Tracker

The bedroom in mani’s apartment was strange to him, half-remembered, but still strange: they had made the rooms connect the way they did in atevi houses, so it felt more normal than on the ship, but it made things feel odd, homelike, and very definitely not at all home. Behind the hangings the walls were metal and plastics, and over by the door, trying to look like a small carved cabinet, was a whole console to control all the things the lighting and fans did. The hall doors were pressure doors and massive—there was no disguising that. The inside doors slid rather than swinging.

It was both remembered and strange-feeling, like a dream he had had more than once.

And if he could have been with his associates in a visit here, he would have found it all exciting.

But things were not ordinary. They had had tea and cakes and staff had all been delighted to welcome them. They had had an informal tea and mani and Lord Geigi talked about things that he was sure he had not heard the half of.

Then Lord Geigi had gotten a sudden call from nand’ Bren and excused himself, saying he had to go bring atevi Central on duty and that the kyo were now talking, which was both scary and encouraging.

It meant everything they had planned on was starting to happen, that was what. And that could bring good or bad.

So nobody right now had time to have a boy in the way, especially a boy who mostly kept thinking about the fact they had locked the big section doors on the Reunioners, and nobody was even mentioning that as one of the problems.

So now he was here, tucked in a bed, with no Eisi, no Liedi, no Boji in the premises, but his bodyguard was with him—little that they could do if things went very badly with the kyo.

Lucasi and Jegari would sleep on fold-up beds over across the room, and Antaro and Veijico had fold-up beds in his little sitting room, because mani’s was a very proper house, wherever she was.

He stared at the ceiling in the very dim light and thought about the kyo. But that was a little scary.

He thought about his life on the ship, and that led him to think about his associates, and whether they knew he was here, so close. He hoped so.

Lord Geigi had said something troubling tonight to mani. That Tillington-aiji had separated off the Reunioners behind locked doors when they got the news about the ship. And people could be stuck wherever they had been when that had happened.

That was going to affect a lot of people, he thought. He thought of Bjorn, who had a ship-folk tutor, with other students, who might even be caught somewhere on the wrong side of the doors.

He thought of Bjorn’s parents, who were technical people who were lucky enough to have jobs of some sort that they had to go to. Had they gotten home?

Artur’s father worked somewhere, too. He had no idea whether that would be affected.

Gene’s mother had no job. He had never heard Irene say whether her mother had one.

But stupid Tillington had ordered the big doors shut with practically no warning, and while he had opened them again for atevi and Mospheirans after an hour or so, he had just kept them shut for Reunioners, and people had panicked, so they had had to call out ship-folk guards. Nobody could get through those doors, in either direction.

Lord Geigi was not arguing too much about the Reunioner doors, because, Lord Geigi said, he wanted Tillington-aiji not to take the notion to seal the whole Mospheiran section off from his, and separate them from the ship-folk.

We would not tolerate that, mani had said.

He would not tolerate what had already happened, or those doors still being shut—but nobody asked a nine-year-old boy.

Section doors were supposed to be a protection in case of fire, or an asteroid, or something. A particular section could lose all its air and heat, if its door was sealed, and nobody else would be affected.

That was scary. That was just really scary. That was how so many people had died at Reunion, when half the sections had blown out, but also how so many had lived.

He had seen how the station looked, with wrecked sections with no lights, just torn up and dead.

The kyo had done that.

But the instant they realized the kyo ship was out there, Geigi had said, Tillington-aiji had ordered the doors shut, claiming it was a ship order. Geigi said he was not sure that was true at all. Tillington had gone on public address, said it was an emergency, and doors were closing in a quarter hour. And people had started running.

What did one do if one’s residence was too far away? The station was a huge place. People were assigned where to eat. Where to live. Where to work if they were lucky and had a job.

But what if they were caught away from where they were supposed to be?

And before the doors had shut, the news about the kyo ship had gotten out on public address, because someone in Central had pushed a wrong button. That was what Geigi said. Since Geigi’s people were not in charge of Central when it happened, Geigi could not tell who had done it, and supposedly it was an accident, but Geigi was not sure.

There had been a panic, and Reunioners had tried to get the section doors open, which was really dangerous. Ship security had tried to keep order and that was when the ship-aijiin finally put guards inside to keep people back from the doors.

And all the doors were open now but the Reunioner doors, because, Geigi had said, they were the ones who had attacked the doors.

So it was quiet now. And the ship-folk guards were still at the Reunioner doors, while everybody else could walk about as they pleased. Reunioners caught out had been arrested and put back into the Reunioner sections . . . as if they had done something wrong.

It was stupid.

He had sat through Geigi’s report and not said anything.

But now he was so worried about his associates he was not likely to sleep.

He was not supposed to ask about his associates, but he had asked tonight about his mail, since that was not forbidden.

And Geigi had said he had sent it across to the other Central. And nothing had come back.

So that upset him, too.

And then Geigi had said—without being asked, so he had not broken his promise—that Jase had visited him twice since he had gotten back to the station, and Lord Geigi had taken the baggage and put the clothing in storage for everybody. And then Geigi had asked Gene and Artur and Irene to dinner, with nand’ Jase, and with their parents, an invitation which Jase had translated and he had sent in ship-speak, but Geigi had never gotten an answer to the first invitation, and before he had sent it again, the kyo ship had shown up.

Then Tillington had done what he had done.

And things were in a mess.

He hoped his associates knew he was here and that he would do everything he could to get them out.

He wanted so much to ask favors. He wanted it so much he had bit his lip sore. He had looked at mani and looked at Lord Geigi and he knew they knew what he wanted, but nobody suggested what to do, or said there was anything they could do.

He pounded his pillow into a lump and whatever it was made of just would not stay where he wanted it.

Meanwhile Lord Geigi was taking over Central, now, which was a good thing. So can you get a phone call to Artur, nandi, or to any of them? That was what he had wanted to ask Lord Geigi. Can you at least find out how they are?

But he had kept his promise and said nothing.

He hoped his aishid was able to sleep. He was not doing well at it.

· · ·

“Bren-ji.”

Waking. Light overhead. Jago in uniform. Himself lying face-down with his arms around an unfamiliar pillow.

On the space station. That was where.

Tillington was in a snit, the dowager was across the hall, Geigi had gotten control shifted to atevi Central, and the kyo were on a course toward the inner solar system.

He shoved himself up and swung his feet off the bed, hands rubbing his face and partly shutting out the light. “Jago-ji. Is there a problem?”

“It is 0500 by the local reckoning. Tillington has just returned to Mospheiran Central and called technicians to come in. Lord Geigi remains in atevi Central and has not shifted control back to Tillington. There is no word from the ship-aijiin. We have no word from the Mospheiran shuttle. They are communicating only with ground control while Central communications are currently in Ragi.”

The Ragi-Mosphei’ switch was operation as usual: so was the Mospheiran shuttle’s reliance on ground control during periods when Ragi was the language in Central, the same as the atevi shuttle relied on ground control during Mospheiran control of Central. And there was a station-based ops, not subject to a clock-based rotation, but working so long as a shuttle was in flight. The system usually ran very smoothly, ops—which until lately was all atevi teams—handled most of it, and opposite-language technicians were always on call.

But Geigi was not going to switch control back to the Mospheiran crews in the immediate future, and not until that incoming shuttle was safely docked. Geigi had the advantage, unassailable once active control had been switched to his boards. Ogun was apparently off-shift. Jase and Sabin were likely exhausted, sleeping as they could, to recover from their own standoff with Tillington. The fourth captain had not been heard from. But Phoenix had indeed repositioned herself before they’d arrived, free of the mast, accessible only by shuttlecraft, and likely Riggins was there.

“The kyo?”

“Lord Geigi reports there is no change. Lord Geigi says he will not relinquish control nor release his staff from duty until he hears from you or the dowager, and he says he would be surprised to receive such an order until some time after the next shuttle has docked. He is prepared. He has set up his staff to stay on duty and eat and sleep there in shifts.”

Two could play Tillington’s game. “Messages from anyone else?”

“There is none. The dowager is requesting information, but she is querying Lord Geigi in Central.”

The odds that anyone in Tillington’s system could crack courtly Ragi spoken by two very literate adepts were low. Vanishingly low. Without Jase or himself to translate, it was as good as code.

So the overall situation was not that bad. Except for the exhausted Mospheiran techs, who had to be fraying at the edges. And Tillington, camping out in a non-functional control room.

“You requested to be informed of any change in Central, Bren-ji. I shall turn out the lights again if you wish. You might go back to sleep for another hour.”

Tempting. But there was so much to do.

Including talking to Tillington, who might be in a better mood, though it hardly sounded like it. Tillington was apparently sending demands to Geigi for a turnover. Geigi, flexible fellow that he was, would understand quite a bit from whatever Tillington said, but Tillington would not get a word of Mosphei’ out of him, not this morning.

And Tillington had to have expected that. He was just going through the forms. Doing his duty. Being where he was technically supposed to be.

Couldn’t blame the man for that. It could be a good sign, Tillington’s showing up where he was, by the clock, supposed to be.

Give the man a graceful out. Cheap, counting the alternatives. There were Mospheiran offices that would never intersect atevi. Ever. Shawn could park him in one of those, maybe pay him enough to keep him away from politics.

“I shall dress,” he said. “But if Narani and Jeladi are sleeping, Jago-ji,—”

“They will come,” Jago said, and went out to bear that message.

· · ·

The dowager didn’t send an invitation to breakfast. He had halfway expected, being up at dawn, that she would ask him to report the news.

“She is well, is she not?” he asked of Bindanda, who had appeared with the breakfast fish. He trusted Bindanda to be tapped into every shred of gossip in their section. And he wanted to know things were in order and that he had all the information he could get, before any meeting with Tillington.

“One understands, nandi, that, Lord Geigi being absent, and you being engaged with human problems, the dowager is taking a day of rest and quiet, along with the young gentleman.”

So Ilisidi was officially expecting him to solve the human problems, while she was keeping Cajeiri close—a good idea, given the situation with the Reunioners.

