MEANWHILE IN ITALY

A Gunslinger Girl fanfiction, based on works by Yu Aida.

Author's note: And so ends the direct tie-in with my previous writing in "And the Adventure Continues".

Thanks to Officer_Charon for use of Lombardi and Esposito, and Kiskaloo for Kara and Michele.

CH15 - Strangers From a Strange Land (Part 05)

Propped against the van's forward bulkhead, Danilo barely registered voices scratching from the speaker above as Ferro's clean-up crew went about its business. Instead, he just stared dumbly at the prone form of his cyborg, now moved from hard flooring to the mildly more padded bench. Chiara had lifted her there, rolled her on her side, before returning to sit calmly across the van next to her own handler.

Damn the cyborg, damn her handler, he could have brought that under control.

But he hadn't, had he?

What the hell had gone wrong? More to the point: what the hell was he going to do about it now? C. Raych's hospital escapade already loomed over him, the last thing he needed was another incident on the records, and he was fairly certain the SWA would take a dim view of handlers whose cyborgs refused to obey. They were supposed to obey, to take orders; not just as a result of training either, it was supposed to be hardwired into them when they were built, part of the base program. If C. Raych had pushed against his authority that much, there had to be something wrong right down to that level.

But would it be enough to deflect any wrong doing from him? Fact of fiction, such realities seemed to be lost on much of the SWA's populace, he needed time to think and, surprisingly, he had a little of it. For now at least, hopefully, they'd not be required for anything more today, parked here on the perimeter until the rest of the staff had done its job and sanitised the area.

"Should we call her a doctor or something?"

Danilo's head snapped around to find Lombardi entering through the forward blackout curtain. No, that was the last thing he wanted… but he would need to get her checked out wouldn't he? After a blow to the head like that certainly, he glanced again at Chiara: whatever else they might be, the first generations hit hard.

Opposite however, Gaetano looked to the SRT man, then to C. Raych and back, before settling halfway to hold his gaze squarely on Danilo. "Give her a chance to talk when she comes round first, no point worrying the brass more than we need to."

Close, too close.

"She's going to have one hell of a bump on her head though," their driver was speaking again, giving the elder handler an evaluating look in the process, "the doctors will notice one way or the other, and want to know how it got there."

"As I said: we'll see what she says once she's awake before kicking this one up the line."

What was that supposed to mean? A screw up like C. Raych's would be reportable. If a cyborg malfunctioned, disobeyed, then the medical department would have to be informed immediately, so they could figure out why.

It should be… but…

"I'll… probably need to get C. Raych checked over anyway," the words were stiff, forced out, "the last thing I want is any damage she might have sustained causing a malfunction… another one."

Silence, words hanging in the air until Gaetano gave a sigh, and turned a glare on him. "You know what your problem is? You think the tech explains it all, that issues can be sorted out in the lab, and they can't."

"She's a cyborg Manfredi…" Danilo felt the anger starting to boil up, damn the man for putting him in this position, damn him for having a charge more able to react quickly to instructions, "…that makes her technology by definition, and theoretically that technology should not be able to disobey an order, at least it shouldn't had the doctors done their fucking job properly."

"I'm no quack, but last I heard if a theory didn't work it's time to write it off as a dud theory. She's not digital watch Danilo, she's a girl, a confused one at that. She's not trying to disobey you, she's trying to please you, but has no idea how to go about it, and if you'd spend half as long looking at what's before your nose rather than burying it in a spec sheet you'd see that."

Another pause, and Danilo started to open his mouth again, but was interrupted by a quiet groan.

He shut it, and four sets of eyes turned to the recumbent form beside him. Across the aisle, Chiara tensed, moving slightly so as to put herself better between her waking counterpart and Manfredi. That wasn't an encouraging sign, and his own hand crept toward his carbine, before stopping to instead extract a yellow auto-injector from one vest pouch. A quick movement had the needle's protective shroud off, and he held it ready as C. Raych's eyes flickered open. For half a second there was no movement, then pupils twitched as her gaze darted across those arrayed around her.

Chiara's hand was now hidden, wedged behind her back and probably on the pistol holstered there, but her handler shook his head, before beginning to speak.

"Ray…"

"Sit up C. Raych." Danilo's voice cut harshly across the other man's. "Now."

