Tracker, page 22
Night staff. Usually there were only the laundry staff awake—but laundry had been going on all day, and now packing was in progress. Staff had nearly emptied the closets this evening.
If there was anything he was going to need on the station that Narani might not think to pack, that would be his problem to think of—because earth to orbit was not like running downtown. They took everything they could possibly need: uncompressed clothing, unlike some of the loads the shuttles carried, was low mass. They brought foodstuffs, and a few gifts for staff; but those were no problem.
So there he was, lying beside Jago, staring at the dark ceiling of the bedroom in the stillness after a small sound from the foyer, thinking and thinking and worrying over details—like needing to advise Geigi about the team from Headquarters, which he had hoped not to be doing in the small hours of the morning. But if he wanted to talk to Geigi before Geigi went to bed, he had to get up early.
Then he heard the front door of the apartment open, and Jago stirred just slightly, enough for him to know she had heard it.
“It may be a courier,” he said.
Jago reached for something, and did not get up. He began to, and found his robe as Jago, in the dark, talked to someone in numbers.
“It is a courier,” she said. “From Najida.”
He belted the robe and heard Jago slide out of bed on the other side. He had no desire for sleep now. He felt the slight raw edge of nerves from an already restless night and he sincerely hoped nothing involving his brother or the mainland had gone wrong. He waited a moment for Jago to find her own robe; and before they could go out, he heard a gentle rap at the door.
Jago turned on the lights just as Jeladi opened the door. Lights were dimmed out in the hall, ordinary for nighttime. But the offering of a message bowl was certainly not ordinary, in the bedroom, and at this hour. It held one cylinder, which proved to have Najida’s blue band.
“Ramaso-nadi sent Sindi and Tocari with the message, nandi,” Jeladi said. “Ramaso told them nothing, except not to delay about it, and not to respect the hour.”
“Indeed. Hospitality of the house for them, Ladi-ji.” He was anxious to read the letter, too anxious to go to the office for its useful tools. He uncapped the cylinder, sat down on the edge of the bed in his nightrobe, and with a practiced snap of his wrist and a little tug, extracted the letter.
It was in Mosphei’, in Toby’s casual hand, which, they had joked, only a brother could read. There was no extensive message—just a few lines.
Called home about Aunt Margaret. Explained everything about Uncle T’s behavior. Papa says he absolutely agrees. He and I talked. He’s working on the problem.
Bravo, Toby. Bravo. And thank God.
So word had gotten to the Presidenta. To Shawn Tyers. And Shawn now knew what was going on up on the station and understood that getting rid of Tillington was now beyond urgent. It was a sudden flood of good news.
But could he go back to sleep after that?
Not likely.
“The message went through,” he translated for Jago. “The Presidenta has gotten my message about the kyo. He is either going to send someone to manage Tillington, or outright replace him, and I hope for the latter.” He felt superstitious even about saying it. “All good news, so far.”
• • •
It was, a check of his watch proved, an hour before dawn. So, perched on a counter edge in the security station, he had tea and cakes with his aishid, where no protocols held and business was always allowable.
His aishid, having their own breakfasts, sat at their various consoles, chairs more or less facing him.
“I am confident,” he told them, “that we will be rid of Tillington as a problem as soon as a shuttle can get there. A few days with him, we can manage. One hopes.”
“The Presidenta will deal with him,” Algini said. “And will this effort weaken the Presidenta?”
Leave it to Algini to think that thought. “Possibly. The Presidenta has been keeping very quiet about the situation, but one does not believe Tillington will be silent once he gets back to Earth. He will find those to listen to his complaints. But we hope they will be few in number.”
“Heritage Party,” Banichi said. Human words rarely passed Banichi’s lips. But these two words they all knew.
“Indeed. I fear the Heritage Party will seek Tillington’s acquaintance very quickly once he does set foot on Mospheira. But I think the Presidenta can deal with them.”
There were still frowns. Man’chi was an emotional word. It ran in many directions, and there was a chemistry about it, the same as in humans’ associations: at times that word translated. But some human actions remained a complete mystery to them. He doubted even his closest associates really understood Mospheirans’ continuing anger toward the old colonial management. Despite everything the aishidi’tat had been through with the Assassins’ Guild, there had never been a time at which atevi had even conceptualized class warfare. It was all clan advantage.
Atevi, too, would logically appoint one of Shawn Tyers’ relatives or in-laws to direct the station—precisely because a relative would logically want Shawn to succeed in a job that would benefit the whole aishidi’tat. Mospheirans chose appointees with heritage and interests as separate from Shawn’s as possible. Both were absolutely sure they were assuring a stable, balanced government.
“Mospheirans,” he said, “do not see benefit in supporting the Heritage Party nowadays. In recent memory, the economy suffered from its activities. The fact that Mospheiran enterprise is now deeply entwined with atevi companies means Mospheirans now see their prosperity and atevi prosperity as linked, and they now assume atevi will be as quick as they are to support what they support. They’re as dangerously mistaken as they ever were, but at least they’re mistaken in a more peaceful direction.”
