Councilor De Silva leads you into a quiet street. You can see many faces peering through windows to watch, but the expressions seem to reveal mostly curiosity rather than hostility.
"The street is very quiet," you comment. "I expected the local people to be gathered for our arrival."
"As I said," De Silva replies, "there are many people who don't trust your intentions."
You gesture for the platoon to stop and fan out on both sides of you. De Silva looks up at you questioningly.
"Councilor," you say, "this won't work unless we can talk to the people directly and check for signs of an outbreak."
"Here we are," she says, opening her arms to take in the entire street. "Surely you can see that there are no signs."
"Not unless we can examine the local people face to face."
"I tried to get them to gather outside," she admits, "but they refused."
A long moment of silence descends upon the street as you and De Silva stare at each other. Then, from one of the first-floor windows to your right, comes the sound of a wracking, liquid cough. You've heard it before, when MacMillan's Disease hit the Astral College last year and laid out a quarter of the students before the medical system could subdue it. You weren't sick yourself, but you saw what the disease can do, and that was in a sophisticated medical environment. Here in Free Lhasa, though….
"That's all the evidence I need," you say, pointing toward the sound. "We need to check these people."
"I will not force my people against their will," De Silva says quietly, folding her arms and facing you.