Текст книги "Defender "

Автор книги: C. J. Cherryh

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

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 werepertinent. Even a master politician in atevi affairs could be mistaken about human loyalties. Jase was notmore trustable now, quite to the contrary. The captaincy settled on him would make him responsible to the ship afterRamirez’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 notnecessarily 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. Therewas 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 nooutside 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 others’ 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?

Maybe he’d wanted to assure himself one last time of the qualities of the paidhi-aiji, before he did something so irrationally, impossibly foolish as commit the dowager out there, with his son.

What was he to think? That Tabini had made an emotional decision?

But the ceremony itself—facing change, change Tabini might have timed, that ceremony not only got him down there and Ilisidi in from the east, it also got various troublesome lords into arm’s reach… where Tabini’s canny security and direct access to the Assassins’ Guild could insert agents onto their staffs, where he might make linkages that might be useful—who knew? Going to court was proverbially like visiting a plague ward: you might exit in apparent perfect health, but even the watchful and prudent were apt to have contracted a few unguessed contagions.

Trust that those lords knew that—but they were also bound to have seen both the shocking changes in Shejidan and the power—the evident economic and political power—of the aiji.

That would certainly bring some sober second thoughts on the part of any potential troublemaker.

Farewell for a time, paidhi-aiji. Prepared and strengthened by your services, I look forward to receiving you again at court and hearing firsthand the marvels of this new territory.

He took a sip of cooling tea, and cleared the letter over to the rest of the terminals with a disseminatecommand—for his security staff to read, and be entirely amazed. He’d read it. He’d have to read it a dozen times before he’d found everything buried between the lines.

Lord of the heavens? Paidhi to strangers?

He wasn’t confident. He wasn’t at all confident. But his authority… at least wasn’t diminished. Tabini wasn’t angry at him.

Dared he say the paidhi had had an emotional reaction to the thought that Tabini might have had an emotional moment toward him?

How tangled the relationship became.

“Did you contact Jase, Tano-ji?”

“Inquiry stopped at C1, nandi.”

“One rather thinks the stoppage behind all these messages was not C1, however,” Bren said. “And Jase may simply be sleeping, like reasonable people.”

“Mogari-nai, then, assuredly.”

“Almost certainly,” Bren said. “Give me my brother’s letter, Gini-ji, and read the aiji’s.”

Toby’s letter went up on his screen—a letter straight to the point.

Sorry I hung up on you. You hit sore spots. Maybe you had to.

Mother improves and worsens day by day and I don’t know what’s going on. They’re calling in a new specialist. That’s all anyone knows. I sent some flowers in your name.

Damn it, Toby, if I wanted to send flowers, I would have.

But was that right to say? Was it right not to think that, this time, all matters of his policy about his family were suspended? This could be the last time. Ever. A bouquet of flowers—what was that, in the long battle they’d waged, he and his mother, he for his freedom, his mother for her concept of what the family was?

I sent her some in my name too, and in Jill’s, and the kids. And I’m going on a three-day sabbatical… going to find Jill and see if I can explain one more time. Tell her the same old things, one more time. I don’t think it’s going to help, but I’ll try.

Barb’s with Mother. She wants to do this. Mother seems to improve when she’s there.

But you’re right: I have to go pull pieces together and see if I can get back what I had. That all relies on Jill forgiving me. If she does, there’s something. I don’t know if the kids can forgive me at this point. They don’t have the perspective. But Jill might be my advocate with them… even if we can’t get back to where we were

Don’t go in expecting defeat, brother. Don’t ask for half of what you need. You can’t ever win like that.

But I can’t help, either. I’ve done enough of that. Entirely enough. I’ve become part of the problem. Yours—and hers.

I know my troubles can’t matter much on the scale of things you routinely deal with…

Oh, don’t give me that, Toby; you damn well know you’re pushing a button—a damned sensitive one.

I really do know that, Bren. And I’m glad you’re out there doing what you do. Personally I don’t know what to do with all the changes in the world. We agreed to the paidhiin to make change easier for atevi and maybe now we need paidhiin just to explain to the rest of us ordinary types where all this scary stuff is going so fast.

