“This is where you’ll stay,” said Vinci. “It’s not the best accommodations, but on reflection, probably better than what you’re used to.”

“No question about that,” said Marcus. “Where’s the chocolate fountain? I’m honestly going to be a little disappointed if it’s not strapped to the back of an enchanted polar bear.”

“We’re not here to stay,” said Woolf. “We’re here to meet with Trimble. Is she here?”

Vinci shook his head. “She’s busy,” said Vinci. “Just wait here.”

“Wait how long?” asked Marcus. “An hour? Two hours?”

One of the outer doors opened, revealing a small but tidy apartment beyond, and a woman stepped out eagerly. Her face fell when she saw them. “You’re not Trimble’s men?”

“You’re not Trimble?” Woolf asked her. He looked at Vinci. “What’s going on here?”

“I’ve been waiting since yesterday,” said the woman. She walked toward them, and Marcus guessed that she was somewhere in her late fifties—still fit and attractive, as all Partials apparently were, but not one of the young-looking pilots like Mandy, or the supermodel serial killers or whatever Heron was. That meant, as far as Marcus knew, that this woman was a doctor, and he stuck out his hand to shake.

“Hello, Doctor.”

She didn’t take his hand, only looked at them sternly. “You’re humans.”

“You’ve been waiting since yesterday?” asked Woolf. He turned on Vinci. “Morgan is killing our people—we are dying, in war and in hospitals, every day. Every hour. You have to get us in sooner.”

“But not before me,” said the Partial doctor. “We all have business that can’t be delayed.” She looked at Vinci. “Are you her assistant? Can you get her a message?”

“I’m just a soldier, ma’am.”

“Is she not here?” asked Marcus. “I mean, is she out on the front lines or something? Is she in a different city? We can go to her if that’s easier.”

“She’s here,” said the doctor, pointing at a set of wide double doors on the northern wall. “She just . . . isn’t available.”

“What is she doing that she can’t even see us?” asked Woolf. “Is she busy? Who is she talking to if she isn’t talking to any of the people who need her?”

“We’re in the middle of a war,” said Vinci. “She’s leading that war from a central hub; she can’t just leave it for everyone who comes to visit.”

One of the human soldiers sneered, a huge man rippling with muscles. “We could force our way in.”

“That’s not the best tactic when we’re trying to be diplomatic,” said Woolf.

“Is there anything you can do to hurry it up?” asked Marcus. He gestured to the doctor. “I mean, I know you’ve probably thought of everything already, but . . . I don’t know, can we send her a message? Can we tell her why we’re here? We’re the first humans in the city in twelve years, proposing a peace treaty and a medical alliance, that’s got to pull some weight.”