Defender

  “Affront would have brought him to you, paidhi-ji, I strongly think so.”

  Yet she reserved the chance she could be wrong. He picked that up. “Kroger’s coming up here with those robots… that meant everything was done. The means to refuel, out there at the station, if the ship should go. Do you think that was the last stone?”

  The last stone on the stack, that was. The one to touch off the slide.

  “It is possible.”

  “Jago, I didn’t see this. Of all disasters I could have failed to see coming—I didn’t see this one.”

  “The aiji has taken the station,” Jago said quietly. “One believes so, though Ogun-aiji may not think it. Well to have Mercheson within these walls. It was well done, Bren-ji.”

  “Is that why Banichi brought her? Is that what you think?”

  “We had not foreseen danger to Mercheson. But now we see movements within the crew that trouble us. We did foresee that Tabini would move when Ramirez died. And we did foresee that the dowager might come as his agent—but we by no means know whether we are correct in that assumption. We believe that she has demanded custody of Cajeiri as a condition for her help—a very potent symbol for the east, nand’ paidhi.”

  Sometimes a human mind could think all the way around an object, feeling it all the way, and still come to wrong conclusions.

  “That she’s teaching the heir. That she’s not being sent to her death. Is that the notion?”

  “We suspect so. I suspect so, after talking to Cenedi. This voyage is difficult. She may not survive it. Cenedi has not opposed the venture, considering that Cajeiri is in her hands. If she should die, Cenedi will have custody of the heir-apparent, and be within that man’chi. More, this is a child, and Cenedi’s will be the guidance and the instruction. There is the likely thought, Bren-ji. There is the reason the aiji’s heir is with her. Tabini will be the power on the earth. Tabini will have his ship. Ogun will cooperate with him, if Tabini can take Mercheson into his man’chi, as seems likely to happen. It will all be subtle. Certain ones may vanish from the scene—as I foresee. Banichi considers Paulson in danger: I say no. Paulson is a fool, but a fool is safe in his office, if he’s a Mospheiran fool. If Lund comes up here, Lund will know better; Lund may be in danger.”

  And he’d suggested Lund come, as a way to get Ogun better advice.

  “You got the logs from Mogari-nai, didn’t you?” Extraneous question, the answer to which he thought he knew.

  “We did watch contacts. There were no records available to us. We did search Mogari-nai, at our level of authority, and at Guild level.”

  “But there is one higher.”

  “Yes. Always there is one higher.”

  “I think we know the truth,” he said. “I think we know we were gotten out of the way, being called down there.”

  “One believes so. There will have been codes,” Jago said, one of those rare revelations of her craft, “given to Lord Geigi, or to his men, or even to independent agencies. This we always knew, that the station is very easy to infiltrate, with so many man’chiin involved. No different than the Bujavid. Anyone can send an unregistered agent—” Non-Guild assassin, that was to say—not lawful, but not utterly illegal. “Right now Banichi is attempting to trace atevi access to Ramirez’s venues. But there are too many tunnels in this place, too many accesses, doors far too easy to penetrate, except here. Ramirez had gone onto the station, in a free-access area, observing a known pattern of activity when he had his attack. He ran such risks and heard no advice against it. There were very many opportunities. What happened, if it happened, caused a crisis which caused his death.”

  Next question. Next very scary question. “Human forensics might detect it, if they were looking. And Ramirez was neither buried nor burned.”

  “Troublesome.”

  “His body will go on the ship with us. If there ever is a question—if it matters—they can investigate.”

  “It is inconvenient,” Jago said.

  “And Ogun? His safety? He manages the training of pilots. He’s a very vulnerable linch-pin, Jago-ji, in all the plans we have. If this place is such a sieve that random individuals can operate—”

  “This Cenedi and I discussed. And there must be provisions made for his protection.”

  “Which will draw him closer to the aiji’s hand.”

  “One can foresee such. Lord Geigi does think favorably of him. If he would draw closer to Geigi’s man’chi, he might be safer. One is aware, however, that Ogun-aiji has no successor the aiji won’t regard as junior.”

