“Can they see in the dark?” Jeff wanted to know, further, on what Bren estimated was the chatoyance of atevi eyes.
“A little better than we can at twilight,” he said, knowing as a human how people who saw in the dark played off human fears… and then remembering this Jeff would have no visceral concept of twilight. Dusk and dawn were no better. “Like in here,” he amended that. “Not sure about the color range, well as we know each other; don’t think it’s ever been tested scientifically. But it’s not that much different.”
“Huh,” Jeff said thoughtfully, and Bren gave the polite formulas and gathered his party out the door into the corridor, Lund tending to stray a bit. They were cheerful, the lot of them, even Kroger looking flushed.
“Well, probably time we got back to our various sections,” Bren said. “Why don’t you drop by tomorrow? We can give you something a little aside from the cafeteria fare. I have to let my staff know in advance, but no great difficulty to set a few extra places.”
“I don’t know,” Kroger said.
“Anything but the food up here,” Lund said, and then cast a look at Kaplan. “With apologies.”
“Everything my staff brought accommodates human taste,” Bren said. “Kaplan, can you bring them for supper tomorrow, say, oh, local eighteen hundred? You’re welcome, yourself. Plan to eat with us.”
“I can’t, sir, not on duty.”
“Your duty is a bother.”
“Yes, sir,” Kaplan said. “But I have to do it.”
“All the same. You can have a cup of tea and a wafer or two. The universe won’t end.”
“Eighteen hundred,” Kroger said.
“Granted we survive the hangover,” Bren said. “Lead on, Kaplan. Show us the way.”
* * *
Chapter 16
« ^ »
One does apologize, Nadiin-ji, for curious behavior,” Bren said when they met the staff, he and Banichi and Jago with Tano and Algini as interested bystanders from the security room door.
“It was a curious place,” Banichi said.
“Indeed,” Jago agreed. “But we were able to advise Kate-ji of the situation.”
“I heard laughter.”
“She said she was an endangered fish and again, that we were three amorous old men.”
Bren had to smile, though the vodka had not improved the dry-air headache. He’d tried inhaling water that morning, tried a headache remedy during their stay in the bar, and still felt far too dry, which the vodka he’d consumed had not improved. “Relations with Kroger and Lund are definitely better, though I don’t think we’re communicating much better than you are with Kate Shugart. There’s far too much apprehension around us all, far too much fear of strangers. I don’t know whether the crew is more worried about you or about the Mospheirans. I think they’re beginning to understand they’re not the same as themselves.”
“These humans will not have met even other humans at all,” Jago said. “Jasi-ji was afraid, the first time he saw how large Shejidan is.”
“Jase was afraid of very many things, but he improved quickly,” Tano said from the side. “Is there word of his welfare, Nadiin-ji?”
“Not to our satisfaction,” Bren said. “Always they say he’s with the captains. They claim he has no further relationship with the aiji’s court: they wish to assert command over him, and I’m not willing to have that state of affairs. Nor will the aiji. What did Kate say, Nadiin?”
“That Kroger-nadi was very angry at first,” Banichi said, “and that she’s still angry over the archive, but reconciled, one thinks, and glad to have an agreement which may turn out to her credit. Kate says that all of them are communicating in confidence they’re being observed. One doubts they have that great a skill at it, judging what I’ve heard, but they are attempting to be discreet in their most sensitive policy discussions.”
“The translators believe they’re privy to those?”
“Yes, but with only small occasion to contribute. Kate stated they all like the notion of atevi mining and building; they believe they can interest commercial enterprises in venturing here, but they’re worried about losing all economic initiative in manufacturing to the mainland.”
“The translator was doing very well, then.”
“She makes egregious mistakes,” Jago said, “but goodwill and courtesy are evident in her manner. She is cautious of offense.”
“Despite naming us noble thieves,” Banichi added.
“Forgive her.”
His security was amused. The words for assassin and thief were similar, for the antique word noble and guild even closer. “Perhaps we are noble thieves. Perhaps we might steal our associate from them when we go. Perhaps we will steal all manufacturing.”
“I intend the one. Not the other. Medicines. Electronics. Refining. Food production in orbit. We can stake out interlocked domains. The principles are well-defined, nothing we have to invent.”
“They have not yet opened their defenses,” Banichi said, “and do not trust. One must ask,” Banichi said, “nandi, how far one should go with them, or with Kaplan-nadi either in confidence or in allowing untoward movement.”
Serious question. A very serious question. “Defer to me in this. If I strike anyone, then observe no restraint. But I rather like Kaplan.”
Like was for salads; it was an old joke with them, but they understood it well enough for one of those transitory attachments humans formed, one subject to whimsy and change by the hour… when for atevi such changes were emotional, associational, life-rending earthquakes.
