“The only way we save those millions—tens of millions—is if we bring them from Earth Bet to here and give them the care they need. We have to let the remaining refugees in before winter takes hold and before war necessitates barring passage. It means throwing paperwork out the window and focusing on transporting them in, and it’s going to be hell. It’s also going to need people to help it happen.”

“Mr. Druck’s people,” Sierra said.

“And yours. New Brockton is important in this. Talk to your workers. If the ones who were in Bet too long start working now and get sick, they’ll be protected financially. It’s in the proposal. That’s your incentive.”

Ms. Kiley and Mr. Druck leaned together, whispering.

Jeanne took a seat next to Kurt, situating her laptop back in front of herself. She checked her messages. The attack on the Fallen was underway. There were already deaths, and it would get worse before it got better.

No other news. It was the other news that concerned her most. Others were playing a different game, and their perspectives were… distorted. They might have said the same for her, even with her ongoing efforts to maintain some objectivity.

“I think this may be my last day sitting in on these meetings,” Mr. Nieves said, interrupting her thoughts. She noticed that he hadn’t opened the booklet she’d placed in front of him, or even moved it from the position.

“Why?” Jeanne asked.

“I serve a dwindling base. Every day that passes that we don’t go back to Bet to rebuild is a day I lose the faith of my supporters.”

“We’ll be sorry to see you go, Mr. Nieves,” she said.

“No you won’t,” he said.

“Your perspective has always been valuable. A dissenting voice is valuable,” Jeanne said.

“An ineffectual voice, if an essentially critical one,” he said. “Don’t flatter me. I’m not interested, and I don’t want flattery from you.”

The tone of those last few words saw Ms. Kiley and Mr. Druck stop talking and start paying attention to Mr. Nieves.

“I thought we got along fine.”

“I’ve always wondered about these booklets and your computer program. Others wonder too.”

Website, not computer program, Jeanne mentally corrected. “Wonder?”

“The exacting numbers, the complexity. This was made by parahumans.”

“We consulted them, yes.”

He pushed the booklet her way. “This is parahuman, not human.”

“All of us are in this together, Gary,” Jeanne said. “Human and parahuman.”

“It’s as if we’re locked in a cage with a wolf,” Mr. Nieves said. “Except I have to wonder about the ‘we’ part of it. Ms. Kiley is a vaguely familiar name. Not to her credit, but familiar. I could believe she’s not a parahuman. I don’t think she would be a good leader, but she’s not one of them. You, though.”