But you ride the wave, and the world’s just going to change, isn’t it? We have to cope with the station and space and the aliens and all of it and just carry on in spite of it all. I think that’s one of Mother’s difficulties, that the world just isn’t the way she thinks it is– and now I’m not sure it’s all the way I always thought it was. I’m not sure I like what’s happened. I know I don’t like you having to go off from the island and not being here, and I miss you. But that’s not anything either of us can help, and I know I can’t even imagine what you’re dealing with right now. I guess I thought I could do the other things for you and take the weight off your shoulders, but that’s stupid: the one thing Mother wants is her whole family, all the time, and she wants everything her way. I think you’re right: it’s not what she ought to have, even for her sake– it seems damned late to try to make that point, but it’s not for want of trying, all these years, is it? You tried. Now I’ve tried. For a while I thought I couldn’t be happy until Mother was happy, because I wouldn’t have done my duty; and that’s what’s got me where I am and her where she is– and neither of us is happy.

So I’m going. I’m going to try one more time if Jill will believe me this round.

I left Barb there at the hospital. She wanted to, days ago, and now I’ve let her, and she’s there, and I’m not.

You’ll be able to get hold of me through my messaging.

You were right. I’m admitting it this time.

Forgive me.

– Toby.

Forgive you? God. You still haven’t gotten the point, Toby. It isn’t forgiving you; it never was. There isno forgiving. We just are. That’s all I ever asked.

He sat still a moment, finger crooked against his mouth, holding in the urge to say something, do something, intervene in Toby’s life one more time. But that was right on the same level as forgiving. They needed to let go. He’d always needed to let go. In the end, he was like their mother, and he hadn’t let go of her or Toby when he needed to.

His staff said nothing to him. But a silence had fallen in the room.

He composed himself, cool and calm.

“Next letter, if you will, Gini-ji.”

Dear Bren,

it began, the dreaded letter from Barb.

Dear Bren,

I’ve tried to write this a dozen times at least over the last three years and I still can’t put in what I want, so here goes.

The short answer is, I’m with your mother. We’re peas in a pod, aren’t we, mother and daughter, all that important stuff!

I know you can’t be here. I’ve learned a lot over the past ten years, and I know it doesn’t matter a drop in the ocean that I understand anything– well, maybe it does matter a little, so I’m saying it anyway.

I know you are what you are, and that’s all part of the package. I take the one with the other, and that’s not all right, but it’s what I’ve got and it’s the bed I’ve made for myself, so here I am, still in love with you, still in a mess. What’s new?

Out of the least likely source—a kind of understanding. It brought back one of the better evenings, one of the best evenings… the reason he’d thought he was in love with Barb, a naïve long while ago.

She’d married, suddenly, stupidly, bought herself a world of discontent and grief over his failure to be what she wanted—but over all, had there ever been anyone on Mospheira who understood him better?

Couldn’the have talked with her?

She’d developed a genuine tenderness toward his mother.

And wasn’t there virtue in that? Didn’t he owe her more than he’d ever paid her?

Toby’s gone to the coast for the weekend. He’s kind of in a state. I don’t know whether he’s heard from you since the phone call. He said you made a lot of sense, whatever that means, and I asked if he’d called you and he said he’d write later, so I hope he will.

And what about mum, Barb? Can we possibly get to the damned news, for God’s sake?

I told your mother I was going to write to you. I told her you were back on the station, and she said that was like you and she wasn’t surprised. I asked her what she’d say to you because I was going to write this letter and she just said get here when you can.

How isshe, Barb? Dammit, can you just say?

I know things are the way they are. So I’ve gotten to thinking how the station is part atevi and part human. And even if I can’t handle the mainland, I think I can handle that.

Damn you, Barb. No, I’m not taking you back. I can’t.

So I ask myself, kind of wistfully I guess, if I could find a place there, the way we used to be, just on occasional weekends, Bren.

Nothing formal or permanent. I tried the wife business and found out I’m not cut out for that, and I know you’re not cut out to marry. It doesn’t stop me loving you, whatever you think. I know about the atevi woman, and I’m actually glad you’re not alone. But whoever you’re with, if she can understand, too, and if it ever gets convenient for me to be up there, maybe you can put in a word for me with her. At least say thanks and I understand. I’ve lived a lot of life in the last six years.

Meanwhile I’ll argue your mother into understanding. I’m good at that. I practiced six years on myself.

Forever and ever,

—Barb

What was there left to say for Barb?

That Jago, exasperated and angered by the push and pull Barb had exerted on him before now, had offered to file Intent on her?

