Visitor

  “Yes,” Artur said, the very minimum of an answer. “We stay. We all—” His gesture included everybody in the room. “We thank Lord Geigi. We thank him.”

  Gene nodded. So did Irene. So did all the parents.

  So that was the way things were. Association had its difficulties, and association with humans definitely had difficulties. But in their expressions, his three associates—he felt the connection as strong as it had ever been. Infelicitous four, it might be, and it was including Bjorn that had made the number felicitous, even not being there. But Bjorn would be with them—in the same way as before. Absent. And present.

  And he was very glad he had come in with Irene, and that Irene had not had to deal with Bjorn’s father in his present state.

  “I shall likely not be here again,” he said, “until the kyo have left. But whatever needs to be done, Lord Geigi will do. Whatever happens, tell Bjorn I shall not lose him. Tell him too that his father must be quiet. Staff will not tolerate disturbance.”

  He rose to his feet, and the others did. He bowed slightly, once to his associates and once to their parents, and left.

  But at the door, he said to the major domo: “Advise Lord Geigi and Jase-aiji that Andressen-nadi does not give orders regarding Bjorn or any others. Irene-nadi understands Ragi best and she is in my man’chi. She will help talk to the guests, and should Andressen-nadi cause trouble again, advise Lord Geigi that Andressen-nadi will no longer be my guest. Nand’ Bren has no time to deal with this. He is busy. So is my great-grandmother. Everybody is busy. Call on my great-grandmother’s staff if he will not listen to Irene. Perhaps one could find a small room where he and his household can be quiet for a few hours . . . if this should happen again.”

  “Yes,” the major domo said and with relief. “Yes, young aiji.”

  15

  “Did it go well, young gentleman?” mani’s major domo asked when Cajeiri arrived by the main door.

  It was not possible to lie politely to his elders. But one could just omit the bad parts so as not to upset mani or distract her.

  “Reni is doing very well,” he said, “and she will help the others. Thank you, nadi.”

  “There is a package for you, from nand’ Bren,” the major domo said, “and a letter.”

  He was surprised at that. And when the major domo brought it from his office and put it in his hands, by its shape and weight, he thought it must be a small, flat sort of book, the sort of thing nand’ Bren had sometimes given him when he was bored, or had to be left out of adult business . . . and he immediately hoped that was not the case now, that it was some sort of dismissal from meeting the kyo.

  He took it with some misgivings, along with the message cylinder, and, having no office to resort to, he went back to his own little suite, and his bed, to open it.

  His aishid followed him, clearly curious.

  He opened the letter first. It gave his formal salutation, and nand’ Bren’s signature, in nand’ Bren’s beautiful hand.

  It said:

  I have asked for this machine for you. It is a gift. It contains a dictionary, inspired by your picture books, with the words we have, and the animated images we used when we first met the kyo. We will add more. I ask you take charge of this machine for yourself and your great-grandmother: I have confidence you will quickly learn its tricks.

  Your machine will continue to inform itself of new entries as will mine, as one or the other of us adds words or pictures, so they will always contain the same information. It is cleverly designed in this way. Do not put it at risk or expose it to liquids or electricity.

  Please review all the images and recall all the words you can. If you should recall words that I have not entered, please advise me immediately. Once we are sure who we are dealing with, I intend to present such devices to our visitors, and hope that we may all find them useful.

  You will see they are arranged not in the traditional order, but by similarities you may discover within the words. Should you add words, you will find the option to include them in not just one group, but any which seem to apply.

  We expect a good meeting. Please convey my respects to your great-grandmother. I must give her my regrets for dinner this evening, as in evenings before. We anticipate that the kyo will begin docking procedures in sixty-two hours, but this time is subject to change and may be hastened. As I have advised your great-grandmother in a separate letter, I am now working closely with Lord Geigi to set up a meeting-place aboard the station. I estimate that it will be easier and more secure for us all to reside there during the kyo’s visit, to save us frequent travel through the lift system.

