Lyre Institute for Exceptional Children
Lyre-Unthilon
A shadow fell across Director Ling’s screen. He had not heard the door cycle; she would never be as careless as that. Besides, she hoped to startle him, and gain a tiny bit of tempo.
As if he weren’t her equal. Her better.
“One moment, Anj,” he said, continuing with his review of the data. When he was done, he looked around.
Director Formyne was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked amused.
“Have you read the shipping news?” she asked.
“Certainly. It would appear that four-twenty-three has failed.”
“You take a loss that will hobble the Institute’s future projects with strange equanimity.”
He stood, which allowed him to look down at her.
“Did you think the Committee would not have a contingency plan?” he asked, with sincere interest. The workings of Formyne’s mind were of interest to him. If he failed of being an expert in that study, he would be dead.
And that was not an acceptable outcome.
“Of course the Committee has a contingency plan,” Formyne said now. “I only wonder when it will be deployed.”
“Oh.” He smiled. “That was done some time ago.”