Текст книги "Defender "

Автор книги: C. J. Cherryh

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

“ When you know what’s going on, I’d appreciate a call.”

“Deal.”

Still no answer to the beeper, and no help from C1. Bren punched out on Paulson and looked at his security team.

“Did you follow, nadiin-ji? Ramirez-aiji in dying said to Jase-paidhi that there were indeed people left behind on the other station and that at that time it was operational. He said, at the same time that he had fueled the ship and that he was ready to die.”

“Perhaps we should visit Jase,” Banichi said. “Jago and I.”

If they were on earth, they would have other recourses—they might well have sent a messenger from the Guild. They weren’t on earth, and hadn’t, and he didn’t want to start a war with the ship-crew.

“We’re going to have to advise the aiji,” Bren said. “That on a priority. Put another call through, Gini-ji, to Eidi, to anyone you can get.”

“Put on the vest, Bren-ji,” Tano said ominously, meaning the projectile-proof one that restricted his movements and his breathing, and no, he didn’t at all want it, one more ferocious inconvenience in an already maddening hour—but under the circumstances and with what was riding on the lives of a handful of critical personnel, he had no choice but agree.

“I shall,” he said. “I shan’t forget it, Tano-ji.”

“Jase is calling back,” Algini said suddenly, and Bren snatched up the ear-set.

“Jase?”

“ Bren. I have a page from you. I’m on my way to a meeting.”

“Jase. I don’t know if you know, but whatever Ramirez told you—it got out. That the other station wasn’tdestroyed, for starters. Is that true?”

There was a slight pause. Possibly command hadn’t known rumors were flying. He had the impression that, wherever Jase was, he had just stopped dead in his tracks.

“Is the rumor true, Jase?”

“ Bren—” A short pause. Desperation in the tone. “ Bren, I can’t talk about this here.”

He lapsed straight into Ragi. “You’d better know it’s not secret. It’s being talked about among the workers. My staff knows. It’s being reported on the planet.”

“ Thecrew doesn’t know, Bren. We don’t know. Don’t let it out.”

“It is out. I understand what you’re telling me…” That… God, the crew had not a clue and the captains had lied to them. That possibly Jase had had no clue either, and that was why Ramirez had told him: he could believe that Jase was innocent. “Is that the truth, Jase-ji?”

“ He said so,” Jase admitted. “ I was afraid the techs had heard.”

“I don’t know if a tech heard, but a worker in for treatment overheard. It leaked to the Mospheirans, Jase, and there’s no stopping it.”

“ I can’t say more than I have right now. Bren, I’m asking you, don’t call Tabini yet.”

“I haveto call Tabini. Every Mospheiran with a phone link, every corporate officer and the communications techs—they’ve already been talking. If you don’t want a bigger crisis than we already have at this point, Jase, don’t cut me off from Tabini. If merchants know it on the North Shore waterfront, damned sureI’d better advise the aiji very soon that we have a problem.”

“ Bren, I can’t say– I don’t know– I think Ogun has something to say about this. I have to get to the meeting. Wait. I ask you. Wait.”

All over the station-ship hookup, communications that shouldn’t get out of a security folder were flying back and forth like mad. “Jase, you know where my loyalties are. Tabini ignorant is far more dangerous than Tabini informed.” Jase, damn it all, hadn’t given an official order in all the years he’d warmed that fourth seat. And didn’t want to start now. “You were fourth seat and maybe it didn’t matter. But now you’re third. Like it or not, somebody who knows had better make a decision. You keep channels open for me to Mogari-nai. You know Tabini. You know the consequences, dammit, if he should be surprised, especially now, especially now, with critical meetings going on. You know that.”

“ I know. I know. I’ll hold your channel open. I can do that. But that’s all I can do– I can’t go rushing around giving orders right now, I can’t, under these circumstances. Tabini misinformed isn’t damned good either, Bren, is it?”

“Somebody in command knows the truth. Somebody in ship-command damned well betterknow, Jase, and—hear me on this—there had better not be any surprises.”

“ There won’t be. Bren. Trust me. We’re about to address the crew on intercom. Get everybody out of the corridors. Secure all stations. We’re asking the same of crew. Wait for Ogun. That’s all I ask. One favor. Communication silence until then. One favor. Please.”

“You know what you’re dealing with. You know. We’re secure out there as we’re likely to be. But don’t lie. Absolute truth to these people. They deserve it. Once in several centuries, they deserve it. Hear me?”

