And Palamedes said, “Tell me everything. Where is the Sixth House Oversight Body?”
“I have the good news and the neutral news,” said Commander We Suffer. “Merv Wing has been forthcoming … in their own way. Your people are being held underground, being moved constantly from place to place to avoid detection. The tunnels, you see … a lawless and dangerous area, but Unjust Hope has perfected his art of hiding in the most dangerous places. And he always was fond of the mobility doctrine.”
“How many underground sites—” began Palamedes, but Nona’s neck had gone stiff of its own accord. Her short-term memory, never very good, had developed a sharp picture in her head: she could hear a high, frightened voice saying fucking nuts man, fucking nutter; she could taste little green fruits.
“Multiple. The tunnels underground are both extensive and very unsafe. Collapses, you see. My people have refined the search to four possible locations, but you desire thoroughness, swiftness, and the safety of your people. I offer you two out of three. And it is more likely one and a half.”
Palamedes said irascibly—
“Are you telling me that Blood of Eden locked them all in a truck and drove them around the city? This entire time?”
“Classic Blood of Eden move,” said Pyrrha. “Fucking insane, surprisingly effective, relies on a lot of soldiers pissing in a lot of bottles.”
Our Lady of the Passion made a sound that, to Nona, was unmistakably a laugh, and obviously hated herself for this so much that she curled up into her seat and glared all around at everyone.
Palamedes said, “Make it safe and swift. We are very short on time.”
We Suffer moved aside the flip-top computer and crossed her long legs. She was wearing trousers with lots of pockets, but she sat as though she were wearing something much prettier. In the olden days Nona would have immediately commenced practising how to sit like that, and been able to do it perfectly the first time round; but now she looked at the commander with her elegant older face and she felt a great, hot pang inside her. Some kind of sorrow related to legs.
“That will involve sending my people in on lightweight vehicles—cycles and whatnot—in small groups through the service tunnels. They may cover a lot of ground and not draw attention from drivers … the problem being that the service tunnels do not cover all the ground. There is a risk in each area that we would miss Merv Wing’s trucks entirely … we might count one area as clear, and find ourselves mistaken.”
Pyrrha said, “You worked this out? What’s the estimated success rate?”
Crown plucked one of the clipboards from We Suffer’s pile, and the commander pointed to certain areas. Crown said, “Different for each site. Fifty-seven percent … forty percent … thirty-two percent. Commander, these numbers are worthless.”
“If you want heavy vehicles in the tunnels, I cannot assure you that Merv Wing will not liquidate the asset. Unjust Hope is not having a good night … and he may assume he will never have another good night ever again.”
Palamedes asked, “Is there no way to make those numbers better?”
“Listen, you snivelling jackshit,” said Pash （Nona was glad Cam wasn’t there）， “you sound like every admin suit there ever was. ‘Can we make the numbers better?’ Oh, yeah, sure, let me pull the good numbers out of my fucking asshole, where I stashed them for safekeeping. These are the best numbers you’re going to get!”
“I really, really hate to say this about Pash,” said Crown, “but she’s right, Warden.”
“Thank you; fuck you,” said Pash. Pyrrha looked at her again, and Pash made a big harrumph and looked away.
“Apologies. I did sound like I was at Resource Committee,” Palamedes admitted.
All of a sudden, the Captain made a horrible gurgling sound. It sounded weirdly like guttural laughter. Her feet twitched, and Crown held her down and checked her over until the loudest sound was the Captain’s breathing.
Nona cleared her throat, then cleared it again, just in case. “I know where the Convoy was earlier this week,” she suggested.
Every single head turned to look at her—even Pash’s—and she felt hot in the face and she said indignantly, “I do, or—my friend saw it—and it had a bunch of people in it with white eyes, like they couldn’t see, except they could see, and then Honesty got his face smashed. Ask the Angel, she’ll—they’ll tell you I’m not lying.”