Precursor

  “Excellent,” he said. “Excellent, Nadiin. —Sit, sit down, Nadiin-ji. I wish you to sit and share all this with me.”

  The offering was meat of the season, pickled eggs and dried fruit, juice, with tea still hot in the flasks. And eat together, and in front of nand’ paidhi and his security? The servants were rarely comfortable with such an arrangement… and he was sorry for his failure as yet to provide them their own place, quarters of their own, their own dining room, their own place for jokes and camaraderie, their domain which Narani should rule.

  But they all settled to eat, then, and the sense of ceremony with which they shared their meal made it a quiet, reserved time.

  “We’ve become a village,” Jago observed then, recalling the more informal culture of field and farm, and that struck the servants as strangely funny, for reasons a human found difficulty figuring.

  “We should have goda,” Tano said, which made them laugh aloud. It was country fare, boiled grain on which one slathered butter or fruit jelly or fish sauce, in season: Bren had had it.

  “No fish sauce, Nadiin” said Bindanda, the outsider; all the servants well knew Bren’s distaste for that, and they shyly thought that was very funny, too.

  “No fish sauce,” they echoed.

  In that laughter came a beep from somewhere in the room, which drew immediate attention from Banichi and his staff.

  The servants, lifelong accustomed to the goings-on of assassination-prone lords and their armed security, fell instantly silent.

  “Mr. Cameron,” a voice said from near the door, from the wall unit.

  Banichi leaped up, and immediately the rest of the security staff was on their feet.

  “I’ll deal with it,” Bren said, and rose and went to the wall console. Green, white, and red buttons were lit.

  Green button, he decided, green for go, certainly not what an ateva would have chosen. “Hello?”

  “Mr. Cameron, this is the officer of the watch. Your cargo is released, orders of the captains. It’s on its way.”

  “Thank you,” Bren said, not entirely surprised, but very glad it would arrive before they wished to sleep. “Please relay our delegation’s satisfaction, captain, and its appreciation. My servants and staff will assist in moving it, at need.”

  “No need,” the gruff reply came back. “We’re sending a cart.”

  “And the other problem? The mattresses?”

  “Mattresses?”

  “I thought this was understood.”

  “What mattresses, sir?”

  “My staff, sir, averaging well above two meters in height and numbering eight, besides myself, cannot rest on the floor, nor do I lodge with my staff, sir, excepting my security. This insults the aiji in Shejidan, it was agreed, and I am still waiting.” With whom it had been agreed he neglected to say. “On the other hand, I’m sure more rooms would solve the problem. Five rooms would be adequate. We are prepared to move.”

  There was a lengthy moment of silence. “Let me ask the captain on shift.”

  The captains damned well knew how one had to deal with the aiji of Shejidan. He glanced at his watch, knew by the usual ship’s schedule that it was past Ogun’s watch. “Shall I wait on line? Let me talk to Captain Ramirez.”

  “He’s asleep, sir.” That meant it was either Tamun or Sabin. He strongly hoped for Sabin. “It may have fallen between watches. Give me a moment on the problem, and I’ll get back to you.”

  Bren punched the switch to off. The quarters might be bugged, but they could only detect riot or silence and the occasional drop of a recognizable name. No one aboard spoke Ragi with any fluency. Jase, and to some degree Yolanda, was the ship’s only chance of translating it on the fly. There had been a dictionary sent up; he was sure they would make use of it. But learn Ragi? In years of dealing, there had been no request for that.

  “The baggage will arrive,” he told his staff, cheering them. “They’re pursuing the question of additional quarters. The captains go by shifts. Ramirez is asleep, Ogun has left duty, and we wait to see whether Sabin or Tamun happens to be aiji of this ship at the moment.”

  The servant staff had risen. They bowed, pleased at the news.

  “Let us resume our supper,” Bren said, and everyone settled. He made short work of his own sandwich, fortification for combat.

  Within a few minutes the intercom beeped again.

  Banichi punched in this time, quick study.

  “This is Bren Cameron,” Bren said with the comfort of good food on his stomach.

