs dragging an unconscious woman into a van. Municipal Guard work, but, you know, Allegre’s boys don’t mind a little live-fire practice on a dull night. Plus—one told me later—there was a chance she might be grateful. They took down two of the thugs, but the other two disappeared into your tunnel, and the ImpSec patrol chased them in. There was an exchange of stunner fire—”

“And then the surprise,” said Ivan Xav. “So ImpSec set off the bomb!”

“It would be hard to calculate whose fire did it,” said By, a bit primly, “the scene of the crime being presently buried under some ungodly number of tons of mud. But someone’s energy beam apparently intersected the old explosive. At this point, the flare went up big-time. One of the patrollers and one of the thugs had to be dug out—”

“Was anyone seriously hurt?” Tej interrupted.

“Both, but not critically. It really wasn’t at all clear what was going on for a couple of hours, till the medics finally got Star waked up. Then, of course, all hell broke loose. Especially after some fool—somebody finally thought to call and wake up your mother and Simon.”

“Ah,” said Ivan Xav, uneasily.

“Star swore there would be survivors in the bunker, even though the sensors were picking up nothing from it. The rest of the night was setting up the engineering, as soon as the search-and-rescue boys figured out it would be impossible to go in from the garage end. It’s a real circus up there.”

Ivan Xav glanced upward, his lips twisting. He walked over to the first soldier and advised him, “Let your command post know to treat this as a Class Two Biohazard Area. At least.”

The soldier wheeled. “And you are…oh. Captain Vorpatril. Yes, sir.” He spoke into his audio pickup.

The engineering tech crouched at his control panel, overhearing this, stopped inhaling, but, after a minute, gave up and continued his task.

Coming back, Ivan Xav said, “I’d want to dub it a Class Five, myself; but my grandmother-in-law would probably correct me. But that should discourage too many tourists till someone can get the appraisers down here for inventory. This place is going to need guards, and guards on the guards.”

“Well, they’ve certainly come to the right place…” By mused. “Is there really a fortune down here, or was Star exaggerating for fear we might not dig you out?”

For answer, Ivan Xav took him over and showed him the box of seal-daggers, in which he seemed to have taken a possessive interest; Byerly sobered considerably. “And that was just the first crate we opened,” said Ivan Xav. “You should see some of the rest. Not to mention the half ton or whatever it is of Occupation gold.”

Byerly, looking spooked, stared out over the sea of crates, then went aside and spoke into his audio pickup.

Tej went back to hover over the engineering tech, hovering over his control panel, so was the first to hear him say, “Good girl, Rover!” He looked up with a grin that made him suddenly look his real age—well, no, he probably wasn’t fourteen—despite his military garb. “Found ’em. They’re following Rover home now.”

She and Byerly both leaned through the door, watching anxiously, as a bright light appeared in the throat of the tunnel. Scrambling after it, two exhausted, muddy, chilled figures…

Byerly reached out and dragged Rish over the threshold, and was suddenly plastered all over with lithe blue woman, a somewhat darker shade than usual. “You rescued us!” Rish cried, a view that unfairly left out the rest of the army that seemed to be involved, but which Byerly did not bother to correct. Jet stumbled into a welcoming committee of Arquas, and it was several minutes before the critique began.

“We were just working on the dirt pile,” Rish told them all, “when we saw lights coming down the tunnel that weren’t ours. We retreated all the way back to the storm sewer, then ducked up the biggest blind alley. There was a ruckus down on the other end, shouts and stunner fire, and we drew back—just in time, I think—we were both near-deaf for an hour, after the blast. When we looked, the entry end was collapsed, and the other was already filling with water. We retreated…and kept retreating…and the water kept rising. Then our cold lights gave out—”

Ivan Xav, listening, shuddered in vicarious horror, then went over and gave her a quite spontaneous and perhaps not altogether appreciated hug.

“Uh, thanks, Ivan Xav,” Rish said, extracting herself and giving him a bemused stare; she went on with her narrative. “We were down to this little air pocket, when this weird noise and vibration started. It went on forever, starting and stopping. Then it was like someone pulled the plug on the drain. The water went down…we followed it. We were trying to decide whether to attempt to wade the tunnel when the lovely robot probe found us.” She smiled at the engineering tech, who smiled back a bit uncertainly. Beautiful blue-and-gold ladies with pointed ears were not in his prior experience, Tej guessed, nor very many other ladies of any hue. Byerly, who certainly did not share this deficiency, took Rish’s cold hand and rubbed it.

