"…National Filling Factory Number 6, Chilwell, Long Eaton. TNT and ammonium nitrate filling 4.5in to 15in shells. The materials are toxic to humans. We need dedicated staff to help with the related fatalities. Our Reapers have been called to the battlefields and the cities experiencing bombing. We understand the difficulty of sparing an able-bodied worker; but if you have three or four convalescents who need to supplement half-pay, we can divide one paycheck among them. The advantage to them is that the work is steady but slow, allowing time to recover from their injuries. Demonic interference is rare here…"

Eric called a former student completing his training at Nottingham, collected some gossip, called the local Infirmary and collected more, added the information to the request and went to talk to Chichima Onayemi in Scheduling.

"Chilwell wants injured people to work double shifts for three-quarters pay, do they? Bollocks to that," she said cheerfully. "They need healthy Seniors and can't find any willing to work around the clock with no backup. Battlefield convalescents are their next best hope, but Chilwell's obviously already tried and failed to hire from Medical, who rejected this attempt to overwork their patients. Will they take a group of newly-diagnosed Thorns sufferers? We can check the Hostel for a few who are just on the edge of taking desk jobs. London's too much for them, but if Chilwell is as quiet as this implies, they could do quite well there."

"The Hostel?"

"The Hospice has been divided into two areas. The barracks section has been renamed the Hostel. It's for those who are still self-sufficient with minimal assistance. The Hospice is where patients go when they need round-the-clock nursing care."

"I see."

"There might be a number of Reapers in the Hostel who could take on an easy assignment. If, and only if, there are at least eight of them assigned there on short shifts," she rapped her desk, "with a signed contract. Three-quarters time for three-quarters pay and nobody works alone. The advantage to Chilwell is less turnover. These folks won't get better and leave in a month. With luck, they'll have six months or more before they are too sick to Reap. But the local Infirmary has to be sympathetic to their plight. I won't have them giving these people substandard care and blaming them for their illness."

"I've talked to their Medical service," said Eric. "They sound pretty Junior. I think I can get them to promise proper care. According to the locals, Chilwell's already tried Nottingham, Sheffield, and Birmingham for transfers. No takers, no matter how quiet it is or how unskilled they are. Everybody's short-handed. I can suggest that the presence of a proper team of experienced part-time Seniors will allow them to hire June graduates, as long as they agree to replace those Seniors as needed. We can't let them retire their Seniors and leave half-trained Juniors in charge."

"Suppose we outline a subcontracting agreement right now. We'll specify our conditions very clearly. If they refuse it, it's their problem and we've learned something about their management. If they accept and honor the contract, everybody benefits. If they accept the terms and then break them, we'll pull our Seniors out of there, notify the Academy that their graduates have been left with no mentors, and let local management cope when the Juniors are directed to follow their Seniors to London."

"Can we add in a clause that if compliance on either side becomes impossible, that we can revisit the terms? If a cure is found, the Hostel will close. I don't want us obligated to staff Chilwell from our own Branch."

"Of course. But my primary goal is to protect the Hostel inmates by placing London between them and places like Chilwell. You take our notes to DePoy. Let her Admins go over it and put it in the proper legal terms. Then you'll want them to contract with the Hostel to require all job offers to come through London Personnel. Thus, they can be protected from scheming employers."

Eric chuckled. "Chilwell wants to cheat them on the sly. They certainly will not want it all exposed in a public fight with London Admin. Dorrie, after all, holds the rank of Auditor."

"Yep. She loves this sort of thing," said Chichi. "Now, the minute one Branch hires Hostel inmates, every other shorthanded Branch will show up on the doorstep. Once you've settled with Chilwell, use their contract as a template for future requests. Oh, and we need a small-print escape clause for the inmates in case a cure is found. They're not to be forced to stay on partial pay if they can get full-time somewhere else."

"Good. Good. If we protect the inmates enough, Chilwell may actually consider offering a fair deal to someone local. They'll hate it."

Onayemi and Slingby shared the conspiratorial smile of two people who had chucked a sabot into a deserving gearbox. Together they wrote a quick list of items for the contract.

Eric returned to Operations and handed the draft off to DePoy. Dorrie whistled up one of her crew and the two went over the list. They asked some questions, reviewed the background history of this request, and cackled alarmingly. "Ah, now, me ladies, this agreement must be fair to both sides, ye know. Just make sure that the worker is treated humanely and that nobody can cheat." They looked at him with pity in their eyes and shooed him out of the room.

Eric left them to it. He reported the status of this particular situation to its managers, shared some uncharitable opinions of the Human war effort and of certain Branches' ways of dealing with it, and looked at his watch. "As soon as Alan's back from wherever he's gotten to this afternoon, I'll be taking him off to the Cafeteria. Sam, will I see ye at the Scythe and Skull tonight?"