  “This is Captain Sabin. Mr. Cameron, despite the apparent size of the station, we don’t have unlimited facilities. Not all areas are livable. Quite bluntly, sir, we can accommodate the Mospheiran mission; but we’re finding difficulty accommodating your special needs.”

  “The aiji will not take that into account, captain; nor should he. But we’re willing to make adjustments for your situation, quite understanding your position. We can forgo the modification of doorways and accesses.”

  “It’s not doorways and access, Mr. Cameron. I doubt the native government will want to accommodate an unannounced lot of us, either.”

  “The aiji has prepared your guest quarters exactly to human specifications, captain, on schedule. Send down a complement on the shuttle, and they will be treated as guests.” It certainly couldn’t be a credible threat of invasion, not unless they wanted to drop their several hundred crew members in cap-sules, and only atevi goodwill would put a second shuttle within their reach. “We understand your schedule has been subject to pressure. But I must say this situation was not of our making… and we met schedule. The Mospheirans responded with extreme suspicion when you abruptly recalled their translator; when you recalled Jase Graham, the aiji took that as a statement as well, indicating a new phase in our dealings.”

  “Mr. Cameron, the aiji is proceeding on assumption.”

  “You made the gesture, captain. You alarmed the Mospheirans, the Mospheirans appealed to him for seats; he granted it. He is not human, captain. He responded to your gesture and to the Mospheiran delegates in a thoroughly logical way for an ateva. He sent me up here first to ask why, to be sure the Mospheirans tell you the truth, and to assert his agreements with you and your Council. I find, unfortunately, that the quarters we require aren’t ready. I’m ready to accommodate that, within reason; but for the reason you came to ask our help, we need to arrive at a working relationship. That begins with adequate space.”

  “We don’t have space at our disposal.”

  “And I believe we’ve already made it clear that atevi representatives don’t come in ones and small sets. They have staff to provide for security that is never absent from them, waking or sleeping, on the planet. This substitutes for weapons. You don’t want a solitary ateva, sir. If you found one, I assure you he’s crazy and probably dangerous to your lives and property. An ateva with his household, however, is someone who can be dealt with, genially, and the more comfortable he is, the easier he is to deal with.”

  A long silence followed his lengthy rehearsal of matters already settled. Clearly, the woman on the other end of the connection was not speaking without thinking… or consultation… or at very least, getting control of her temper.

  “We have a difficult situation here,” Sabin said. “Two competing delegations.”

  “Not at all competing. If you have an interest in minerals and shuttles and work done up here, talk to us. If you want to talk to the Mospheirans, they will refer your requests back to their government. I, on the other hand, can deal in specifics and have an agreement to train workers up here as soon as I’m convinced quarters are adequate. You can meet with the Mos-pheirans, but without the aiji, you’ll have no transport for that labor and you’ll mine the asteroids for supply.”

  “This is a matter for the Council.”

  One saw the origin of the Mospheiran fondness for councils and committees; the third captain was not about to commit the others.

  “This is not accep
table accommodation, captain. I’m afraid this doesn’t encourage me to sign a damned thing.”

  “All right. We’ll meet. Thirteen hundred hours, tomorrow.”

  “Excellent.” He deliberately let the slight accent of long ha-bituation to the atevi language creep into his voice, wondering to what extent Jase was going to spend a sleepless night on the schedule he’d pushed, because he had a notion they’d recorded every word he’d said. The captain was trying to get him to talk, and that they’d talk to Jase… in detail, after sleep if he didn’t push it; with no sleep if he did. Not to mention the captains. Ramirez didn’t seem destined for a peaceful night, nor Ogun and Tamun rest off-duty. “Granted adequate rest for myself and my staff. I insist on expansion of these quarters.”

