Defender

  And he had no trouble accepting Jase on a slightly opposed side of the issue.

  “I’ll put that proposition to the dowager,” Bren said. “But she’ll know. What’s your advice? Do we let you go out of here, when we suspect a remote possibility that security’s been recording us, and that with half an hour’s concentrated work on the part of people your ship could have been training for a decade—assuming they’re about as fluent as the run of the University—they might translate enough to know what you’re up to?”

  “Letting me leave is a real good idea, Bren. As to asking me to stay and talk to the dowager—I assume you’re going to offer—I’ve got a meeting I’m supposed to be back to, up there, that’s going to ring alarms if I’m not back. Sabin’s already suspicious.”

  “Why are you afraid of her?”

  Jase looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.

  “No,” Bren said. “I’m dead serious. Why are you afraid of her, under the rules that are supposed to apply?”

  Now Jase heard him. Thoughts raced.

  “Where can you access the log?” Bren asked. “Jase-ji.”

  “It’s only two places. It’s a read-write on the bridge and it’s a read-only in the nav office. It receives and logs automatically from the sensors and the cameras, on a loop—automatically stores alarms and alerts, queries the officer store or no-store on the outside camera input on an interval the officer sets.” Jase’s eyes had a slightly glazed look. “I’ve been memorizing this stuff.”

  “It’s not wasted. So Ramirez-aiji had to order a store on that camera info.”

  “It’s possible he erased it. Possible.”

  “In his situation, at the time, considering there could be something to prove to colleages or successors to the situation— would you?”

  “I’d keep it. I’d definitely keep it. But there’s one other source. There’s the men that saw it. Let me talk to Jenrette, under the guise of an apology—he has one coming—and see what he knows.”

  “Let you give me a call every hour on the hour to tell me you aren’t languishing under arrest. Or better yet—suppose you take me on a tour of the operational areas and we both get hold of him.”

  “You want to know what I’m afraid of,” Jase said. “She can do it. She can order security and I can’t—she’s the only legitimate authority, legitimate in that she knows what she’s doing. And I can’t replace her. Ogun can’t replace her. If she says jump, people jump.”

  “One may have an answer, nandiin-ji.”

  Not Jago’s voice. Banichi’s, from the doorway.

  And not just Banichi—Cenedi. And the aiji-dowager, drifting slightly sideways and attached by her cane to the ubiquitous ladders.

  “We will see this ship-aiji at our table,” Ilisidi said.

  “Aiji-ma, I don’t think she’ll regard an invitation.”

  “At our table!” Ilisidi said.

  “In these conditions?”

  “The crew is boarding, is it not?” Cenedi asked. “And will gravity not exist once they turn the engines on?”

  “In essence, Cenedi-ji,” Jase said. “But at that point the ship will undock, which will necessitate securing all personnel to safety positions, where movement about the ship will be impossible.”

  “And then, ship-aiji?” Ilisidi asked sharply. “And then? Do we shoot off like a rocket? Or glide away like a yacht? And are we not expected to eat and sleep, or do we starve and languish for the duration of this voyage?”

  “Rather well like a yacht, aiji-ma, if things go well, as they ought, but for safety’s sake, one shouldn’t be about, or setting tables.”

  “And when will there be supper?” Ilisidi asked.

  “The schedule, aiji-ma,” Jase said on a deep breath, “calls for crew to board and settle into quarters, then check equipment and turn on the engines, as you say. And then for about an hour, a little less, as we release we will be like the shuttle during station undocking—possible for us to move about, but strongly discouraged, for the same safety concerns. By the end of that period we will have set our bow toward our destination, aiji-ma, and then there will be two hours in which it will not be safe to move about. That will cease, crew will move about and assure that everything is working as it should, and persons in charge of navigation will be taking finer measurements and assuring that we are on course. There will be another two hours during which we must be secure in our places, and then it will be possible to move about again, for about six hours—by then we will be quite far out from the station.”

  “Pish. Infelicitous two, two, and untrustworthy six, chancy ten. Clearly we are not at that point beyond return.”

  “No, aiji-ma.”

  “And one might demand to be taken back to the safety of the station.”

