Tracker, p.32
Tracker, page 32
It was among those things he was determined not to tell them—just in case.
• • •
Baggage in Great-grandmother’s apartment had given up all the things they had brought from home. There had been soft bumps and thumps, doors opening and closing, all the while they had tea and cakes in mani’s sitting room, but now Lord Geigi had gone home, and had an apartment ready for the strangers from the Guild, too, so they were settling in, and would not be staying in mani’s residence.
And nand’ Bren had come back, and Guild had told Guild certain things were settled with Ogun-aiji. So at least everything was settling into place.
Cajeiri was glad of that, and glad to be able to go to his own room, his own little suite, and shed his coat again and sit in a soft chair. He was feeling frayed at the edges—that was nand’ Bren’s expression, and it fit.
Maybe, he thought, everything would settle now and everybody would use good sense.
And he was very willing to rest. So was his aishid, who were all stripping down and taking advantage of the shower in the servants’ hall behind their quarters. That was very well. There was a large bath, too, and the idea sounded very pleasant but he was just too tired. He thought he would take a turn in the shower, too. He had not really had one of this sort since the ship: it was all fog, and strange, and pleasant to breathe.
The bedroom in mani’s apartment was strange to him, half-remembered, but still strange: they had made the rooms connect the way they did in atevi houses, so it felt more normal than on the ship, but it made things feel odd, homelike, and very definitely not at all home. Behind the hangings the walls were metal and plastics, and over by the door, trying to look like a small carved cabinet, was a whole console to control all the things the lighting and fans did. The hall doors were pressure doors and massive—there was no disguising that. The inside doors slid rather than swinging.
It was both remembered and strange-feeling, like a dream he had had more than once.
And if he could have been with his associates in a visit here, he would have found it all exciting.
But things were not ordinary. They had had tea and cakes and staff had all been delighted to welcome them. They had had an informal tea and mani and Lord Geigi talked about things that he was sure he had not heard the half of.
Then Lord Geigi had gotten a sudden call from nand’ Bren and excused himself, saying he had to go bring atevi Central on duty and that the kyo were now talking, which was both scary and encouraging.
It meant everything they had planned on was starting to happen, that was what. And that could bring good or bad.
So nobody right now had time to have a boy in the way, especially a boy who mostly kept thinking about the fact they had locked the big section doors on the Reunioners, and nobody was even mentioning that as one of the problems.
So now he was here, tucked in a bed, with no Eisi, no Liedi, no Boji in the premises, but his bodyguard was with him—little that they could do if things went very badly with the kyo.
Lucasi and Jegari would sleep on fold-up beds over across the room, and Antaro and Veijico had fold-up beds in his little sitting room, because mani’s was a very proper house, wherever she was.
He stared at the ceiling in the very dim light and thought about the kyo. But that was a little scary.
He thought about his life on the ship, and that led him to think about his associates, and whether they knew he was here, so close. He hoped so.
Lord Geigi had said something troubling tonight to mani. That Tillington-aiji had separated off the Reunioners behind locked doors when they got the news about the ship. And people could be stuck wherever they had been when that had happened.
That was going to affect a lot of people, he thought. He thought of Bjorn, who had a ship-folk tutor, with other students, who might even be caught somewhere on the wrong side of the doors.
He thought of Bjorn’s parents, who were technical people who were lucky enough to have jobs of some sort that they had to go to. Had they gotten home?
Artur’s father worked somewhere, too. He had no idea whether that would be affected.
Gene’s mother had no job. He had never heard Irene say whether her mother had one.
But stupid Tillington had ordered the big doors shut with practically no warning, and while he had opened them again for atevi and Mospheirans after an hour or so, he had just kept them shut for Reunioners, and people had panicked, so they had had to call out ship-folk guards. Nobody could get through those doors, in either direction.
Lord Geigi was not arguing too much about the Reunioner doors, because, Lord Geigi said, he wanted Tillington-aiji not to take the notion to seal the whole Mospheiran section off from his, and separate them from the ship-folk.
We would not tolerate that, mani had said.
He would not tolerate what had already happened, or those doors still being shut—but nobody asked a nine-year-old boy.
Section doors were supposed to be a protection in case of fire, or an asteroid, or something. A particular section could lose all its air and heat, if its door was sealed, and nobody else would be affected.
That was scary. That was just really scary. That was how so many people had died at Reunion, when half the sections had blown out, but also how so many had lived.
He had seen how the station looked, with wrecked sections with no lights, just torn up and dead.
The kyo had done that.
But the instant they realized the kyo ship was out there, Geigi had said, Tillington-aiji had ordered the doors shut, claiming it was a ship order. Geigi said he was not sure that was true at all. Tillington had gone on public address, said it was an emergency, and doors were closing in a quarter hour. And people had started running.
What did one do if one’s residence was too far away? The station was a huge place. People were assigned where to eat. Where to live. Where to work if they were lucky and had a job.
But what if they were caught away from where they were supposed to be?