“So far,” Algini said.
“So far,” he said. “Indeed, so far. And while the interface between humans and atevi becomes more and more mistaken, it becomes less and less feared—and that is dangerous for exactly the same reasons it once was. One has no idea what Tillington thinks the situation with atevi is. I doubt he thinks about it much at all. He simply runs his half of the station as if the atevi half were not there at all. Computers do the translation for supply, now. The translation programs we developed during the shuttle-building went on expanding while we were off at Reunion. There is still is no paidhi up there. Effectively, there is not. Mercheson-paidhi has resigned, as we know. Tillington disdains Jase as an ally of Sabin-aiji. So Tillington relies entirely on the computers, and Tillington and Geigi do not speak.
“When we were absent, they managed the station. They secured their food supply, independent of the world. Geigi built his landers and refused to release the remaining shuttle. Mospheira began to build its own shuttle program. And perhaps Tillington began to settle his hopes on that. Geigi built landers to recover the aishidi’tat, and Tillington occupied his own workforce in building room to receive a small number of refugees, if any did return, and by building comforts and resources, as I have understood it, should the station have a long isolation. When we came back, bringing five thousand refugees, outnumbering the Mospheiran population on the station—whatever Tillington envisioned turned inside out. Sabin’s order put them off the ship and onto the station, and this greatly upset Tillington. It was an invasion of his authority, a collapse of all his efforts. All his building had to be turned to housing. His comfortable sufficiency instantly became shortage. And the refugees sharing the Mospheiran side of the station, crowding them, but not atevi—are not Mospheirans. They are descended from people who used to be lords of the station and give orders to the ship. I do find understanding for Tillington’s situation and his emotional state, if not for his actions. One does not well judge whether he has held this anger from the beginning of his service, but it seems now to have slipped all sensible restraint. He is trying to turn one ship-aiji against another. He has made accusations which atevi cannot tolerate. He is isolating the Reunioners, so that the Reunioners have only Braddock to turn to. In the present situation—he is a danger that has to be removed.”
“Are we to remove him?” Jago asked outright, and to his own disquiet, he found himself thinking it would be so simple.
But the consequences would not.
“Politically, for the Presidenta, for the Treaty, no, Jago-ji. I cannot do it. But there is a human finesse that we can apply. I had begun to apply it—and now there is no time for intricate maneuvering. The Presidenta will act. He has powers he can use in emergency; I have informed him, and it will very soon be clear to everybody—this is an emergency.”
“The kyo have not announced themselves,” Banichi said. “But can we be sure Ogun-aiji has not confided the information to this man?”
Bren drew in a breath. “We cannot be sure. But indications are still that no one up there knows except the ship-aijiin, and certain ship’s crew, but not necessarily all of them. I suspect that Phoenix’ technicians have been closely monitoring our backtrail over this last year, in exactly this concern, and while they may have become aware of that ship, one does not believe the station has anything like the ship’s capabilities in that regard.”
Tano asked: “Can the kyo have followed us? Could they have been there all this last year, nandi, silent—as it was at Reunion?”
“That is entirely possible. If it has been there, we have no idea what prompted it to move. But for whatever reason, I gather it is moving toward us on the same side of the sun, which the kyo know will lead to discovery. So one does assume the kyo will at some point announce themselves.” Bren took a sip of tea, as thought proceeded down that track to the inevitable conclusion. “Once it does, one may assume the station as well as the ship will hear it. And when that happens, there may be panic on the human side.”
“How much shall we tell the Guild observers?” Algini asked.
“At this point, tell them all we know, and caution them not to spread the news beyond Council, and to urge Council to keep it secret, as the aiji’s business. If the Guild still has leaks—best we find out now where those channels run.”
“One agrees,” Banichi said.
“The dowager’s plane is now in the air,” Tano reported. He had been watching that situation, minute by minute.
“Good,” Bren said. “One hopes her return will be taken as typical of her sudden decisions. And once we do make the public statement to the people, we shall simply report that what is impending up there is a state visit on the part of the kyo, to which we are responding at a high level—certainly historic, but nothing worthy of general panic. People will need some image of what is happening. Best we shape it in a peaceful way.” Last sip of tea. “But one must also expect the dowager will do as she pleases about releasing information.”
“Cenedi indicates,” Tano said, “that her public reason is a visit to Najida, the matter of the new windows.”
Leave it to Ilisidi, who cloaked her reasons inside reasons inside reasons, and let everyone guess.
Bren nodded. “Once she lands, and from then until we stand in the presence of the kyo, she will be in charge. But Cenedi will need to have advice from us about travel arrangements.”
“We are in contact,” Banichi said. “We will keep him advised.”
• • •
Mani’s plane was landing. And mani would be arriving in the Bujavid very soon, but Cajeiri had no real hope of seeing her when she did. His father would say mani had no need to be bothered, and he could not go to mani’s apartment unasked.
So he simply continued quietly making his lists of things to pack, thinking of all the things he might need, what he would want to bring, because—nand’ Bren’s aishid had warned his today—warned his aishid directly, as if he were grown-up and important—that the public thought he was going with nand’ Bren to Najida for a few days, with mani.