Breakfast was more than palatable. Fish—real fish—was a standard fare up here, with a dry hot spice, an efficient item to ship. There was bread, but one did not ask made of what. The space program had necessitated a few exceptions in the ancient atevi tradition of season and appropriateness. And in the notion of what constituted food.

But the morning was not without messages. “Riggins-aiji called,” Narani said, just as he exited the little dining room, “and the phone indicates he wishes a call.”

Pavel Riggins.

Fourth Captain. Ogun’s man, appointed by Ogun in the absence of Sabin and Jase. And possibly in charge of the ship, at the moment. And possibly under-informed, for that reason.

He’d queried Jase on Riggins’ character, during those recent holiday conversations. Jase had described Riggins as in his thirties, a bit cautious in changing anything, voting consistently with Ogun, but honestly trying to get along with Sabin.

Not a bad report. Good man, Jase said, on systems coordination; intelligent where it came to supply and distribution, a man who’d gotten a fast and scary education in atevi protocols when the coup had happened on Earth and he’d had to work with Geigi to deal with shortages.

Ogun had made a unilateral appointment to fill that fourth captaincy—though Riggins had been too close to the late and unlamented Pratap Tamun for Sabin’s liking. Jase said that, too, but said he had no complaint.

Well, Pratap Tamun and all history aside—Riggins was what they had in charge this shift. And Riggins was handling everything by remote, not even on the station deck.

He put his coat on, prepared for the day, and finally made the call through the atevi system, which got him, not unexpectedly, ship-com. “This is Bren Cameron. Captain Riggins, please.”

That took a moment.

“Mr. Cameron.” A new voice. “Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you, sir. Pleased to meet you.”

“I understand there’s a problem with atevi Central refusing to carry out the shift change.”

“You understand correctly, Captain. Tillington’s staff exceeded its own shift considerably and exhausted itself. Mr. Tillington left last night. At that point, I’m sure you are aware, Mospheiran Central switched control to Lord Geigi at Captain Graham’s instruction. I understand Mr. Tillington is back in Mospheiran Central this morning, but quite frankly, Captain, that turnover will not happen with Mr. Tillington in his present emotional state.”

“You are not qualified, Mr. Cameron, to make that judgment.”

“Most respectfully, Captain, I am here at the request of the aiji in Shejidan, and the President of Mospheira, who has authority over Mr. Tillington. My immediate business is preparing to deal with the incoming visitors. Securing the station, and particularly Central Operations, against a territorial dispute is within my instruction. I am working with an atevi administration competent, cooperative, and incidentally operating in the language in which we will contact the visitors. The inbound Mospheiran shuttle will be obliged to rely on ship-com as well as ground control for any non-operational matters during approach tomorrow. I trust you will be able to provide any needed assistance.”

There was a moment of silence. “I have received no such request.”

“You are now receiving it, sir. I am sure you will also receive it from the inbound shuttle, and I thank you on their behalf, in advance.”

Another silence. Then:

“I have to consult.”

“Please advise me if there will be any difficulty.”

“I’ll communicate as my own command directs, Mr. Cameron.”

“Understood, sir. Please notify me of any problems, any change in the kyo situation.”

“I report within my own chain of command, sir.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Well, that was not the best first conversation he had ever had with an official. But counting the way things had had to work during Ogun’s long cooperation with Tillington in the ship’s absence; and counting Ogun’s year-long feud with Sabin since, he could understand that many instructions to Riggins had probably begun with, Take no action.

Riggins was in charge until Ogun woke up. Which was probably a good time to take on problems and get an update on the kyo.

He needed to go to Central and try to calm Tillington down, preferably before Ogun or Sabin became involved again.

He called his aishid. He sent word to Ilisidi where he was going, and sent word by Guild runner to Lord Geigi, to advise him what he was doing.

Forewarning Tillington did not seem like a good idea.

· · ·

The message came during breakfast that Lord Bren was going to go to Central to talk to Tillington-aiji.

Because Tillington had shown up to demand control back.

“Annoying man,” mani said of the situation, which, if it were back on Earth, would not promise well for Tillington.

Probably it was true up here, too.

Cajeiri fretted his way through the eggs in sauce, wondering about his associates, hoping they were all right, and wondering if, once Tillington’s replacement arrived, they could open the section doors.

He dared not say anything. Or mope, which would invite a sharp question. So he would have tried to be cheerful, except mani had agreed to receive nand’ Bren’s message right in the middle of formal breakfast—and he could tell she was not happy, either.

He did not dare ask why she was unhappy. Lord Geigi had not shown up at breakfast because he was holding on to Central, so there was no news to be had. He could only guess there was about to be trouble.

The kyo ship was still coming in, and signaling with their names, mani’s name and nand’ Bren’s and his. Antaro had heard that, and told him so before breakfast.

That was a good thing.

And the Mospheiran shuttle was coming in, too, tomorrow.

So good things were going on, too.

But people in the Reunioner section right now were not happy. They were probably scared that with Tillington in charge, there might be some sort of political deal, and that very bad things would happen—not just getting shipped off to Maudit, but being handed over to the kyo in some sort of deal to save the station. People always believed the worst things. And he knew there were reasons they had closed those doors.

But he wanted nand’ Bren at least to assure his associates that they were here and that everything was all right.

Nobody could take time for a handful of children.

But nand’ Bren was more patient than most adults. Nand’ Bren would not tell Great-grandmother he had asked a forbidden question. And if anybody could slip a word through the locked doors, nand’ Bren might.

At least it was worth trying.

If only nand’ Bren would have paid mani a visit this morning.

But nand’ Bren had had to go deal with Tillington, who had started the day with another problem.

· · ·

Heading into the Mospheiran section, where security was under Tillington’s command, brought objection. Banichi wasn’t at all trusting of Tillington. So Banichi sent for one of Geigi’s men as a guide, and roused out Cenedi’s second, Nawari, before breakfast, so that he could get firsthand information back to the dowager.

Then he’d called up all four of the Guild observers—so, Banichi said, that those four might witness their dealing with Tillington, the manner of it, and the outcome.

Bren rather doubted there would be a physical problem. But security was Banichi’s call. Listen to your aishid, Tabini had said, and meant it.

“If you think it a good idea,” Bren had said, regarding calling in the Observers. Their company assembling in the corridor presented an intimidating show of black uniforms. The Guild had also unpacked, and this time had not brought just their sidearms.

He did consider suggesting they leave the rifles, though it was standard procedure to carry them in a similar situation on Earth. He hardly wanted shooting in a room full of controls, instruments, and innocent techs.

But, he thought, while atevi universally understood that he represented a certain force, maybe it was a good idea for the human side of the station to get the same picture.

When they took the lift to the vicinity of Central, Mospheiran workers stopped what they were doing, stopped talking, except a few quiet mutters. Those in their path moved back to the walls.

And if Mospheirans caught the notion that atevi officials had firepower to match a ship’s captain, that might be salutary in itself.

They passed into Central’s area. Human security, in green fatigues, and carrying only sidearms, looked uncertain, and one urgently used communications, reporting their presence, one surmised, and hoping not to be told to stop it.

The door to Central itself turned up shut when they reached it, with two armed Mospheiran security in front of it.

“Order of President Tyers,” Bren said. “Open the door.”

The crew there didn’t look confident. Didn’t move, at first.

He read the name tags. “Mr. Reeves. Ms. Kumara. Order of President Tyers, open the door. I will report names of the non-compliant, and I will report them to the President. Please open the door.”

Reeves quickly punched in a code. The door opened.

Bren walked ahead with Jago and Banichi in the lead. The observers split into two teams as his aishid team did, either side of the door. Geigi’s man and Nawari entered with him, into a wide room lined with displays and consoles—while the two guards outside came inside, looking upset.

Techs at their stations looked in his direction and froze, evidencing unease and alarm as Guild took up station with crisp precision. Bren gave a very little nod, still watching hands, and put on a neutral expression. “No problem, ladies and gentlemen. As you were. Is Stationmaster Tillington here at the moment?”

There were nervous looks at that question. Some few looked at each other; most looked at him, and two people independently and very slightly nodded toward the administrative office at the rear of the room.

A second little nod. “Thank you. Please carry on.” He said in Ragi: “Banichi, Jago, stay close with me. The rest please wait. The technicians themselves are complying. There are, however, a few buttons in the administrative offices.” And again in Mosphei’: “Be at ease, everyone, please. Please stay in your seats. Thank you.”

He went to the office, knocked on the door, and with no answer pushed the button.

It didn’t open.

“Mr. Tillington, open the door, or any damage will be laid at your account. I have come up here at the President’s request as well as the aiji’s. Open the door. What I have come to say to you this morning is not that unpleasant.”

The door opened.

Tillington sat at his desk, an ordinary-looking, middle-aged man in shirtsleeves, looking greatly upset.

Banichi and Jago positioned themselves on either side of the door, inside. Bren gave a little bow. “Stationmaster Tillington. Thank you. And good morning.”

“What is this armed intrusion?”

“Atevi security accompanies me wherever I go. It’s a regulation. And it’s useful for them to understand the current situation here so they can convey correct information to the aiji-dowager, among others.”

“You’re scaring hell out of my workers. This intimidation is not appreciated.”

“I’d suggest, sir, that we carry on a quiet conversation, the two of us, and it would be far better conducted here, quietly. I would much prefer that. If you would like your own security present, that would be perfectly agreeable, and we can wait for you to call them.”

Tillington stared at him, not moving.

“I know you oppose my presence as a Mospheiran official,” Bren said. “That’s nothing I take personally. It’s your right. I would like to uphold the dignity of your office on principle, and I would like to support you in my reports to the President and to the aiji. You’ve done a good job. You kept the station going through very difficult times. You deserve respect for that. Now we have a different situation, and the President has found it necessary to bring additional resources to bear. I am certainly one of them, at your disposal, if you would view it in that light. The president is also sending a personal envoy aboard the incoming shuttle, with emergency powers. At that point, you will be dealing with the President’s representative, and I’ll be concerning myself primarily with the kyo situation.”