"What, is it Thursday already? Sure. Dutch is Alan's minder today. When they come in, tell Dutch to join me. I want pub food tonight."

"Avram?"

"Gavin and I will be along a little later. Eric, we need to give someone enough authority to cover third shift if I'm to continue on first and second. Can we draft an Admin until we can train up a Senior?"

"Ask Mari Solway. There's a rule that Operations must be headed by a Reaper. Whether Personnel inherits that, and whether it extends down to shift level, I don't know. Personally, I think it would be a fine idea to use an Admin, for the benefits of having a true noncombatant at that level. Actually, three new Admins to cover all shifts. They may yet call us away, Avram, but they'd leave Admins in place until all Reapers were lost. Liz Brodie is the obvious choice. She'd need to train a replacement to bully me all day, of course."

Avram chuckled. "I'll meet with Marisa tomorrow."

Alan and Dutch both brightened at the idea of pub food. It had been a difficult day, according to Dutch, involving a Supplies manager who was being obstructive to demonstrate his ability to be obstructive. Alan and Dutch had treated him with the exaggerated respect his withered little soul craved; he had swelled and blossomed to plump self-satisfaction and would probably be cooperative for at least a month before needing another dose of flattery.

They were early to the Scythe and Skull. They went back to the Lounge, ordered food, and settled down for a comfortable conversation. Eric ran over the hiring practices of Southern Glouchester. Alan commented on the effects of TNT poisoning – "Liver damage and skin staining. Turns the workers bright yellow. The locals call them Canaries. Some of the munitions stations keep cows and let their workers have all the milk they want, because it seems to help. It doesn't, but at least they aren't as malnourished as the rest of the population. The deaths are hushed up in the name of the war effort."

Dutch and Sam discussed the buttering-up of people who were feeling the need to be uncooperative. Buttering was not one of Sam's inborn talents, but he could see the advantages of learning. They ate quickly and excused themselves to join their friends gathering in the bar.

"Who do ye expect tonight, Alan?" asked Eric as he pursued the last crumbs about his plate.

"Seniors Richards and Johns. They aren't coming to see me. I think they just enjoy each other's company and conversation. Maybe courting a little. Asaro and Franklin, courting a lot, and Knox after his classes. I'm hoping to see Smitty, though I understand he's very busy on a project just now. Cole, Grell, Will if Grell insists. Anybody who isn't working this shift. They'll all have interesting snippets of information to pass along."

"Avram and Gavin will be along later," said Eric. "Scheduling will be here. Chichi did a good deed today and will want to celebrate it with Caroline. I'm expecting Bourne to show up and maybe one or two of his Angels, although I get the feeling that the Garrison is discouraging that. Don't sigh, me Light. Not your fault, and nothing we can do to change Garrison policy."

"True. Well, I should get to work here." Alan stood and left a tip. "I'm going to do my rounds and stay as long as possible. I'm very tired, though. I'm going to go home before I start dozing off in the middle of conversations. I'll have an escort when I go, no way to avoid it, so don't worry if you and Bourne go out and can't find me when you come back. If you two go off to the Twa Corbies, could you please buy me a bottle of their angel-blessed wine? I need to ask Matthias for another tin of tea, and the wine would be a proper guesting gift that his wife could also enjoy."

"Don't know if Frank will have that much time available. I'll fetch your wine if you can wait until me next day off. Want a bottle for the apartment? One of those sour reds ye like?"

"That would be very nice the next time we can afford some roast beef, wouldn't it?"

"Aye. Is Will sidelining your expense reports again?"

"Yes. It will give me some leverage the next time I need to persuade him I haven't really disobeyed an order. Don't worry. I'll go to Brock if I can't pay a bill. We keep a separate book on all that Will owes me."

Together they walked out into the bar area. Alan ordered one of his specials – cold tea in a glass; looked right but wouldn't make him sleepy—and joined a group of mixed nationalities fresh from the battlefields. Eric joined him as he greeted them all and settled in to listen to their stories. The Russians were particularly weary. The French and Germans were only slightly better. Their stories were including human politics, usually a matter of complete indifference to a Reaper, but now those politics directly affected the Reapers' duties.

Eric heard a new accent. The Americans had found the S&S – or, rather, Harmon had brought a couple of them along to meet their allies. The Americans were not yet sending troops. These Reapers were scouting the battlefields for their Directors. They'd found the perfect place to learn. Alan was introduced to them as the Reaper who had provided them all with the Angel Blades. The Americans had evidently expected somebody taller. Eric wondered if American demons would arrive with American Reapers.