That she was, at least at the edge of his thoughts, his one remaining vestige of a human relationship neither birth nor the job had settled on him—the only lasting one he’d made for himself, for its own sake.

And, oh, by the way, she was divorced and free again. Never mind hiswhole world had changed.

There was a kind of tragedy in that. Desire for warmth and foreknowledge that she always stopped when the temperature passed the bounds of her own convenience. There was his mother in a capsule, the woman who’d taught him how to negotiate from the cradle up—negotiate for love, for career—for survival.

And if there was a member of his own species who could handle his mother, it was Barb; and if there was a human association he didn’t want to rekindle to all its old heat, it was Barb.

Get here when you can. That his mother had said exactly what Barb reported—along with I’m not surprised—oh, that statement he believed. That complaint was so familiar it sounded warm and smelled of pancakes.

Well, it wasn’t the nicest love a son could have, but it had kept him and Toby warm their lives long, and there was good news in the packet, after all. If Toby was off after Jill under these extreme circumstances, maybe Toby had finally gotten an inoculation of sorts.

And Barb was with their mother. Peas in a pod, and damn if she wasn’t right.

And he was out of the picture. He might not ever see his mother again. It was a real possibility. But he could only think of escape, on that front.

Go, he wished Toby. Go with all you’ve got. Change. You can do it at that age. I did. Take Jill out on that boat and don’t answer the damn radio.

“Put the files on my computer, Gini-ji. Thank you.”

He wanted them, not for sentiment, but to remind himself of the facts of the situation every time he grew maudlin.

And to rethink Tabini’s moves, if it became pertinent.

“None so bad,” he said to the four of them. “It explains some things. I canassure you all that Barb’s not coming with us.”

Jago had a look on her face that defied translation.

He added, for her benefit, “Another solar system is too close.”

The news would break soon, that the ship was going. The station and the ship were constantly observed by hobbyists. Its absence would make the news even if Tabini didn’t announce it—and he was sure that Tabini would announce it first. His mother, Barb, Toby—perhaps the President of Mospheira to boot, though one rather thought that his old ally Shawn was a willing co-conspirator with Ramirez and Tabini—were about to learn that the world was, once again, not what they had expected.

“The dowager’s letter,” he said.

This one, it turned out, had come in by courier, not electronic at all—and not within the electronic system the ship could spy on. Tano leaned and gave it to him, a small, familiar message-cylinder.

The door had opened, and he and Jago alike had failed to know it. They weretired.

We will board a few hours before the ship leaves,

the dowager’s note said.

We have sent certain personnel to board and secure premises. We trust that you will find our arrangements adequate. We understand your mother is ailing. We express my grandson’s concern, and mine.

We understand you have taken Mercheson-paidhi into your hands and set her in authority over your household. My staff will respect that perimeter and assist her as necessary.

He showed that letter to Banichi, and it went from him to Jago, and on to Tano, and Algini.

“Will you answer, nandi?” Tano asked quietly.

“Before we leave,” he said. He dismissed all thought of sleep tonight. He thought it might not be until tomorrow night. “Apologies to the staff, nadiin-ji. I’ll have breakfast. Might as well take care of business that has to be done. Staff may have to get sleep as they can—if they cansleep, let them. Tea and cold cakes are enough.”

In no wise would Bindanda permit that to be his breakfast, or the staff’s. Tea there certainly was, and warm cakes, and a reasonable breakfast, an any-hours buffet in the dining room. The dowager’s staff might find it scandalously impersonal, but his own staff had found certain useful compromises in crisis, in the breakdown of regular hours. Bindanda had recognized the signs, and quietly arranged an excellent table.

There was, in fact, very little for the paidhi to do physically, beyond sit at a keyboard and initiate communications to all manner of agencies that needed information and direction—agencies that had thought they knew who it was they were dealing with and now had to change their entire way of looking at things.

There were dozens of memos, this and that tag-end of information and transmission of contact names and communications channels, all to release as the ship undocked, and he had to remember the content, in case there needed to be changes.

There was a letter to the long-suffering staff on the planet, informing them they had to deal with one more set of requirements.

Please assist Mercheson-paidhi and amend her errors fearlessly, as you have done mine. Her frowns are only for her own effort: she has a good heart.