A small pause. There was desperation on the other end of the link. “ I didn’t know, Bren. I didn’t know. Crew didn’t know. I’m not even sure Sabin knew. Now I think we’re going to find out. Be patient. I’ll talk to you tonight.”

Historically, it wasn’t only the colonists the Pilots’ Guild had lied to, and lied to habitually, as if the truth was the automatic last recourse of any situation, the one commodity always to be kept in reserve.

“Tonight,” Bren said. He at least believed Jase—whose mangled Ragi had contained half a dozen egregious and inflammatory mistakes. He filled in the blanks, filled them in with knowledge of Jase, where nothing else would serve.

And Jase punched out to go to his meeting.

He sank back in the chair, dumbfounded—speechless for the moment.

We’re going to find out, Jase said.

Hell, Jase, worse for the crew this time than for Mospheirans. They set up the station out there. Wasn’t it their ancestors who crewed it?

And assuringus the aliens couldn’t have gotten any clue to let them track the origin of that station back to this star– oh, well, again, just a little cosmetic exaggeration. Don’t worry. It’s notthat likely.

Likely they won’t come here and blow the planet up.

Bloody hell, what excuse isPhoenix command going to tell us all this time, Jase?

He couldn’t let the distress reach his face—first lesson of diplomacy among atevi: never look upset. He looked at the ceiling a moment, away into white-tiled space, drew a deep breath, then faced solemn atevi stares with as much calm as he could muster.

“Well, Jase and I have had a lively discussion. As you heard.”

“One heard,” Banichi said.

“Jase says the captains will soon address the crew, nadiin-ji. Jase says he didn’t already know what Ramirez is alleged to have told him, so I suppose if we’re patient we may hear at least as much truth as the other captains have to admit. I’m notpleased, I may say, and I’m doubtful how much truth we may yet hear. Jase says we’ll have Mogari-nai available.”

“What measures shall we take?” Banichi asked him—Banichi had to ask, in matters involving humans. On the planet, among atevi, Banichi was inclined to know.

This one, unhappily, was up to the paidhi to figure out.

But once lied to– wheredid people start believing again?

“One wishes one knew, Banichi-ji. One waits to see what issaid, one supposes, and then one tries to determine whether we’ve now returned to the truth… or whether there’s only a new lie.”

“Does this entail a quarrel among the human associations?”

“One isn’t sure where the lines are,” he said. “One isn’t sure whose side certain individuals may be supporting.”

“The ship being refueled,” Algini said, “they can choose to leave.”

It wasn’t the first time his staff had raised that point. The last time had been in deep concern when Tabini had agreed to the refueling in the first place.

“There would seem to be very little we can do about it,” Bren said.

“We have studied the matter,” Banichi said, “and there might be something we can do about it, if we take certain key points within the ship.”

Why was he not surprised his staff, independently and quietly, had come up with a theory of how to do it?

And he had to decide, quickly, whether to let them try.

But what was next on Ramirez’ agenda? Or what might Ramirez have known? What might be coming in?

Dared they risk damage to the only ship they had—when they couldn’t, themselves, operate it?

“We know more than we did, nadiin-ji, but we don’t know what Ramirez knew. Before we make such a move, I hope I have time to talk to Jase. And I hope Jase comes to visit us with answers.”

Chapter 8

“Shipmates: the captains regret to report very sad news, Senior Captain Stani Ramirez has passed away suddenly of natural causes, much mourned and missed by us all.”

Funereal music had prefaced the announcement. The meeting—Jase’s meeting—had produced, officially, an official announcement on every channel, one, channel 2, given over to a captioned translation into Ragi—Jase’s, Bren strongly suspected. There was one ill-omened error of numerology.

“ Services are set for 1800h in the crew recreation area stationside. All but critical personnel will have the choice to attend.”

Phoenixfroze her dead—for disposition later, the word had always been. At some time Phoenixwould send her departed crewmen to a rest that forever escaped gravity wells, but it hadn’t happened yet. One assumed that for Ramirez. But they were hurrying to hold the memorial, no preparation. They had an hour.

“ This concludes the funeral announcement. A security bulletin follows.”

Damned well time, Bren thought.

“ A rumor has arisen which has raised alarm among our allies. The captains have accordingly released the following accurate information. …”

Be truthful. For God’s sake, be truthful, Jase… and be accurate.

“ Certain information regarding the station at Reunion was kept secret due to the necessity of duplicitous negotiation among the allies—”

God, Jase, actomen’shi, not eshtomeni?

