Tracker, page 36
“I’ll do that. No problem. Are we keeping full schedule on this shift?”
“No. I’m going to hold this shift until I’m satisfied I’ve done all I need. I’ll call second-shift on for an hour or two so they can understand what’s happened and understand my orders. Then I’ll give them an early night. I’ll ask Geigi to stay in place through my docking, tomorrow. I want all active control on his side of the wall, including communication with ops, until I get there to take formal charge into my hands. I’ll be working my way through the log, and I’ll appreciate any log updates outside routine, if you’ll arrange that.”
“Understood.” Communications was the only aspect of Central even marginally in human hands right now, and while that didn’t involve life-support systems and locks all over the station, it was still worrisome so long as human hands were involved. Gin was right. They needed to be sure that only Geigi could push the buttons. “No problem at all. I’ll convey what needs conveying to Geigi on the code change. And trust him to deal with the technicals. He’ll put the shuttle crew through to ship-com at their request.”
“I’ll be reading the log, meanwhile.”
“Gin, you’re a jewel.”
“Flattery, flattery. You definitely owe me dinner.”
Long haul, then. Through this shift and into the next. It occurred to him there was one place he might personally gain a little rest from waiting. Tillington’s office.
But that, he decided, wasn’t a good appearance. Or a good idea.
Politics.
Legal matters.
He went to the doorway of the office, looked about. Typical desktop. Files. Keys.
Drawers. A lot of drawers.
He called Okana over.
“I want you to witness,” he said to Okana, “the condition of this office now. You know I haven’t entered it since Tillington left.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’d like to close this door, now, and lock it, and I’d like you to provide orders to the next shift that they not enter this place, because they won’t want the responsibility. I’d like for you and the next-shift chief to assure Gin Kroger that nothing in this office has been touched, by me, or anybody else, until she arrives.”
“Yes, sir,” Okana said. “Understood.”
“Meanwhile,” he said, “I’m going to send my own bodyguard off, group by group, for a short break. I take it there’s somewhere close.”
“Adjacent room, sir, number 12. Not big, but it’s got the comforts.”
“Appreciated,” he said.
It would be. It was shaping up to be a long day. No outsiders got to see atevi Guild or a lord of the aishidi’tat in anything but official form. Gin called for shift-end, and a shunt over to Geigi.
Gin’s contact went over to ship-com, through which he also had Jase.
“You with me?” he asked Jase.
“Still holding out,” Jase said. “Tillington is sulking in his apartment. He’s tried to call the President. He doesn’t have that authority right now, does he?”
“Actually no, he doesn’t. He did. But right now he’ll have to do that through Gin.”
“That’s what we thought.”
“Gin’s letting him stay in his apartment until he leaves. You can tell him that.”
“When he asks,” Jase said.
“This is going to be a short shift, next. Just informational. We hope. Everything’s quiet.”
“Do you need relief over there?”
“I’m all right. A couple of hours. We’re going to be briefing the new shift, getting an understanding.”
• • •
That was the hope at least. A request to Geigi brought a screen live, a read on the kyo transmission, on a screen tucked away in the corner. One part showed, as Bren tried to make sense of it, the course plot. Another was a clock ticking down the expected arrival of the next kyo signal.
Another was another clock, which one guessed marked the time to their automated reply, a few minutes on. The clocks counted off as he watched, a note popped up on the fourth quarter of the display, and the clocks reset.
That was the exchange with the kyo. Measured. Identical. Proceeding while human authority had a relatively quiet upheaval.
It stayed even, measured, identical, for which one was duly grateful.
So did the course, which one suspected, though had no knowledge to prove it, led toward the station.
Okana dismissed his people, who quietly left. The place was deserted for a moment. Then second-shift arrived by ones and twos, anxiously so, people eyeing the weapons, warily settling into place at dead boards. A few had exchanged a word or two with Okana on the way in, and people leaned together, to say in low voices, things like, “Tillington’s out. Dr. Kroger’s coming in.” And: “It’s all right. We’re doing all right. They’re not touching the doors.”
Meaning—barriers weren’t coming down. Angry people weren’t coming in contact. What Tillington had set up wasn’t being undone.
Okana caught Bren’s eye, then quietly left.
• • •
“Thank you for coming in,” Bren said. “I’m Bren Cameron. Everybody you see is somebody’s security; don’t be anxious. You may have heard that Mr. Tillington’s been relieved, and his office is now locked pending the arrival of a Presidential envoy. President Tyers has asked Dr. Virginia Kroger to come up here to handle Mospheiran affairs in the kyo situation—she’s experienced, she was with the expedition when we met the kyo, and she’s arriving with current knowledge of the situation. We’re holding everything as we found it, meanwhile, taking advice before we change anything—” He saw that brought visible release of pent breaths. “In short, you’ll have a stationmaster who has experienced the kyo. We expect to meet with them, exchange scientific information, assure each other of good will, and part company for another number of years. So far, so good. We’re communicating exactly as we did in the last meeting. It’s certainly an exciting event. But no reason for panic. We’ll get the station through this, and we’re going to be taking some precautions for your safety, but we really don’t anticipate a problem. I’ll be retiring over to the atevi side of operations as Dr. Kroger assumes command here, and we’ve assembled the team that met the kyo the last time. We somewhat expect they’ve done the same, and that we’ll have a pleasant, maybe a productive encounter. I can’t answer more than that, except to say that they promised to come visit, and they have, to firm up agreements, and they’ll likely go away again to their own territory. So bear with us. We’ll be feeling our way through this, but there’s no sense of alarm about it. Who’s shift-captain here?”
