Tracker, page 23
“Which is to say,” Ilisidi remarked, “that we are in fact quite defenseless, but that we must behave as if we are not—since what they do not see cannot be demonstrated not to exist. So we shall let them deceive themselves, if they need to be deceived. The humans, Tati-ji, feared their library would fall into enemy hands, betraying our location and situation. Unfortunately, as one understands, the arrival of our ship to recover it blazoned our origin and our path through the heavens quite, quite adequately, which was the chief piece of information we wished to keep secret in the first place. Kyo territory is not, one understands, a deep mystery to the ship-folk or the Reunioners. Humans intruded where they ought not, apparently provoking and alarming the kyo, which may have occasioned their appearance at Reunion Station. The kyo, having received our assurances we shall respect their territory, are here now, surely, to look and see for themselves what we are—or perhaps simply to balance the human intrusion into their territory with an intrusion into ours. We do not know.”
“So how shall we deal with these people?” Tatiseigi asked. “What shall we expect?”
“We are not close neighbors,” Bren said. “We scarcely threaten one another in terms of territory. There is no pressing need for conflict, which could prove expensive in every sense. Atevi understand that numbers rule the universe and readily accept that people may belong to many associations at once. The kyo seem to believe—and this is murky—that associations once made must be permanent.”
“Permanent,” Tatiseigi echoed, frowning.
“We do not understand what kyo mean by associations, or if the word is correct at all. This is one of many things we have yet to understand. The dictionary, such as we have developed it, has fewer than three hundred words.”
“Which is certainly better than we began,” the dowager said, “and a great deal to the credit of the paidhi and my great-grandson, who gathered words and wrote them down.”
“And the young gentleman and yourself, aiji-ma, who engaged them and calmed them.”
“Pish,” Ilisidi said. “We need more words, paidhi. We need precise words and more of them, aptly used, so we may be better able to deal with them.”
It was, indeed, what they had for resources.
Given that Phoenix was all but unarmed, words were all they had.
• • •
Time was running. Next day was the fourth, their last whole day in Shejidan, the last day before they would take the train to the port, and the port crew understandably wanted their baggage early. Crates stood in the hall now, about to go downstairs to the train station. Staff hurried back and forth. A grocery order arrived, with a large supply of orangelle concentrate that didn’t so much as visit the kitchen before it went straight into a crate with other non-wardrobe items, including real flour, fine cooking oil, and granulated sugar.
Even during the meeting with the dowager, two crates had arrived in Bren’s apartment from next door: Cajeiri’s wardrobe crate and a smaller one belonging to his bodyguard. Staff had simply stacked them on baggage trucks and they stood there overshadowing the foyer.
“We are ready,” Narani said by late afternoon. “The baggage is ready to go, at your word, nandi. One believes the dowager’s staff is likewise ready.”
“We shall send ours the moment hers has cleared,” Bren said, “at your discretion, Rani-ji.”
So the crates began to disappear then, as many as they could fit in the lift at once, until the foyer stood empty. Exhausted staff ate sandwiches, and slept—finally, slept.
Bren’s own supper was a very informal affair—the junior cook, a lad from Najida, had presided over the kitchen amid Bindanda’s raids on the spice supplies. And brandy afterward was an uncharacteristically solitary affair. His aishid joined him for a conference, but, being on duty, would not take a drop.
“Go to bed, Bren-ji,” was Banichi’s advice. “You, above all, cannot become over-tired.”
It was good advice. His bodyguard would continue to work, in shifts. He took his bath and put himself to bed early.
He had talked to staff, and made final assignments. Supani and Koharu were distressed to know they were not going aloft. They protested their willingness to go on a later flight, if they turned out to be needed, and he had assured them both that would be a consideration.
But to be set in charge of a large household staff—next to the aiji’s own, that was no minor thing, either.
Their distress concerned him, however, at a time when he could not distract himself with worries or second-guess his decisions. The baggage had left for the train station. Staff was still moving about, excited and distressed at once.
To shut off distractions, he took the kyo dictionary to bed and thought and thought, recalling the circumstances and the locale and the expression behind the words he had written down himself, trying to get a clear focus on the syntax, difficult as it was. The language held nothing like the numerical content of the atevi language, and, like Mosphei’, was more than a little confusing regarding what was a noun versus what was a verb.
Verbs combined, and seemed hell to figure, in forms and nuance. They were dicey things, like nouns or states of being embedding outcomes, and a few infixes giving clues to desirable and undesirable values.
If they were even verbs. Or if that ancient concept was not misleading him.
Could one negotiate a treaty with only nouns?
Easier said than done.
Did the kyo even have a concept like treaty?
It was a state of being. So there was a possibility.
His eyes were tired. He was asking himself about abstract nouns while attempting to decide whether there was any internal clue to tell chair from sit—that was how basic it was. The phonics in which he had written words down were his own system, and he had had to invent symbols along the way. Consonants and vowels were similarly difficult to define. The language boomed and resonated. He had tried to note distinctions. A human throat could hardly manage some sounds. And what he might have missed—or said by accident—
He found his eyes closing repeatedly while he was trying to read, and he finally got up, went to the wall and turned the lights out, then crawled back into bed and burrowed into the covers.