  The thought was terrifying. “I wish I was going to be here.”

  “Yet is there not danger where the aiji sends us?”

  “Very likely.”

  “And should we let the situation out there arrive back here uncontrolled, unobserved, unmodified, nandi? You would not choose that.”

  He saw the deep void, and felt cold, and scared. Something in him insisted that an honest Mospheiran had no business going on ships into the dark, over unthinkable distances.

  “One thinks,” Jago began to say, further, and then Jago’s hand rested on his shoulder. Someone was in the hall.

  Someone turned out to be one of their own, from the foyer. And one of their own turned out to be Tano.

  “Excuse me,” Tano said. He was a shadow against the vague light from the foyer that permeated the central hall: no light touched within that outline. “Nand’ paidhi.”

  Open as the household was, Tano would scarcely venture into his bedroom, not without an uncommonly urgent reason in the security station.

  “Tano-ji. Trouble?”

  “A handful of sudden matters,” Tano said. “Your brother, nandi; also Barb-nadi—”

  My God, Bren thought with a sinking heart. Toby. And Barb. Barb was not someone he wanted to hear from, but Barb, like Toby, orbited around his mother. He dreaded news from that quarter—especially together, in the middle of the night.

  “Also,” Tano said, “the aiji and the aiji-dowager have sent messages. All at once.”

  All at once.

  Temper hit, hard after the first ice-cold shock.

  “Either C1 or Mogari-nai has had a hold in place,” Jago suggested softly out of the dark behind his bare shoulder, and, oh, indeed he was sure she was right.

  Mogari-nai—site of the big dish that communicated with the station—or C1, the ship communications station—had blocked his calls, all the while assuring him there was no problem. And now, responding to some authority which could be only one of two, they released everything… all his personal calls, all his delicate family business.

  And Tabini’s message arrived.

  Maybe Tabini had one to the dowager as well. And that had likely triggered something to him from the dowager.

  No, the world below had not suddenly gone berserk. It was a chain-reaction, a dam-break.

  A torrent of probable bad and worse news…

  That the paidhi’s mother was in critical care didn’t matter, on the scale of nations and the future of two species.

  “Find Jase,” he said, furious, and trying to control both the temper and the shivers that resulted from the adrenalin hit. And no, one did not talk to a loyal atevi staffer that abruptly, ever. “Kindly call him, nadi-ji. Tell him I’m extremely distressed at what is clearly a mail-block from either C-l or Shejidan, and I urgently ask its origin. You may explain the circumstances.”

  “One will do so, nandi. Shall I wait?”

  “Ask now. Find out the truth diplomatically, nadi-ji.”

  Tano left at once. He got out of bed and searched the dark for his robe—ran his toe into the bed-base and smothered the yell of frustration.

  Jago draped the robe over his shoulders. He felt it settle, thrust one and the other arm into it, belted it, all the while thinking, unworthily, but with a deep, sick feeling in his stomach—Jase knew, Jase knew, Jase knew about my mother. Didn’t he know?

  Did I tell him? If I told him, why in hell didn?
??t he just let the personal messages through?

  If not Jase—

  Tabini. Who didn’t know.

  Unless the spy-net that surrounded him had told him. Which it might not have.

  “Shall I wake the staff, Bren-ji?” Jago said, slipping on her shirt.

  He reached one reasoned resolution. “I’ll dress, Jago-ji.” He’d sat shivering in his robe in the security station far too often in his career, dealing with some godawful midnight crisis. And damn it, it was halfway to local morning. Occasionally his comfort counted, and he could be inconsiderate pursuing it, when it meant having his very critical wits about him. Especially if he had to practice impromptu diplomacy. “I’ll dress and I’ll have hot tea, thank you, Jago-ji, if you’d kindly arrange that. I think our sleep tonight is done for.”