A hand went up, at Okana’s former seat.
Bren beckoned. The man got up and walked over to him. Put out a hand.
“Jim Harris,” the man said. “Port Jackson. Met your brother more than once.”
That was an unexpectedly pleasant meeting. A lord of the aishidi’tat in public and on official business stayed properly formal, but there was personal conversation, how Toby was, where Toby was. Mospheira was, in many ways, astonishingly small. Everybody had lived where they lived for generations, and if you were in any social subset—like boat-folk in Port Jackson—people knew people who knew you. It was a thoroughly strange conversation, Port Jackson, Toby’s boat, and bilge pumps, here, in the troubled operational heart of the station, but two authorities talking together eased everyone’s nerves. People began to talk among themselves in the background, with occasional curious stares at atevi—whom they might never have seen at such close range, over such a long time—though, as Geigi said, crew could say—also—We talk. We show each other pictures.
I know four or five whole words of Ragi.
It was all going very easily, very smoothly.
Then Tano had a call on com, and the look Tano wore changed. Fast.
• • •
Mani declared that the hour would be what the hour was in the Bujavid, and that had meant supper while the time felt like the middle of the afternoon, and bed before what was ordinarily supper.
Mostly Cajeiri suspected it was because mani was tired and sore and wanted to go to bed. She absolutely would not let anyone see her limp—much—but she had worn a constant frown, saying that the flight was certainly necessary, but that there were a great many inconveniences in the process.
Not to mention, she said, the cold of the mast, which had gotten through the cloak quite uncomfortably and made her bones ache.
So the whole house went to bed, and he lay abed, trying to persuade himself it was night, even if, up here, there was always night outside, and always day for somebody, inside.
He was a little worried about mani, that she had had such trouble, and ached, and now had so little appetite. He worried about her going to bed early, but if mani said it was night, it was night for everybody in the household, and that was that.
Lord Geigi had said everything was all right, that Tillington was gone, that the codes were all being changed, which in this place was the same as changing all the locks to everything, and it could be done very fast, in the blink of an eye.
That was what Lord Geigi had said.
Changing the codes was fast, but it confused a lot of things, Lord Geigi had said that, too. And there was no prospect of Lord Geigi getting back to his own apartment until tomorrow.
Which might mean nand’ Bren would not be coming back either.
He wished they would; and he punched the pillow with his fist. He wished they could all have dinner and then brandy with mani. He wanted to listen to the serious talk and learn things.
But that was not going to happen.
It was too early, and his mind was wide awake. His aishid was learning to sleep whenever they had a chance to sleep, but it was a knack he had not learned yet.
And if he stayed up past mani’s hours now, then mani would be up and about things in what she declared was morning and he would be too sleepy to think tomorrow. And he would be cross. Which was never a good thing to be, in mani’s household.
There had been excitement today. There was going to be excitement tomorrow, too, with the new station-aiji coming.
Well, and he had gotten one exciting bit of news, too, from Lord Geigi’s call, which was that the new aiji would be Gin-nandi.
He hoped he would get to see her soon, before the kyo came and everything started. Gin-nandi was the best. Gin-nandi had been on the ship with them, and she had built the robots the station used for mining, and she would be fair. Unlike Tillington.
And she would talk to him, if he got to see her. He was sure of it.
And if he got to talk to her, the furtive thought came to him, he could ask her to please be sure his associates were all right. Mani would not be happy about his saying anything.
But he would do it. And Gin-nandi would do something to be sure they were safe. He had every confidence she would.
He just had to plan how to get to talk to her.
When she came, Bren-nandi would not have to stand guard in Central. But she would be there, and Mospheiran Central was on the Mospheiran side, where he was not supposed to be.
Maybe, however, mani would ask her to dinner.
That was likely. If Gin-nandi came to dinner, then when mani was talking to somebody else, he could get a quiet word with Gin-nandi, lean close and say, really fast, My associates are trapped. Please get them out!
That was about as fast as he could say it, in as few words as he could say it, and it would make mani really mad.
But sometimes one just had to go ahead anyway.
And a whole lot of things were bound to happen to occupy mani’s attention before they all got home.
When they did get home, however, as surely as the sun rose, mani would not have forgotten: she would find some way to make him remember he had gone against a promise to her.
He was too old now for her just to thwack his ear and tell him to mind.
And if he was wrong—if something went badly wrong because of it—
Mani had given him an order. She was not going to discuss it. Not likely. He could ask, but he was upset, and that was never going to go well, if he began talking to her.