  “Aiji-ma, if one has any doubts—” Jase was clearly appalled., “It’s no small thing to turn this ship around.”

  “If we say this ship must turn around, it must.”

  “It’s possible… theoretically possible. But I’m not sure Sabin would agree to it.”

  Ilisidi waggled thin, elegant fingers. “This is a major point, is it not, Bren-ji, whether we can deal with Sabin-aiji, and whether reasonable requests will be heard. We have no desire to travel with unreliable persons. We will see this ship-aiji. We will estimate the reliability and good will of this person and invite her to our table. Or this agreement is abrogated. Do we agree, paidhiin-ji?”

  Dared one say no? Dared one ever say no? And what was this agreement is abrogated?

  What agreement? Bren wanted to ask.

  “We shall see her in person,” Ilisidi declared. “Now.”

  “Aiji-ma, crew will be boarding,” Jase said. “Sabin will be busy.”

  “Busy?” Ilisidi snapped, and a whack of the cane at the ladders sent echoes through nerve and bone. “We will see her, I say. If she is busy, as you say, we shall do her the honor of visiting her. This very moment!”

  “Bren,” Jase said, turning an appalled appeal in his direction.

  “The dowager will see the captain,” Bren said in ship-speak.

  “And if she gets up there and Sabin won’t see her—”

  Where had the whole situation mutated so thoroughly— from missing records to a confrontation over precedences and authority? One thing was a given: that Ilisidi didn’t take well to no, in any language.

  “We’re diplomats, aren’t we?” Bren said, with great misgivings. Jase might be a dozen things, but he was one of a few paidhiin that had ever existed, and some things there wasn’t any resigning. Ever. “That part’s our job.”

  * * *

  Chapter 16

  « ^ »

  The lift had room enough, Banichi having to bend his head a little; but there they were: Ilisidi, Cenedi and three of his men, with Banichi and Jago—and attendant hardware—two humans and seven atevi, fortunate nine, in fleeting contact with the floor of the lift.

  Bren hadn’t even been to his cabin yet. He hadn’t changed his coat. He’d passed a message to Narani to advise him of a supper invitation, for his household’s sake.

  The lift stopped: instantly, they floated. So did stomachs. But the door opened smoothly, with a hiss of hydraulic seals. Jase had passed a message to his staff, too; and Kaplan, Polano and Pressman were right there to meet them, on what the lift buttons indicated as A deck, in a short corridor.

  “Sir,” Kaplan said. “Ma’am. Mr. Cameron.” That was a damned rapid sort through the protocols: the eyes were near frantic, trying to take in this upheaval of natural order in the universe, but Kaplan asked no questions.

  “Captain Sabin’s on the bridge?” Jase asked.

  “I don’t know, sir. The bridge, her office, I don’t know.”

  “Adjacent,” Jase said in a low voice, and drew a deep, audible breath. “Stay with me, Mr. Kaplan. The dowager’s asked to see the senior captain. —Aiji-ma, Bren-ji, kindly come and kindly don’t touch weapons.”

  Kaplan, who didn’t understand the
latter slightly pidgin statement, looked as if he wanted to do something or stop someone and didn’t know where to start. Polano and Pressman looked no happier as Jase shoved off his handhold and sailed down the null-g course to a wall-switch.

  Bren followed Jase, desperately trusting atevi to stay with them—Banichi and Jago, and the dowager and her party. If anything went amiss up here, with armed atevi security, armed humans—

  The switch opened the door. Bren expected another corridor, and offices: every other door led to the like.

  This one opened on a wide technical zone: consoles, displays, flashing lights and readouts, and a number of busy technicians, some of whom looked their way in shock.

  More did. Work stopped. Computers didn’t.

  It was that area that Phoenix never opened to visitors—that area Phoenix had never permitted to be photographed, even if Mospheira and Shejidan both had plans of such a place: the configuration, they’d always said, the precise configuration was as secret and classified as the interior of Tabini’s apartments, the inside of the Presidential residence on Mospheira.

  And here they were in the control center, heart of the computers, nexus for communications. The bridge itself was that open space just beyond the array of consoles that, in effect, ran everything above the planet’s surface.