About the new windows.
Which was only an excuse.
But it would explain to anybody why he needed court dress despite it being the country.
Nand’ Bren’s aishid had also warned his bodyguard that he should not attempt to send letters or messages to his associates on the station, either before or after they arrived. Everything had to be kept quiet, secret, and with as little fuss as possible, because there were troubles on the station between the Reunioners and the Mospheirans, and nand’ Bren did not want him or his associates up there to be involved.
Nand’ Bren’s aishid had relayed the question, too, how many seats he needed for his party, and he had thought hard and fast, then answered definitely that he was coming only with his aishid.
He very much wished he could take Eisi and Liedi. They should learn about space. And if he had them he could possibly be more on his own, and not depending on mani’s staff—but he also knew—he had heard from his associates—how very crowded people were, and how scarce things were, and he thought maybe an emergency was not the time to try to be independent of mani. His aishid knew nothing at all about living up there. And he did know.
But the station was different than the ship—so he had things to learn, too: he was sure of it.
He wished most of all that he could tell his associates he was coming—and most of all tell them that everything would be all right despite the kyo coming—
But they would not even know about the kyo yet.
And he could not promise them anything about grown-ups and politics. That, he could not control.
So he reviewed his little dictionary and remembered words.
And he so hoped Lord Geigi would have taken his associates into his section and protected them. Grown-ups sometimes forgot things like that when emergencies happened.
He had to trust that, this time, grown-ups were paying full attention.
12
“We trust all is well here,” was the dowager’s opening statement during breakfast service, on the windy balcony.
And, toward the end of table-talk, one single question that verged on business: “Have you taken Lord Tatiseigi into full confidence, nandi?”
Bren swallowed a bite of spicy toast. “We have talked, aiji-ma, but little about the nature of the emergency.”
“He will join us after breakfast,” Ilisidi said. She laid down her napkin, a signal that they could come in from the cold.
In fact, there was a to-do at the outer door just as the two of them were taking chairs in the warm sitting room, and in short order Lord Tatiseigi did enter the room, which entailed rising and bowing—not on the dowager’s part—and a new pot of tea.
It came down—past polite inquiries after business in the East, and the dowager’s inquiries on the legislation—to dismissing the servants for more serious talk. Cenedi and Nawari, the dowager’s two senior bodyguards, held the door. Banichi and Jago were with them, and now Tatiseigi’s guard, Easterners from Ilisidi’s own Malguri, were in the hall to conduct their own briefing on affairs in the north.
Lord Tatiseigi had to take over the legislative effort in their absence, and also had to stand ready to deal with any situation that spilled over from orbit, or any detail Tabini-aiji needed attended in the meanwhile.
But regarding the kyo themselves, Tatiseigi was informed with only the broadest details.
“Have these strangers spoken yet?” was Tatiseigi’s first question.
“Nand’ paidhi?” Ilisidi deferred the question to Bren.
“No, nandi,” Bren said, “they have not as yet, and we are not absolutely certain they know we have seen them. One thing we do know, nand’ Tatiseigi: we have experience of meeting strangers, and these visitors do not. In understanding strangers at close range—the kyo have only their brief experience of us. So what they will do and why they will do it we cannot predict.”
“Are these the people you dealt with?”
“We are not entirely certain. Another set of foreigners seems to live on the other side of their territory, remote from them, and seem currently to be at war with them, for what cause we have no information. If these other people are warlike and hostile, the kyo are, on the one hand, valuable as allies; but on the other—if the kyo have provoked a peaceful people, the kyo pose a problem. I cannot guess at this point which is the case, nandi. We are so very different from the kyo we do not know why they declared they would visit us. Likeliest in my own opinion, they have come to see whether we have told them the truth.”
“Perhaps they have come to see our defenses,” Tatiseigi said.
“Indeed I would not deny it, nandi. They would surely be interested to see how advanced we are, how strong we are—”
“And did we invite these people?” Tatiseigi asked disapprovingly, as if these were unbidden visitors at a dinner party.
“Precise exchange of intentions or purposes is likewise difficult, nandi,” Bren said.
“They had,” Ilisidi remarked dryly, “blown up part of Reunion Station.”
“Well, and now they come to ours?”
One hesitated to argue motivations with Lord Tatiseigi. It was rarely productive. But Ilisidi answered quietly, “As the paidhi-aiji notes, it is difficult to know their thoughts, their fears, or their customs. It is quite certain also they do not know ours, and if they are wise, they will be as cautious as we shall be. They stated, in the limited way we can understand their speech, that they would come one day. And now they have appeared.”
“One does propose,” Bren said, “that we withdraw Phoenix somewhat from the station. It might be provocative to do it just as they arrive. One thing we should by no means tell them, aiji-ma: that Phoenix is the only ship we have. The ship under construction indicates our ability to build. A hundred more ships could be out and about the heavens, for all they know. Ships do apparently leave a trail, and I do not know how long it persists, but surely there could be other ships or stations in our control, and we shall not tell them otherwise.”