There was an uncommon chill in the air, tonight. Or he was that tired, and Banichi was right: he was trying to do too much himself, wearing himself down before he was really needed.
Time was running. That was the scary thing. He dreamed about girders, and vast cold spaces, where one needed a coat. That was the station docking facility.
He dreamed about a white room, and knew he needed to meet someone there, and could not remember—
Thump.
No. Hollow thump. Rap on the door. He opened his eyes, alarmed, saw a seam of light, a figure entering the room.
“Nandi.” Jeladi’s voice. “One apologizes. There is a phone call from nand’ Jase.”
He came awake fast, slid off the bed, hardly stopped to snatch up his nightrobe from the end of the bed. Shejidan’s night was Jase’s watch, the period in which he was in charge of the ship’s functions, aboard or on the station. And staff was under orders not to delay any message from the station at any hour.
The office offered the closest plug for the phone. “Tea, please, Ladi-ji,” he told Jeladi, on his way out his bedroom door, and indeed, the office door was open, the light was on, and the phone already sat on his desk. He was shivering as he picked up the receiver.
“Jase?” he said, heart thumping. The floor was like ice. “Bren, here.”
“Bren. They’re talking. Signal is exactly the same as two years ago, simple beep and pulse of light, repeating every fifteen point three five eight minutes. Station picked it up right at the last of the Mospheiran shift and Tillington kept them on duty. Discretion in the Mospheiran section is now completely blown and it won’t be long before everybody knows. News leaked onto B deck inside five minutes, at least that there was a signal out there.”
He’d had about two heartbeats to think, first, that Jase was breaching security, calling him and discussing the kyo directly, and another heartbeat to think, Thank God, regarding the nature of the signal, and a third heartbeat to realize what time it was.
Damn the unlucky chance that it had come in Tillington’s watch.
They were now in an entirely different game.
The robe was not enough. And his feet were approaching frozen. He sat down at his desk, shivering. “Immense relief, here, really, at least that it’s the visitors we expect. But we’ve got to tell Lord Geigi officially and we’ve got to tell the Reunioners and reassure them. What’s the reaction up there right now?”
“Communications are buzzing all over, but Ogun called up second- and third-shift ship techs to duty—that’s the ones that were at Reunion with us. He’s shut down the station com system except for official announcements. Tillington’s also shut the section doors in all human sections to prevent section-to-section movement, but he can’t hold that condition forever.”
“Is Geigi aware?”
“Yes. Expect a call from him, when he can get it out.”
“When he can get it out?”
“Ogun’s locked down com. We’re not transmitting at all, except this one call, pending your clarification.”
Good. “Echo. Precisely what we did in the past. Observe their timing. Otherwise normal traffic. Just keep me posted.”
“Relaying that,” Jase said, and a moment later: “Also advising Geigi.”
“What’s his status?”
“It’s calm, over there. No lockdown. Up in ship-sector, the captains are all awake. Ogun’s ordered me to advise Geigi delay his going on-shift until we can get the humans calmed down. I did relay that. Sabin’s order was to call you. I told Geigi I’d report back, and that Sabin’s watching the situation with the Reunioners. As of five minutes ago Tillington was headed up to ship-sector for conference with Ogun. Sabin’s making an official announcement to the Reunioners just about now, what’s happened, the reason for the doors shutting, requesting calm, and everybody staying where they are.”
Understandable. Not optimum, but the situation up there wasn’t optimum.
“Atevi won’t riot. They will want to get information fairly soon, so stay in close communication with Geigi. They will expect the captains to have a plan and tell them about it. You can break the news to all concerned that we’re headed up there. You know the kyo pattern. We’re likely to have time. Calm and communication are the best route.”
“I’ll relay that to all concerned. I hear we are gaining some time. The kyo shed a little V at the same time as they started transmitting. They’re going to be arriving at least a day later. Maybe a lot more if they repeat the decel.”
That was another relief. The knowledge that Ogun had called the second and third shift Phoenix technicians on duty was a relief. They understood what had worked before. And the senior captains had authorized Jase to bring him into the loop. As had to be.
“With the kyo, we have to do everything the same as before. That’s official, from me. Phoenix has the records. But if anything happens that isn’t in the prior pattern, consult me before any response. Just repeat your prior response and stall with that.”
“Understood. I’ll relay that. I’ll be in touch when I know something more.”
“Right.” Damn it. “Tell Geigi call me if he needs me.”
“I will.” Contact clicked out.
The time? He had no idea. He had no clock in his office: a reminder of time was a nuisance when he was working.
Call Geigi? He needed to do that.
Call Ogun? Tell the senior captain what to do in his command?
He didn’t want to get into an argument with Ogun. Mistrust and infighting inside the Captains’ Council dated back at least to Ramirez—and likely from long before anyone now holding a captaincy.
Every Captain had his allies. Sabin and Jase had the paidhi-aiji, and Ogun, Ramirez’ closest ally, had—unfortunately—Tillington.