Still moving groggily, the cyborg struggled upright, legs falling off her platform to help swing the rest of her vertical, nylon vest sliding noisily over olive drab soundproofing on the wall behind. Nothing to worry about then and, sheathing the auto-injector once more he stood, feeling eyes on his back as he moved between them and his charge. This wasn't their concern, this was his.

"Stay still."

"Y… yes, sir." The cyborg's words were quiet, her gaze downcast.

"And look up."

"Yes sir."

The hard line formed by tightly bound hair across her forehead meant the growing welt there required little finding, and he reached out to give it a tap, causing C. Raych to wince. The doctors were certainly going to notice that, hopefully Chiara's punch hadn't caused any actual structural damage beneath too.

Steadying trembling fingers as they dug in another pouch, he extracted a small torch, twisting that on before grasping her chin to hold it firmly at the straight ahead.

"Don't blink."

Flicking the bright beam up, he saw one pupil contract, before repeating the process in the other eye.

"Now watch the light and don't move."

Steadily he waved the torch left and right, her eyes tracking it, then released her again and twisted it off.

"You're fine, just a bump to the head." His words were clear and sure, more addressed to those behind, but the next were furious, meant for only one. "What the hell happened there, C. Raych?"

"Umm…"

"I gave you an order, you disobeyed it. Why?"

The reply was a moment coming. "I just wanted to make you pleased, I thought you wanted…"

"Wanted you to disobey me? Is that what you thought?"

"No!" An edge of panic crept into the cyborg's voice now, words tumbling out in a rush. "No, I didn't want to disobey you, but you did not look happy, I thought you didn't want to wait here, I thought you wanted me in the Colosseum. That is why you trained me is it not? So I can go fight? I thought you wanted me to go fight. I thought that was what you wanted, Chiara said…"

"Chiara said!?" The words were out before he even realised he had uttered them, incredulous and angry.

"…said that I should anticipate what you wanted, that it would make you happy."

"I don't give a fuck what Chiara said! You listen to me, not her, or any other cyborg for that matter!" Now he rounded on the first gen. "Did you tell her that?"

"No." The reply was level, accompanied by a blank stare.

Bullshit she hadn't, C. Raych was not imaginative enough to lie. She couldn't lie, not to a handler. For that matter Chiara should not be able to lie either.

"Bullshit. Chiara, I'm ordering you to…"

"Shut up Olivetti."

The words were cold, edged with steel, and his head snapped around to stare at Gaetano.

"I don't step on your toes, so do me a favour and don't order my cyborg around." Now however the elder man's voice softened, and he turned to Chiara. "Did you tell Raych that though?"

"No. I told Raych..." eyes flicked sideways to the generation two, but her voice was steady as they returned to her own handler, "...that our job was to follow orders, and try to anticipate those orders so we could be more ready to carry them out when they were given… was that wrong?"

A moment passed, then the man beside her shook his head. "No, not at all."

"So she did say..." Danilo felt the other's gaze return, quelling additional comment.

"A misunderstanding. It may have escaped your notice, but that happens from time to time. Raych just took things a little further than she should have."

"Yes, and from now on she's not going to do anything I don't tell her to," he turned around again, "are you C. Raych?"

"No, sir," she paused, something else playing behind her eyes, "but Monty…"

"Fuck Monty..." Danilo's fists clenched, trying to get himself back under control: he'd known Blacker and his girl... cyborg... were going to be bad news, a bad influence. The last thing he needed though was another outburst, not right now, "...fuck Blacker, and while we're at it, fuck Croce, Hilshire and Pagani to boot. You're my cyborg, you do as I tell you, no more, no less. Exactly as I tell you. Is that clear?"

C. Raych's eyes were downcast again, hands dry washing themselves in her lap, but her reply was firmer now, and if he didn't know better he could have sworn the glimmer of a smile appeared on her lips.

"Yes, Danilo."

"Good."

Hopefully it would be.

A resigned sigh issued from behind him. "Frankly, you'd save everyone a world of trouble if you'd learn to communicate rather than leaving her a mushroom."

Taking a step away, the handler moved back so he could get the whole van in view, just in time to see Gaetano stand and look at their small assembly. "Either way, I don't think the details of today are worth jostling the doctors' collective elbows with…" now he looked directly at his younger counterpart, putting emphasis on the next words "…unless you have any objections, Olivetti?"