In any case, when the medical evacuation floater arrived—a small one, to fit through the roof hole—Rish and Jet were sent up in the first load. Imola, Inc. were sent up next, each individually with an armed guard with him. The Baronne and Grandmama followed, then Dada and Amiri, then Pidge and Em. Pearl went next, Byerly joining her to keep an eye on his subjects; Tej waited to go with Ivan Xav.

They watched Pearl and By’s floater rise. “You know,” he said, in an oddly faraway voice, “the other thing I wanted to do was take you dancing. We’d never got to it. Thought about that, last night. All the things we’d never got to do, yet.”

Years of things. She began to suspect they would never run out. “I would like that.” Their hands found each other. “I’d like that a lot.”

“It’s a deal, then.” His grip tightened.

When the floater came back, he helped her into it with all the panache of a Vor lord of old handing his fine Time-of-Isolation lady into his carriage. Lady Vorpatril. I could get used to that…

The med-evac floater was little more than a glorified stretcher, designed to hold one patient lying down but, in a pinch, two sitting up, plus its operator in the control saddle. Ivan, sitting cross-legged opposite Tej, stared through the canopy as they angled out the lab roof and ascended through the new access well, which was shaped like a narrow cone, widening at the top. More engineers on floaters were spraying some kind of fixative on the walls to stabilize the dirt, as they rose past.

Circus was an understatement, Ivan realized with a sinking heart as they cleared the lip of the well and briefly gathered more height. The new hole was dug down through what had been the lower end of the little park; the opposite side was now occupied by a conical mountain of what seemed, inexplicably, twice as much dirt, spilling over the park boundaries, the sidewalks, and, on two sides, into the streets beyond, which were blocked with barricades; municipal guards were rerouting traffic, fortunately still sparse on this early weekend morning. The pavement shone with a wet gleam, but it had finally stopped raining.

Heavy military engineering equipment was parked seemingly at random all over the place; soldiers hurried about, or stood and gawked. Portable floodlights on stands, not yet turned off in the pale dawn, shone everywhere. A command post under a temporary tarp roof was set up just beyond the corner of the ex-park, overlooking the excavation and blocking more street. Several medical ground-vans waited beyond it, their emergency lights blinking in a thumb-twiddling sort of way. Above, security vehicles circled; out beyond them, what Ivan guessed were news aircars also circled, telephotos no doubt trained on the bizarre scene.

Even as he watched, a biohazards team arrived, half suited-up, along with a group of older and less-fit fellows, a couple of whom Ivan recognized as senior functionaries from the Imperial Accounting Office, looking a bit out of place on this active, outdoor site. They all went to argue precedence with the engineers.

Beyond its walls and courtyard, the looming ImpSec building overlooked it all. In addition to an increased complement of patrollers at the gate on this side, quite a few officers with, Ivan suspected, no actual reason to be there sat on the upper steps or lingered outside the walls, watching the show. Ivan spotted one companionably sharing a breakfast rat bar with his fellow before the floater descended between the command post and the waiting med-vans.

When the canopy opened, Ivan helped Tej out and waved off a medtech trying to descend on them. When he turned toward the command post, he realized that might have been a premature gesture; a little tactical malingering could have been a better ploy.

A mob of people were approaching. Mamere and Simon, who was looking very gray and strained, led the wave, but Ivan spotted General Allegre and Commodore Duv Galeni right behind them. Both were in full uniform, their military greatcoats flapping about their knees in the raw air, but neither was shaved, and Ivan could only wonder at what wee hour each had been booted out of bed to scramble for this. In any case, he had to extract himself from the frantic maternal hug before turning to not-salute, since he was in civvies, but at least present a suitable acknowledging nod to his grim superiors. Tej was next in line for the hug, Ivan was glad to see. Simon just gripped his hands, a weird troubled expression on his face, and said nothing, though he also took the opportunity to embrace Tej, as what man would not? Ivan thought he heard him whisper in her ear, “Tej, I am so sorry,” but he wasn’t sure.

Allegre caught his eye. “Vorpatril,” he bit out, “are you responsible for this mess?”

“God, I hope not,” said Ivan fervently. An uneasy memory of all the documents he’d so blithely signed off on, back at the shuttleport about a subjective year ago, rose in his mind. The transition from brave rescue-e to court-martial accuse-e might be just a slip of the tongue away; despite his fatigue and pounding headache, Ivan tried to come alert. He could only pray that the discovery of the immense treasure waiting below would pacify everyone, eventually, once they got it all sorted out.

Meanwhile, spread the blame…Ivan turned to Allegre, and asked, “Did you ever find out anything more about Sergeant Abelard and his bomb?”