“You arranged these aliens coming here! You arranged the whole mess we’re dealing with!”

“Stationmaster Tillington, the kyo declared they would visit. We had no means to prevent that, and we have none now, but certainly keeping their visit quiet and pleasant is in all our best interests. Dealing with these visitors will be entirely an atevi responsibility, initially, since the language of choice during the initial contact was Ragi, and the persons with whom the kyo chose to speak were atevi.”

“No way.”

“Sir, you have no means even to speak to them.”

“We will not be excluded from negotiations!”

“The Presidential envoy will deal with that question, sir. And Mospheira will be consulted during negotiations. But atevi Central will be the operations center until the envoy arrives to take command.”

“No. No, this will not happen!”

“I ask your cooperation in the meanwhile, sir. And the more cooperation we receive, the more we will give.”

“Damn you, no!”

“Sir.”

“You have no right to be here. No right! The same two captains who set up this situation come in here and quarrel with my staff, second-guess my orders. Sabin is the reason we have this situation. Sabin is the last person who ought to be directing anything to do with this! And you’ve been right there with them!”

“I’m sure Captain Ogun makes command decisions, sir, within the Captains’ Council. I don’t. The President of Mospheira has asked me to represent Mospheiran interests in the negotiations, and I will do that.”

“Get out of my office!”

“Listen to me. This is in no wise Sabin’s fault. From the moment we entered Reunion space, the kyo, already sitting there, watching the station, had absolute ability to track the provenance of the ship. They used the station for bait. They were waiting to see what humans would do. Our choice in this last encounter was to communicate. And they responded. Our choice now needs to be to communicate. We need to take up the conversation we left off at Reunion, and demonstrate that we have no ambitions to be a problem to the kyo. I am exceedingly sorry that we could not have had this conversation between ourselves in advance and in detail, but we could not guarantee the security of communication within the station prior to our arrival, and we had no wish to generate panic aboard the station. The information was held within ship command. We’ve done our planning through ship channels until we docked here, and you can ask Captain Ogun to confirm the nature of it.”

“No.”

“Mr. Tillington. Stationmaster Tillington. The Presidential envoy is arriving to make decisions on the Mospheiran situation. The envoy will take charge of Mospheiran operations, and what your own relations may be with that person is for you to determine. I would advise cooperation.”

“Tell that to Braddock and the Reunioners!”

“I intend to.”

“Fine. Then start there. And get the hell out of my office!”

“Stationmaster Tillington.”

“These are the people that started the whole problem. These are the people that we couldn’t live with. These are the people that stirred up trouble with God knows who out there, and now we’re all in danger!”

“Let me inform you officially, sir, that the Reunioners are going to be removed from the station and resettled as soon as possible. But that is a future we cannot visit until we have dealt with this crisis.”

That caught Tillington’s attention. “Removed.”

“Removed, sir.”

Sharp attention. “Is that what these visitors want?”

“I don’t think so. Out there, they had the Reunioners at any time they wanted them. I doubt they want them, or you, in any sense.”

“So what do they want?”

“Likely to find out what we are, what we wanted in building in an area they consider their territory, and whether we’re a threat.”

“So then they attack us.”

“If they do, frankly, sir, we’ll be in a lot of trouble, because we have no weapons.”

That brought a shocked look.

“We don’t,” Bren said. “They do. So I suggest diplomacy as a solution. Cooperation.”

“Tell that to Braddock!”

“Stationmaster Tillington, I want to do something about Braddock. I can’t do it while the Reunioners are in a state of distrust and panic.”

“It’s their fault, dammit!”

“I’m not debating you on the matter, Mr. Tillington. And fault is nowhere in my list of considerations. I need one thing from the Mospheiran establishment. Quiet. I agree that the aishidi’tat and Mospheirans have a treaty. I agree that, excepting the ship, which is its own authority, this station and any station must be equally divided between Mospheiran occupants and atevi. I agree that the Reunioner presence puts that out of balance. I agree that station occupants should pass screening. We are in complete agreement on these issues. The aishidi’tat is unwilling to tolerate the population imbalance. The aiji will also be arguing to a resolution, a rapid one. But we cannot solve it now, and we are not helped by measures that put the Reunioners in fear and discomfort.”

“You don’t touch those doors!”

“I agree. I would not have ordered the closure, but now that the doors are shut, this is not the time to try to resolve the problem.”

“I saved the station from riot. And I’ll tell you this, Mr. Cameron: if this ship wants the Reunioners handed over I’m not willing for Mospheirans to die to protect them.”

“I doubt the kyo can tell the difference between humans at this point, and I greatly doubt they’d care. We will deal with the Reunioner issue when we get through this. In the interim, I want your agreement, sir. I’d like access to Reunioner records, and I’d like an assurance of adequate supply over there.”

“You’re worried about their supply. We’ve had shortages the last whole year, Mr. Cameron.”

“I’m aware of that. I’d like to see the records.”

“You’d like. You’d like me to give you what you damned well know you’ve no authority to deal with. I’m not letting you meddle with the Reunioners.”

“I’d like to preserve Mospheiran authority on this station, and not agitate the situation beyond easy remedy.”

“Agitate the situation? Mr. Cameron, you agitated the situation when you picked those three kids to go down to be the aiji’s guests! Now they’re Reunioner royalty! They’re a cause! Keep the politics quiet? Not give Braddock a platform? We’ve got politics run amok over there, because they know those kids have atevi backing!”

“You have my interest in that matter, sir. Is that Mr. Braddock’s claim?”

“Of course it is! The kids. The damned kids get to go down to the planet, the kids get themselves a landing spot, and they get the aiji’s backing. What do we conclude about that?”

If there was a way to construe anything Reunioner as a threat, Tillington seemed determined to find it.

“I’d like to hear your theory, Mr. Tillington. What on earth would Tabini-aiji do with five thousand Reunioners? Understand, I have to get special permission for my brother to visit the coast.”

“The kids get in with the aiji’s son, the kids get a wedge into the atevi court, and the Reunioners get the aiji’s backing.”

“Which would do exactly what, Mr. Tillington?”

Tillington gave him a surly stare. “I think you can figure it. Five thousand technically adept humans spilling every technological step the aiji wants.”

Well, that was an interesting jump of logic.

“It’s very unlikely he would want that. Mospheira has the Archive. It’s always had the Archive. The knowledge has always been down there. We just had a coup on the mainland because the technology necessary to get shuttles up here destabilized the atevi economy, and put pressure on old regional grievances. The last thing on earth Tabini-aiji would want is a flood of humans violating the social rules, which, believe me, are what makes civilization civil down there. And it’s damned certain the aiji would not take Mr. Braddock for an advisor. Please appreciate that atevi don’t want any such intrusion. Atevi don’t want the whole continent to look like the station corridors. Modernity on the human pattern is not what they want. It’s not what they ever want.”

“Geigi does well enough having his little kingdom up here.”

“Geigi does his job up here out of loyalty. He had rather have his fruit orchards and his antiques. He had rather go sailing. No, sir, your scenario does not apply. Tabini-aiji has no desire to let these children establish residency.”

“Tell that to Braddock. He’s raised expectations. Mightily.”

“I wish he had not. Which is not to the point, Mr. Tillington. What is to the point—is that we cannot shape the encounter with the kyo around Mr. Braddock or the Reunioner issue, which I am relatively sure plays no part in what the kyo want here. What we need most is your cooperation.”

“Fine. Then get your people out of my office.”

The man had one theme.

“I still am asking, Mr. Tillington, to be assured we don’t have a crisis developing while we’re occupied with the kyo. I want to know that supplies are flowing, that we have communication within the Reunioner . . .”

“No.”

“A little cooperation, Mr. Tillington. Where is Mr. Braddock?”

“Somewhere in 23.”

“Where are the children?”

“Hell if I know. In 24. Mostly.”

“Mostly.”

“The girl’s in 23.”

“I take it the doors between 23 and 24 are still open. Or aren’t they?”

“Why are we talking about three kids, when we’ve got a ship bearing down on us?”

“Because you brought up the kids, sir, and in your general lack of information, I’m wondering if you have any idea what’s going on in the sections you walled off with fifteen minutes’ warning. I’m wondering what your communication with the Reunioners is like, and how often you undertake to inform them what’s going on.”

“They get regular news, along with everybody else.”

“Do they get it now?”

A shrug. “I suppose they do.”

He swept a gesture back toward the outer room. “All those buttons. Sir. I trust you know what they do.”

“I trust you don’t.”

“We are not coming to a good conclusion, Mr. Tillington.”

“So leave.”

“Mr. Tillington. I am not here to oppose you. You’ve served through a difficult period . . .”

“Of your making!”

“Sir. I ask you—I ask you, I do not demand—that you cooperate in this situation. I don’t know what you’ve theorized the kyo are, but knowledge of these people resides in me, in Sabin, and in the team that dealt with them last. I believe we can get us all out of this safely, given cooperation—”

“You have no authority!”

Disappointing. Extremely. He could order the man arrested. Detained.

Shot, for that matter. The Guild would oblige without hesitation.

But it wasn’t a choice.

“If it’s your choice to take that position, Mr. Tillington, I am exceedingly sorry. I have alternatives I don’t want to invoke. And you’re leaving me no choice.”

Tillington’s stare went past him, instantly, to Banichi and Jago.

“You’re out of office as of this moment, sir, and you’re removed from all authority on this station. You’ll be returning to Earth on the next shuttle. I’d like not to make that evident to your staff at this point. I’d like not to have any embarrassment to you. I’d like you to walk quietly with me out of Central, and then let’s call Phoenix security, so you can go talk to Captain Ogun about this, as I’m sure you’ll want to. Tell him I’ll talk to him about it at his convenience.”

“Damn you!”

“Nadiin-ji, contact Jase. We need ship security to come here. The gentleman apparently declines to go with us, and I have no wish to have a machimi in view of his staff.”