“ Reunion exists. It suffered extensive damage and loss of life during alien attack. A small number of survivors decided to stay on the station, maintain a general communications silence and effect repairs such as would give them the capacity to refit and refuel Phoenix for a further, longer voyage, only should Phoenix find no resource here.

“ In the event of a second alien attack or imminent disaster to Reunion, Reunion staff is to destroy the station with all personnel and all records.

“ Phoenix command has pledged to Reunion volunteers that Phoenix will return as soon as possible to their relief.

“ A list of known survivors will be available via C1, appended to this bulletin.

“ The Council of Captains reminds the crew that we have no information as to current conditions at Reunion. There has been no communication with Reunion since, for the protection of all persons.

“ This is Captain Graham. I ask our allies be tolerant of my foreignness and make all utterances respectful and fortunate in your minds. It is the intent of the ship-aijiin to work closely and frankly with our allies.”

Well done. Well done, Jase.

As well done as could be, give or take a few glitches and one piece of accidental honesty—or maybe Jase had thought it best to tell the whole truth.

Jago was back. The whole staff assembled at the security station, leaning in the door, not venturing further into the small room.

The content was explosive enough with the crew—who couldn’t be damned happy with what their captains had done in maintaining secrecy. No democracy on the decks, that was sure. No debate about a decision to leave Reunion personnel in place… but Phoenixwasn’t a democracy and never had been.

The list of survivors rolled past. He didn’t personally know the names to look for, but he recognized crew surnames. There wereliving relatives—how close, and how emotionally viable the ties that bound them to ship-crew might be debatable, but the names told him there were ties, and the list numbered over two hundred individuals…

Two hundred individuals to keep a station alive.

But ask, even so, whether thatlist was definitive or not, or whether even Ramirez had known all the list or all the truth. The history of lies and half-truths was just too old, too long, too often.

And in all his career he doubted he had met a situation as disillusioning and as disturbing.

“I think one may transmit to Mogari-nai,” Bren said. Eidi still hadn’t gotten back to him, or acknowledged the second call, which might mean that Eidi had had to leave the Bu-javid to carry his message—or it might mean that Tabini had heard the first one and wasn’t going to acknowledge a subordinate so disorganized as to chase one message with another within minutes. It wasn’t for the aiji in Shejidan to beg details. It was for the paidhi to compose his information in logical fashion and send, and he sent. He dropped his information, piece by piece, into the gravity well and waited for some echo, any echo, to tell him how Shejidan was reacting, what Tabini was thinking, what Tabini wanted him to do about the unfolding situation.

Tabini wouldn’t rush to judgement or to action. Not in this. Silence meant that the subordinate in question should act as wisely as he understood how to do, and silence meant if the subordinate fouled up—the aiji in Shejidan could change everything in a heartbeat.

Jase, sending, would likely get no better reaction.

So Bren let it be Jase—didn’t package the information under his own name, didn’t revise word-choices into felicity and good grammar—the aiji knew Jase, and he wasn’t superstitious.

But two stations– twowas one of those damnable numbers that ran cold fingers down atevi spines no matter how modern and enlightened the hearer: twohadn’t even been in consideration when they were considering building another starship: threewas the plan as atevi laid it down, and twowas only a stage they would pass through on their way to three.

Trust atevi personnel to weld a piece of the next frame only to say there was a fortunate third under construction.

He sent his own commentary:

Aiji-ma, this is the official statement of the ship-aijiin on information overheard by a Mospheiran worker and rumored afterward by crew and Mospheiran workers throughout the station.

This forebodes policy changes of some nature. I have received reassurances from Jase-paidhi– and will accept them in your name, aiji-ma– that the treaty stands, pending further information.

In everything that came out, he believed that Jase hadn’t known, or Ramirez wouldn’t have had to tell Jase on his deathbed.

And wherewas Tabini?

Engaged in delicate negotiations, and relying on the steady progress of the space program to convince the skittish east to add their earnest effort to the west. Of course we can trust the ship-folk. Trust me, I know what I’m doing. I know what I’m asking of you. All of it will be worth it. We have a firm alliance.

If Ramirez had set out deliberately to sabotage atevi-human relations and the aishidi’tat at one stroke, he’d have had to study hard to pick a more delicate, more telling moment—granted the paidhi had any true idea what Tabini was up to at the moment.

Now Tabini had to be shown taking control of a situation with the ship-folk, strongly advancing atevi positions, asserting atevi authority over the program—all through the paidhi, who was supposed to do something about it all… the way the paidhi-aiji was supposed to have been a reliable source of information.