Did he have any objections? Of course he had objections: the man had ordered his cyborg to knock C. Raych out, putting them in this predicament to begin with. Frankly they wouldn't be here at all were it not for him and, to add insult to injury, he then had the gall to twist the whole thing so that Danilo would somehow appear indebted to him, so Manfredi would damn well be able to hang the whole incident over his head to boot.

"No…" the word ground across his teeth, "…no objections."

"Didn't think so." The elder handler now looked at his own cyborg. "Chiara, don't go telling the other girls about dropping Raych today."

She smiled. Smiled. "Yes sir."

The next words were louder, directed at the van's front. "You hear that Espo?"

"Yeah, I heard."

"That's still a nasty lump on her head needs explaining, before someone starts asking awkward questions," put in Lombardi. Then he gave Danilo a hard look, and the next words pointed. "I would hate to see her put through that."

The handler twitched, but was denied a retort once more by Manfredi's voice, its cutting edge gone to be replaced by a dry note. "Everyone knows your driving Lombardi, blame it on that."

"Not my fault if someone's not buckled up, that's for you handlers to check…" Danilo returned the man's glance stonily at those words, "…and speaking of, you'd best check again. Ferro should be finished soon, and I doubt Jean'll want us hanging around any longer than absolutely necessary."

With that he was gone, back through the blackout curtain.

Arsehole.

Light snow, which had apparently hampered Ferro's clean up effort in Rome, was not in evidence as Raych walked silently beside Chiara back to the dorm, both still lugging side arms and heavy rifles. Low, sullen clouds however remained, casting the SWA grounds in an early twilight and adding their depressive weight to conflicting emotions fighting for control over her. She had messed up, again, in front of another fratello to boot. She knew she had messed up, Danilo had been furious, and she had made him look bad. All she had wanted was to curl up into a ball and disappear, but...

"You're my cyborg, you do as I tell you, no more, no less."

She let the words roll through her mind again, bringing a faint smile to her lips. 'His' cyborg, she was 'his' cyborg, Danilo had said that. Whatever had happened, she was still his, he still wanted her... and now she knew what he wanted of her as well. Danilo had told her exactly what he wanted: do as he said, no more, no less. Do not try to anticipate him, do not try to guess what he wanted, all she needed was to do exactly what he told her.

His cyborg.

The remembrance of those words put a warm glow through her, pushing away the dank chill beginning to seep past her jacket's hard shell and heavy padding. She could make Danilo happy, she would make Danilo happy, just do as Danilo said.

Chiara had said that too hadn't she? To follow orders, to anticipate and be ready for them. It was not Chiara's fault that she, Raych, had taken what she said too far. Chiara was smart, she knew what to do, it wasn't the younger girl's fault that, as Mr. Manfredi had pointed out, her words had been misinterpreted.

At that thought she glanced sideways to her companion: technologically inferior, a head shorter, much younger, but also very much wiser. What must Chiara think of her now? Did she hate her, think her stupid? Chiara was smart... Monty was smart too, really smart, and she didn't like Raych.

Danilo's cyborg.

The thought lightened her musings slightly again, and she glanced once more at the small figure, gravel crunching under even footfalls they walked the last few paces to the dorm's colonnade.

"Umm, Chiara?"

Halting on stone steps leading toward the covered walkway, the generation one turned back to her.

"Yes?"

"Umm... I am sorry," Raych found herself staring at the ground, not daring to raise her eyes, "sorry for today, sorry for getting your advice wrong and ruining things. I am sorry you had to stop me."

"Don't be sorry that I had to stop you." Now she did look up, to find the other still paused, gaze evaluating. "I was merely doing as Gaetano instructed me, following orders. I hope I did not hurt you too much?"

Raych's hand flew to the lump still on her head. After all that, Chiara was still worried about her?

"It is... it is fine. I, umm... I hope your hand is okay."

"I'm built stronger than you are..." the words were not a boast, just a statement of fact, "...it's not a problem."

"Umm, that is good... I hope one day I can follow orders, and get them right, like you do."

She meant it too, she really did. Mr. Manfredi had given an order, and Chiara had carried it out. No hesitation, she had not needed to think about how, no questions: he had spoken, and she had done what he said. She knew what Danilo wanted now; she would have to stop thinking too, learn to just react to his instructions. Thinking slowed her down, that she was sure of, and Danilo's orders left no room to be misinterpreted.