“Nandi,” Banichi said, and Jago took up her pocket com and made a call, in Ragi, to Jase.

Bren just stood there.

Tillington clenched his jaw. “My own security’s coming.”

Button under the desk edge, one was quite sure.

“That will be fine, sir. Unfortunately nobody out there speaks Mosphei’.” He changed to Ragi. “Jago-ji, trade with Tano. Tillington-nadi has called his security. Advise Nawari and communicate peacefully with Mospheiran security, if they come in before ship security does. Advise Jase-aiji to contact their command and warn them.”

“Yes,” Jago said, and went out into Central. Tano immediately came in.

Tillington’s look was anger and extreme unease. His eyes followed the movements.

“If you should have a firearm in that desk,” Bren said, “I very strongly caution you not to use it. I think a conversation with Captain Ogun would be far more helpful to you. Please don’t make a spectacle for staff out there. Let’s just take a walk outside. Shall we?”

“I’ll protest this clear to the legislature.”

“I’m sure you will. I’m even sure you’ll find support. Please live to get there.”

Tillington’s chin wobbled.

“Take a walk, sir?” Bren asked quietly.

Tillington got up slowly.

Bren made an inviting gesture toward the door.

Tillington walked, slowly, out into the middle of operations. Stopped.

Turned. Clamped his jaw, sucked in a breath and said, loudly:

“You’re being taken over. We’re being taken over. They’re setting us up!”

Bren rolled his eyes. Caught a senior tech’s shocked look and held it.

“No,” he said, and shook his head slowly as Tillington went on yelling about takeovers and conspiracies. He turned to catch stare after stare. Shocked, worried techs sat, some with chairs turned about, some looking at him, some looking at Tillington. One tech got up, and thought better of it, freezing in place.

“Please,” Bren said, as that tech looked his way. He made a small gesture for the man to sit down. The man felt back for his chair, and sank into it.

Tillington made a sudden move toward the boards.

Jago stepped into his path. And if Tillington didn’t know it, that was the most dangerous person he could have challenged. Tillington stopped. Cold.

“Stop,” Bren said sharply, in a sudden silence. “Stop right there, sir. Everybody stop.” He took an easier stance and said, to the room at large. “Mr. Tillington has called Mospheiran security. These are atevi security. We’ve called ship security and they’re coming. We’re up to our elbows in security. Everybody please just stay seated and we’ll sort this out. Understand what’s going on. The President has instructed Mr. Tillington to defer to a Presidential envoy, who’s arriving on tomorrow’s shuttle.”

“Some bureaucrat who’s got no idea what goes on up here!” Tillington shouted.

Bren raised his voice, swept a wide gesture. “We have a ship out there that’s capable of destroying us where we sit! I suggest that we all calm down and consider what we’re going to do.”

“Do?” Tillington shouted. “Do? Maybe you should go out there and talk to them!”

“As I will, at need! But you’ve done enough to complicate this situation, Mr. Tillington.”

Mospheiran security showed up in the doorway. Guild immediately shifted, Tano, Algini, Nawari, Geigi’s man, and the four Guild Observers all facing them, while Jago held her arm still outstretched, still barring Tillington from a move toward the boards. Banichi alone stood watching the techs in stony, forbidding silence.

“Arrest him!” Tillington shouted. “Get him out of here!”

Mospheiran security, three in number, with two already in the room, didn’t look supremely confident in that order.

“Security!” Bren said sharply in Mosphei’. “Stand your ground! Mr. Tillington is removed from command by order of the President.”

“He has no authority!” Tillington shouted.

Mospheiran security didn’t move. Guild didn’t move. And quick footfalls in the hall said another force was on its way.

Kaplan and Polano, in blue fatigues, entered the room, armed with rifles and focused on the five Mospheirans. Immediately behind them, Jase Graham arrived in the doorway, ship’s officer, with two more blue-uniformed ship’s security behind him.

“Captain Graham,” Bren said quietly, in great relief. “Will ship’s security take custody of Mr. Tillington? I suggested that he take his complaints to the senior captain. I think the offer should still stand. He can wait in custody until the senior captain comes on-shift.”

“That can be arranged,” Jase said. “Sir. This way.”

Tillington hesitated, eyes darting.

“Sir?” Jase repeated.

Tillington found the power of movement. Walked toward the door, then snapped at Mospheiran security. “Don’t leave! Witness what goes on here! I want a record!”

Jase accompanied Tillington out the door, and gave quiet orders to security outside.

Then came into the standoff again.

“Mr. Cameron. I understand Lord Geigi retains the handoff.”

“Yes. He does. And will.” Bren swept a look around the boards, where shaken, upset techs sat backed by dead screens, boards that wouldn’t work until Geigi pushed a button in his section. He raised his voice. “Gentlemen. Ladies. We have absolutely no fault to find with you as a team. Please understand that. We need you to stay just a little longer. Please. Is there a way to communicate with Lord Geigi’s office?”

Silence for a moment. Then one of the techs centermost nodded.

“Is there a way to bring a few of these boards live?”

“There’s the handoff mode,” that man said. “Theirs and ours.”

“So I understand,” Bren said. “Good.” He looked around, as Guild, Mospheiran security, and Jase’s bodyguard stood a little easier, but still watching each other, watching him, watching Jase.

“I came in here,” Bren said in a low voice, as Jase joined him, “to try to make peace with Tillington. Clearly it didn’t work.”

“Wasn’t likely to. Tillington already suspected he’s on his way out.”

“Ogun said as much.” It was a large room. They were surrounded by Guild security, out of earshot of any human not amping the sound. Which might happen. A little caution was in order. “Tillington could have called the President to ask. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t like what he heard. Do we have any assessment what conditions are, over in the sealed sections?”

“We’re technically in charge,” Jase said. “Ship is. We’ve taken control of communications to those sections, at least. The emergency seal wasn’t what we’d have done. But there is provision for doing it. There’s water, sanitation, emergency supplies for considerable duration; and there are personnel refuges, but we’re keeping all those resources locked for now. For one thing, we don’t want the psychology of resorting to those supplies. Ship personnel have been successful getting water and supply in: that’s never been disrupted. And we don’t want the emergency supplies used up, in case we have any worse problems.”

“Opening those doors, however—”

“No.” Jase drew a deep breath, staring at the techs across the room. “That wouldn’t be the best move. What happened, Bren, when the news got out about the kyo—there was a report of a panicked mob in one Reunioner section, 23. The distribution center, mid-corridor, tried to shut down because the crowd was pushing in. A riot broke out, we scrambled security, and Tillington reacted with an announced closure on all section doors. I can’t say it was a wrong decision—given the situation. But panic set in all over the station. People at work took out running, trying to get to family and friends. Reunioners definitely panicked. People tried to get out, and in, and people ended up hurt. All three distribution centers were looted, to the walls. People were putting water in every container they could find and emptied the tanks for 23 and 24. We did get security in through the personnel locks, we caught the runners and put them back into their proper sections in small groups—we kept a list, but just put them back. So that’s where we are now. All the other doors were opened again within a few hours. But the Reunioner residency sections are still shut down. The two adjacent sections are open to each other. The other, 26, is closed at both ends. Water’s working, supply’s getting to distribution centers. We’ve kept the public address going, and we’ve told them you’re here and that the closure is temporary, for safety, and that you’re optimistic, all that. We’ve tried to reassure them. And they are stationers. They’re not tearing up things, except the initial mess. We’re getting things through three freight accesses straight to the distribution centers. We put goods in on the Mospheiran side of the passage, roll a carrier through, offload, retreat and unlock that that door. The distribution people take the load in, we lock the passage at their signal and search it and lock it up again at both ends. Nobody’s tried to exploit these points . . . so far. And people are respecting the armor guarding the doors. They’re scared of it and we want it that way. That’s what we’ve got.”

“Where’s Braddock?”

“We haven’t heard from him. That’s another worry. We don’t know where he is.”

“The kids?”

“I don’t know that, either. At one point, about eight days after we got back, I called Gene’s apartment. I talked to a woman I think was his mother, but she didn’t want to talk to me. Fact is, by the time we got back, the parents wanted their kids, and they wanted not to talk to us. There’d been the delay. That was understandable. I gave it a little time. Frankly, I was busy debriefing, one conference after another. I brought up the matter, expressed the worry that the families might be pressured. Consensus was, even with Sabin, let the situation alone, give it time, there’s no urgency. Two days later the kyo showed up. Right then I proposed going in, moving the kids and their parents out, and word was hell, no, we don’t want to stir the Reunioners up. That went along until Central got the signal and word went all over the station. I don’t know whether that broadcast was an accident or not. I don’t know, just as I don’t know what part Reunioner politics has played in the parents’ reactions, refusing Geigi’s invitations, refusing to talk to me. I haven’t liked the reaction. I haven’t gotten clearance to pursue it. But asking for the kids now—”

“They could become hostages.”

“Exactly.”

“Can you get people in there?” Bren asked.

“Can I get people in there?” Jase rephrased that, which one took to mean—taking it on himself. “We have people in there, between you and me. We get reports. We still aren’t finding Braddock. We also have the distribution accesses in our control. How important is it, to request the kids again, right now? As far as we know, they’re safe, they’re supplied, they’re with their parents.”

Jase had his constraints. Ogun and Sabin weren’t unanimous. The station was in precarious balance.

He had his own . . . the kyo inbound, which overrode all other priorities—including time he was spending right now, trying to deal with the Mospheiran breakdown. And the kids were indeed with their parents, who presumably could take care of them. He understood Jase’s position. It was also, reluctantly, his.

“I’ll mention it to Sabin,” Jase said, “that we should have them somewhere in our planning, if there’s a security breach. If it becomes critical.”

He thought about it, pros and cons. And what could go wrong . . . which was everything. “Mention it, if you can. The kyo situation tops everything. It has to. And if that situation can stay quiet, let it.” He cast a look past Jase’s shoulder, at the blank screens, the techs who’d been waiting, not patiently. “Meanwhile we’ve got a tired staff who’s not sure who’s taking care of their interests. I’d like to get that question answered. Can you stay with me for a bit?”