This was not going to be a happy divorce, upcoming, Ogun from Tillington. He’d known that before the kyo had entered the picture. Before Tillington had slammed doors shut as if the station were under attack.
Now that the kyo were involved, administrative changes that had had time to work out were coming on like snowballs rolling downhill. He couldn’t wait any longer to open discussions with Ogun. He had to deal with the man and tell him what was going on and about to go on, without letting the situation between Ogun and Sabin blow up.
And Tillington was in Ogun’s office for conference right now.
He feared he might have waited too long.
Jeladi arrived with a fresh pot of tea, quietly set it down and poured it. Jago arrived right behind Jeladi, in uniform, awake and on duty, and bearing his bath slippers.
He slipped his feet into them. They were numb. He accepted the cup of tea, and cradled it for warmth, while Jago and Jeladi waited for information his brain was rapidly sorting.
“Jase-aiji just called. The ship is signaling, nadiin-ji, transmitting as they did at Reunion, so it is the kyo; and the news is out, on the station. Ogun has taken command, and is conferencing with Tillington. Ogun has shut down all communication; I have asked it be opened, and authorized a response. Meanwhile the atevi section seems in good order, but Tillington has shut all the section doors, confining both the Reunioners and the Mospheirans wherever they happen to have been at the time. Sabin is advising the Reunioners what has happened. Tillington has likely made an announcement in the Mospheiran sections. I have authorized Jase to release information that we are coming up there. I cannot complain of the orders Ogun has given, though I am uneasy about Tillington. Advise the dowager’s staff, Ladi-ji, of all this. Jago-ji, advise the aiji’s bodyguard. There is no reason to wake him, but that will be at his staff’s discretion. It was well I caught a little sleep. Our day is starting early.”
There were solemn nods and, as quietly, both left.
He sat staring at nothing in particular, and the tea failed to warm him. Staff was already moving about the halls in greater numbers. Day staff was waking, not necessarily fully informed, but understanding the day was starting, and likely getting information from night staff.
The contact with their visitors was not going that badly. There had been far worse possibilities.
Now there was a manageable event, but it was acquiring a texture of small, troublesome details—one of which was that he had, pursuing the Tillington matter, been preferentially working with Sabin and Jase, who were not in the best relationship with Ogun.
Bet on it, bet on it, Ogun was getting Tillington’s opinions now. And Ogun wouldn’t be talking to the Reunioners, who had experienced this twice before. Or to Geigi, whose section was the only one not in turmoil. The Reunioners and Geigi were not Ogun’s usual contacts. The information flowed as it was accustomed to flow, and in this case, not from the best source.
He wrote a quick note to Tabini:
Aiji-ma, the incoming ship has signaled identically to the ship we dealt with at Reunion. This is very good news.
The signal has just been picked up by the humans on the space station and the news has spread unrestrained to all human sections of the station. I have asked Jase-aiji to relay information to Lord Geigi. Geigi and I discussed this scenario, among others, during his visit here. We have already laid out what to do and in what stages to do it. I have every confidence he is doing exactly that now, and if he encounters difficulty he will contact me with certain coded words. If anything disrupts communication with him, Jase-aiji will contact me. That, also, we have arranged. So I am confident in our arrangements.
Therefore one recommends that the lords of the aishidi’tat should now be given the news to let them prepare their own statements. One recommends this be announced as an impending state visit. We sincerely hope this is the truth.
To Ilisidi:
Aiji-ma, a signal from the foreign ship indicates these are the kyo, and one now has some reason to hope that the individuals we know are part of this mission.
Humans and atevi on the station are being informed of the situation. Transmission from the station has ceased, but I trust will resume soon. Humans on Mospheira will likely get the news as the sun rises if not before. Lord Geigi is implementing plans long since laid. I have advised the aiji your grandson that the lords of the aishidi’tat should be informed at this point. We are not officially releasing the information here on Earth that we are going up to the station, but the station is releasing that information.
The ship is also slowing slightly, giving us a day or two more, but our launch is firmly set and on schedule.
To his staff at Najida: to go by the Messengers’ Guild: Nadiin-ji, an urgent message is arriving simultaneously for my brother. Please wake Ramaso and nand’ Toby to receive it.
To Toby himself:
Toby, phone Mospheira immediately. At this point news will be breaking on the station and it will be making its way through channels by dawn, if it has not already arrived from station operations to Mospheira.
The kyo are signaling. We recognize the signal and it is optimistic. We regard this visit as a diplomatic contact. By all signs, it is the kyo we were dealing with.
Tell Shawn all other things apply.
Urgently.
God. One more day. One more day, and they would be on the shuttle headed up there. But now that the news was getting out, public disturbance might make it difficult to get safe transport to the port.
Call Ogun at this point— or keep operating through Jase, whose immediate superior was Sabin?
He didn’t personally trust Ogun. There was too much cloudy history there—too much of the very history the Heritage Party pointed up as reasons not to trust the administrators, too many things Ogun had done high-handedly, without consultation with Sabin, since Ramirez’ death.