And before the doors had shut, the news about the kyo ship had gotten out on public address, because someone in Central had pushed a wrong button. That was what Geigi said. Since Geigi’s people were not in charge of Central when it happened, Geigi could not tell who had done it, and supposedly it was an accident, but Geigi was not sure.
There had been a panic, and Reunioners had tried to get the section doors open, which was really dangerous. Ship security had tried to keep order and that was when the ship-aijiin finally put guards inside to keep people back from the doors.
And all the doors were open now but the Reunioner doors, because, Geigi had said, they were the ones who had attacked the doors.
So it was quiet now. And the ship-folk guards were still at the Reunioner doors, while everybody else could walk about as they pleased. Reunioners caught out had been arrested and put back into the Reunioner sections . . . as if they had done something wrong.
It was stupid.
He had sat through Geigi’s report and not said anything.
But now he was so worried about his associates he was not likely to sleep.
He was not supposed to ask about his associates, but he had asked tonight about his mail, since that was not forbidden.
And Geigi had said he had sent it across to the other Central. And nothing had come back.
So that upset him, too.
And then Geigi had said—without being asked, so he had not broken his promise—that Jase had visited him twice since he had gotten back to the station, and Lord Geigi had taken the baggage and put the clothing in storage for everybody. And then Geigi had asked Gene and Artur and Irene to dinner, with nand’ Jase, and with their parents, an invitation which Jase had translated and he had sent in ship-speak, but Geigi had never gotten an answer to the first invitation, and before he had sent it again, the kyo ship had shown up.
Then Tillington had done what he had done.
And things were in a mess.
He hoped his associates knew he was here and that he would do everything he could to get them out.
He wanted so much to ask favors. He wanted it so much he had bit his lip sore. He had looked at mani and looked at Lord Geigi and he knew they knew what he wanted, but nobody suggested what to do, or said there was anything they could do.
He pounded his pillow into a lump and whatever it was made of just would not stay where he wanted it.
Meanwhile Lord Geigi was taking over Central, now, which was a good thing. So can you get a phone call to Artur, nandi, or to any of them? That was what he had wanted to ask Lord Geigi. Can you at least find out how they are?
But he had kept his promise and said nothing.
He hoped his aishid was able to sleep. He was not doing well at it.
• • •
“Bren-ji.”
Waking. Light overhead. Jago in uniform. Himself lying face-down with his arms around an unfamiliar pillow.
On the space station. That was where.
Tillington was in a snit, the dowager was across the hall, Geigi had gotten control shifted to atevi Central, and the kyo were on a course toward the inner solar system.
He shoved himself up and swung his feet off the bed, hands rubbing his face and partly shutting out the light. “Jago-ji. Is there a problem?”
“It is 0500 by the local reckoning. Tillington has just returned to Mospheiran Central and called technicians to come in. Lord Geigi remains in atevi Central and has not shifted control back to Tillington. There is no word from the ship-aijiin. We have no word from the Mospheiran shuttle. They are communicating only with ground control while Central communications are currently in Ragi.”
The Ragi-Mosphei’ switch was operation as usual: so was the Mospheiran shuttle’s reliance on ground control during periods when Ragi was the language in Central, the same as the atevi shuttle relied on ground control during Mospheiran control of Central. And there was a station-based ops, not subject to a clock-based rotation, but working so long as a shuttle was in flight. The system usually ran very smoothly, ops—which until lately was all atevi teams—handled most of it, and opposite-language technicians were always on call.
But Geigi was not going to switch control back to the Mospheiran crews in the immediate future, and not until that incoming shuttle was safely docked. Geigi had the advantage, unassailable once active control had been switched to his boards. Ogun was apparently off-shift. Jase and Sabin were likely exhausted, sleeping as they could, to recover from their own standoff with Tillington. The fourth captain had not been heard from. But Phoenix had indeed repositioned herself before they’d arrived, free of the mast, accessible only by shuttlecraft, and likely Riggins was there.
“The kyo?”
“Lord Geigi reports there is no change. Lord Geigi says he will not relinquish control nor release his staff from duty until he hears from you or the dowager, and he says he would be surprised to receive such an order until some time after the next shuttle has docked. He is prepared. He has set up his staff to stay on duty and eat and sleep there in shifts.”
Two could play Tillington’s game. “Messages from anyone else?”
“There is none. The dowager is requesting information, but she is querying Lord Geigi in Central.”
The odds that anyone in Tillington’s system could crack courtly Ragi spoken by two very literate adepts were low. Vanishingly low. Without Jase or himself to translate, it was as good as code.
So the overall situation was not that bad. Except for the exhausted Mospheiran techs, who had to be fraying at the edges. And Tillington, camping out in a non-functional control room.
“You requested to be informed of any change in Central, Bren-ji. I shall turn out the lights again if you wish. You might go back to sleep for another hour.”
Tempting. But there was so much to do.