There was a letter to Geigi, wishing him good fortune. There was one to the dowager, stating he was in preparation to board.

And, among other things, there was a list, for Narani, of those things which staff might not think he needed. Certain picture files he wanted—if anything should happen out there, if they in fact were about to be taken by aliens, he could erase them along with things far more injurious. But he wanted the pictures with him for his sanity’s sake, simple images of the coast, the gardens, of his residency in the Bu-javid—and of people, oh, no few of people—Toby, on the boat, in that disreputable hat, smiling. Toby’s kids, building castles in the sand…

He didn’t look long. Here wasn’t a good time to look. It called up far too many possibilities of things he could do if he could only get the time, the contact, the cooperation, and he didn’t have the leisure of that much time.

He sought out reports on ship-status, which was 41% ready, whatever that meant—and he called Kate Shugart and Ben Feldman on C1 for a brief word, in essence: “You’re the ones with University training. Mercheson outranks you and she’s had immersion in the language, but you have the technical channels. Work with her and use them. You know the urgency.”

“Yes, sir,” the answer was in both cases, no question, no demur. They did know. That was their value.

Meanwhile news reports came in from Mospheira, and he saw the distress in headlines: Alien Menace Revealedfrom the seedier press and President Reveals Pactfrom the more reliable, neither of which made breakfast sit easy.

Shawn’s public statement said, briefly,

We have cooperated with our allies in deliberation and preparation based on information now declassified. In accordance with plans made jointly with us and with Shejidan, Phoenix captains will, as agreed with us, undertake a carefully defined two-year mission back to their abandoned base, first to be sure conditions are as anticipated and secondly to retrieve certain personnel who have maintained the base as an observation post. They will then close operations there and return to us, to their permanent base at the station. No alien action is anticipated and none has been detected.

One wasn’t sure what the world expected to see at this distance, unless the aliens exploded a star or flashed a high-powered beacon at them. And in the limitations of lightspeed—an islander’s mind still struggled with the scale of things—they stillwouldn’t receive the message for a number of years.

The planned operation has no bearing on station construction. Key Phoenix personnel will remain on the station and actively participate in the program as planned. There is no change in agreements or schedule.

So what else could they say? Shawn was no fool, either: Mospheira historically distrusted Phoenixcrew. They were nervous about atevi strangeness on general principles and previous bad experience—but generally they knew what to expect with atevi. Distrust of Phoenix, however, had far, far more history with Mospheirans, and the very first conclusion anyone on the island would draw was, It’s all a sham. We’ve been double-crossed. They’re stealing the ship. We’ve been conned.

Still, the worst the seedier report had to say was,

The aliens could be looking this way at this very moment. The starship under construction is dependent on politicians for every bolt and panel. The legislature can debate day to dark, but the real threat is clearly out there…

They could have said far worse. The thread of trust was stretched very, very thin—but common sense prevailed. He took two antacids and drafted the most important letter of his career.

Aiji-ma, I stand in receipt of your letter and am honored by your personal favor.

As always, I will strive for the benefit of your household and the aishidi’tat, and all allies. I will do my best, aiji-ma. All information at my disposal makes me sure that the other station is under Pilots’ Guild authority. On evidence of past behavior of this Guild, I am determined that this Guild should by no means contact strangers in our name, and I will do all needful things to settle the situation in a stable fashion.

He was certain that Tabini knew what was happening in the ship, as he was certain Ilisidi was far from idle in her apartments. But he reported, all the same.

– Jase-paidhi has been appointed one of two aijiin to go with the ship. If only because the other captain must sleep, I believe he will periodically have real authority over the ship’s dealings, although he lacks technical skills and would by no means intervene in ship operations. I also predict he will not defy Sabin-aiji’s will except in demonstrable need, but he is not without intellectual resources and resources of authority, and I know he will be a valuable ally.

Ogun-aiji will remain here, as you may by now be aware, and I strongly urge, aiji-ma, that the aishidi’tat press forward in alliance with him in the building of the second ship, and the training of atevi personnel to manage it, as the most extreme priority.

Tabini who had had only rudimentary knowledge of his own solar system when he first came to power now had to understand the machinations of a human power at a remote station.

And he had to command and use a starship… considering the personally unwelcome prospect of losing Phoenix.