  Jase-aiji is working closely on the technical issues associated with their docking and entry, and he will arrange to have the rooms in a comfortable range of temperature and lighting for our guests. Everybody is doing all they can to have this go well.

  Urge your great-grandmother to rest as much as possible, as should we all. We may not have much opportunity for rest once the kyo arrive.

  It was a completely grown-up letter. It expected serious things of him. It told him things as if he were—well, grown up. He was very proud.

  And it promised something extraordinary, in the flat package.

  He opened it. It contained a little computer exactly like Lord Geigi’s.

  He pushed the blue button and the screen immediately said: Dictionary. Below that was a little box with instructions on how to see the next picture and how to add a spoken word to the picture. That instruction was complicated. He saved it for later reading.

  Next was a picture of a space station, with the kyo word for it in nand’ Bren’s voice.

  Nand’ Bren had a computer. Nand’ Bren had had one forever, before anybody on the continent had had one. But he had never suspected nand’ Bren could do such clever things as this talking book.

  He ran through the pictures. A few had words. Most had none. He understood now. It was a device for catching and holding new words. Once recorded in this—they would be associated with a picture, so they would remember better. He wished they had had such a thing from the very beginning—but then, they had not gone out to Reunion planning to meet the kyo, and he had never seen a device like this until Lord Geigi lent one.

  “Look!” he said, and showed his prize to Antaro and Jegari, and Lucasi and Veijico. “Is this not clever? It talks.”

  Clearly they thought it was a wonderful thing, and they did understand it when he showed them. Operating it was not that hard. He would learn the basics of the device before supper, he swore he would, and he would show it to mani. Of course mani would wave it off and pretend not to be impressed, but only after she had listened and understood it, which she would also do very quickly, and then claim she had no interest in doing it herself.

  Now he understood what nand’ Bren had been doing, all shut away in his apartment, something he was not clever enough yet to do, but nand’ Bren showed it to him and expected him not only to understand, but to add to it.

  And he felt—

  He finally felt he really could do something, and that what he had done two years ago really had been important, not just a clever but useless thing. Inspired by your picture books . . . Pictures had been his idea to help Prakuyo learn, right from the start.

  He asked staff to let him know when mani might wake. And then he sat and looked at the pictures and tried his best to guess their associations and to see why they were linked together in groups of little pictures with lines between them.

  He studied until he had the word that mani was up and in the sitting room.

  Then he took his gift to mani, who had settled in the sitting room to read. He was all but shivering with the importance of what he had to show—and the fear, not unreasonable, that she would think he really had greatly overestimated himself back then, and now. He had his aishid behind him, able to witness whatever happened??
?he could rarely escape that. He still had on his next-to-best coat, which he had worn to Lord Geigi’s apartment—in the excitement of nand’ Bren’s gift he had not changed it. That was on his side.

  She glanced up, only briefly, and back down to her page. “Your guest is comfortably settled, Great-grandson?”

  “Yes, mani.”

  “One hears that you gave orders to Lord Geigi’s staff.”

  He had forgotten that. He had not prepared himself to defend what he had done. He had just thought he had to do it—to prevent a problem, not to make one. He had settled his guests, had he not? And that was right to do.

  “So?” she said. “You seem somewhat anxious, young gentleman. Do you think you did well?”

  “Nand’ Geigi is very busy and Andressen-nadi is angry and difficult, and Reni-nadi is alone. One hoped to do well, to be sure Andressen-nadi will not try to give orders to her. He has been very forward.”

  “Ah,” mani said, and nodded as if this was a very minor concern, and returned to her book.

  “Mani, nand’ Bren has sent me a letter. And he has sent me this.” He held the little computer in view as she looked up. “This is like Lord Geigi’s machine, that showed the maps of the tunnels. This one is for dealing with the kyo, mani.”