“What?” said Allegre, startled. This gave Ivan the opportunity to tell that tale, and present the dog-tags, happily still in his pocket. Star had only evidently got as far as conveying the skeleton and old bomb parts; Ivan could see Allegre was gratified to have at least one answer to his high-piled heap of morning mysteries presented, as it were, on a platter, especially as it didn’t seem like anyone would be doing any DNA work on the poor dead bastard any time soon, if any body fragments could be found after the blast. Also, it punted the ball back into ImpSec’s lap, if at a thirty-five year remove, which could only be to the good.

“Is there really a treasure worth millions of marks down there?” Simon demanded next. Galeni was right at his shoulder, for this one.

“Simon, there were millions in the first crate we opened. Hundred of millions down there, at the least guess.” Ivan turned to Galeni. “And crates of hundred-year-old documents packed to the ceiling, Barrayaran and Cetagandan. They’re going to take years to sort. I found a holograph letter from Prince Xav to Prince Yuri in one of them.” He pulled the folded letter out of his jacket and handed it across to Duv, who took it; one glance, and his mouth, which had opened to say something—probably about correct document conservation starting with not folding up rare items and stuffing them in one’s pocket—just stayed open. Ivan had never seen Duv’s eyes go so wide.

Across the road, a stressed-out-looking Captain Raudsepp finished loading Imola and his followers into a security van with the assistance of a couple of burly patrollers, then turned and plowed back through the crowd to Ivan.

“Lady Vorpatril is safe? Thank God! But I swear, those clowns didn’t slip in through any shuttleport on the planet!”

“No, they probably drove downtown from the northern suburbs. What Shiv would call local rental meat. That Imola fellow has a shipping company out there.”

As Raudsepp continued to look unsettled, Ivan added charitably, “Both the District Guard and Imperial Customs are going to be very pleased with ImpSec in the person of you for nailing him. Smuggling, conspiracy to aid kidnapping—seems he’s been up to his neck in sneaking people off-planet in the form of cryocorpses, all very nasty. Imola’s affairs’ll keep folks busy digging for weeks, I expect. Commendations all round at the end.”

“But I wasn’t—but I didn’t—”

“He’s all yours now. Finders keepers, I say.”

Raudsepp perforce had to dash back to the security van, flashing its lights and ready to leave, but Ivan was satisfied he’d given the man lots to think about besides, or with luck instead of, Captain Vorpatril’s peculiar lapse in providing timely snitch reports on his in-laws.

Byerly appeared at Ivan’s side, aiming for Tej. He had evidently been trying to herd Arquas into the waiting medical vans; Shiv and Udine had broken from the pack and followed close on his heels.

Tej stared across apprehensively. “Are they arresting us?”

Allegre looked as if he thought this would be a good idea, but Byerly reassured her, “No. Or anyway, not yet. They’re just taking everyone to ImpMil—the Imperial Military Hospital—for trauma examination. And there’re those unresolved biohazard issues.”

“Are you going along?” Ivan asked By. “For the love of God, get someone who speaks old-high-medical onto Lady ghem Estif as soon as you can. She’s a woman who knows where all the bodies are buried if anyone does.”

Byerly nodded understanding, and turned. “Tej, are you coming with your family?”

Udine cut in: “Your Dada and I think you should stay with your husband—Lady Vorpatril.”

Tej, Ivan could see in her expressive face, took a moment to process the full implications of this. Her parents might only be thinking of distancing their daughter from whatever legal entanglements were about to engulf the rest of the clan. But he rather thought Tej meant something more when she lifted her chin, threaded her arm though Ivan’s, and said, “I think I should stay with my husband, too.”

Ivan slipped his other hand over hers, and pressed it warmly. Yes, stay right there. For the rest of my life. Which was looking hearteningly longer than it had mere hours ago, but he wasn’t about to suggest amending his last-night’s proposition.

Shiv gave a short nod, and looked up to meet Simon’s searching gaze. He stuck out a big hand. “Well. It’s been an adventure dealing with you—Captain Illyan. Excellently played.”

Illyan, as if compelled, took it and shook it. “Thank you. Though I fear you were mainly ambushed by mischance. And—we may not be done dealing yet. Baron Cordonah.”

Shiv’s brow furrowed at this, but he allowed Byerly, now looking like a sheepdog on the verge of a nervous breakdown, to chivvy him and his spouse off to the waiting med-vans. Udine glanced once back over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing in new curiosity. The vans pulled away in a convoy, without sirens, to Ivan’s relief. He wasn’t in the mood for sudden, loud noises just now.