I have certain safety concerns regarding Mercheson-paidhi, who I understand will stand in my place, by your express invitation. I ask she also be allowed use of my apartment and all the resources of my staff in that service. They will save her duplicating my efforts in setting up and maintaining lines of communication.

Further, I am aware of certain areas where there may have been direct contact initiated by Ramirez, aiji-ma, and I am alarmed by the possibilities inherent in conversation unexamined for ambiguities. Mercheson seems a person of great competency and good will toward yourself and the aishidi’tat, and will perform honestly, I believe, but she is still a relative novice, not thoroughly conversant in court protocols and not as alert to nuance as she herself would wish.

I ask, therefore, that you yourself mediate where she is concerned, aiji-ma, no matter how provoked. I ask that you deal gently with Mercheson’s inexpertise and that you impose calm on all dealings that may result from error. The sane and good actions of reasonable individuals may still be misinterpreted, but the good will between Ogun and the aishidi’tat is too valuable to let fall, as I know that you are earnest in your desire to preserve all parties from needless harm.

For that reason I believe both Mercheson and Ogun-aiji may be in immediate danger from various persons and agencies ill-disposed toward the treaty. I have taken Mercheson into my quarters and advised her to stay there. I am at present unable to surround Ogun-aiji, but am seeking ways to protect him. I ask that their safety be assured without diminishing their independent authority, so that they may maintain their utmost value to the treaty association.

For the rest, aiji-ma, I cannot predict what I may find regarding the alien threat nor can I do so until I see what the situation may be at the remote station. I hope for the best outcome and will bend every effort to achieve peace.

I have no doubt of the aiji-dowager and thank you for approving her participation in this extraordinary venture.

I look forward to our next meeting, baji-naji, aiji-ma. Remote as I may be, I shall turn my mind often to your generosity and your many good deeds toward me, and hope to bring you favorable news.

It wasn’t a particularly brilliant letter. Humanly, he couldn’t write to an atevi lord what he felt at depth. Professionally, he couldn’t instruct the aiji how to deal with Mercheson in a single letter. Politically, he dared not say half he wished he could say: it was only a letter—and it might go astray.

He sent it the rounds of the staff. They praised it. Banichi and Jago would not flatter him, if it wasn’t adequate.

By then he’d made several assaults on familial letters—and erased them in despair.

And there was no word from Jase, none from the aiji-dowager.

Yolanda waked, having overslept her watch for two hours, and emerged, ribboned and braided, in court dress appropriate years ago—walked about as quietly as she could, but he called her in.

“Jase is out of contact,” he said. “Have youany means to call him?”

“I can go after him,” she said.

“I want you safe, Landa-ji. Can you call him? Can you call Polano, or Pressman, or anybody?”

“I know someone who can get to Pressman,” she said.

“Go try,” he said, not even caring what channels communication ran to at this point. “Tell him to call me.”

“Yes,” she said, and went out to the foyer, to their communications in the security station.

She clearly had some resources of her own. Inside fifteen minutes she came in with a portable communications unit, and contact.

“Jase,” he said.

“ Bren.”

“You all right?”

“ No problems. I was downtimed in the tank. Trying to absorb some of the schedule detail. It’s all right, Bren. Are you all right?”

“Going crazy here. I’m needing details of our accommodations. This came as a surprise to me.”

“ No one’s contacted you.”

“I think it’s assumed I’m working through the dowager. This isn’t the case. I’ll be taking Banichi and Jago and four staff, felicitous seven, thank you, plus our foodstuffs, our furnishings, our belongings. What’s our limitations?”

“ Nothing. None. You’ll be on deck five– they were going for four, and I explained there was no atevi going on deck four—”

“Thank you.”

“ You’ll have five virtually to yourselves. It’s operational, the plumbing works, the lights all work, and there’s nothing on maintenance. That’s room enough to swallow everything you’ve got in the two residencies. You could take the whole staff if you chose that…”

“I’m leaving an establishment for Ms. Mercheson, who’s taking over duties here—who I think you know is here. Her service is at Tabini’s request. It’s not negotiable. She’s detached from crew, to the paidhi’s office. Is that going to be a problem?”

“ No. That’s accepted.”

“I’d like to see you to go over some of this. Can we set a time?”

“ Today?” Jase made the offer, the essential is-it-critical?

“When’s convenient?” He made the matching counter. Criticality’s your call.

“ First off shift after undock. My breakfast. Your dinner.”