And in spite of the quick shut-down of private station communication, he knew the shut-down hadn’t been fast enough, and that it might be the worst thing to do: it might be better just to let the most stupid speculations go out, because at least information would flow. Rumors would be circulating through the island as fast as two cousins on north shore and south shore calling one another on the phone.

“Keep our line flowing to Eidi,” he told Algini.

So the messages went down, minute by minute.

And the paidhi had acute indigestion.

Might Damirisomehow get a message, before Tabini did? Might he suggest it, if he could ever get hold of Eidi again? He was down to considering uncle Tatiseigi, and maybe blowing Bindanda’s cover and asking Bindanda to contact himdirectly.

Damn the luck. DamnRamirez’ timing.

Other information was flowing. He had plenty of messages from station offices, from Ginny Kroger, from Paulson, from Geigi, the latter saying, We have sent to Eidi, but Eidi seems to have left.

He sent appropriate messages to those individuals on the station: yes, he was going to the funeral service on the station, yes, it was entirely appropriate for atevi to attend.

By all means, the most stringent adherence to forms and politeness, while everything that was going on at official levels stirred echoes—oh, very definitely the deception echoed in his Mospheiran soul—and he was one of the Mospheirans struggling hardest to make this alliance work.

“Is there any protocol in specific we should know?” Jago came to ask him on behalf of herself and the rest of the staff, regarding the funeral. It was given she and Banichi would attend, in their uniform best.

“Solemn faces and silence,” he said, “will offend no one. Respect, Jago-ji. We still don’t know any other course. I still haven’t heard from Tabini. I assume Eidi got the information to him, but I daren’t assume everything is all right down there at the moment.”

“One might safer assume that,” Jago ventured, “than assume things will be peaceful here, if Mospheirans are also in attendance. Tano advised you wear the vest, Bren-ji. All of us are in accord.”

“I shall, with no argument. Assure Banichi.”

Bindanda and his assistant had laid out full court dress, lace-cuffed shirt and brocade coat, boots and all, and he dressed, had his hair braided. It was a funeral held, to the suspicious Mospheiran mind, much too soon, but he knew it was the ship’s procedure, supposed if it was the deceased’s choice to be frozen, it certainly provided a corpse for autopsy if questions came later. Concealment couldn’t be the motive.

Geigi would be there, with no less honor… probably, too, with bullet-proofing, and an urgent desire to get information out of the captains about future steps. So with Paulson. Ginny would attend, without official status.

At least Jase was now a third of that council, and Sabin, the cipher among the captains, the one he least trusted, could not outvote Ogun and Jase. And Ogun… Ogun could rely on Jase’s vote, if he represented Ramirez’s policies, at least until Ogun forced an appointment of someone of their liking to the fourth seat and enabled a tie vote.

It was toward suppertime, and he urged the household staff to eat. His own supper was a packet of crackers, a cup of tea, and an antacid.

There was still no answer from the planet.

At 1740 hours he slipped the bulletproof vest on, put his coat on and exited the apartment with Banichi and Jago in their formal attire—in their profession, that meant armed and wired to the teeth, the formal attire made especially to accommodate the tools of their trade.

Safe, he told his nerves.

They met lord Geigi and his bodyguard likewise leaving their apartment, and joined into a single delegation on their way.

They met Paulson and Ginny Kroger, with Ben Feldman and Kate Shugart, the translators, when they reached the appointed area. There were a handful of section chiefs, a few corporation heads who were probably chiefly responsible for the phone calls down to the planet.

Crew constituted most of the mourners, crew dressed in the blues that were the ordinary for work assignment and an unused set being the best clothing most common crewmen had. They gathered in the dimly lit rec hall… no benches, only tape lines marking the rows, and they found their own places, atevi and Mospheirans constituting two rows next to one another. There was no casket, no deceased. That, too, was ship-folk custom.

It was 1755h. They waited quietly, respectfully. The hall by now was packed.

There was a screen on the forward wall. The row of lights on that end was on, the sole source of light. Ogun came from a side door, Sabin next, and Jase. Their images lit the screen, so that everyone in the hall had a view.

No flowers. No incense. But it came to Bren he’d beenin this scene and learned absolutely nothing.

