Walking back to Harriman’s desk, she resumed her seat. “We were going over arrival projections for the next week, I believe.”
Lips parted, Harriman slowly sat down in her own chair. “Are you sure you want to continue with this, Lauren? We can pick it up anytime. Don’t you want to go home, or at least back to your own office, and get some rest?”
“No, I’m fine,” she insisted, straightening the upper half of her jumpsuit beneath the rain cape. “I played a lot of competition contact sports when I was younger.”
“You took that Sakuntala right down.” Harriman did not try to disguise the admiration she felt for her superior.
“Once I saw the gun starting to come out, I didn’t have any choice except to get right in the middle of him. He was ready for me to run or try to dodge, not attack.” Smiling, she patted her right hip. “Nice to know a low center of gravity is good for something.” With a hand, she gestured at the projection that still hovered, undisturbed, above the center of the desk. “Let’s get on with it.” Harriman did not see the administrator’s other hand. Lying out of sight in her lap, it was shaking badly.
It didn’t occur to Matthias, more rattled than she would have admitted, to try to suppress the news of the attempted assassination. As a result, it was all over the port and then the rest of Taulau within a couple of hours. The Hata High Chief Naneci-tok came as soon as she heard the news. She arrived alone, Matthias noted, without an escort, braving the derogatory and abusive hooting of the Deyzara refugees massed outside the Port Administration center.