“I’m missing Tillington’s meeting Ogun,” Jase said wryly. “But that’s probably a good miss. I’ll stay here.”

Bren drew a deep breath, and with Jago and Banichi, who were bound to shadow him, he walked over to the half-circle of overtired techs, who probably expected—and dreaded—a dismissal from any control over the situation.

Mospheirans. As he was. And if they resented him, they resented everything they saw in front of them—his dress, his manner, his whole history, not to mention the massive atevi presence that had overwhelmed the room.

“Gentlemen, ladies,” he said quietly. “Who’s senior tech, here?”

A man at the end console half turned, looking dubious, then slowly stood up.

“Will you come here, please, sir, so everybody can hear, and answer a few questions?”

The senior tech came, close-clipped hair, rumpled, many-pocketed jacket, career man in a field that hadn’t existed when he’d started university, that hadn’t been defined when he’d left everything and come up here. It was the story of most of them who’d come up to the station.

But this man would be all that and a supervisor.

“You need authorization for what’s happened,” Bren said. “And I want to get it for you. Can we get communication with the incoming shuttle?”

“If Geigi’s lot gives us communications.”

“I understand there’s a handoff mode. Board linked to board.”

Head nodded slowly. Mouth stayed set.

“There is.”

“With that, with Geigi’s boards and these boards both live, we can get communication with that shuttle.”

Eyes flickered, passing thought. “Ops handles shuttle-com, but we can get that link.”

“They’ll have a passenger. They should have a passenger. They held the shuttle to launch right behind us for that reason. President Tyers has sent somebody—somebody with direct Presidential authority, and technical knowledge to go with it. There’s been a secrecy issue, getting organized and getting up here as fast as we have, for fear there would be panic. But the reason for secrecy is past and the kyo certainly aren’t going to understand the transmission. Can you get us a connection with the shuttle?” He read the name on the badge. Okana. And resolved to remember it.

Communications with the shuttle might have gone through ship-com with far less fuss.

But right now it was important for Mospheirans to have their hands on the connection, and it was important to bring Mospheirans and atevi operators onto the job. Rumors had flowed from this room, from someone’s indiscretion. Let them flow again.

“Yes, sir,” the answer was. Mr. Okana started giving directions, and some of the techs, who had sat worried-looking and idle throughout, swung around to the boards and started to work. Others watched.

“When it comes,” Bren said, “put the volume up, so the whole shift can hear it.”

· · ·

“Young gentleman,” mani said. Mani sat in her most comfortable chair, with her cane at hand, and a small, untouched plate of pastries. “Nand’ Bren has successfully ejected Tillington-aiji.” Mani sounded very satisfied about that.

Cajeiri felt the same. He had sat studying his kyo notes for some time, keeping mani company, but his thoughts kept straying. He wished he might have gone with nand’ Bren, but that had not been likely, so he had not asked. He wished he might have added Antaro to the people with nand’ Bren, so he would get an account of what was going on. But he had not dared ask that, even.

So Antaro would have to get what she could from Nawari when he got back, if Nawari was permitted to say anything.

Tillington-aiji and Lord Geigi had been feuding about control of Central, he understood that extremely well; and Tillington was not behaving respectfully where it came to Lord Geigi, or reasonably where it came to the Reunioners.

And Lord Geigi had sent his letters over to the Mospheirans to be delivered, because that was the way things were supposed to work, but no answer had come back from them.

Which meant his letters were somewhere and not in the hands of his associates, he would be willing to bet on that. And that was Tillington’s fault. So whatever else Tillington had done wrong, he had also disrespected his father’s order and nand’ Bren’s arrangement.

And that was not smart.

“It is good,” mani said. “We are rid of that influence, or at least, rid of him in an administrative capacity. Tomorrow we shall be dealing with some different person, who, we trust, will have more common sense.”

“One is glad, mani.”

“What are you reading?”

“My notes on the kyo, mani.”

“Are they productive of such consistent frowns?”

He had let his face show things. And lying to mani was never a good thing to do. So he shrugged and told the truth, not pertly. “I was thinking of my associates, mani. One hoped they would be safe in all this. One is glad Tillington is gone.”

“He will be gone. Count nothing certain until then. But you have business before you.”

“Yes, mani. One does.”

Mani frowned. “We are relieved, be it known.”

“Might one ask, mani—could my associates be moved?”

“Should they be taken from their parents?”

“One would ask their parents be moved, mani, if we could.”

“And their relatives?”

He understood then what mani was saying. But he had already understood that. He and his associates had talked about it, and wished there were a place, if all the Reunioners were to be shipped to Maudit, the way Tillington wanted. They had talked about how they would solve that. And solving it needed mani’s help, at least. “Still,” he said, “they are in everybody’s thoughts. They cannot be ordinary people. They understand that. And one is worried.”

“I have not brought up a fool.” Mani frowned, but she was not unhappy with him. He sensed that. “Nand’ Bren believes that they are safer where they are at the moment. Nand’ Bren is in charge of Central, Tillington is gone, and the doors that seal them in also seal out the Mospheirans, which may be a good solution for the next number of days.”

“Do they know we are here?”

Mani nodded. “We understand they have been told. The guards at the doors have passed that word, and they have announced it.”

If they had said that, then they knew he was here. He had told them very definitely that nand’ Bren and mani and he would come to deal with the kyo should they come to visit.

They would know he was here, and they would know he would speak up for them, and track what was happening to them. They would trust nand’ Bren. And mani. It was on him, now, to be sure they were safe.

“Cenedi believes,” mani said, “that until we can lay hands on Braddock the doors should stay shut, and until we can lay hands on him, it would not be prudent for us to ask for your young people—since Braddock might then decide to bargain over them. And we will not, as a matter of policy, bargain with this man.”

“One understands, mani.”

“We are paying attention,” mani said, “and we do not fault your concern, Great-grandson. And this you may know, but forget you know. Nand’ Bren is working on a solution which will bring all Reunioners to live on Earth—not on the continent, be sure, but still, on Earth. The Presidenta’s agreement and the agreement of the legislature are required. Politics may still arise, and if it arises because someone has spoken too soon, it would make a settlement of your young associates very much more difficult.”

His heart had picked up its beats. “They will live on Mospheira?”

“Now I have told you something you absolutely must not tell them, young aiji. You can greatly harm their prospects if you tell this to them before nand’ Bren is ready to tell the Reunioners as a whole—and this will be when we have concluded all that we have to conclude with the kyo. So you, young aiji, have a secret to keep. And understand that anything which brings the Reunioners into conflict with Station authority could make this impossible. I rely on my great-grandson. I rely on him for discretion, and following instructions, and making no moves to contact these young people. This is a test. Are you of a disposition to be aiji? Prove it in this.”

He found nothing to say for the moment. It was the best outcome he could ask, the very best, coupled with disaster if he made a mistake and the notion got out.

“I shall not be a fool,” he said. “I shall not be a fool, mani.”

She nodded slowly. “I have every confidence you are not, Great-grandson, or I would not have told you. And I suggest that you consult us at any time common sense says you should consult, where it regards your young associates. Do not think your silence protects them. Ever.”

He so wished he were still young and stupid. Growing up left one looking at far too many sides of a thing.

If he had known they would one day be here, the way things were, would he have dared explore the ship-tunnels with strange humans he had just met?

What he knew now would make him afraid.

But he hoped he still would do it, someday.

He definitely still would do it. And they would get to ride again, together, at Lord Tatiseigi’s estate. And sail on nand’ Bren’s boat.

He just had to grow smarter and tell things the right way. Mani was telling him when and how to manage, and what politics he had to look out for.

He had to learn those things. Fast.

· · ·

It took a bit in Mospheiran Central, arranging things with Geigi, bringing a section of communications up, then getting a handshake with the inbound shuttle, which indeed had been aware of a crisis on the station. Then they made a handoff link with one of Geigi’s boards.

Jase had absented himself, heading over to atevi Central to consult with Geigi and advise him what was going on, besides, through Geigi’s boards, querying ship-com, extracting information on conditions in the Reunioner sections.

There was video monitoring to which the ship and now Geigi had access. A few installations had been put out of operation in 23 and 24, but most worked. That word came through.

Ship-folk armor units maintained video surveillance from the doors. Lights there had gone to twilight, but nothing so dark the armor’s eyes couldn’t see everything that moved.

There was, as Jase had said, an uneasy peace in the Reunioner sections. They kept the lights dimmed for all but a few hours a day, to encourage people to keep to their own quarters, and to conserve supplies.

It might easily have been worse. Things functioned. Supply arrived steadily, food and medicines. Water flowed. Heat kept people warm. Fans moved air, and scrubbers kept that air clean. Vid provided endless entertainment and offered at least some news in a handful of functioning gathering places—the food distribution stations. All of these might have malfunctioned. And hadn’t.

“Yes, ma’am,” Bren heard the tech say. “The atevi rep, Mr. Cameron, is here. He wants to talk to you.”

There was an answer. Bren came close and put a hand on the seat back. The tech took off his own single-sided headset and handed it over. Bren slipped it on. “This is Bren Cameron. We’re in good condition here. I hope the same on your end.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I trust you’ve got a passenger.”

“Yes, sir. Do you want to speak to her?”

“I’d like to, yes.”

“Stand by, sir.”

That took a moment. He heard the background noise of the cockpit, a question from someone asking what was going on with Central, and an “I don’t know. It’s the paidhi. Cameron. He says it’s all right now, but he didn’t say why they’re off schedule. He wants to talk to the envoy.”

Shuttle expected human-language operations at certain hours, which they had not yet gotten. They should have been able to get station news, talk to Tillington’s office, set up anything ops didn’t cover with its numbers and diagrams. Instead—atevi voices had prevailed, right into what should be a Mospheiran shift.

Now human ones again, but not in the mode they expected.

