Slingby said the exact same thing that Spears had: "Welcome to Management."
Jacobs glared at him. "Thanks ever so much. Bastard. Sit down before you fall down. How's Alan?"
"They've taken out the needles and the tube they stuck in his chest. Stitches out tomorrow." Both men shuddered. Neither liked needles. "He hasn't yet begun to demand to return to work. Pain's not too bad but never stops. You know what that's like. He comes home in four days if they are happy with his progress." Eric sat, gratefully. He was very tired.
"So what are you doing here? Forget I asked. Obviously you're here for a status report." Best to hurry, the man looked worn and pale. "There on your desk are folders containing the work we've done to replace two office managers with temporary Admins. Spears wants to keep Admins in those jobs so he can hire in another teaching partnership. Here's the thing; those office managers have to be able to hold this Branch, even in an emergency so dire that all other Management and Reapers are out in the field. This means that Knox's request for pretty young fluff is right out."
"Aye, and who needs drama in the workplace? We don't want anyone inexperienced enough to take Ronnie's flirting seriously. Pick people who're in a steady partnership already."
"We need forceful personalities who can sweep everybody into the fortified area of Operations and organize defense. It's easy to forget the job isn't merely clerical. Finding warlike Admins who will take basic stockboy jobs will be difficult."
"You're right, Avram. Suggestions?"
"We may have to transfer the leadership responsibilities to the most capable Reaper on each shift. That gives more work to the Schedulers, but not too much. Also we'll need drills on Ops' defenses; most Reapers have never been inside the first set of doors."
"We actually have an Admin in Ops who understands these things. Senior Depoy in Documentation helped design the current layout. We are very lucky to have her. Auditing's been trying to hire her away, but she's loyal to Alan. Go talk to her. I think you'll be surprised at her command of both strategy and tactics. Have her show you the defensive uses of those big file cabinets that hide the second set of doors."
"Thank you, I will. Garraway went through your list of transfer applicants and looked up the records of the Reapers they have trained. Those with the best record of successful trainees have been copied into that blue folder there. Birch reports there are two Reapers who might have additional value for Operations. They were Alan's first set of bodyguards. They would like to rejoin Ops as a new team. Fully fit, know his routines and allies, are well-versed on the setups of War Rooms and can defend him as needed. They are moderately upset that his last set of minders let him take a bullet. Also there's a talented fifth-year Junior who started his career in Ops. He would like to return as Security or in any other Reaper role we might invent. If we can pair him up with another, we'll have Alan covered for two shifts."
"Good. Spears is notoriously tight-fisted, but we need the coverage and Alan's absence causes him stress headaches. The time to build is now, before things go bad. Do me this favor, Avram. Go to Section Manager Brock and find out exactly how many hires we can wring out of the current budget. Let's use it all up now so the next budget can ask for more. They'll be starting work on it soon. If Will gets cranky about approving our hires, we'll send in Alan. Right now Alan looks like ten miles of bad road. He's a walking proof of need."
"Can he even walk yet?"
"Six steps this morning. I'll wheel him in wearing his hospital gown. What about that pair who should have been watching him at the Gather?"
"Gone. They only had a couple of weeks left on their contract. We excused them early because they aren't needed while he's in recovery. We don't want to make difficulties for them. We have enough enemies."
"Brandon and Anders?"
"Brandon's shaken, but the partnership had ended before this incident. He's very happy in his new job. Supplies has seconded him to Automotive for training as a field mechanic. He left apologies for the actions of his ex-partner. He thanks you both for allowing him to keep the office manager job while he recovered."
"Ach, that was all Alan. I'd have fired them both. I might have spared us all this if I had."
"No good deed goes unpunished. But Supplies got a good worker out of it. Spears gave Anders to the Angels, since Judicial is under review. Their judgement was immediate and final and fortunately delivered offsite. His name is expunged from the rolls, his glasses destroyed. I suspect Admin has a special secret storage area for the records of the disgraced. Apply to the Garrison if you want more information. You look awful."
"Thanks. I'm not supposed to be here, but I escaped. We need to know how things are going here, which the Infirmary can't or won't tell us. Who's filling in for Alan? And is there an intern around who could get me tea or coffee?"
"One moment. —Bradshaw! Tea, please, the way Mr. Slingby likes it.— All right. Alan's understudy is Roland D'Acres. Spears appointed him because his aristocratic bearing has its uses. He's an unbending upper-cruster, which reminds people of why they like Alan so much, but he works hard and freezes the marrow of anyone who doesn't perform to his high standards. The Angels like him. Also, he has a formal link to Auditing through his wife. Alan's AAs mean well, but they are too new to be any real help. Another reason to rehire Duncan and Mallory. They could be of enormous benefit to D'Acres.
"His partner Fitzwilliam has taken over the principal training of their new trainee, but D'Acres reaps with them over the hours that Alan would ordinarily be teaching. It works for them. My partner is on light duty from his concussion; Anders' second shot creased his skull. He's my guard during my office hours. Our new trainee is working with Keneally and his fourth-year Junior until Gavin is approved for full duty. By the way, the third bullet hit a French Reaper in the arm. He's recovered and back at work in Calais."
