“VOP Harrison may be a shill for the dominant caste, but he is soon to be installed as the presiding head of LISC. Sometimes you have to go straight to the top when you want to get shit done.”

“I don’t think we can risk the appearance of a military action. Theirs or ours.”

“‘When the drummers change their beats, the dancers must also change their steps.’” Giving his words of caution due consideration, Jaha paced. After a weary sigh, she turned back to him. “You may be right. Go on ahead. Get our people to more secure locations like Lij Matata wanted, in case we have to scramble out of here on short notice.”

“What about you?” Ishant arched a skeptical eyebrow. He was used to her brand of capitulation, which usually amounted to her saying enough for folks to lower their guards, then do what she wanted. But they were both learning, and she was striving to do better. Most days.

“I’ll coordinate from here but will be right behind you. Someone has to deal with LISC and make sure they contain the situation before we have to,” Jaha said.

With a slight wai, Ishant gestured for a door.

Jaha stood in the center of the room enjoying the moment of quiet before considering what new work this situation was going to create and the most efficient order to tackle the incoming projects. Her emi crackled in alarm. A pressure built within her. On instinct, she dove for cover.

Time stood still. A pause before everything upended itself.

A series of flashes lit up behind her with the spectacle of lightning in a dry season. A massive boom followed. A rumble experienced deep within her like a sound that was too big for her ears. A thrum reached a crescendo in an instant. Air pushed out of the space so fast there was no room to draw a breath.

The detonation ripped through the room.

The flooring rose up in an earthen billow. Glass sprayed in a glittering hailstorm. Books tumbled from the surrounding shelves. Pages fluttered through the air, flitting leaves on fire. The acrid smoke burned her nostrils. The air became nearly too hot to breathe. The walls crashed in from all sides.

Jaha lost all sense of equilibrium, having only the sensation of falling. Down, down, down, with barely the wondering of when she was going to hit the ground. The blast threw her to the floor. The ceiling collapsed as if tired of carrying its heavy load on its own. All about her toppled into a terrible darkness, thick and mocking, smothering all of her soft groans.

“Where are you?” a distant voice called. Followed by an eerie silence.

03 MAULANA BUHARI
The Dreaming City

“There has been a series of explosions at our embassy on Original Earth.”