They might know, at least, how he read the situation. He added, “I rather like Lund and Feldman, too; Shugart is, well, Shugart’s fine. Even Kroger improves with acquaintance. She and I had a bad start, on the flight to the mainland. I rather think she’s Heritage in associations, but too smart for Heritage, too smart to bow to its leaders, too educated in her field, too innately sensible to swallow what they say. I think she’s seen now how things can work between our species and she’s not going to give the hardliners in her party a report they’ll greatly favor. For political purposes, they want to regard us as enemies, they want all the station, and I don’t think she’ll accommodate them. I think she’s honest. I think she sees the Heritage Party as a means to half of what she wants, better than those who’d rather not think about space at all, but I think if she sees a way to get Mospheirans up here without being directly under Guild authority, I think that satisfies most of what she wants.”
“Kroger is aiji in that group,” Jago mused, “one suspects. An aiji indeed, then.”
“I’m still not sure what Lund’s authority is. Possibly he has the same inclinations to leadership. Possibly he’s even Heritage himself and quite canny at it—his department is rife with that party; but he seems far more skilled at getting along with other humans. Kroger is leader, in terms of having her way, and not owing man’chi to those who think they’re her leaders. She has thorns, doesn’t like what’s foreign, but she also has a brain; and I think—I hope—she’s used it in the last several days. I’m coming to respect Kroger, however reluctantly. I hope that lasts.”
“One also hopes it does,” Banichi said.
“Supper tomorrow evening; a meeting next afternoon with Sabin; one hopes we make contact with Jase. Not a bad day’s work.”
“Shall Tano and Algini attend you at supper this evening?” Banichi asked.
“Certainly.” He had no objections to his staff doing turnabout at the luxury of the formal table and food served at the moment of perfection; more, he counted it a chance to brief the junior pair in more detail, and to give Banichi and Jago a break, or conference time, or time for a lengthy, self-indulgent bath
… whatever they might want. They’d gone short of sleep in recent days; and whether something of a personal nature ever went on in that partnership he still had no idea, not a clue.
No jealousy, either. He owed them both his life and his sanity.
“One will dr
ess,” Tano said with a bow of his head, and that matter was settled.
Bren himself went to change shirts… how freshly-pressed shirts appeared on schedule was a miracle of the servants’ quarters, but he took them gratefully as they were offered, a small indulgence of rank, and allowed Narani the smugness of small miracles.
He fastened buttons, turned on the computer, gathered messages, in the interval before dinner.
There was a short one from Toby:
Bren, Jill and the kids are gone. I can’t find them.
His hand hit the wall panel, dented it.
“Nadi?” It was Sabiso’s inoffensive voice, concerned. He collected himself, faced the young woman in formal courtesy.
“A difficulty, Sabiso-ji, a small difficulty.”
Her glance surely took in the damaged panel. She lingered. “Shall I call Jago, nandi?”
“No,” he said mildly. “No, no need.” He wanted to put his fist through the wall, but a broken hand wouldn’t help the downward spiral of the situation. He didn’t want to alarm Sabiso. He didn’t want to explain the situation to his security.
He was furious with his brother, didn’t even know why he was brought to the irrational brink.
Not rational. Not at all rational. Not professional, damaging the wall panel. Downright stupid, leaving a trace of his temper. It wasn’t like him. Accumulated stress. Short schedules. The frustration of his position.
He walked over to the vanity counter and tried to calm himself with cold water, the single frustrating handful he could get from the damned spring-loaded tap.
Sabiso still lingered, not about to leave a madman. He could hear her small movements. “You may dismiss worry, Sabiso-ji. Please go about your duties.”
“Yes, nandi.” Confronted, she did leave. He gave it a very short time before he might expect Jago.
Why did he want to throttle his brother? What in hell was it in a perfectly reasonable message from his brother about his own personal distress that made him dent a wall panel?
Simple answer. Toby had just asked him to leave him the hell alone in one message; and he’d agreed, and sent an irrevocable letter to their mother. And now Toby broke Toby’s own new rules and wanted him to worry… for a damned good reason; he could only imagine Toby’s state of mind.
But, dammit, it was part and parcel of the way his family had always worked: first the ultimatum to leave the situation alone; then two hours later a cry for help he couldn’t possibly ignore, and in most cases couldn’t do a thing about but lose sleep.
He couldn’t do a damn thing in this instance about Jill and the kids. He figured, somewhere in his personal psychological cellar, that the last straw in that marriage might have been his call to Toby to come back to the capital, when things between Jill and Toby were already strained. It was his fault. He’d done it.
And they had to quit the cycle they were in. He couldn’t fix Toby’s problem. He couldn’t go on a search for Jill.
He had to take it just as Toby doing what he himself had reserved the right to do: send an advisory. Toby had that right, too. Toby’s wife and kids were missing… in a world where political lunacy had flung rocks at windows, pegged shots at perfect strangers, and had a security guard from the National Security Administration guarding his brother’s kids from a distance.
Where in hell were the guards when Jill took the kids? That was Shawn’s office, at a primary level. Did Shawn know where Jill was, and would he tell Toby?
Dammit, he was up here releasing the archive files to the planet, the world had just found out there were missions going on up here, and Jill picked a damned hard time to do a disappearing act.