Nand’ Bren was the one who would talk to him, and tell him things.
That was who he had to talk to.
As soon as he could get to nand’ Bren. Which was not easy, not being able even to leave the apartment.
There was a stir in the house. He listened to it, wondering if perhaps something had happened to get Guild attention. Or maybe nand’ Bren or Lord Geigi had finally come back home, across the hall, or down. When nand’ Bren got home, Cenedi at least would want to talk with Nawari, who had been out all day with nand’ Bren, where he was.
Then there was a stir in the back of the apartment.
And a light went on under the door of his bodyguards’ rooms. His aishid had waked. He heard them stirring, and he sat up in bed, shoving his hair out of his face.
“Nadiin-ji,” he said, as their door opened, no longer with the light on. “Is something going on?”
“I shall go see.” Jegari had hoped to slip out, clearly. A message had come through. All his bodyguard was up and dressed. And Jegari left to go ask questions.
It was probably just nand’ Bren, who would send Banichi over, likely.
But Jegari came back with somebody who turned the room light on. Cenedi himself had come, and that was scary.
“Is mani all right?” was Cajeiri’s first thought.
“She is,” Cenedi said. “But, nandi, one of your young associates is in custody of ship security. Lord Geigi is going there.”
“I shall go!”
“No, young aiji. Not without your great-grandmother’s order. She is dressing. She will be in the sitting room shortly.”
Mani would never permit his going. He was sure of that.
“Which of my associates, nadi? Who has escaped? Is this person all right?”
“As yet there is no word of the circumstance, young gentleman. One expects it momentarily. Will you come to the sitting room?”
He had to. If he was to gain anything, he had to dress, and go wait, and stay calm.
He felt a shiver coming on in the cool air. But he tried not to let Cenedi see it.
18
A child had crossed the line from section 23. It was possibly one of the young aiji’s guests, Geigi’s second-in-command had said, but they were not sure. Jase had gotten a call, given orders in ship-speak, and Geigi and Jase had left Central together in haste.
“They will contact us when they know,” Bren said, scanning the room full of anxious Mospheiran techs and Mospheiran security.
Calling Gin to take over seemed the only help. And that took a process. He asked for that connection, stood patiently, waited until Gin came on, a thin, remote presence in the headset.
“I’ve got a call from Lord Geigi,” Bren said into the mike. “Something’s evidently happened with one of the kids, one of the three who visited the mainland. One may have ended up outside confinement. But no one’s sure. Captain Graham has gone to investigate. I’d like to. Can you take over with Mr. Harris?”
“No difficulty,” Gin said on the link. “I’ll handle whatever needs handling. Put Mr. Harris on.”
“Mr. Harris,” Bren said, and handed him the headphone.
Harris took it, settled it on, gazing into the distance. “Yes, ma’am,” Harris said. “I’m here. We’ll stay on. Yes, ma’am. —She wants us to stand by. She says she wants a report when you can, sir.”
“I’ll give it as soon as I have it,” Bren said. “Thank her.” He was anxious about leaving the situation and withdrawing from hands-on control of the area. But it was Gin’s job. Gin’s authority, now.
They did need him wherever the child was. Something had happened, involving a Reunioner kid. Something needed to be found out. Questions needed to be asked. Fast.
“We shall go,” he said in Ragi, and a second thought said maybe he should talk to Mospheiran security as he left, but, no, that was Gin’s job, too. He wasn’t operating as a Mospheiran official. Not once Gin took over.
He walked toward the door with his aishid forming up around him. The others came right behind them, and Guild talked to Guild in a quiet mutter of relayed queries, finding out locations, whatever details they could get.
The lift system was the first thing they needed. They reached it, and there Geigi’s man, Sakeimi, on the verge of pushing buttons, stopped and took on a preoccupied look for a moment, listening to something remote, then said: “There is word from Jase-aiji, nandi. Jase-aiji ordered the child brought out. Ship-folk security delayed long enough to query Ogun-aiji on the matter. Ogun-aiji has now set the child in Jase-aiji’s hands, and says, nandi, as Jase-aiji translates, Please deal with this urgently.”
One strongly suspected that was a very loose translation of what Ogun had actually said.
“Where shall we find him?”
“Jase is going to the main interface. He has ordered the child brought there.”
That was the central and largest of the three lift stations that had, on one side, the atevi side of the station, and on the other, the Mospheiran area. One passed through it, going in either direction, to deal with the other side. But getting off there—there was a very small shared zone. Administrative and shipping offices that had their backs to each other. And a checkpoint.
“Then we shall go there,” he said. It was not a place most people saw, except shuttle crews and people employed in cargo. “Tell him we’re on our way. Which child?”
“I shall ask, nandi.” Sakeimi punched the lift call. It arrived fairly quickly. They all entered, and Sakeimi quickly put in the numbers.
“We are in communications silence,” Sakeimi noted. But that was no news. Guild communications, not going through Central, was an issue in certain places, and the lift system was one such. Sakeimi had asked. But there would be no answer until they actually arrived.
