“And Esperas does not?”

Esperas doesn’t care, thought Cora. Esperas had the luxury of hiding behind his own Similar, his “heavy,” and no one could make him talk to anyone. It had been assumed last year that both of the Fremda group’s Similars, their only form of protection, had been killed by Obelus. Cora found out later that was only half-true, as Brako, the one who had been thought killed at NORAD, survived, and was now just fine.

“Esperas has never requested a human intermediary,” said Dr. Sev.

“Then if Esperas is not here, why has Scio declined to speak to us?” asked Porter. “As I understand, between the two, Scio has been a much better source of intelligence. So if he has declined to meet with us, I’d like to know why.”

This guy was like a fork raking over the chalkboard of her nerves, and she could feel the beginnings of a meltdown. She tried to focus on breathing normally while Dr. Sev offered some placating half truth to General Brigadier. Not now, she told herself. Not now, not now.

“Please understand,” said Dr. Sev, “we are dealing with intelligences we largely don’t understand. Sometimes they behave capriciously, and we do not know why.”

“I flew all the way out here, and you’ve kept me waiting for two days—surely there can be some way we can schedule an interaction.”

“He said he wouldn’t do it, whether Esperas is here or not,” said Cora. She could hear the blood thumping through her skull. She was genuinely beginning to worry this was a prologue to an aneurysm.

“Yes, but why?” If her eyeball were about to explode, this man would be the detonator. “What is his reasoning?”

“I . . . I’m not sure,” she said.

“Come on, we know you have an excuse,” said Sol, frustrated. “Let’s hear it.”

In the three months she had been an employee at ROSA, Sol had never disrespected her that overtly. Even the brigadier general looked uncomfortable. Sol seemed to realize he’d stepped over a line, and corrected himself. “I mean, I’m sure he has an excuse. He always does.”

But the spiral had already begun, the last Jenga block holding the tower in place pulled out, and she was collapsing. “He’s busy.”

“Busy doing what?” asked Sol.

“I don’t know. Excuse me,” she said, barely holding it together. “I need to use the restroom.”

“We’re not finished,” said Sol.

“Please excuse me.”

She didn’t make it to the end of the hallway before she started running. By then, the bomb had gone off, the tower was collapsing. She fled to the nearest single-stall bathroom and had only just shut the door behind her before her breathing turned into audible shrieking so loud that anyone passing by could hear it. She fell to the tile floor, wrapping her arms around her midsection, begging her traitorous windpipe to quiet down. Sol will hear it, he’ll hear it, and he’ll take your clearance! He’s been looking for an excuse to revoke your clearance, he wants you gone, stop stop stop! This was the third one inside of a week.