He settled down and wrote exactly that, in a far calmer mode. I’m sorry as hell, Toby. It’s all I can say. Likely she’s at the cottage or she’s gone to her family. I’m sure she’s all right. Tell her I said it was my fault and she should be angry at me…
He deleted the last sentence, one more interference in Toby’s household, in favor of: Contact Shawn. Get answers immediately. Don’t assume. This is a safety issue. Pride is nowhere in this. Protect them.
The message was stark, uncomfortably brief. He knew Toby was absolutely right to have told him, dared not reject the possibility it was more than anger on Jill’s part.
He was the one who’d brought his family the necessity of security measures, armed guards, all those things. They’d begun to lean on them. Surely Toby had already been to the security people. And they didn’t have answers?
He couldn’t do anything, except fire a message to Shawn, on restricted channels. Toby’s wife and kids are missing. Need to know where they are.
… and knowing that if that inquiry reached Jill and embarrassed her in a marital spat, it might be the true final straw in her marriage.
He’d done all he could. He couldn’t spare personal worry. He couldn’t afford to think on it. He calmly wrote another message for Mogari-nai, this one to relay to Tabini.
We have spent an interesting day touring the station and meeting with various crewmen. We have not yet located our associate, and have assurances the authorities are asking him close questions. I am concerned at this point but find no alternative. Particulars of my negotiations with all parties did attach to my last message. Please confirm that those files reached you, aiji-ma. I remain convinced of a felicitous outcome but find that certain representations are dubious. I was far too sanguine not of the early progress, but of its scope. Relations with the Mospheiran delegates have become smoother and those with the ship-aijiin more doubtful. Also my brother’s family is missing and I hope you will pursue queries with Shawn-nandi, aiji-ma, discreetly. Personal argument preceded the disappearance, but the unsettled times are a worry.
On the other hand, after some inconvenience we have scheduled a meeting with Sabin-captain, and hope that a session of close questions will allay the concerns of
the two less available captains and bring us closer to reasonable agreement. We have repeatedly asserted and I still believe, aiji-ma, that future association with the ship-humans is to the good of all parties including the Mospheirans and the only reasonable course for the protection of all living things. I am more than ever of the opinion that the long experience of Mospheirans and atevi in settling differences between our kinds may prove both confusing and alarming to the ship-humans; but that it also offers a surer defense than any weapon of their devising.
He sent. And hoped to God that Shawn readily had Toby’s answer about where Jill and those kids were.
Supper was, for the first time, a vegetable preserve: such things were kabiu, proper, without going against the prohibition against preserved meat. Tano and Algini shared the table with him, and he mentioned nothing of Toby’s difficulty, there being nothing any of his security could do about it. He’d developed a certain knack over the years, of dismissing things on Mospheira to a remote part of his attention, of shifting utterly into the mainland; and now further than that, into complete concentration on his staff, on the problems of Sabin and Kroger, on the regional labor resources, shuttle flight schedules, and station resources. Tano and Algini in fact had been working the day long on the security of the section they now held, on what went on behind the skin of the walls and the floors and arching ceiling, what possibility there was of being spied on, or of spying.
And at the very moment Tano was about to explain the console, the one in their dining hall leaped to life and let out a loud burst of sound.
“God,” Bren said. Tano and Algini were out of their seats. It was not the only source of the sound, and it ceased quickly, as running steps approached the door.
Jago appeared.
“Apologies,” she said. “We have found the main switch, Nadiin, nandi.”
The servants laughed; Tano and Algini laughed, and Bren subsided shakily and with amusement against the back of his chair.
The screen went dark again.
Supper resumed, in its final course, a light fruit custard.
&
nbsp; From down the hall it sounded like water running, or a television.
Ultimately, after the custard, he had to send Tano and Algini to find out the cause, and he answered his own curiosity, taking a cup of tea with him.
By now it sounded like bombs.
He walked into the security station.
On one channel, insects pollinated brilliant flowers, unknown to this earth. They were bees, Bren knew from primer school, bees and apple blossoms. On another screen a line of crowned human women dived into a blue pool. On a third, buildings exploded.
The servant staff gathered behind him at the door, amazed and stunned.
Pink flowers gave way to riders in black and white.
“Mecheiti!” Sabiso said, wrong by a meter or so and half a ton.
“Horses,” Bren said. “Banichi, what have we found?”
“One thinks,” Banichi said, “we have discovered the architecture of this archive. There is an organization to it.”
A varied set of images flowed past. He might have delighted in it, on any other evening. He might have laughed.
But while the staff watched, intrigued by human history, he went across the corridor to his room, to the computer, to check his messages via Cl.
Toby had written back. Call off your panic. Jill’s at her mother’s.
Bren sank into a cold plastic chair.
Not… thanks, Bren.
Not… security knew.
Not… I’m going there now.
Not… it’s going to be all right.
The chill sank inward, and lay there. He didn’t move for a moment.
All right, Toby, did Shawn know, did Tabini send something through?
Did I mess things up, Toby?
I want you safe, dammit. It’s not safe there. This is no time for Jill to be running from her security…
He wrote that: Toby, impress on her this is no time…
And wiped it. Jill had left her home, run out on Toby. This was not a woman thinking clearly about her personal safety. Or she was rejecting it.