"Lucky man."
"So-so. He tried to help. We owe him for that. It got him into big trouble with his Branch. He was assigned elsewhere but slipped in to hit the food tent. We sent an effusive letter of thanks to his Director to keep him from being fired."
"Ouch."
"Then Anders aimed at Brandon but the gun jammed. Ah, Junior, thank you for this. And biscuits as well! Excellent!"
The Junior had snitched some of Brock's favorite macaroons. Eric approved. It was a kindly act, and probably done in the hope that his visit to the office heralded a return to normal. The tea was strong and fortifying. It would get him back to the Infirmary.
"The gun?"
"Taken by a Scythes Senior who also summoned all the bullet fragments. The bullets were expanding rounds. He turned everything in to an Elder Engineer of his Division. They hold dominion over any use of scythe metal. It's been destroyed."
"So they destroy one gun. So? The human realm is full of them. The problem is the bullets and who made 'em. Avram, I know ye never wanted promotion, any more than I. But this is necessary, and at least we're not having to do it under fire. Is Will likewise under guard?"
"He is, and he accepts it as necessary. At the moment it's Sorenson and MacLean on second shift, and Matsumoto and Cruz on first. Third is his rest shift, and that's covered by Grell. He couldn't be safer. On those days that he does not leave his office, he'll share his bodyguards with myself and D'Acres should we have duties outside the Branch. But in order to reassign so many Reapers, we'll be requiring overtime again until next year's promotions. We should hire as many new teams as we can. Scheduling should be its own section with another team added. Yes, I'll talk to Brock, and then you and I will go through the list together."
"All right. It's the beginning of a proper chain of command that will survive losses. We'll work on expanding it. Ye ken what war can do to an unprepared Branch." Eric set down his cup. "Thanks. Look ye, I must go. I'm about used up and Alan feels it. Call me if ye have questions, at the Infirmary. I'll call you when they let us go home. Better, come to visit us, if you have time. Visitors might keep Alan from getting bored and fidgety. Tell D'Acres that, please. Just call ahead in case he's sleeping."
"Of course. I understand fully. Gavin is impossible when he is on bed rest. Call me if Alan needs distraction. We'll send someone to tire him out. —Ah, steady there, steady. Careful. Here now. Lean on me. Let me port you back. I'll sit down and give Alan a briefing. That should spare you a scolding and having to report. It'll settle you both into a nice nap."
Eric kicked off his shoes and lay down while Jacobs talked to Alan. Alan was far too polite to scold Eric in front of a guest. Eric was far too clever not to take full advantage of it. Avram spoke calmly, reassuring Alan that all was well.
"Roland is doing well holding down your desk. I'll tell him you are receiving visitors. He can make a list of questions and come see you tomorrow. I have the enormous advantage of having AA Brodie. She tells me what to do. I hear and obey. But D'Acres is having to figure things out on his own. Alan, you need to train your own assistants to manage anyone who has to pick up your job. Remember that the rules demand that Ops must be under Reaper management. Figureheads like myself are necessary in emergencies. But noncombatant Admins live longer and provide continuity. You need a few whose responsibility is to know how everything works. Those persons can teach a long succession of Reaper managers. Both of you should be writing up procedures. Don't forget to update them as they change."
"Time, Avram, no time. Set the Admins to document everything. They're better at it. Eric and I can review and amend. Begin a, a rotating calendar of repeating events..."
"Security problem?"
"Anders is gone. And he wasn't having any luck getting into the back areas of Ops. Restrict it to that area."
"Speaking of which, Duncan and Mallory have applied to return as your security chiefs. Any objections?"
"Really? No, none at all. Happy to have them. They didn't think me mad for occasionally visiting a garden."
Eric opened his eyes. "Alan. Scythe-metal bullets. Any chance of the maker still being around?"
"Not likely. Ask Sarah Goodfellow. If anyone knows it should be her. Ask Scythes if any of their metal's gone missing. They track their stocks pretty carefully, I think."
Collins came in as Jacobs finished Alan's briefing. "What is this? Slingby, who told you to get dressed? Do I have to lock up your clothing? Get back into pajamas. Humphries, visiting hours are over for you. And you, sir, out. Come again tomorrow."
"Bully," wheezed Alan. "I am unwell. Bullying the weak is Not Done. I shall have Academician Pollard explain to you the finest details of That Which Is Not Done. At length, and with diagrams. It's his favorite subject, for which he is justly feared in all the Realm by fellow professors and former students who remember him in their nightmares."
Collins choked on his laughter. So did Eric. So did Avram, which made Alan re-estimate Pollard's probable age well upward.
The stitches came out on the fifth day. Alan walked with Collins up and down the corridor, a little farther each time. Eric took over the new pot of scar cream and spread it faithfully three times a day over the surgical site and the exit wound. Collins reminded them both that scythe-metal wounds healed slowly.
Alan began to fret about his students; Academician Juniors Talbot and Rosine visited and reassured him that his classes were being taught exactly as he had outlined them.
He fretted about his interns, and AA Depoy arrived to review their postings and assure him that all were doing well.
