“Fretting again?”
“It’s more than just fretting.” Siv looked up from the file she’d been reading. Torbjörn was leaning against the control room door, his posture pure nonchalance. “I am worried that we have made a mistake. With Emil. He’s so…”
“I know, I know.” Torbjörn walked in and slid into the seat across from hers. “He’s still such a pampered child, for all his Cleanser training. Not to be callous, but some discomfort could be just what he needs. So he’ll spend a few nights sobbing into his pillow, so what? He’ll come back tougher.”
“If he comes back at all.”
“Torolf wanted him to go. And he himself insisted on going.”
“Once you told him about the money and fame. Anyway…” Siv sighed and picked up another file. “Taru’s picks are similarly concerning. Her little skald… Her non-immunity is a serious issue, yes, but also… just look at her picture! She looks like a cheerful little homebody, doesn’t she? And all those mechanical skills suggest someone who really wants to support her community, help it grow. How did Taru convince someone like that to join?”
“Maybe she’s following her cousin? As a translator, right? He’s been a scout since he was the triplets’ age. He’s probably very interested in exploration.”
“The scout, right.” Siv passed him another photo. “I have concerns about him too. Doesn’t he look a little… consumptive… to you? Like he might collapse at any moment. Will he be able to keep up with the others?”
“With Emil, surely. But even if he’s a little fragile, well, so are cats. Worst case, one of the others could carry him around and judge his reactions. Speaking of the others… surely they must soothe your worries, at least a little? Trond really came through, there.”
“Maybe.” Siv sighed. “A Norwegian captain, yes, that’s just the sort of person we need. I can imagine that this will all be an exercise in frustration for her, though, working with such amateurs. For them, too, maybe, if she fails to make allowances for their lack of experience. And then there’s the medic…”
“A highly experienced man. With military training.”
“A veteran who can’t hold down a job. You know what that usually means. We don’t know how well he’ll keep it together, when out in the field.”
“Oh, come on! Didn’t he come across as perfectly serous and reliable, when we met him? And remember how he told us he’s an excellent chef? That’s very important. An army marches on its stomach, as Trond keeps saying.”
“That’s true, he does.” Siv sighed. “And that’s one real silver-lining, the great price he was able to get on all those rations. If nothing else, our team will be well-fed.”