Including talking to Tillington, who might be in a better mood, though it hardly sounded like it. Tillington was apparently sending demands to Geigi for a turnover. Geigi, flexible fellow that he was, would understand quite a bit from whatever Tillington said, but Tillington would not get a word of Mosphei’ out of him, not this morning.
And Tillington had to have expected that. He was just going through the forms. Doing his duty. Being where he was technically supposed to be.
Couldn’t blame the man for that. It could be a good sign, Tillington’s showing up where he was, by the clock, supposed to be.
Give the man a graceful out. Cheap, counting the alternatives. There were Mospheiran offices that would never intersect atevi. Ever. Shawn could park him in one of those, maybe pay him enough to keep him away from politics.
“I shall dress,” he said. “But if Narani and Jeladi are sleeping, Jago-ji,—”
“They will come,” Jago said, and went out to bear that message.
• • •
The dowager didn’t send an invitation to breakfast. He had halfway expected, being up at dawn, that she would ask him to report the news.
“She is well, is she not?” he asked of Bindanda, who had appeared with the breakfast fish. He trusted Bindanda to be tapped into every shred of gossip in their section. And he wanted to know things were in order and that he had all the information he could get, before any meeting with Tillington.
“One understands, nandi, that, Lord Geigi being absent, and you being engaged with human problems, the dowager is taking a day of rest and quiet, along with the young gentleman.”
So Ilisidi was officially expecting him to solve the human problems, while she was keeping Cajeiri close—a good idea, given the situation with the Reunioners.
Breakfast was more than palatable. Fish—real fish—was a standard fare up here, with a dry hot spice, an efficient item to ship. There was bread, but one did not ask made of what. The space program had necessitated a few exceptions in the ancient atevi tradition of season and appropriateness. And in the notion of what constituted food.
But the morning was not without messages. “Riggins-aiji called,” Narani said, just as he exited the little dining room, “and the phone indicates he wishes a call.”
Pavel Riggins.
Fourth Captain. Ogun’s man, appointed by Ogun in the absence of Sabin and Jase. And possibly in charge of the ship, at the moment. And possibly under-informed, for that reason.
He’d queried Jase on Riggins’ character, during those recent holiday conversations. Jase had described Riggins as in his thirties, a bit cautious in changing anything, voting consistently with Ogun, but honestly trying to get along with Sabin.
Not a bad report. Good man, Jase said, on systems coordination; intelligent where it came to supply and distribution, a man who’d gotten a fast and scary education in atevi protocols when the coup had happened on Earth and he’d had to work with Geigi to deal with shortages.
Ogun had made a unilateral appointment to fill that fourth captaincy—though Riggins had been too close to the late and unlamented Pratap Tamun for Sabin’s liking. Jase said that, too, but said he had no complaint.
Well, Pratap Tamun and all history aside—Riggins was what they had in charge this shift. And Riggins was handling everything by remote, not even on the station deck.
He put his coat on, prepared for the day, and finally made the call through the atevi system, which got him, not unexpectedly, ship-com. “This is Bren Cameron. Captain Riggins, please.”
That took a moment.
“Mr. Cameron.” A new voice. “Welcome aboard.”
“Thank you, sir. Pleased to meet you.”
“I understand there’s a problem with atevi Central refusing to carry out the shift change.”
“You understand correctly, Captain. Tillington’s staff exceeded its own shift considerably and exhausted itself. Mr. Tillington left last night. At that point, I’m sure you are aware, Mospheiran Central switched control to Lord Geigi at Captain Graham’s instruction. I understand Mr. Tillington is back in Mospheiran Central this morning, but quite frankly, Captain, that turnover will not happen with Mr. Tillington in his present emotional state.”
“You are not qualified, Mr. Cameron, to make that judgment.”
“Most respectfully, Captain, I am here at the request of the aiji in Shejidan, and the President of Mospheira, who has authority over Mr. Tillington. My immediate business is preparing to deal with the incoming visitors. Securing the station, and particularly Central Operations, against a territorial dispute is within my instruction. I am working with an atevi administration competent, cooperative, and incidentally operating in the language in which we will contact the visitors. The inbound Mospheiran shuttle will be obliged to rely on ship-com as well as ground control for any non-operational matters during approach tomorrow. I trust you will be able to provide any needed assistance.”
There was a moment of silence. “I have received no such request.”
“You are now receiving it, sir. I am sure you will also receive it from the inbound shuttle, and I thank you on their behalf, in advance.”
Another silence. Then:
“I have to consult.”
“Please advise me if there will be any difficulty.”
“I’ll communicate as my own command directs, Mr. Cameron.”
“Understood, sir. Please notify me of any problems, any change in the kyo situation.”
“I report within my own chain of command, sir.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
Well, that was not the best first conversation he had ever had with an official. But counting the way things had had to work during Ogun’s long cooperation with Tillington in the ship’s absence; and counting Ogun’s year-long feud with Sabin since, he could understand that many instructions to Riggins had probably begun with, Take no action.
Riggins was in charge until Ogun woke up. Which was probably a good time to take on problems and get an update on the kyo.