And they were in space, at the highest speed the shuttles could safely use, past the point of no return, and bound for dock. It was reason for them to worry.

More thumps and clicks and rattle of gear came over the com, combined with a steady ping from somewhere.

“Bren?”

He knew that voice. Lighter, higher, and not Kate Shugart’s. “Is that Gin?”

“It’s Gin. We’ve been a little concerned here. Everything all right?”

Virginia Kroger. A complete surprise. But not a bad one. Far from a bad one.

“Everything’s better. No emergency. Good to hear your voice. Surprised. I thought you’d be Kate. I didn’t know they could pry you out of Northern Dynamics.”

“Kate broke two ribs rock-climbing. She’s mad as hell she’s not up here.”

Rock-climbing. At her age. God, that was Kate. And yanking Gin out of the Mospheiran shuttle program . . .

A year and two rolled backward, rife with images of life on the ship, Gin’s ready smile, wry humor, steady nerve—a small, wiry woman well over the edge of fifty by now—high-level project manager, degree in engineering. She’d taken over the robotics program and built it, literally built it from Archive records and the ship’s know-how and capabilities. She’d pushed crews hard, but with no fatalities, and she’d led, as much as pushed. If there was a human being alive besides bluff, no-nonsense Kate he’d have wanted up here in charge of a nervous Mospheiran workforce at the moment, it was Gin.

“You’re beyond welcome, Gin. I’ve officially asked Tillington to step down. He was highly exercised. I’m asking you to step in as of now. Can you do that?”

“I copy. I’ll be arriving tomorrow, and I’ll take over as of now. Give me the details, bring me in touch with the situation, and get me people.”

“I’m going to hand you over to Mr. Okana, who identifies himself as the senior tech in Central, this shift, and he’ll be able to give you more detailed information. Tillington locked down the Reunioners in sections 23, 24, and 26. The ship has continued supply to the sealed sections, and ship command feels that the situation in there is stable and safe, but there are ongoing issues, mainly that Reunioners and Mospheirans have no certainty about their situation up here, and Reunioners are scared. If you’d kindly take over command of Mospheiran Central and give Captain Ogun a call in that capacity, I’ll be greatly obliged.”

“I copy all that clear. Do what you can. I’ll be getting a briefing from Mr. Okana, fast as I can.”

“Anything you need, Gin.” He took the headphone off. “Mr. Okana. If you would. This is Virginia Kroger, robotics, head of the shuttle program. You know her reputation.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. She’s President Tyers’ envoy, she’s taking over as Mospheiran-side stationmaster, and she’s going to be in charge. Personally. She’ll show you all the credentials you can want when she gets here. She’ll be taking over that office. And right now you’re her second in command.”

“Sir,” Okana said, and took the headphone and settled it on, with a very sober expression. The tech at the board vacated the seat and Okana sat down, with: “This is Central, Ms. Kroger. This is Shift Captain Okana.”

Okana listened, then. And started answering questions. Rapid ones. Yes. No. Yes, ma’am. No. We can. And said to the tech beside him: “She wants the log, everything since the morning of the contact. Send it.”

Gin. Thank you, God. Thank you, Shawn.

He had backup. Sane backup.

Get contact with Ogun, now, and explain it all? Gin would handle that.

Ogun was having a busy hour, if Tillington had gotten his interview.

And Tillington’s outrage wasn’t going to trump relations with Shawn Tyers, who controlled vital food supply to the station, or with Tabini-aiji, who controlled both food and critical materials and processes, not to mention Tabini’s owning all but one of the shuttles that carried everything up there.

Nor would Ogun fail to recall that Gin Kroger, cooperating with Lord Geigi and the Captains’ Council, had captained the operation that built the robotics critical to the station, the robotics that had kept it going when the shuttles weren’t flying. Kroger, Lund, and Shugart were names everybody on the station knew.

“Gin-nadi,” Banichi remarked, near at hand. Banichi likewise sounded satisfied.

“Gin-nadi. Gin-nandi, as of right now. And, one is very sure, still Gin-ji. Kate-nandi broke ribs while rock-climbing.”

Banichi was quietly, wryly amazed and amused at that news. So was he, still, given that Shawn had sent them the best alternative. Gray-haired Kate. Rock-climbing, probably in the park near Mt. Adams. Would she want to come up here now? She was probably beside herself—and might find a doctor’s permission and a shuttle berth in the next rotation.

Kate’s style of management would have been rougher, more blunt when she waded in. He’d somewhat looked forward to Kate encountering Tillington.

Gin typically applied charm, humor. Which Tillington at the moment wouldn’t appreciate.

He’d meet the other side of Gin, then, which he definitely wouldn’t like.

Ask for the log, while she was still hours from arrival?

Everything Tillington had allowed to be recorded, along with things the systems had automatically recorded. Gin could read those auto-records with an expert eye, figure what the sequence of things had been, and she’d hit the deck with a good grasp of the technical and the political situation—things Tillington wouldn’t have had time to cover.

Oh, there were questions he wanted to ask.

She went on asking Okana questions. Okana kept answering, rapid-fire.

News was spreading, too, to the Guild Observers. Nawari and Algini had been conducting a very quiet flow of interpretation, and the Observers listened, watched, absorbing every clue around them—learning how human authority worked, first-hand, and how the Presidenta’s authority worked.

It wasn’t an atevi way of solving things, over there among the techs, with Gin inbound and taking over and Tillington kiting off to Ogun instead of demanding to talk to his own chain of command, in the President’s office. To atevi ears it would sound less like a struggle for power between aijiin and more like an internal clan dispute, with a clan lord whose quarrels inside the house had suddenly outnumbered all his allies . . . so he went out-clan, looking for an ally.

Classic machimi, in its strange way. He had a notion most of his aishid read it exactly that way . . . except maybe Jago, who knew enough to understand that machimi wasn’t an entirely reliable guide with humans.

Mospheiran security in the room had begun to get the word, too, audio amped so they could overhear Okana and the techs—even his ears could hear the spill from their audio. They wore no less worried looks than they had come in with, still stood clustered in a far corner, observing, outnumbered and still not happy about that, while their command was mutating by the minute.

But the chance that someone would set something off by a wrong move was diminishing. Now endurance began to matter more than authorizations.

Conversation between Okana and Gin ended, with the link left available. Okana talked to a cluster of techs, some of whom left their seats to join the group.

“One requests us to hold here a little longer, Nichi-ji,” Bren remarked.

“Yes,” Banichi said quietly.

Bren clasped his hands behind him and avoided the impulse to flex his shoulders. Court etiquette. One stood. One flexed small muscles, and kept outward appearances.

Gin made another call to Central, talked to Okana and then asked to speak to Bren again. He went over to the boards and took up a headphone.

“Talked to the Senior Captain,” Gin said. “We completely agree on points of security, and I’m officially asking you to ask Geigi to change the access codes and then hand them to you, so you can be his backup and my surrogate until I get there and log in, at which point I’ll make another code change, so I won’t burden you with that, politically speaking. I’m going to be reading the log. I’ll also be making suggestions for the empowerment of a Reunioner council, for accuracy of communication—their choice, anybody but Braddock and his crew.”

“I’m sure the atevi sector will back that.”

“My next call is going to be to Sabin. I trust you to call Geigi and get that code change made. I am not going to request my predecessor vacate his apartment until he’s able to board a shuttle, so I’ll be looking for a residence—tight as things are, I may be bedding down in Central tomorrow night.”

“I’d offer you space on our side, but I’m sure you’ll prefer otherwise.”

“Politically speaking—not so good. But I appreciate the spirit of the offer. A dinner invitation, now . . .”

“Whenever you need anything, just ask. Dinner’s on offer whether I’m at home or not. My staff would be honored. Did Ogun mention the whereabouts of the other captains? Jase is off in atevi Central, Riggins is aboard Phoenix, and I’m not sure where Sabin is. I doubt she’s sleeping with all this going on.”

“Appreciated. How long do you look to remain where you are?”

“As long as I can be useful here.”

“Don’t wear yourself out, but if you could personally stay in Mospheiran Central at least long enough to get a good read on who’s in charge of second-shift, I’d feel better.”

“I’ll do that. No problem. Are we keeping full schedule on this shift?”

“No. I’m going to hold this shift until I’m satisfied I’ve done all I need. I’ll call second-shift on for an hour or two so they can understand what’s happened and understand my orders. Then I’ll give them an early night. I’ll ask Geigi to stay in place through my docking, tomorrow. I want all active control on his side of the wall, including communication with ops, until I get there to take formal charge into my hands. I’ll be working my way through the log, and I’ll appreciate any log updates outside routine, if you’ll arrange that.”

“Understood.” Communications was the only aspect of Central even marginally in human hands right now, and while that didn’t involve life-support systems and locks all over the station, it was still worrisome so long as human hands were involved. Gin was right. They needed to be sure that only Geigi could push the buttons. “No problem at all. I’ll convey what needs conveying to Geigi on the code change. And trust him to deal with the technicals. He’ll put the shuttle crew through to ship-com at their request.”

“I’ll be reading the log, meanwhile.”

“Gin, you’re a jewel.”

“Flattery, flattery. You definitely owe me dinner.”

Long haul, then. Through this shift and into the next. It occurred to him there was one place he might personally gain a little rest from waiting. Tillington’s office.

But that, he decided, wasn’t a good appearance. Or a good idea.

Politics.

Legal matters.

He went to the doorway of the office, looked about. Typical desktop. Files. Keys.

Drawers. A lot of drawers.

He called Okana over.

“I want you to witness,” he said to Okana, “the condition of this office now. You know I haven’t entered it since Tillington left.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’d like to close this door, now, and lock it, and I’d like you to provide orders to the next shift that they not enter this place, because they won’t want the responsibility. I’d like for you and the next-shift chief to assure Gin Kroger that nothing in this office has been touched, by me, or anybody else, until she arrives.”

“Yes, sir,” Okana said. “Understood.”

“Meanwhile,” he said, “I’m going to send my own bodyguard off, group by group, for a short break. I take it there’s somewhere close.”