Not unless you were stupid, she should not think about them.

She was Danilo's cyborg, of that she was certain. He had said it, and she was certain of what he wanted too. She liked that certainty, and if Chiara had not hit her, if Mr. Manfredi had not ordered Chiara to hit her, if she, Raych, had not messed up, she would not have it now.

But she had still messed up.

"Do not look so glum, everyone makes mistakes." Chiara's voice interrupted her thoughts, and the other continued. "Gaetano says that it is okay to make mistakes, but that mistakes should be learned from and never repeated."

"I did learn from this one: I learned what Danilo wants me to do."

"See? Then it is not all bad," the shorter cyborg shivered, "and it's too cold to stay standing out here."

Moving again, she led them inside, pausing briefly at the notice board before pushing through glass doors into the dorm's warm, flagstoned entrance.

Bidding her newest friend goodbye at the base of the stairs, Raych started to trudge up toward her own floor. Chiara was smart, and nice, and patient. She had been scared to talk to her, scared to apologise, but she had, and it was okay. There had been no need to be so afraid, and she had learned more, become even more certain of what Danilo wanted, become more certain that Danilo wanted her.

Would Chiara have been so nice had she not apologised though? Maybe she should try apologising to Monty as well.

Knocking once before pushing through their shared door, Raych found Kara already cross-legged on the room's floor, rifle parts neatly arranged on a canvas drop sheet, her DSR-1's exposed workings lending the room a slight scent of gun oil.

At the sound of the latch, her senior looked up. "Hi Raych, Ferro's cleanup crew finished?"

Surprised Kara somehow knew what her orders had been she halted, searching for a response. Eventually however, she just nodded. "Yes, they did. Good evening, Kara."

Taking a seat opposite her roommate, the younger girl unzipped her rifle case, opening it flat to lay the empty Tavor out before herself.

"Umm... have you seen Monty?"

"No, and I doubt we will see her again before she leaves now. If I was going to take a guess at where she is though, I would say she was probably still in with the intelligence division," her opposite number's look became inquisitive, "why?"

Raych paused, picking up a metal punch to push one pin from her weapon's stock and extract its bolt carrier. Did she tell Kara? Tell her about the incident in the van? Tell her what she had learned? Did she tell her that Chiara had been so nice about her mistake, and that she had learned more by saying she was sorry to her, so she wanted to try again?

But how would that make Danilo look? It would make him look bad if anyone else found out how she had messed up... she could not talk about Chiara stopping her, not at all.

"Umm... I just wanted to apologise to her, for the hospital. I, umm, I do not think she likes me very much."

There was another pause as Kara started to reassemble her rifle, suppressed barrel first, before giving a bitter chuckle. "Apologising to Monty won't change that. If she's decided you're not worth her time, then you're branded that way for life."

"Would I be..."

"We all are. Monty doesn't consider any cyborg worth her time associating with."

Looking down again, Raych turned the bolt carrier over in stubby fingers, thinking.

"Chiara said Monty's is a different world to ours, one which we do not cross into."

"That's not actually a bad way of putting it." Kara locked her weapon's stock into place, and cycled the bolt quickly, checking the weapon's function "We cross a little sometimes: I travel too, though not as much, and was in Monaco with her, but she does not mix with us, not willingly, and her work is not like ours. She's never known anything different to what she does; she's never been a regular cyborg. That's what Michele says."

"But I would still like to..."

"Don't. Trust me when I say, don't. All you'll do is annoy her more." Now it was Kara's turn to halt in her speech, thumb idly tapping at the side of her rifle. Finally, she seemed to come to a decision, eyes raising to look directly at Raych. "We are sorry too though... Allison, Marisa and I, I mean, for the hospital. Marisa told me, about the reconditioning threat, we should never have drawn you into that."

Raych froze: the reconditioning threat. She had forgotten about that, but now the memory came flooding back, sending ice sluicing through her veins. After messing up like today, Danilo would certainly recondition her, wouldn't he? Wipe her clean and make her a blank slate, she would deserve it too, and he should if it would make his life easier. She did not want to be reconditioned, she didn't, but if it was best for Danilo...

His cyborg.

