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child’s isolation fueled her anger.
    “Mother Burke.” Even through the speaker, Gretchen Boreson sounded tense. “Dr. Adetti has arrived. He’s coming in.”
    Isabel stepped back. Oa had knocked her teddy bear to the floor. Isabel crossed the room to pick it up and set it beside the child’s knee. “Don’t worry, Oa,” she murmured. “I’m sure I can deal with the doctor.” There was no response. The girl curled around herself again, and lay unnaturally still. Isabel recognized the coping mechanism, one she had seen once or twice in Australia among children who were victims of violence. But surely no one here at the Multiplex, or on the transport, had been violent with Oa. Isabel’s jaw tightened. There were all too many ways to hurt a child.
    A few seconds passed before the door opened and someone stepped through from the sterile bubble. It was a tall figure, in the pencil-lapelled suit that seemed to be an ExtraSolar uniform, and swathed from head to toe in a transparent accordion-paper quarantine suit. The reverse airflow hissed into the quiet room until the door closed.
    Through the mask Isabel saw black hair, a black mustache. Dark expressionless eyes flicked over her, on to Oa, back to her. His voice, muted by the mask, was deep and slightly hoarse. “Dr. Burke?”
    Isabel folded her arms. “I prefer Mother Burke, if you don’t mind. You’re Paolo Adetti.”
    “Dr. Adetti. Yes.”
    “Oh, of course. Doctor.” Isabel indicated the door with her chin. “And you’re planning to imprison me as well?”
    “No one is in prison here,” Adetti said. He stood stiffly, his arms straight at his sides. “I certainly would have preferred to meet under more congenial circumstances.”
    “No doubt. Try to imagine how I feel.” Isabel’s fingers tightened on her arms. “Are you going to open the door for me, or not?”
    He eyed her. “I’m told you were offered a suit. You chose to violate the quarantine.”
    Isabel’s head began to ache. In Tuscany it must be midnight at least. She felt too weary to sustain her temper.
    She turned her back on the doctor, and went to one of the orange plastic chairs, settling into it with a sigh. Slight as she was, she barely fit.
    “Dr. Adetti, you’ve had this child in your custody for fourteen months,” she said. “Eight months past the most stringent quarantine recommendations. There’s nothing in the archivist’s report to show that she has a contagious illness. Surely the medicator has run tests for antibodies and antigens, bacterial infections. You yourself had direct contact with Oa when she was injured, and you haven’t become ill. Neither have any of the hydro workers who touched her or the other Sikassa child.”
    “This is out of your area of expertise, I believe,” Adetti said sourly.
    Isabel rubbed her eyes with her fingers. “I know enough to understand that ExtraSolar took a young child from her home, subjected her to the risks of a long space journey, and continues to isolate her here. She needs company. She needs to see friendly faces, perhaps meet other children. She needs a bit of kindness.”
    “No one has been cruel to her,” Adetti said.
    Isabel stared at him. “You don’t find any of that cruel?”
    “It was necessary.”
    “Why? What are you afraid of?”
    “It’s not a question of fear, Mother Burke, but of caution.”
    “Tell me what you’re being careful of, then. This is a poor way to begin a working relationship.”
    “You might at least have observed quarantine protocol.”
    “It’s ridiculous. You could have lifted it months ago.”
    “I have my reasons.”
    Isabel closed her eyes briefly, asking for patience. “What are your reasons, Doctor?”
    “I’ll explain, in time.”
    Isabel rose from the little chair. She stepped close enough to Adetti to see his eyes through the clear plastic. “Your reasons. Doctor, or I will refuse this assignment. I will refuse to serve as the girl’s guardian, and your