  “This is an orbiting facility, Mr. Cameron. A centuries-old, jury-rigged, malfunctioning orbital facility. We cannot manufacture space on demand. We haven’t the manpower. We understand that’s likely to be Mospheiran. The raw materials and transport have to come up from the mainland, and your atevi are prone to slaughtering humans for no damn good reason. We find that just a little damn worrisome to be accommodating. ”

  “Your emissaries have been taken ill on landing, to the point of nausea and incapacity. I believe we’ve understood for three years that atevi would be coming to this station, and I believe we transmitted our specific requirements years ago. I don’t think requesting to use them now that the shuttle is operational is at all beyond reasonable expectation, since in that time, we’ve upgraded our industry, produced one shuttle, have another well along, and have your quarters operational. That’s the first point. The second: you don’t get transport or supplies if the atevi aren’t happy, you don’t get labor if the Mospheirans aren’t happy; and you’re damn right they don’t live together, and that’s not making your job easy. I, however, am Mospheiran by birth, do live together with the atevi, very successfully, and I’m willing to tell you all I know about the how and why of it, granted I get any sleep with no mattress and on a cold floor.”

  “Members of our crew will be forced into zero-G accommodations by the aiji’s maneuver, Mr. Cameron.”

  “Members of my staff, all somewhat over two meters in height, have nowhere to sleep otherwise. One has been injured by a low doorway and the floor is unacceptably cold. Nor will the furniture adequately accommodate them. Thus far, we’re maintaining a sense of humor about this situation. However, it is wearing thin.”

  There was a silence. Bren waited, cast a glance at his staff, and the voice on the intercom said quietly: “We’ll vacate the sector to you, down to the security door. An hour to move our personnel out. Understand that I’m granting this as a stopgap and in extreme displeasure at this maneuver. Don’t expect further modifications until we have labor that meets our needs.”

  “As an invention of the instant, more than generous, captain.”

  “We’ll meet. Thirteen hundred hours tomorrow, no delays. Our security will bring you to the offices.”

  “My security will also attend, captain, as provided for in the agreements. That is not negotiable on the aiji’s part. And we’re still waiting for our baggage.”

  “We have not opened your baggage, Mr. Cameron. I trust you know how fragile this environment is. I trust you’ve briefed your delegation.”

  “Completely. Please brief your personnel never to move or stand between me and my security. It’s the same as a drawn weapon. We make adjustments in our procedures; we likewise expect the courtesy returned.”

  “I’ll see you at thirteen hundred, Mr. Cameron.”

  In the middle of her off watch, likely. The slight whisper of electronics vanished before Bren could touch the button.

  “This device might receive without announcement,” Bani-chi said, leaning above him for a closer look. “I believe I can prevent that.”

  “It might,” Bren said. “But don’t. Yet.” He’d been speaking Mosphei’ to the captain’s responses in a mutated mother tongue, of which some of his staff had some knowledge, but not all. He suspected Banichi might not have utterly penetrated the captain’s accent, or grasped the nuance, any more than Banichi would have an understanding of the green light as go, when atevi would have chosen white.

  In such small matters lay the least of the problems they faced.

  “Nadiin-ji,” Bren said, looking out at the whole staff, across the small room, “that was one of the captains. She’s given us the whole hall up to the safety door, the baggage is on its way, and she wants me to come to a meeting, probably with several of the captains, at early afternoon tomorrow. She proposes to send security to fetch me tomorrow; she doesn’t sound at all pleased when I say I’ll bring mine with me.”

  “Were we to send you alone, nadi-ji,” Banichi said, “Tabini-aiji would have a contract on our heads.”

  “I made that clear,” Bren said. “Captain Sabin doesn’t like us having weapons, and wishes discretion. Banichi, you and Jago come with me tomorrow, that is, assuming the baggage arrives and we get the quarters we want. Tano, Algini, you’ll take care of the premises.”

  “Nandi.”

  Contrary to what he’d said to Sabin, he knew Tabini-aiji had gotten them onto the station by what amounted to sleight-of-hand, one that would have played very well in the hasdrawad’s chambers or the machinations of the associations.

  So he had the consequence of that: a very rattled, very angry Pilots’ Guild who’d had a few experiences with Tabini-aiji at a distance, and who’d probably—wisely—begun to count their fingers in every transaction they had with his government.