Those warm words met the ice, halting its advance, but neither causing it to recede. Danilo had called her 'his' cyborg, surely Danilo would not have done so if he intended to recondition her, to replace her, or told her exactly what he wanted had he not intend to continue with her... and Mr. Manfredi had said not to tell anyone, even ordered Chiara not to. Mr. Manfredi could not control Danilo of course, but if no-one else said anything...

When words finally left her lips, they were fast and rushed. "No, no, do not be sorry. I should never have wanted to go. I was the one who wanted to see Monty, you were just trying to help."

"But we still shouldn't have suggested it, we didn't realise..."

"It is fine, it's fine... I am sorry for wanting to go, for getting you in trouble, so please do not be sorry to me."

"But..."

"It was my fault, I am sorry, sorry for making Monty angry at you..." the stout cyborg's eyes fell again, and her voice dropped, "...sorry for always being so much trouble."

Silence descended, both girls looking at their hands.

From the hall outside came the sound of footsteps muffled on carpet, approaching then receding as someone walked by.

"I could umm, I could ask Michele to carry a message for you, if you would like... Monty uses the desk across from him in the handlers' office."

A desk in the handlers' office, adult work, a bed in the staff accommodation and a life spent away from campus, away from Italy. She really was from a different world.

"That would be, umm... thank you."

Voices drifted down the hall now and, from father away, came the splash of running water, someone was having a shower.

More silence.

The sound of an engine passing under their window, accompanied by crunching gravel, wafted up from below.

She should say something, normally Kara would say something, but she had gone quiet too. Say something, something different... find a new subject.

"Umm... has Triela arrived back yet?"

Almost physically grasping for the proffered lifeline, Kara shook her head. "No, she's still in the hospital."

Raych's eyes shot up. "Is she?"

"Yes, she took two hits at the Colosseum, so won't be out until at least tomorrow."

"Is she okay?"

Now the elder girl nodded. "They were just pistol rounds, that's what Michele told me, so she'll be fine."

Triela had taken the glory again, Mr. Croce had chosen her over Raych, because Triela was better. Triela did not mess up, or need Chiara to knock her out, Triela knew what she was doing... and now she, Raych, did too. All she had to do was follow Danilo's orders.

If only he would tell her how to best do that.

"I wish I could be like Triela."

Another quizzical look."As in?"

"On the radio, at the Colosseum, she sounded like she knew what she was doing, certain of how she should carry out her role. I want to be like that, to be certain."

"Triela's had a long time to get used to her role, she's practised at it, like I am at mine or Monty is at hers." Now, Kara smiled. "Don't worry, you're still very new, you'll have plenty of time to get used to yours, it's not like it'll change any time soon."

Pieri Lorenzo looked over the small group gathered before him, the desk lamp's warm puddle creating an intimate atmosphere around their four leather armchairs, lighting this corner of his otherwise darkened office. Its low glow however also cast deep shadow across already haggard faces, none looked like they'd seen proper sleep in days, and that was likely not far from the truth. Proceedings had not slowed post the death of one Massimilano Anasetti, the press-dubbed 'Roman Sniper'; in fact the forty-eight hours since had been busy as any during the man hunt proper, if not more so. For Priscilla, seated in one of the farther chairs, that was certainly true, while closer to him Ferro and Jean had not been spared either, tidying up loose ends to ensure the SWA avoided any unwanted attention. Of the four, Fernando Bianchi, opposite Priscilla, had probably fared best with only the injured Triela and an unsightly bump on the head of Olivetti's cyborg to contend with.

Well, no rest for the wicked... though by that measure he should probably never sleep again.

He cleared his throat.

"Thank you for turning up tonight. I know we're all still busy, so I'll try to keep this brief as possible." He paused, pleasantries dispensed with. "Bagging Anasetti has given us a political leg-up, but the Padan intelligence operation surrounding him seems to have revealed some glaring holes in our own existing strategy. I know we're still in the process of finding out exactly what those holes are, but if we intend to make changes in their wake, we need to get the ball rolling now, while we still have the political momentum. If we don't, we risk giving the likes of Councillor Aragon chance to start diminishing that success once more amongst whatever tranche of support we'll have managed to garner. Priscilla and Fernando already have an idea of where I'm considering heading, but now that some of the pressure's off Operations..." his statement drew a wry snort from Ferro, "...it's time to get you involved too."

Taking a sip of water from a glass left on his desk, he nodded at the young woman seated toward the light's edge. "Priscilla, do you want to give us a quick rundown on where you're up to first?"