Ogun advanced a pace to the fore. Light from overhead fell on his shoulders, sparked on insignia, silvered white, tight-curled hair above a dark, grim face. “We’re here to honor Stani Ramirez,” Ogun said, and drew a breath as one might for a recital. “Born aboard Phoenixin Big System, the year we began Reunion. He saw Deep End, and lived through Good Hope. He piloted a refueler there, and ran operations at Hell’s Acre. He took the fourth captaincy there, when Munroe died.”

Bren listened intently, taking mental notes on events in the history of Phoenixas he’d learned it. His staff understood some of it. Geigi himself did, though the names and the imagery might elude them.

Sabin had her say. “He was an able navigator and a fair judge.” Cold, rational praise of a man who had been a good administrator and a good captain. “He resurrected the station here and stood against the Tamun Mutiny.” Sabin had backed Tamun’s appointment to a captaincy. That small fact passed in polite if knowledgeable silence. “The details are in the log. Captain Ramirez always understated his part.”

Last, Jase spoke, a quiet voice, hesitant. “Stani Ramirez knew there’d be critical changes here: and he created paidhiin for the situation without ever having met one. That’s why I was born. That’s why Yolanda Mercheson was born.”

Bren didn’t see Yolanda. Hadn’t seen her in the crowd.

“If he hadn’t foreseen there might be communication problems,” Jase said, “if he hadn’t trained personnel in languages we never even expected to meet, we could have been in deep difficulty. We could be fighting each other instead of working together. He saw things ahead and he laid a course and he saw the ship through it. Taylor did that to get us here.”

Taylor. The pilot that had rescued Phoenixfrom its predicament.

“Ramirez made us able to survive here,” Jase said. It was a daring comparison. If the ship had a saint, it was Taylor—and Jase’s status, one of Taylor’s Children—had the place very, very quiet. Nobody expected much out of Jase in decisions.

But he’d hit them with words. He’d said things no one else could.

He’d mentioned Yolanda, when no one else had remembered her.

And Jase was right. The man who’d refueled the ship and died leaving them a hellish mess—had had the foresight to create Jase and Yolanda to study languages and cultures that had no possible relevancy to the ship; and whether he knew it or not—to make themselves different-minded enough that they could bridge that soft-tissue gap between ship-thinking and whatever they might meet on the planet.

That was Ramirez’ doing… when most of the ship’s crew couldn’t conceive that the colony they’d left behind could possibly look at things differently… and Jase was right, Ramirez was one chief reason they were standing here, because the alternatives, the pitfalls they could have walked into—were a guarantee of disaster.

For creating Jase and Yolanda, and for listening to them, Ramirez deserved a monument.

And that led to one difficult thought.

Would the man who was that foresighted, that awareof time, distances, and change—then do something so damnably stupid as to lie to them all about Reunion and plan to desert them?

Why? That was the question. Whyhad Ramirez held Reunion secret?

Whyhad the whole Reunion business not come out when Pratap Tamun tried a coup against Ramirez?

Had Ramirez—unlikely thought—been the onlycaptain who knew?

Tamun, the newcomer to the captaincy—he hadn’t known.

Ramirez had waited until his last breath to tell Jase—as if Ogun and Sabin couldn’t. A way of putting a stamp of approval on Jase? The ticket to legitimacy in the office which Jase had fought every step of the way?

Well, for damned sure Ramirez hadn’t intended to be overheard.

The paidhi, better than most present, understood Ramirez’s position. Damned if he didn’t. In that light, he understood every maneuver the man had made. As a sovereign cure between strangers, truth was vastly over-rated.

Jase finished.

“The company is dismissed,” Ogun said.

“ What about Reunion?”

The shout came from out of the crowd at Bren’s back. Shocked silence followed—about two heartbeats.

“This isn’t the place or the time,” Ogun snapped, and Ogun had the microphone. The tone went straight to the bones.

But: “ Why?” a female voice shouted out, and in that breathless hush, didn’t need a microphone. Faces were obscured in the dark. Someone else, male, shouted: “ What happened out there?”

“Nandi,” Banichi wanted his charge out of harm’s way, and wanted him to move to the wall.

But Bren stood still, even when Banichi nudged him. “I want the answers,” he said. Geigi also stood fast, since he did, both of them being fools, and lord Geigi’s security was also hair-triggered and worried.

Ginny and Paulson stood still, wanting answers, too.

And Ogun stood under the light, visible to everyone on the screen, his dark face frowning. Jase and Sabin were at either shoulder.

“ Why?” the crew had begun to chant. “ Why? Why? Why?”

Ogun held up an arm. Held it until, slowly, there was silence.