He fretted about the other Reapers injured at the Gather. Grell arrived bubbling with the very latest gossip. Moreau was fine, Fairbairn was fine. Dear Will was being sensible about security. Senior Jacobs had scolded somebody about outstanding paperwork. That stodgy stick D'Acres was actually rather good at being the public face of Operations, not as scary as Eric of course, but aristocratically overbearing when necessary. He'd performed a site inspection in Belgium quite well. Knox had tried to chat up the pretty new Admin Office Manager for first shift. She'd brushed him off. She also called him something he was rather indignant about after he'd looked it up. Grell thought she was a Senior of some years' standing rather than a youngster. She also had something fairly impressive in the way of a husband. Oh, and not to worry about that naughty houseplant he kept on the windowsill; she'd asked one of the Maintenance Thursday Nighters to water it.
He fretted about the War Rooms. Roland D'Acres reported favorably on the latest Inspection at Strasbourg. Alan continued to fret about the Angelic relations there. Sandriel showed up in his grunt-soldier aspect and reported that the Strasbourg Angels and Reapers were getting along quite well. Eric noticed a hint of a golden glow around the Angel, and caught his eye when he extended the aura around Alan. The Angel smiled reassuringly. Over the bond, pain faded as Alan drifted off into a deep delicious sleep.
"What are ye doing to him, Celestial?"
"Helping things along, Agent Slingby. Here," and he expanded the field to include Eric. There was a feeling of warm sun and a scent like flowers blooming on a distant hill; then a hint of ripe apples and of raspberries, the splash of falling water, the song of skylarks who flew for the joy of it, things that Eric had forgotten over the slowly flowing years. Something in his heart relaxed and bloomed. "Thank ye," whispered Eric, "for whatever this is. Give him all ye can."
Sandriel laid a finger on Alan's cheek. A tiny spark leapt, or did it? "We need you both, Reaper, hale and whole, and so I have permission to cheat just a little. He has, after all, done the same for us in the past. There is work to be done. D'Acres is a good man but he does not have the same talents that Alan has."
"Alan said something about Angels and Reapers working together on field hospitals."
"Did he, now? I will report that."
"Talk to Nurse Collins. Medical's asking Automotive to design motor-powered ambulances."
The Elder Doctor listened to Alan's chest. "Much better. Definitely Angelic encouragement. Here's the thing, Mr. Humphries, this newly healed tissue will be fragile for a few days. I know you want to jump up and run off in all directions. If you give in to that impulse you will damage yourself and strain your partner.
"Today and tonight you will remain here. Walking exercise as usual. Tomorrow you may go home. Stay at home for a week, then ease back into your duties as Nurse Collins permits. I will request that Supplies provide a reclining chair for your office. If your chest hurts, if your heart pounds, if you are short of breath, if you develop a cough, sit back in it and get your feet up. If distress continues, Mr. Slingby, you bring him back here and call me. Half days, Mr. Humphries, for the first two weeks. The following Monday I will see you here, 0900, and if you are well enough you may go to single shifts. You may resume teaching as long as you do so from a sitting position. No combat yet. Resume the fortifying diet. I shall notify the London Cafeteria that you are being discharged. I understand that the Academy food service is improving, but for now I prefer that you continue with your previous provider."
The Infirmary freed them the following morning after detailed examinations and the inevitable paperwork. Medical was seizing the opportunity to introduce any number of their staff and students to the study of bondmates.
Alan had made a few perfunctory noises about stopping by the office to pick up files to review at home. Eric vetoed that, on the perfectly legitimate grounds that Alan was out of uniform. He was going to have to borrow a robe from the Infirmary. His clothing had been cut off on the way to surgery. What would Will say? "And I'm sorry, love, but one port is all I'm good for. We're going straight home. I've got your bag. Shoes, watch, belt, knives, pocket items and yer bolo. Ye have your chain. Everything else discarded. Stand close, now."
Eric wrapped his arm around Alan's shoulders. —zzipt!— Straight to their door, a fine example of precision porting. "I've the key. See, there, your ivy is fine. Bedroom." Eric helped Alan out of the Infirmary bathrobe and into a nightshirt, then eased him down on their own bed. Alan sighed with relief.
"Would ye like a cuppa?"
"No, thanks."
Eric shucked his clothes into a laundry bag, put on a pair of workout trews. "Alan. Would you like to spoon, or shall I keep to me own side of the bed?"
"I'd like to curl up with you for as long as my chest lets me. The exit wound's not a problem any more."
"All right now, let us turn you on your side. One, two, three. There. Let me get in. Lean back on me, how's that? Can I rest me arm here? Ah. Let me prop it with a pillow, so it's not so heavy. There ye be; that's fine. That's fine. It's been too long, me love."
"I've missed you. I'm going to buy the Infirmary a double bed."
"More fun to shove the beds together every time the nurses turn their backs. They get so flustered and we get to listen to Collins explaining bonds to them." Eric pulled the blanket over them.
"Victory," sighed Alan.
"Eh?"
"A victory, Eric. Every time we come home together is a triumph over Hell and Fate. Every time we wake up together. A blessing. A miracle. A victory. Every single day."