There was a rustle of paper as the intelligence superintendent consulted the folio before her, playing for time, followed by a sigh. "Honestly, not a whole lot farther than where we were last night in the Spook Pit. I know Hilshire and his tame detective are still chasing up with Anasetti's old Paracaduisti regiment, and where he's been since his last deployment, but they've nothing new to show. As to sorting which fratelli have been compromised, or if the Padania are even seriously trying to pick our fratelli from the crowd at all..." she shrugged, "...frankly we're still gathering data. All I could tell you right now is that those in vehicles both days are probably safe, maybe our counter snipers but, until we can say with some certainty if this is a feint or not, to otherwise avoid deploying any fratello lacking reasonable undercover experience. Not just experience at blending in with a crowd either, but in actively evading people searching for them."

Shoulder to Lorenzo's desk, Jean nodded his agreement.

"Things might go a bit faster if we were not relying so heavily on Section One's resources, or if they would let up being their usual obstinate selves." Now, she looked toward Jean. "If we could task one of the more intelligence inclined fratelli to assisting I think it would help a lot, or even the Blackers."

It was not Jean however, but Bianchi, who answered. "You won't get the Blackers I'm afraid. They're not chafing to leave so much as usual, and the excitement has given us an excuse to hold Monty a bit longer, but her pass-out check is less than a week away, and I doubt they'll remain beyond that."

"And I can't spare any of those still usable fratelli," added Jean. "Most were on the street for day one, and those competent enough in playing by... what's Pagani's term? 'Moscow Rules'? ...to safely send out are few and far between."

"Which brings me to the next point," Lorenzo cut in before the analyst could reply, "Priscilla, Jean, you can talk through resourcing later, but the Padania's tactics do seem to be changing, and we do appear short-handed to counter them. For now I would like to leave some room to move in how we deal with that, so have asked Fernando to mark the cyborg build programme on hold."

"It's a good thing you called when you did too," put in the doctor, "we were about to start organising our next transfer in, poor kid."

"Some might consider that a blessing." Ferro's tone was dry. "She was another coming in without a handler assigned to take her yet wasn't she?"

"Yes."

"Speaking of which, Ferro, I want you to put handler recruitment on hold as well," the chief continued, "then sit down with Priscilla and Jean to start figuring which way the Padania seems to be headed, and what roles are going to be most useful against them. I'm afraid that will probably mean building the candidate roster almost from scratch, because I doubt replacing gen ones like-for-like will be the answer." He halted again, changing focus. "Priscilla, can you spare anyone to help out there?"

The young woman shook her head, sending short, wavy hair swaying. "Not really. Genco's still assisting the Blackers, and my other girls and boys are flat out trying to plug our existing security problem."

Lorenzo stopped, pinching at the corners of tired eyes to buy a moment to think. She was right of course, which was why it was his job to then balance operational want with political necessity.

"I'll let you make 'who' call, but for now we may just have to take the hit on efficiently plugging gaps to get Ferro and Fernando under way."

"Even then, this is all going to take time." The support manager was again studying her thick, leather-bound diary, tapping a silver pen against its surface. "Finding suitable handlers isn't the work of a moment, and if we're headed back at square one with candidates, you'll need to rebuild the equivalent cyborg list as well." Now she looked over at Bianchi, who nodded, then back to Lorenzo. "By the time we're done sorting new roles and potential recruits, the current crop of viable cyborg donors will probably have passed on."

"The lead is longer than for handlers too," added the doctor. "Not least because information on minors is more difficult to obtain quietly, but if we're changing role scope, we'll have to re-assess what pre-conversion traits we're looking for... not to mention the usual issues just in finding donors compatible to our technology. We probably won't be starting cold but..."

Lorenzo nodded at that. "Which is why we also need to investigate what can be done to bolster our capabilities short-term with our existing fratelli. Jean, that's probably one for you to spearhead..."

The field commander also nodded his consensus.

"...I would start with looking at who was effective and/or useful, or stayed most of harm's way, hunting Anasetti and take it from there. Drag the handlers in to pick their brains if necessary, but this one needs moving fast on, before anyone decides to start accusing us of resting on our laurels."

"I'll start looking into it tomorrow." Now Jean's voice became dry. "At least if we need to retrain anyone, they'll have plenty of spare time."