  “And how shall this deal with the kyo?” mani asked.

  “It has pictures, mani, like my picture books.”

  “You were a child then. Shall you bring them a child’s picture books now?”

  “But these are not a story. Nand’ Bren has gathered pictures in groups. He is making associations of pictures and kyo words and Ragi! I know exactly what he is doing! He is showing them words that are alike, and he is going to find out what their words are, not just the words, but the associations, mani, which is really important!”

  “Well, well.” Mani agreeably took the computer into her own hands, and pressed the button he showed her, and the one going up, and the one going down, and the ones sideways, making the images change. “Well, well, well. And who created this clever machine? Lord Geigi?”

  “Nand’ Bren has done all this, mani! And he expects me to understand it.”

  “An unusual gift. So you have some study to do today, do you not?” Mani clicked through the pictures, above, below, and sideways. “Indeed.”

  “I shall! I am to add words if I remember them! I have been comparing my notebook to the pictures and I have added one word so far!”

  She handed it back to him. “We are intrigued. We shall receive the result of it, we are sure. And perhaps a young gentleman will also attend the particular associations we shall observe in these visitors and learn something, too.”

  He failed to understand at first. And then did. Associations we shall observe. Mani would have her own set of associations, not pictures on a screen, but the sort of things that mani did track, when she was dealing in politics, and allies, and enemies. Pictures were something a computer could hold and show. But what mani would to be watching he doubted any computer could show.

  Very likely, he thought, nand’ Bren had also planned paths through these pictures that he only partly imagined.

  He wanted to know everything. He wanted to be as wise as Great-grandmother and as clever as nand’ Bren. But right now he had to find his own way to be useful.

  He had talked to Prakuyo once. So had mani. And the little computer meant studying harder than ever he had done for his tutors.

  • • •

  Sheets. Darkness. Sleep. Possibly even enough sleep.

  The two little green lights were there. Jago had gone, but the spot was still warm, so it had not been that long ago, and Bren stretched out and turned onto his back. He had done all he could do. He had looked at pictures until they cycled spontaneously before his eyes. The kyo ship was coming. They were down to hours now . . . surreal as it seemed. It was becoming more real. The memories of them, their last meeting, had been as remote as Reunion, as foreign as it was possible to be.

  Now they loomed close. Strangely—he’d remembered a great deal in static images. Pictures, frozen like the ones in the tablet. Now the pictures in his mind showed a tendency to move. To be snippets of the moments he’d been face-to-face with something all his skill with language hadn’t been able to reach . . .

  The memory hovered, start and stop. Detail of the one face he knew well. The confusion of others he didn’t know as well.

  Moments. Trying to restrain Prakuyo, in confined quarters, and realizing later that Prakuyo had restrained himself from an outburst that might have killed him.

  Prakuyo’s strange sounds that he couldn’t duplicate. Nor really understand.

  He could lie there just a little longer, thinking. But if he lay there thinking down this track he could only confuse himself. Memories weren’t coherent. Too many ship-moves lay between, when dreams and reality merged, when one moved in a half-world of past and present, and tried to work, but managed, occasionally, to write down things that sanity questioned.

  If he got up, and he needed to, not to lie here battering at his memory—he might be just a little early for breakfast.

  The door opened quietly. A shadow was there against the light. “Bren-ji,” Jago said quietly, “Jase-aiji has just called. He says the kyo ship is now confirmed on definite approach to the station mast, following the suggested pattern. They are communicating with ops continually, stating their intended path and progress, but no spoken words, merely lines on the diagram.”

  “Still good news.”

  “Good news, Bren-ji,” Jago said. “Sleep a little longer. You only wished us to tell you if there was any report at all.”

  “Thank you, Jago-ji. And rest, all of you! I shall need you. Soon.”

  So they were coming in toward the mast. Final approach. If Prakuyo wanted to talk at this point, staff would tell him and he would jump to it.