Eric listened carefully. The newspapers that once had told him so much were now printing only what their governments permitted. The Romanovs were out, not surprising after the Tsar assumed control of his armies. He was remarkably bad at it, his military experience being limited to equestrian reviews. The war was tremendously unpopular; soon, so was the Tsar. His wife had been equally inept at managing the civilian side of things. They had always been completely isolated from the realities of their subjects' lives. Worse, they had always been surrounded by a Court that encouraged them to believe in their own magical inborn ability to rule. Protests, repression, revolution. The new management meant well but probably wouldn't last. The Russian Academy class sizes were still quite large.

Germany had begun unrestricted submarine warfare. The purpose was to starve England, which depended on shipping for food and materials. The actual result was to create new enemies. Two South American countries had severed relations with Germany. Two others had declared war, in response to German predations in their waters. North America had declared war as well. Three Maritime Reapers were eloquent on the subject.

Japan was using the war to slice some territory off of Germany's Pacific holdings. Interesting. Expansionist political maneuvers. Europeans underestimated the Japanese due to racial bigotry. Unwise. Alan needed to find a new source of information, as Matsumoto and Cruz had died at Verdun.

France had started the Nivelle Offensive, which was going very badly for them. Their General had made extravagant promises his armies could not deliver. The survivors, according to one Reaper, were close to mutiny.

In general, Eric thought, nobody was winning and nobody was admitting it. This was all going to continue for another year at least, maybe two. The second catastrophe was going to overlap the first. Oh joy. He needed to sit down with Alan's maps and one of the Maritime folks. If the disease was going to hit the whole world, it would have to travel by sea; like the Black Death, which was carried across oceans by the ship rats' fleas.

Bourne arrived, most unusually with some of his Flight in tow. They'd adopted Human aspects to fit into the Reaper bar. They were young, innocent and curious. Another two Sergeants were obviously in charge. The Reapers were cautious in their welcome, but the kids seemed so genuinely harmless and polite that the room quickly settled into peaceful enjoyment.

Eric sidled over to Frank. "Where did you get these weans?"

"Now, now, they're not all that young. Just inexperienced, which we are now attempting to correct."

"Rules have changed, have they?"

"Yes. Captain Elihu is now Major Elihu, Commander of the London Garrison. Captain Jaftael, now Major Jaftael, has been transferred to a French post where his talents can shine. Elihu wants to return to the days when Branch and Garrison were firm allies and friends. Is Miss Sutcliff here tonight?"

"Not yet, maybe later. She rarely preys on Angels these days, but these are a tempting target. With any luck she'll be with Will. She's a lady. She'll stay with her escort."

"We are going to be watching our Flight's behavior closely tonight. They don't have much to spend and haven't had their dinner. They'll start with food and won't be able to buy enough alcohol to become unaware of their Sergeants' beady eyes. Is Alan here? Ah, I see him being all inconspicuous over there. I have a gift for him."

"Come, then, let's winkle him out of that crowd. Alan? Frank has news for ye, can you join us?"

Alan flashed him a quick smile. He excused himself from the conversations around him and weaved his way through the crowd. "Good evening, Frank, how are you?"

"Quite well, and better than I have been. Did you know that the Garrison is now commanded by Major Elihu alone?"

"May I hope that he will be a little more accessible than Captain Jaftael?"

"Oh, yes. Jaftael has been promoted into a position more suited to his talents. In France. With most of his support staff. Major Elihu wishes better relations between our peoples, as you can see."

Alan looked at the Flight members being herded to the Lounge. "Oh, dear."

Eric chuckled. "They are well protected, me Light, Grell is not here and would not be much interested if she were. Our ladies prefer adult friends. Frank says they're not really all that fresh-hatched."

Alan closed his eyes. Not his circus. "What changes should we expect from the Garrison?"

"You'll see an improvement in our patrols and responses," promised Bourne. "We'll be encouraging friendships and interactions and cooperation. This is a direct order from Uriel. We sincerely wish to improve relations permanently, Alan. If you need to talk to Elihu for any reason, at any time, you should be able to do so without interference. If you run into somebody who tries to block you, call me at once. I'll have the horrible little squab packed off to France in a cheese crate. It's true. I can do that. I have it in writing over the Archangel's signature. Copies of that document are posted around the Garrison with the appropriate lines highlighted. Want one for your files?"

Alan was gurgling with the effort not to laugh aloud. "Oh, yes, please!"

"Done. Here you are. Also, this is from Matthias. He heard that you needed more of this. He sends his regards." The tea tin was received with wide eyes and gratitude.

Bourne continued, "Matthias would like you to expect a large shipment of this, delivered to you at the Hospice, by Sandriel and our own Major Elihu per the orders of their superiors who may not be disobeyed. Next Wednesday, oh-ten-hundred local. Bring anyone you want to witness the delivery. It's Sandriel's general apology to the Reaper Realm."