  They were in it now. Up to their necks.

  And that was Captain Sabin in the brightly lighted bridge section, under a light that sheened her gray hair like a spotlight. Officers and technicians floated at fair random, this way and that, oriented to their work or their convenience. But Sabin, not the tallest, not even the fanciest-dressed—she was in a long-sleeved black tee—was unmistakeable.

  “There is the ship-aiji,” Ilisidi said with satisfaction, pointing with the ferrule of her cane. “We’ll talk.”

  With all the profound courtesy that implied, of who had come to whom.

  And Sabin had seen them.

  “No weapons!” Bren said immediately, and repeated it in ship-speak, loud and clear, with the gut-deep fright of a slip on ice. “The aiji-dowager has honored the ship’s captains by coming to them, in their residence, and comes here in courteous deference to rulers in their own domain. This is a high honor paid the ship’s command on this auspicious occasion.”

  Sabin’s pitch, now. Please God, Bren thought. He’d cued her. Let Sabin once in her life moderate her response.

  There was a four-beat silence. Everything froze.

  Then Sabin lashed out with a booted foot and sailed toward them like a missile: techs hugged panels and got out of the way as Sabin flew from bright light to dim, from command to operations—and stopped, suddenly, with a reach to a handhold: a crisp, expert halt and a strength astonishing in a thin-limbed old woman.

  “This is the bridge,” Sabin said. “This is restricted.” From Sabin that was utmost restraint. “Captain Graham.” That was utmost restraint, too. Say one thing for Sabin: she didn’t light into a brother captain in front of crew. But the anger was palpable. “I’m not going to speak to Mr. Cameron. I can’t speak to the dowager. Kindly straighten this out.”

  “You’re not speaking to me,” Bren said and shot right ahead: “Through me, you’re speaking to the dowager, captain. She’s delighted to be aboard and pays you the signal honor of coming to you in your premises rather than requiring you to come to her in audience… therefore she came to present her compliments, making you a head of state, captain, and a very favored person.”

  Sabin’s eyes were hard and black, still in attack mode, not a bit dissuaded. But she didn’t call security to shoot the lot of them. “That’s all well and good, sir, but I’ll call on your good offices to be damned sure this doesn’t happen again. Now if you’ll get the woman out of here, we have work to do.”

  “Captain.” Jase was going to try.

  It wasn’t a good idea, in Bren’s experience. He drew a breath and kept going across the ice floes. “The dowager’s come here to pay respects. There’s a reciprocation expected.”

  “The hell!” Sabin kept going, but Bren rode right over the top of the outburst.

  “You want your supplies, captain—I assume you want your supplies—perhaps we’d better continue this discussion in your office.”

  “Here’s good enough.” But Sabin had lowered her voice, and applied her version of conciliation. “I’m damned busy, Mr. Cameron. Get her the hell out.”

  “She does understand some Mosphei’, captain. Please use restraint.”

  “I am using restraint. I want her off this deck. I want you and her and these people down on deck five and I don’t want to hear from you again until we’re at our destination, at which time I’ll tell you where we are and I don’t want to hear from you after that until we’re back in port at this star. Is that clear?”

  “Let me convey for the dowager that she may demand to leave this ship, and if she leaves this ship the diplomatic fallout will be extremely disadvantageous to everything we’ve spent the last number of years building—which I assure you won’t help this ship.”

  “Don’t threaten me.”

  “Far from it. The dowager’s come here to invite you to supper this evening.”

  The look on Sabin’s face was astonishing. An expression. A moment of utter, unguarded shock.

  “Economical to accept,” Bren said rapidly, before Sabin formulated a reply. “Establishing a cordial tone aboard, bringing the very expert services of her security harmoniously into your service, and the services of the paidhiin, to boot. We’re good, captain. You are hearing me, and I don’t think that was your original intention. We’ll be very pleased to apply our talents to your opposition if you’ll oblige the dowager, win her good will, and make our jobs easier. Besides, she sets a very good table.”

  Three expressions from Sabin in rapid succession: shock, outrage, and targeting calculation.