“Adjacent room, sir, number 12. Not big, but it’s got the comforts.”

“Appreciated,” he said.

It would be. It was shaping up to be a long day. No outsiders got to see atevi Guild or a lord of the aishidi’tat in anything but official form. Gin called for shift-end, and a shunt over to Geigi.

Gin’s contact went over to ship-com, through which he also had Jase.

“You with me?” he asked Jase.

“Still holding out,” Jase said. “Tillington is sulking in his apartment. He’s tried to call the President. He doesn’t have that authority right now, does he?”

“Actually no, he doesn’t. He did. But right now he’ll have to do that through Gin.”

“That’s what we thought.”

“Gin’s letting him stay in his apartment until he leaves. You can tell him that.”

“When he asks,” Jase said.

“This is going to be a short shift, next. Just informational. We hope. Everything’s quiet.”

“Do you need relief over there?”

“I’m all right. A couple of hours. We’re going to be briefing the new shift, getting an understanding.”

· · ·

That was the hope at least. A request to Geigi brought a screen live, a read on the kyo transmission, on a screen tucked away in the corner. One part showed, as Bren tried to make sense of it, the course plot. Another was a clock ticking down the expected arrival of the next kyo signal.

Another was another clock, which one guessed marked the time to their automated reply, a few minutes on. The clocks counted off as he watched, a note popped up on the fourth quarter of the display, and the clocks reset.

That was the exchange with the kyo. Measured. Identical. Proceeding while human authority had a relatively quiet upheaval.

It stayed even, measured, identical, for which one was duly grateful.

So did the course, which one suspected, though had no knowledge to prove it, led toward the station.

Okana dismissed his people, who quietly left. The place was deserted for a moment. Then second-shift arrived by ones and twos, anxiously so, people eyeing the weapons, warily settling into place at dead boards. A few had exchanged a word or two with Okana on the way in, and people leaned together, to say in low voices, things like, “Tillington’s out. Dr. Kroger’s coming in.” And: “It’s all right. We’re doing all right. They’re not touching the doors.”

Meaning—barriers weren’t coming down. Angry people weren’t coming in contact. What Tillington had set up wasn’t being undone.

Okana caught Bren’s eye, then quietly left.

· · ·

“Thank you for coming in,” Bren said. “I’m Bren Cameron. Everybody you see is somebody’s security; don’t be anxious. You may have heard that Mr. Tillington’s been relieved, and his office is now locked pending the arrival of a Presidential envoy. President Tyers has asked Dr. Virginia Kroger to come up here to handle Mospheiran affairs in the kyo situation—she’s experienced, she was with the expedition when we met the kyo, and she’s arriving with current knowledge of the situation. We’re holding everything as we found it, meanwhile, taking advice before we change anything—” He saw that brought visible release of pent breaths. “In short, you’ll have a stationmaster who has experienced the kyo. We expect to meet with them, exchange scientific information, assure each other of good will, and part company for another number of years. So far, so good. We’re communicating exactly as we did in the last meeting. It’s certainly an exciting event. But no reason for panic. We’ll get the station through this, and we’re going to be taking some precautions for your safety, but we really don’t anticipate a problem. I’ll be retiring over to the atevi side of operations as Dr. Kroger assumes command here, and we’ve assembled the team that met the kyo the last time. We somewhat expect they’ve done the same, and that we’ll have a pleasant, maybe a productive encounter. I can’t answer more than that, except to say that they promised to come visit, and they have, to firm up agreements, and they’ll likely go away again to their own territory. So bear with us. We’ll be feeling our way through this, but there’s no sense of alarm about it. Who’s shift-captain here?”

A hand went up, at Okana’s former seat.

Bren beckoned. The man got up and walked over to him. Put out a hand.

“Jim Harris,” the man said. “Port Jackson. Met your brother more than once.”

That was an unexpectedly pleasant meeting. A lord of the aishidi’tat in public and on official business stayed properly formal, but there was personal conversation, how Toby was, where Toby was. Mospheira was, in many ways, astonishingly small. Everybody had lived where they lived for generations, and if you were in any social subset—like boat-folk in Port Jackson—people knew people who knew you. It was a thoroughly strange conversation, Port Jackson, Toby’s boat, and bilge pumps, here, in the troubled operational heart of the station, but two authorities talking together eased everyone’s nerves. People began to talk among themselves in the background, with occasional curious stares at atevi—whom they might never have seen at such close range, over such a long time—though, as Geigi said, crew could say—also—We talk. We show each other pictures.

I know four or five whole words of Ragi.

It was all going very easily, very smoothly.

Then Tano had a call on com, and the look Tano wore changed. Fast.

· · ·

Mani declared that the hour would be what the hour was in the Bujavid, and that had meant supper while the time felt like the middle of the afternoon, and bed before what was ordinarily supper.

Mostly Cajeiri suspected it was because mani was tired and sore and wanted to go to bed. She absolutely would not let anyone see her limp—much—but she had worn a constant frown, saying that the flight was certainly necessary, but that there were a great many inconveniences in the process.

Not to mention, she said, the cold of the mast, which had gotten through the cloak quite uncomfortably and made her bones ache.

So the whole house went to bed, and he lay abed, trying to persuade himself it was night, even if, up here, there was always night outside, and always day for somebody, inside.

He was a little worried about mani, that she had had such trouble, and ached, and now had so little appetite. He worried about her going to bed early, but if mani said it was night, it was night for everybody in the household, and that was that.

Lord Geigi had said everything was all right, that Tillington was gone, that the codes were all being changed, which in this place was the same as changing all the locks to everything, and it could be done very fast, in the blink of an eye.

That was what Lord Geigi had said.

Changing the codes was fast, but it confused a lot of things, Lord Geigi had said that, too. And there was no prospect of Lord Geigi getting back to his own apartment until tomorrow.

Which might mean nand’ Bren would not be coming back either.

He wished they would; and he punched the pillow with his fist. He wished they could all have dinner and then brandy with mani. He wanted to listen to the serious talk and learn things.

But that was not going to happen.

It was too early, and his mind was wide awake. His aishid was learning to sleep whenever they had a chance to sleep, but it was a knack he had not learned yet.

And if he stayed up past mani’s hours now, then mani would be up and about things in what she declared was morning and he would be too sleepy to think tomorrow. And he would be cross. Which was never a good thing to be, in mani’s household.

There had been excitement today. There was going to be excitement tomorrow, too, with the new station-aiji coming.

Well, and he had gotten one exciting bit of news, too, from Lord Geigi’s call, which was that the new aiji would be Gin-nandi.

He hoped he would get to see her soon, before the kyo came and everything started. Gin-nandi was the best. Gin-nandi had been on the ship with them, and she had built the robots the station used for mining, and she would be fair. Unlike Tillington.

And she would talk to him, if he got to see her. He was sure of it.

And if he got to talk to her, the furtive thought came to him, he could ask her to please be sure his associates were all right. Mani would not be happy about his saying anything.

But he would do it. And Gin-nandi would do something to be sure they were safe. He had every confidence she would.

He just had to plan how to get to talk to her.

When she came, Bren-nandi would not have to stand guard in Central. But she would be there, and Mospheiran Central was on the Mospheiran side, where he was not supposed to be.

Maybe, however, mani would ask her to dinner.

That was likely. If Gin-nandi came to dinner, then when mani was talking to somebody else, he could get a quiet word with Gin-nandi, lean close and say, really fast, My associates are trapped. Please get them out!

That was about as fast as he could say it, in as few words as he could say it, and it would make mani really mad.

But sometimes one just had to go ahead anyway.

And a whole lot of things were bound to happen to occupy mani’s attention before they all got home.

When they did get home, however, as surely as the sun rose, mani would not have forgotten: she would find some way to make him remember he had gone against a promise to her.

He was too old now for her just to thwack his ear and tell him to mind.

And if he was wrong—if something went badly wrong because of it—

Mani had given him an order. She was not going to discuss it. Not likely. He could ask, but he was upset, and that was never going to go well, if he began talking to her.

Nand’ Bren was the one who would talk to him, and tell him things.

That was who he had to talk to.

As soon as he could get to nand’ Bren. Which was not easy, not being able even to leave the apartment.

There was a stir in the house. He listened to it, wondering if perhaps something had happened to get Guild attention. Or maybe nand’ Bren or Lord Geigi had finally come back home, across the hall, or down. When nand’ Bren got home, Cenedi at least would want to talk with Nawari, who had been out all day with nand’ Bren, where he was.

Then there was a stir in the back of the apartment.

And a light went on under the door of his bodyguards’ rooms. His aishid had waked. He heard them stirring, and he sat up in bed, shoving his hair out of his face.

“Nadiin-ji,” he said, as their door opened, no longer with the light on. “Is something going on?”

“I shall go see.” Jegari had hoped to slip out, clearly. A message had come through. All his bodyguard was up and dressed. And Jegari left to go ask questions.

It was probably just nand’ Bren, who would send Banichi over, likely.

But Jegari came back with somebody who turned the room light on. Cenedi himself had come, and that was scary.

“Is mani all right?” was Cajeiri’s first thought.

“She is,” Cenedi said. “But, nandi, one of your young associates is in custody of ship security. Lord Geigi is going there.”

“I shall go!”

“No, young aiji. Not without your great-grandmother’s order. She is dressing. She will be in the sitting room shortly.”

Mani would never permit his going. He was sure of that.

“Which of my associates, nadi? Who has escaped? Is this person all right?”

“As yet there is no word of the circumstance, young gentleman. One expects it momentarily. Will you come to the sitting room?”

He had to. If he was to gain anything, he had to dress, and go wait, and stay calm.

He felt a shiver coming on in the cool air. But he tried not to let Cenedi see it.

18

A child had crossed the line from section 23. It was possibly one of the young aiji’s guests, Geigi’s second-in-command had said, but they were not sure. Jase had gotten a call, given orders in ship-speak, and Geigi and Jase had left Central together in haste.