“One of you,” Ogun said, “one of you with the guts to step into the light—come up hereand ask me.”

There was silence a moment. Then a single man moved into the light. Kaplan, of all people. One of Jase’s displaced guards.

“With all respect,” Kaplan said, his voice breaking. It cracked, twice, and he managed to say, picked up by the mike, “with all respect to the captains, apologies from the crew. But—” Kaplan got a breath. “We’re with you, captain, we always have been with you, and we go into the dark with you, no question, but here we’re being told things different than makes sense to us, and we don’t want to leave here with any doubts.”

Kaplan had learned something, being with Jase. It was a solid piece of diplomacy, a door through which crew and captains could fit together, if Ogun would just take the invitation and pick up the olive branch.

And Kaplan wasn’t alone. Polano and Pressman were discernible in the shadows behind him.

“Mr. Kaplan, is it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Phrase your question.”

“I’d rather ask the captains if they can explain better ‘n we can ask, sir, because we don’tknow.”

“Better than you can ask,” Ogun said. “Better than you can ask, Mr. Kaplan. Answers are in that list of survivors posted on C1, channel 2. That’s as best we have it.”

“ It’s not enough!” someone shouted from the back, and Ogun drew an angry breath.

“All right. You want to know the truth, cousins and friends, the truth is, we didn’t make the choice, we didn’t havethe choice. Now there isa choice to make, a last piece of business from the Old Man, and what we do about it, that’s a question before the Council. Every man and woman of you, get to a com station, personally, read the list. That for a start. Then if you can’t take orders and accept the discipline that’s kept the ship alive, get a parachute and join the colonists. But if you cantake orders, if you remember who you are and what you are and what your job is, then you know why you don’t question an order except through channels. Right now my mailbox is stuffed with legitimatequestions, which I haven’t gotten to, in the heat of the hour, and no, I don’t have all your answers. The Old Man didn’t, either. But I’ll tell you flat, I’m not going to have answers coming out piece by piece and individual by individual to be speculated on in the corridors out of context and with half the facts. So, Mr. Kaplan, seeing you’ve asked a general question, I’m going to respond to those legitimateletters of inquiry right now, in full. Stand to attention!”

Human bodies stiffened, unthought, automatic. Noise stopped.

Visitors stayed still, whether or not lord Geigi understood enough of what was going on. Bodyguards were ready for anything.

“First question,” Ogun said. “Are there any survivors who aren’t on the list? Answer: we don’t bloody know. If there is any other name, and a few could have been born and half grown by now, Reunion’s in a position to know. We’re not.

“Second question: do the aliens out there know where we are now? Answer: we hopenot, but you know and we know there’s optics, there are antennae, and anybody looking in the right general direction could already have this star in their sights.

“Third question: why did we keep it quiet? Answer: it wasn’t our idea. But the fewer people that know, the fewer can tell—if we were so unlucky as to be asked by the intruders out there. So forget you know.

“Fourth question: why didn’t we take Reunion personnel off that station when we had the chance? Answer: that wasn’t our choice, either.

“Fifth question: what are we going to do next? Answer: that’s an issue under debate. Written suggestions will be considered. Turn them in, cousins and crew. We’ll listen.

“End of statement. I’ve disposed of a stack of memos. Don’t expect a written answer. For the rest, consider Captain Ramirez in light of what I’ve just said, and honor himfor saving our necks and doing the damn best he could.

“ Dismissed.”

There was utter silence. Ogun turned and walked off into the shadows. No one moved for a moment, and then crew began to murmur and to stir and to file out the doors.

Not our choice. Not our choice. Not our choice. Bren found his heart beating double time. Banichi and Jago wanted him to move. Lord Geigi was moving. But he felt his legs all but paralyzed.

Not our choice.

Damn!

He moved. He overtook Geigi, outside the door. “One can render what was said, nandi,” Bren murmured, head ducked, voice down. “In essence, there’s a hint there’s a higher authority on Reunion Station that ordered Ramirez to keep quiet. There is more. Shall we meet?”

“Immediately,” Geigi said. This most inquisitive, agile-minded of lords had seen enough to have the picture. “Will my offices suffice?”

Geigi wasn’t the only one disturbed. There was Paulson. There was Kroger. He edged past Banichi to reach Ginny on the other side of the door.

“Ginny. We need to meet.”

“Damned right.”

“You and Paulson? About an hour? Geigi’soffices?” It gave him and Geigi time for discussion.