  Courtesy, however, was a cultural fault line that crossed more than atevi-Phoenix relations. The captains weren’t exactly adept in courteous suggestion, a trait that was bound to rattle the Mospheirans, who for ancestral reasons were already disposed to suspect the Pilots’ Guild leadership of nefarious doings. Conspiracy theories bred on Mospheira, part and parcel of Mospheiran life, and the most prominent had the aliens as a complete lie and the captains bent on conquest of the island, from which they would launch out to conquer the mainland.

  Neither the Mospheirans nor the Pilots’ Guild had reasonable expectations of one another. He, however, had had Jase for three years. Assuredly, the Guild hadn’t sent their most senior officer onto the planet in the first place, but he could have had worse advisors…

  God, he hoped he was right; it was always seat-of-the-pants navigation on an alien interface, where the paidhiin operated. It was bad enough trying to keep the Mospheirans out and yet not overdo the pushing, either. Now he had to stand nose to nose with a captain of the Guild and tell the Guild he wanted the sun and the moon on a platter. He hoped Jase had reached Ramirez, that Ramirez was inquiring about what Jase knew… and that Jase, perhaps with Yolanda Mercheson listening in, was shaping up a pyramidical negotiation: atevi with Ramirez, if they were lucky, the Mospheirans with Sabin. That left Ogun and Tamun to distribute somewhere, possibly to stand off and analyze and pose their own threats.

  The servant staff meanwhile was gathering up belongings, to rearrange their living space after hardly more than a couple of hours aboard the station.

  Banichi and Jago, Tano and Algini, were in a close four-way conversation in which the communication panel figured. On the one hand, he was too preoccupied to inquire and yet thought he should find out.

  And he had to tell them, too, what he knew of station structure. “This communication center will be much the same in various apartments,” he said to them, “linked to the central control systems of the station. The ship will be linked into that system, with all its equipment. There might be bugs of all sorts, more sensitive and harder to find than anything that Mospheira’s ever heard of, Nadiin, or anything we might have given the aiji. We don’t know what these people have developed in two hundred years, with all they’ve been through.”

  “We ourselves have nothing to conceal,” Banichi said, “nandi, and trust our associate will not translate for them.”

  “No,??
? he said: Banichi didn’t use Jase’s name, and for the same reason, he didn’t, himself. “Because they’re humans, Nadiin, it’s very easy for me to assume I do understand them. I resonate to certain things in this culture the way metal resonates to the right pitch… but Jase and I speak different languages with the same words. One’s own ancestral culture is not the easiest thing to ignore; not always the easiest to identify, either, or to tell from instinct.”

  “So one understands,” said Banichi, who owed man’chi to a human.

  “So one understands,” Bren said somberly. He looked at the servants as he spoke. “We doubt the ship-folk’s security has become fluent in Ragi. They’ve had three years to do it, but use either the most courtly or the most vulgar language. I forgive you any impropriety. We doubt they’ll acquire the skills to deal with either extreme, no matter what they find in a dictionary. I intend to annoy the aijiin of the Guild; too much comradeship will let them make dangerous assumptions, and I have no wish to repeat the mistakes of the Landing. Let them detest me, nadiin, let them think me entirely unreasonable, so long as they assume nothing and presume nothing. That may not make matters entirely comfortable from moment to moment.”

  “Shall we fear for our lives?” Bindanda asked.

  He at first thought, Ridiculous, then had to take a heartbeat to be honest with what was at stake. “Recall there’s no air beyond the outer wall, and that delicate machinery maintains air and light and heat within. They fear mistakes, and fear them justifiably. Every door will be too low for you, every seat too small; security will take alarm at your height and your manners, which are contrary to their own. Bow often. If a human looks at you with hostile appearance, smile, however you may think it rude, or however you may find it difficult. Smile even to persons of high rank. Smile at me, as well, even in public. Remind yourselves to do it. Even if their intentions are the worst, we have a mission here, in the aiji’s man’chi. I rely on you all for my life.”