  But right now, perhaps Prakuyo was reasonable, interested in getting some needed rest and having a clear head. Both of them on the same sleep cycle would be a truly good thing. Though as he remembered the kyo sleep cycle was a degree shorter.

  An inconvenient degree shorter.

  He had arranged everything, he, and Jase, and Geigi, and Gin. While he worked on the images and the protocol, Geigi’s workforce had created a facility ready to house them and receive the kyo in comfort and security—an arrangement that would have taken a government or a University committee weeks if not months to set up. They had now a place to meet on the station and they could with equal ease (but not equal cheer) deal with a shipboard meeting on Phoenix or aboard the kyo vessel, whichever the kyo opted to have, on even shorter notice.

  But thus far—it looked as if the ship was coming in as requested, using the berth atop the mast, the only place that could accommodate its size.

  Credit where it was due. Geigi had set up the station facility and Ogun and Sabin had actually cooperated and conferred together on the logistics of a shipboard meeting, much as the captains preferred not to involve Phoenix. The last time on a station hadn’t gone so well for Prakuyo an Tep. It might be asking a great deal, in asking Prakuyo to enter a place that looked very like Reunion.

  But if he were, personally, the kyo in charge, he’d not come all this way and miss the chance to see the inside workings of this place. He’d seen the interior of the kyo ship himself. He was still glad to have seen it, and it had given him valuable insights into the kyo themselves, even if they had not been the details Sabin would have wished him to note.

  And hadn’t he heard about that failure more than once, on the trip home?

  He definitely did not want the dowager and Cajeiri to board the kyo ship on this venture, however. They had other options. Having that ship head out of the system with them aboard—that would be a disaster not just to the aishidi’tat.

  All that contingency planning, however, was increasingly slipping be
hind them. Knowing the kyo were going to attach to the mast and not just stand off, he had time to lie abed and collect his thoughts and trust things to the technical folk. And to Jase. Things they hoped would happen were going to happen.

  That ship had all its sensing abilities in operation, one could be very sure. Recording. Imaging. Listening. Gathering data of all sorts—as one could be sure the kyo had been doing all along their route. Keeping a close eye on Phoenix for any hostile move. But coming into the heart of station operations, the most sensitive areas, the most vital—it became highly unlikely Phoenix would be as much concern.

  Jase, who had been directly involved with the kyo communications from the start, was in station ops, approving the diagrams that guided them, and techs reading, with an experienced eye, every diagram that came back. He hadn’t seen Jase since the operation started, but Jase was doing his job of keeping all parties informed. There were things he wanted to ask, details he’d like know, but he had no wish to trouble Jase with questions at this late stage, and with Jase’s mind focused on the technicalities of docking a very large ship to a soft tube with a jury-rigged airlock connection at the kyo end.

  Geigi’s guests had stayed quiet, so Geigi reported, despite a small emotional outburst with Mr. Andressen. Irene had left the dowager’s care, rejoining the others in Geigi’s apartment, likely at the dowager’s decision. Cajeiri had requested the staff consult her for translation, and further made the point that she would not be taking orders from Mr. Andressen. Nor would anybody else.

  That was interesting. Andressen was still posing a problem.

  But Geigi reported that all seemed quiet in his household. That was all he needed to know about that. It was all he wanted to know.

  Regarding the Reunioners still pent in the three old sections, the lid was solid on that cauldron of discontent, too, and Gin was upping the quality, variety, and quantity of food in the meal centers, which had to relieve some stress. Human Central was providing constant coverage of the kyo situation on public displays in those sections, the same as the Mospheiran areas had, with some sort of reassuring, low key commentary. The push on distribution now was going to put pressure on supply later—but later would solve it, was Gin’s word on the problem. He didn’t know what Gin had in mind, but Gin had taken on the problem. Granted they got through the kyo business alive and granted one of the food production tanks didn’t get damaged in the encounter, they would manage.