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Genna had the lights low in her office. Normally, that made her sleepy, but Rodin’s message set her mind buzzing.
She took a sip of her water—nothing too strong, not this time of night, or morning, or whatever it was now—and readied herself. Then she called up the link with Miolar.
He answered within a couple of heartbeats.
“Good thing us old folk don’t sleep much,” he said. There was no image—took up too much bandwidth for the secure system, or something like that—but Genna could imagine him sitting in an office, drink in hand. “Take it this isn’t a social call.”
“When do we get the chance for one of them?”
“Quite.”
“It’s serious.” She took another breath. “You had any reports from the western Factory?”
“Recently?”
“Last few hours.”
“Some large ruckus. Sounds