Alan blushed. "Can't do it. I'm forbidden the Hospice by the Medical Service." Faint lines showed on his face. Old scars. Bourne remembered when they were fresh.

"Let's talk to them then. They've just been overruled. Let me break it to them gently. Who shall we approach?"

"Doctor Theodore Collins," said Eric, who believed that Collins had been getting a little high-handed lately. "Over there, third table. Hey, Ted, can we speak to you a moment?"

Ted nodded, excused himself and joined Eric, who introduced him to Bourne.

"Pleased to meet you. How can I help you, sir?"

"A bulk delivery of medicinal tea will be made to the Hospice next Wednesday morning, Doctor. Oh-ten-hundred. Mister Humphries must be there to accept the delivery. It constitutes the apology from the Seraph Sandriel to the Reaper Realm, as ordered by Gabriel. Mister Humphries believes he will not be welcome at that ceremony. Can you reassure him?"

"Of course. Alan, this should take care of any remaining resentments from the other Divisions. Color-Sergeant, is there anyone I can talk to about dosage sizes, frequencies, side effects? We want to make the most efficient use of this tea without losing time in experimentation. And can we reorder it when it runs out?"

"The delivery Angels will be from Raphael's host. Would you like me to request an individual who will instruct you on its best use? If you could give me your card, sir, I will pass it along with my request. About how many patients…so many? A pity. Yes, by all means, go ahead and prepare your kitchens to brew for them all; this is no secret, but do make it clear that it is not a cure, but only a palliative… Yes, they are working on the underlying curse. But that's all I know. By Wednesday there might be more news, and if so, Raphael's staff will be the first to know it."

"Good," said Alan. "Ted, here's a new tin. Can you please get this to the patients who might not live until Wednesday? Frank, who else is invited? Are they making a ceremony of it?"

"I don't know. I think Azrael may want to make a point, though. Invitations may be issued in both Realms."

"We can only hope they keep the ceremony short," said Alan. "Then the Cafeteria crew can concentrate on getting the tea brewed, and I'll make Sandriel and his Angels stay to help serve it to the sickest patients. They will have to face the Reapers they have been refusing to help all these years, and recognize them as people, and realize the effects of their neglect."

Late that night – next morning, really – Bourne presented himself at Matthias' gate. A bell rang softly within the house. Bourne waited a courteous moment and crossed the threshold. Matthias faded into view, seated at his table. "Well? How did it all go?"

"You could have come to the bar yourself, you know."

"On duty. Just back. Please report." The glow. Bourne bowed to acknowledge Gabriel's presence, then turned his attention to Matthias.

"Humphries handed your tea off to the Doctor, to give to those who would otherwise die before your delivery next week. He's moderately upset that we didn't do this years ago. Can't blame him. If someone wants to make a production of the delivery, keep it short. They have a wing full of patients who can't outwait a succession of self-congratulatory pomposities, and a Realm full of Reapers who would be offended if you prioritized rhetoric over immediate treatment. I suggest you arrive with large pots of tea fresh-brewed and dispense it at once."

"Noted."

"Doctor Collins requests instruction in dosage sizes, frequencies, side effects, and any other information about the tea that he should know. Here's his card. One of your delegation should be ready to provide all relevant information. Including reordering when they run out."

"Noted."

"Don't be surprised if some of your invitees decline to come. London's too short-handed to reschedule so many people, several of whom should be asleep at that time. I understand that this is supposed to be an apology to everyone who was at Humphries' apartment, but that's logistically impossible."

"Noted."

"I suggest you invite Spears and Jacobs. They will distract any official Angel who feels he must talk. Spears has all the stern unbending dignity any Archangel could ask. Jacobs will tell fascinating tales of wisdom and horror from the Human Realm. They'll also help Slingby smooth things over if Humphries loses his temper. That's unlikely. He'll be off pouring tea for the patients. He's going to make your Angels help with the sickest ones. If they don't like that, tell 'em to get over it before they arrive. If any of them assume the 'shun thee, accurséd Reaper' attitude, I'll deal with them myself."

"Noted…really?"

"Yes, really, some of them do that. Yes, really, if they do that on Wednesday, I will wad them up in a little ball and chuck them back through the dimensional gate. If Raphael will not discipline them, I will come looking to do the job myself."

"Have you yourself actually seen such behavior?"

"I have. So can you. Go visit the Academy Hospital. Try talking with the Angelic physicians there while entirely disguised as a Reaper. I suggest you invite Raphael to go with you."

"Thank you, Color-Sergeant. That will do." The glow vanished. Matthias shuddered. "He's, ah, a wee bit irritated. Here," a graceful gesture produced a tea tin out of nowhere, "take this and give it to Slingby. He's to keep control of it and brew a pot for his partner whenever necessary. At least once a week. For they hold up the mirror, and if we do not like what we see, then surely we must change."