  * * *

  Chapter 14

  « ^ »

  It was the security station, but not without his cup of tea, and, of greatest import, with his security staff at hand, to keep current with what he heard and form their own conclusions.

  He had showered, gathered his wits—dressed even to the morning-coat.

  He had had half the tea, and set the cup down on the console near him as he sat down.

  Jago sat down beside him. Banichi had thrown a robe about himself—no one had disturbed Banichi until now, in one of his rare chances at peaceful rest—and hovered behind his chair. Tano and Algini, at the far end of the room, worked in their Guild’s equivalent of fatigues, with the addition of a light jacket—ready to fall onto the cots in the small adjacent alcove if they were so lucky—if this letter-flood proved an alarm over very little.

  “Which will you wish first, nandi?” Tano asked him.

  “The aiji’s,” he said, and immediately it reached his screen.

  Bren-ji,

  the message said. At least it was still the intimate address.

  Ramirez-aiji is dead. So I understand. This was by no means unexpected.

  Your duties are removed, considered, and assigned to lord Geigi’s discretion. Worry no more for them.

  I have honored you as a lord of the aishidi’tat. I have accorded you place and appearance among the highest in the Association. I have seated you among the household in view of all the great and notable of the world.

  I have given you a lord’s estate, a lord’s title and position. You are lord Bren.

  What, preface to removing it? Dissatisfaction? He certainly saw the signs. He hoped it didn’t unravel everything he’d done with Mercheson.

  Now I make you my representative in the provinces and associations of the heavens.

  I have instructed lord Geigi, your close associate, to rule over the station during your absence, in particular to exert the authority of the aishidi’tat over the station’s management and personnel.

  Wait, there. Representative in the provinces and associations of the heavens. It at least wasn’t a demotion. It did sound like one of those honorary titles to which elderly lords retired when they were due for honor, fancy clothes, long titles, but no power at all.

  I appoint you chief negotiator to all you may meet, with all needful authority.

  Not a demotion, one could say. God. Maybe Tabini was perfectly serious. What did he get next? A request to subdue that territory, the way the aiji had asked him to take the space station?

  Understanding that great distances and long journeys lie ahead, within your domain,

  Understatement, aiji-ma.

  … nevertheless I send my son, heir to the aishidi’tat, to witness the conduct of foreign dealings, to be instructed in things which no ateva has seen, and to grow in wisdom. I shall look forward to his safe return.

  To the best of my ability, aiji-ma.

  Regarding the surprise which this turn of events may have occasioned you, I did not inform you of negotiations with Ramirez-aiji because I wished to provide you with no excuse on which to hang anomalous behavior, therefore making it sure you would report such small details to me, as you have routinely done.

  If the ship-folk had done other than fuel the ship, I knew that your suspicions and opposition would set your agents immediately to learn the extent and reason of their actions.

  I gave Ramirez-aiji his requested secrecy from station and crew, but did so in the sure knowledge the paidhi-aiji would never allow him to proceed beyond his agreement.

  Damned atevi penchant for cross-checking, that was what Tabini claimed for a motive—keep everybody checking on everybody, and not trusting Jase, Jase being within Ramirez’ man’chi. Of-damned-course Tabini didn’t rely on Jase in any agreement with Ramirez.

  And if he hadn’t heard half he’d heard, he would have believed it was the whole truth: an ateva, however adept in human relations, couldn’t get past the implications of an association, not on a gut level. Jase had been outside the pale, so long as he was promoted to a lesser rank of captain, so long as he was Ramirez’ protege. Even the paidhi-aiji might have been under just a little shadow of suspicion in Tabini’s reckoning— because of Jase, because he was up here, and out of Tabini’s convenient reach: it was certainly a situation Tabini just wasn’t used to.

  And to an ateva mind—of-damned-course—Ramirez’ death would free Jase from that man’chi and make everyone associated with him easier to trust.

  Tabini had opened a behind-the-door communication with Yolanda—a double-check, very logical in atevi affairs… perfectly fine excuse, if, in accepting it, he followed the logic to the needful conclusion and took no detours past what he now thought was the truth.