  “You’re the damned cheekiest bastard I’ve met in a lifetime.”

  “Yes, ma’am, and you’re no pushover, on the other side. If our interests really did diverge, I’d be worried, but I happen to know our best interests and your interests are the same. Besides, you deserve a good dinner, and it won’t be wasted time. You’ll score a relationship that’ll make a big difference out there… that will outright assure you come back here to a working station with resources.”

  “Is that a threat, Mr. Cameron?”

  “No, captain, it’s a pretty good forecast. If this relationship goes bad, everything goes bad; if it goes brilliantly, everything becomes easier. Let me add my personal plea to the case: accept the invitation and you’ll have my assurances I’ll do everything possible to persuade her of your points. I can’t stress enough how great an honor the dowager’s done you by coming here: she’s put her dignity on the line so as to make clear how greatly she respects your authority. Now it’s very useful for your side to respect and accept her hospitality.”

  “Damned cheeky bastard, Mr. Cameron.”

  “Which I trust refers solely to me, captain, and I hope signals your gracious acceptance.”

  “There’s nothing gracious about it.”

  “The traditional supper hour, for these affairs. Full dress. She’ll spare no effort to honor her guest.”

  “How long am I expected to be honored? I’ve got a ship in the process of boarding.”

  “About three hours.”

  “Flaming hell.”

  “You’ll find it worth your while. Eighteen hundred hours, senior captain. She’ll very much understand if you don’t reciprocate with a dinner of your own, given the pressure of events; but she’ll be pleased to entertain you to the utmost.” He switched to Ragi. “The captain, though pressed for time, is inclining to accept, aiji-ma, understanding the great honor you give her.”

  Ilisidi inclined her head benignly. “Very good, paidhi-ji. At the fortunate hour.”

  “She’s very pleased,” Bren said, regardless of Sabin’s not-quite-expressed consent. “She honors your good will. Understand, as a gre
at lord proceeds about necessary courtesies even under fire, proving one isn’t at all harried. She views you very favorably.”

  “Damned nonsense.” From Sabin it was a moderate response.

  “My personal gratitude,” Bren said. “Eighteen hundred hours, at our section: staff will meet you there. The aiji-dowager’s good will and good wishes in fortunate number, ma’am.”

  He turned. He managed to include Jase in the sweep of his arm toward the exit, but Jase declined the refuge and drifted there slightly askew from them.

  One trusted at least there wouldn’t be bloodshed on the bridge. Sabin might have plenty yet to vent, but if appearances were an indication, Sabin was in control, and if she was thinking, she wouldn’t let fly until the two of them were in an office with the door shut.

  Under those circumstances he trusted Jase could hold his own and keep his head.

  “Mr. Kaplan,” Jase said calmly, “see them below.”

  “Yes, sir.” Kaplan opened the door which had self-shut.

  “And where is Jase-paidhi?” Ilisidi demanded.

  “Preparing to account to Sabin-aiji for bringing us here, aiji-ma,” Bren said, “which I trust he can do.”

  “He will suffer no detriment!” Ilisidi said, and turned and addressed Jase. “Assure us this is the case!”

  “Aiji-ma, without a doubt.”

  “Well!” Ilisidi said, and by now the door had shut itself again. Kaplan scrambled to open it, and they left under Kaplan’s guidance.

  It wasn’t that easy, and Sabin would have words of her own, but Ilisidi expected her below, and Sabin had accepted that.

  Amazing, Bren thought. Astonishing.

  He could imagine several scenarios to follow, in several of which Sabin decided not to come after all, and precipitated an atevi war. Jase, if he could make the point, would faithfully inform her there wasn’t any change of plans possible, not at this point—not without the attendant war, at least.

  He’d been steady enough during the exchange. Now, in the stomach-wrenching reverse of the lift action, he found his knees weak. If there’d been a floor to stand on, he thought he’d have felt them going. As it was, he simply tried not to twitch against his escort, and not to shiver as Jago cushioned their arrival on deck five. That brought a little moment of contact with the deck, and if not for Jago, he thought he would have stumbled, if nothing else, from the welter of confusing directions.