by Neely Dobbs
Part of Briin’s frustration was the fact he had been able to gain so little control over the increasingly complex situation. He wished again for a fine-tuning device that would allow him to focus on selected individuals. Then he could stop worrying about this mass translation problem, find one key person with the power to act and the ability to reason. Then, he felt sure, he could successfully explain the Coalition’s actions, however hard the explanation might be to swallow. But the Advisory Committee had ruled that no contact be made by him or any of his delegates, adamantly maintaining their stance that it might precipitate a hostile confrontation from which no amount of diplomatic dialogue could ever extricate them.
Actually, I’m not being fair to the Lords of all the Houses. Sometimes they actually accomplish the Committee’s designated purpose of honestly recommending viable and well-considered courses of action. It's just that— with the other twelve Houses equally divided into my opponents, neutrals, and my supporters— winning consensus is almost impossible. If only I had the support of one or two more of the Houses!
Briin shook his head.
However fractious the political opinions, why won’t MAC at least let me reply to the distress calls of the captured systems with a simple and reasonable, “We hear you. How can we help?”
He had considered doing exactly that, despite MAC’s wishes. He wanted to do it now. But he knew that taking such a prohibited action could result in the fall of House Ptoriil—and the possible destruction of the Coalition’s perpetually tenuous confederacy.
Briin’s disdain for the sheer cowardice of the Regents flared. In this secure privacy, he finally allowed himself to vocally vent his rage over the Regents’ denials of his repeated requests. “MAC! Mutual Advisory Committee! Recalcitrant Regents! Pussyfooting, posturing politicians! Can’t they find the courage and compassion to at least offer words of help and hope to the poor, beleaguered refugees of the captured systems?
“Why, by the gonads of Great-Grandfather Gozer, have I been chosen to shoulder these impossible burdens?”