  There were facts, however, contingent on those assumptions that were pertinent. Even a master politician in atevi affairs could be mistaken about human loyalties. Jase was not more trustable now, quite to the contrary. The captaincy settled on him would make him responsible to the ship after Ramirez’s death in a way Ramirez had never been able to get him to be during his life. Now even Yolanda said—watch Jase. Rescue Jase from Sabin. And Tabini would believe him more. The old problems in the interface were not necessarily solved.

  Ramirez-aiji came to me with the report regarding the survival of three hundred individuals on the remote station.

  Came to him, was it? To Tabini? Interesting… answering what Yolanda said she didn’t know. It meant at least there’d been a tight focus to the approach, one item, not a general fishing expedition on Tabini’s part… he found that reassuring regarding Tabini’s understanding of the hazards.

  And three hundred alive. There was a datum to remember.

  Three hundred individuals, however, was a damned tiny crew to try to maintain air quality, water, heat, and sustenance on a battered space station—read, a very tiny crew to try to keep the station power plant going for what might be decades, in some very small area of the station—he’d learned that by experience—all undetected by outside observation.

  And no outside fuel-gathering or processing, not with that small a population: hence the absolutely critical matter of Kroger’s robots. Certain priorities became more understandable.

  He declared,

  Tabini’s letter went on to say, regarding Ramirez,

  that he has no man’chi toward the leadership aboard the remote station. More, he has declared them anathema and has joined as third in association with the Presidenta and myself, committing his successors to abide by this agreement.

  In effect, he has committed himself and this ship and all future ships to join the aishidi’tat, considering the earth of the atevi his residence forever.

  God, was that right? Could what Tabini understood Ramirez to agree to—possibly be the case?

  If it was so, here was where the mistranslations Yolanda might have engendered on that topic could be very, very scary. Diplomats of two species and three governments used long-managed, absolutely precise language describing international relationship, lordship and ownership. And the juniormost paidhi, least fluent in Ragi, had been handling an impromptu interface between two leaders who spoke just enough of each o
thers’ languages to get into the very trouble generations of paidhiin had worked midnight hours to avoid.

  Ramirez was dead… of what? Something he’d said? Something that had sealed his death warrant, because it contradicted what he’d seemed to promise?

  Yolanda had probably tried to define her idiosyncratic terms, and she had the dictionary… but the interface could have blown up from that very effort to define terms. Anything could have been a trigger—a promise not fulfilled, an agreement seeming to be doubled back on—a death supposed to be imminent, but that didn’t come off on schedule. Nuances were the devil.

  And an amateur had tried her best, and preserved secrecy both parties wanted, and now one of the participants was suspiciously dead.

  The same amateur who was going to have to take over his job.

  But it wasn’t the time to let his blood pressure rise, above all else. Calm. Quiet. Work with the situation that was, not trying to trace the dangerous turn from years back, not taking any hypothesis as true, no matter how many legs it seemed to stand on… but…

  Damn. Damn Yolanda, that she hadn’t come to him.

  Damn her… but did he have the cold-blooded understanding of the situation sufficient to go to her and say, You may have killed Ramirez. Please be more careful, nadi.

  There was more.

  entrust you now with the treasured past, the stable present, and the unpredictable future of the aishidi’tat.

  Unpredictable certainly described it. And Yolanda was the translator.

  I think with greatest personal pleasure on our sojourns in the country, paidhi-ji, and will miss your attendance in court. I have consoled myself once more with the sight of your face, knowing that the time was short.

  There had to be a better reason. Surely. Tabini had asked him down there and waltzed him right back to the station only to see him, saying nothing else?

  Yet, knowing atevi, say all that Tabini would—and often— that number-counters were superstitious fools and the bane of his existence, Tabini was still atevi, did still look at the numbers of a thing. Gut-deep, maybe, for atevi sorts of feelings, dared he think Tabini had wanted to have a physical look and a little less theory behind his decisions?