At some high-priority ping from his earbug, Allegre stepped aside. “What? Here? No, wave him off!” After another moment, his back straightened in an involuntary brace. “Yes? Yes, he’s right here. No…I must protest…Yes, sire.” That last was delivered with a somewhat defeated sigh, and he strode away to the covered command post.

Ivan was therefore less than surprised when, a few minutes later, Imperial armsmen outriders in their black-and-silver winter uniforms appeared around the corner, their float bikes bracketing a long silver groundcar. It sighed to the pavement. Armsmen and ImpSec guards exchanged codes with one another, and, gleaming even in the dawn murk, the rear canopy rose. Gregor, in a Vorbarra House uniform, rubbed his face and handed off the cloth to an urgent fellow whom Ivan recognized as his faithful valet—this was one Commander-in-Chief who was not going to appear at the scene of any emergency unshaved, if his man had anything to say about it—and exited the groundcar under the anxious supervision of his senior armsmen.

Everyone braced as he approached, except for Lady Alys who granted him a chin-dip that evoked a curtsey; Allegre and Galeni saluted. Gregor returned a fitting Imperial nod.

“Ivan!” This was one Voice that seemed unapologetically glad to find him; Gregor’s embrace was sincere. “They told me you were drawn up from the tomb alive, but I had to see for myself. Lady Tej. I’m so glad.” He bowed over her hand; she managed a reasonably graceful obeisance.

His eye fell on Simon, watching this with his mouth gone wry. “And Simon. What the hell?” The Why was I blindsided? look was very clear in the emperor’s eye, which Ivan could only be grateful was not turned on him. Yet.

Simon gave him a beleaguered head tilt. “You know that long lunch appointment I made with you for tomorrow?”

“Yes…?”

“I should have made it for yesterday.”

Gregor accepted this with an extremely provisional nod. “We’ll discuss that. Later.”

Gregor’s gaze swept over the disrupted landscape. “General Allegre…” Allegre steeled himself. “Good work.” The general let out a pent breath as Gregor went on, “I’d like to have a personal word with your commander of engineers, if you please.”

Allegre went over to the command post and fetched the man, who’d been directing the platoon of engineers spread all over the site through the portable comconsoles there. Ivan recognized him; Colonel Otto, one of the top men in the Vorbarr Sultana local command. Like Galeni, he had a doctorate tucked away under his military rank. He, too, was in uniform—sensible black fatigues under his greatcoat, with proper engineering mud splashed about, thick on his engineer’s boots. He accepted his emperor’s personal congratulations on his night’s work with a pleased but slightly distracted expression.

Released from the Imperial Attention, Otto took Ivan aside. “Vorpatril. What can you tell me about this so-called Mycoborer shit we’re dealing with? That woman, Star, wasn’t too helpful.”

“It eats big holes right through dirt. Branching semi-randomly. I think it turns the inorganics into its tunnel walls, but I’m not sure. You need to catch up with Lady ghem Estif, before noon by preference, and don’t let her snow you—requisition a high-powered biologist from the Imperial Science Institute when you go. She has more samples—be sure to confiscate them and get them into the hands of the I.S.I. As a construction application, it could be worth millions.”

“As a tool? Or as a weapon?”

Ivan sighed. “As a tool—it needs development. As a weapon—it seems good to go. But you really need the I.S.I. boffins on it.”

Otto’s mouth twisted up in joyless understanding.

Allegre, his hand to his earbug, trod over to them. “Otto. There’s a Captain Roux at the security perimeter, one of your boys. Do you need him now?”

The new security perimeter, added due to Gregor’s, Ivan hoped temporary, complicating presence. Gregor was over having some possibly-stern words with Simon and Lady Alys; Tej was listening intently, and putting in a brave gloss now and then.

“Yes, I do! Let him through,” said Otto.

If mud made the engineer, Roux had to be some sort of boy genius, Ivan thought, as the captain cruised up and quickly dismounted from a float bike. Otto looked merely artistically flecked, by comparison. The salutes exchanged between Roux and his superior were almost as perfunctory as those of ImpSec analysts, as they got down quickly to business. Gregor, noting this arrival, strolled near enough to eavesdrop, but not enough to force an interruption.

“We finally traced that damned storm sewer, Colonel,” Roux reported, slightly out of breath. “It empties into the river about a kilometer below the Star Bridge. It was blocked way the hell up; but it became unblocked in a hurry about an hour ago. We lost our remote probe—swept out in the mudflow. Thank God we hadn’t sent any men in yet. We were estimating efflux at one to three cubic meters a second.”

Allegre, coming over in time to hear the tail end of this, said, “One to three cubic meters a minute are going to drain the water backup fairly quickly, yes?”

Roux glanced up, took in the eye-pins and the general’s rank tabs, and managed a normal salute, courteously returned. “Not per minute, sir. Per second. And not rainwater. Mud. It’s like—it’s like a mud cannon. The stream was still shooting straight out about ten meters before it arced into the river, when I left.”

Gregor, edging closer at this fascinating word-picture, stopped and looked at something across the street, his head tilting slightly.

Allegre’s brow wrinkled. “So where is it all coming from?”

“That’s a good question, and we’ll address ourselves to it as soon as we’ve dealt with your last five urgent requests, General,” said Colonel Otto, looking harassed. “Now, if you’ll just let my people get on with their jobs…”

“Guy,” called Gregor, still staring. “Has ImpSec HQ always been sort of…tilted up on one side? Or is that an optical illusion?”

Allegre looked around; his gaze grew arrested.

Gregor went on, uncertainly, “I’d not seen it before from this angle of view. Maybe it’s just more of Dono Vorrutyer’s subtle disproportions devised from his cracked theories on the psychology of architecture.”

Ivan wheeled around as well. So did everyone else. Simon, Alys clutching his arm, and Tej came over to Ivan’s side.

Ivan blinked. He squinted. Gregor wasn’t wrong; the left side of ImpSec building did look slightly higher than the right. Or…the right side lower than the left…?

In the courtyard, visible through the open iron gates, a lone cobblestone erupted out of its matrix and bounced, clacking. In a moment, a few more followed, looking and sounding like popcorn just starting to pop. Big, granite chunks of popcorn. A soldier crossing the courtyard yelped and dodged this unexpected, knee-capping bombardment.

A loud crack; a visible fissure propagated up the unclimbable front steps, zigzagging. With a horrible, grinding shriek, the bronze doors topping the high front steps twisted slightly apart.

“What the hell…?” said Allegre, starting forward.

Otto grabbed his arm and held him back. “Wait, sir…!”

“Oh, it’s straightening up,” said Tej. “Or…not…”

“No…” said Otto, his engineer’s eye sweeping the crenellated roofline. “The other side is sinking. Too.”

From both side doors, an efflux of men in green uniforms began, at a rate, Ivan guessed, of about a cubic meter a second.

“They’re leaving their posts?” said Allegre, caught somewhere between approval and anguish.

Simon, his teeth pressed into his lower lip, released the stress to say, “At a guess, those would be the fellows who grew up in earthquake country, Guy.” And after another minute, under his breath, as the evacuation continued more sporadically, “The ones still inside, you’ll want to commend. The ones outside, those are the ones I’d promote…”

Allegre moved away, speaking harshly into his pickup, pausing to listen to his earbug. Colonel Otto, after one more wild-eyed stare, ran for his bank of comconsoles.

Simon’s lips parted and his eyes grew big as the building continued, very slowly, to sink. It went as a unit, nothing collapsing; old Dono-the-Architect had been deranged, not incompetent. But inexorably, in the course of the next ten minutes, in a silence only broken by under-voiced swearing nearby and a few cries from beyond the spike-topped walls, its first story was entirely swallowed by the earth. The bronze doors hit ground level and kept going. The frieze of pressed gargoyles above them sank from view as if being dragged down to their old hell. The descent finally slowed at a point where occupants on the third floor could have stepped out of their windows to the ground, if there had been any windows. A few men rappelled off the roof, instead.

“Well,” said Gregor, in a choked voice. “There’s…a surprise.”

A startling cackle broke from Simon’s lips. He clapped a hand over his mouth, and managed in a more measured voice, “My God, I hope no one has been injured.” Except then he cackled again, louder. Lady Alys gripped his arm in worry.

Gregor’s fretful armsmen finally managed to drag him away from this riveting show and back to his groundcar. Surrounded by its black-and-silver-clad outriders, it rose on its fans and slowly pulled away. Ivan thought he saw a familiar face pressed to the canopy, looking backward in still-stunned fascination, as it rounded the corner on the route back to the Residence.

“We aren’t doing anything useful here, Simon-love,” said Lady Alys, after a few more silent, staring minutes. “Perhaps we should go home. Ivan—now you’re rescued—Tej, will you come with us? We want to hear more about your, your ordeal. And I’m sure anyone who wants us will be able to find us there.” She cast one more astounded glance back over her shoulder at the…the upper half of ImpSec Headquarters. Emergency teams of every description were thick on the ground now, arguing with each other about access.

Said Simon, faintly, “I’m sure they will,” and allowed himself to be drawn off.