“They will contact us when they know,” Bren said, scanning the room full of anxious Mospheiran techs and Mospheiran security.

Calling Gin to take over seemed the only help. And that took a process. He asked for that connection, stood patiently, waited until Gin came on, a thin, remote presence in the headset.

“I’ve got a call from Lord Geigi,” Bren said into the mike. “Something’s evidently happened with one of the kids, one of the three who visited the mainland. One may have ended up outside confinement. But no one’s sure. Captain Graham has gone to investigate. I’d like to. Can you take over with Mr. Harris?”

“No difficulty,” Gin said on the link. “I’ll handle whatever needs handling. Put Mr. Harris on.”

“Mr. Harris,” Bren said, and handed him the headphone.

Harris took it, settled it on, gazing into the distance. “Yes, ma’am,” Harris said. “I’m here. We’ll stay on. Yes, ma’am. —She wants us to stand by. She says she wants a report when you can, sir.”

“I’ll give it as soon as I have it,” Bren said. “Thank her.” He was anxious about leaving the situation and withdrawing from hands-on control of the area. But it was Gin’s job. Gin’s authority, now.

They did need him wherever the child was. Something had happened, involving a Reunioner kid. Something needed to be found out. Questions needed to be asked. Fast.

“We shall go,” he said in Ragi, and a second thought said maybe he should talk to Mospheiran security as he left, but, no, that was Gin’s job, too. He wasn’t operating as a Mospheiran official. Not once Gin took over.

He walked toward the door with his aishid forming up around him. The others came right behind them, and Guild talked to Guild in a quiet mutter of relayed queries, finding out locations, whatever details they could get.

The lift system was the first thing they needed. They reached it, and there Geigi’s man, Sakeimi, on the verge of pushing buttons, stopped and took on a preoccupied look for a moment, listening to something remote, then said: “There is word from Jase-aiji, nandi. Jase-aiji ordered the child brought out. Ship-folk security delayed long enough to query Ogun-aiji on the matter. Ogun-aiji has now set the child in Jase-aiji’s hands, and says, nandi, as Jase-aiji translates, Please deal with this urgently.”

One strongly suspected that was a very loose translation of what Ogun had actually said.

“Where shall we find him?”

“Jase is going to the main interface. He has ordered the child brought there.”

That was the central and largest of the three lift stations that had, on one side, the atevi side of the station, and on the other, the Mospheiran area. One passed through it, going in either direction, to deal with the other side. But getting off there—there was a very small shared zone. Administrative and shipping offices that had their backs to each other. And a checkpoint.

“Then we shall go there,” he said. It was not a place most people saw, except shuttle crews and people employed in cargo. “Tell him we’re on our way. Which child?”

“I shall ask, nandi.” Sakeimi punched the lift call. It arrived fairly quickly. They all entered, and Sakeimi quickly put in the numbers.

“We are in communications silence,” Sakeimi noted. But that was no news. Guild communications, not going through Central, was an issue in certain places, and the lift system was one such. Sakeimi had asked. But there would be no answer until they actually arrived.

It was a dogleg turn and ascent before it slowed and stopped. The door opened in the human zone, beyond which was a simple security gate of rotating bars, and a window on either side that gave a panoramic view of the other side’s offices.

There was, uncommonly, an atevi presence on this side besides their own: Lord Geigi had arrived with Jase, both with their bodyguards.

“Who is it?” Bren asked Jase first-off.

“I’m not sure. The description is dark-skinned, not as dark as atevi, dark hair—speaks Ragi, won’t respond to questions.”

Smart. Presented a quandary that required a command decision—

“They called up to command,” Jase said. “I ordered the kid escorted to the atevi side. Ogun—the man’s getting no sleep—first intervened to object, then cleared it. He wants an answer.”

Other lifts had opened around them, discharged a few humans, who looked sharply toward a gathering of atevi Guild, a ship’s captain, and two atevi lords, and avoided their vicinity.

Then a lift opened right next to them, disgorging ship security, and a smaller figure in atevi riding clothes. Hair dark, close-clipped as no ateva would wear it . . .

That hair had been gold. Abundant and glorious, on a brown-skinned child.

Now it was black, slicked down tight.

That dress, that dignity and a fluency in Ragi, could pose an enigma to ship-folk who’d never seen an atevi youngster close-up. Irene had the bearing of an atevi lord.

She saw them and started walking. “Wait!” one of the escort said, and Irene never flinched, never reacted as if she understood, clever girl. She just walked toward them, and the man who’d made to stop her—didn’t touch her.

She stopped at a proper distance. Bowed quite solemnly and properly.

Bren bowed. Geigi did.

“Irene-nadi,” Bren said quietly in Ragi. “Come. You may come with us now.”

She bowed slightly, perfect manners. She came forward. Banichi and Jago let her through. Then Guild in general closed ranks, so that no passersby could see.

“Dismissed,” he heard Jase say to the escort. “Go on back. We’re fine, here. Good job.”

“Sir,” the answer was, smartly. And that was that.

“Irene,” Bren said, and in ship-speak: “You’re all right now. We’ve got you.”

There’d been no crack in her demeanor. None. Now Irene sucked in a deep breath and hugged her arms about her as if chilled to the bone.

An atevi lord didn’t hug a person in front of witnesses. But he could hold a wounded one. He flung an arm about her, hugged her thin frame. What colored her hair was a hazard to a good coat, but he had no care for it. “Good girl. Where are the others?”

“I don’t know,” she said. She held to his arm, shivering. “I was so scared. I was so scared.”

“Let’s go to the atevi section,” Jase said. “Get her entirely out of Mospheiran reach.” He changed to Ragi. “Let us go to the residency, Geigi-ji. Never mind crossing the interface. We shall take a car from here.”

“Gin Kroger is in voice contact with Mospheiran Central, Geigi-ji,” Bren said. “Harris-nadi is in charge in Central.”

“Harris-nadi is sensible,” Geigi said, “and most control still rests in my boards. I trust my lieutenant. Let us all go to the residency. Introduce me to this pretty child.”

“This is Lord Geigi,” Bren said, as Jase went to use his override on a lift call.

“Nandi,” Irene said, half out of breath. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

“One is gratified,” Lord Geigi said. “But one believes you have done very well for yourself, nadi.”

A lift arrived, the door opened, and Guild escorted them safely inside, as Geigi’s escort keyed in numbers.

Then the door shut and the car immediately began to move. “Now we are officially in atevi territory,” Lord Geigi said, “and under the aiji-dowager’s authority. You are entirely safe, Reni-nadi.”

“Nandi,” Irene said, and started to shiver as she pushed away from Bren. “Your coat,” she said in ship-speak. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. It’s all right. Where are the boys?”

“I don’t know. Bjorn. Bjorn’s father came. He said Bjorn was at classes when the tunnels shut. He didn’t get home. His father wanted to ask me and I wanted to help. But my mother sent him away and I couldn’t talk to him. Bjorn’s father’s com wasn’t working. He said nothing is working. I’m scared. I’m scared for them.”

“Could he have tried to come back in the tunnels?”

“He could have. They all could have gone there when things went crazy. Cajeiri said—he said, if anything ever goes wrong, get to Lord Geigi or Captain Jase. They might have tried to go. They might have tried— Damned hiccups. I always do that. Sir. Sorry.”

“It’s all right.” He set a hand on her shoulder, felt her shoulder heave. “Do you ever go in the tunnels?”

“No, sir. I can’t. I couldn’t.” She swallowed hard, fighting hiccups. Stammered, “Mr. Braddock’s there.”

“Where?”

“My mother’s apartment. They’re—”

“It’s all right. He’s in your mother’s apartment?”

A nod. A grimace, fighting her reactions. “My mother. Was with this Bocas. Braddock’s lieutenant. But since the doors shut—Braddock. Braddock showed up. With this woman. They moved out the people next door. Braddock and this woman moved in. And they asked me—they came over to our apartment. They asked me. Asked me where Gene was, first off. I didn’t know. They asked about Gene. That was all.” A tremor shook her voice. “They didn’t ask about Artur. Or Bjorn.”

Which could mean they already knew where Artur and Bjorn were. It wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all. “Braddock’s living next door to your mother.”

Nod. “But he sleeps. In our apartment.”

The lift slowed, changed directions, sideways. Jase had been keeping up a quiet, running translation of the details for the company.

“Didn’t ask about Artur and Bjorn,” Irene repeated, teeth chattering, and swallowed hard, trying to get the hiccups under control. “Didn’t have to ask—about me—either, did he? They knew where I was.”

Smart kid. Very smart kid.

“We’ll do what we can.”

“In the tunnels,” she said, teeth chattering. “They could freeze. I’m so scared. I’m so scared.”

“There’s emergency kits, emergency shelters,” Jase said grimly. “But how kept, in the old tunnels? I don’t know.”

Damn. Damn it all.

He pressed Irene’s shoulder carefully, gently. “We’ll do what we can. We’ll try. Think of all the information you can. We need addresses, accesses, any information you can think of.”

She reached into her coat, pulled out folded paper. “My notes,” she said, and handed it to him, a wad of information, everything she had.

A charge. A trust. A responsibility handed to him he didn’t have time for, with the kyo situation advancing and the human situation poised on a knife’s edge of old history and suspicion. They didn’t have a way to extricate the kids, even given the addresses, without the possibility of stirring up problems that might threaten the kids and put them in the center of a riot. And they couldn’t bet on any schedule of operations: they were utterly dependent on what the kyo decided to do.

And to stir something up that might not be finished by the time the kyo ship decided to dock . . .

But what in hell was Braddock doing moving in on Irene’s mother? They didn’t ask about Artur and Bjorn, but they asked about Gene?

And They knew where I was . . .

Braddock didn’t want Irene’s mother, he strongly suspected. He wanted those kids, and if they took action, they were going to force Braddock’s hand. Otherwise Braddock would pick his own time to stir up a problem, to gain leverage, involving—what was Tillington’s phrase? Those kids being Reunioner royalty?

It didn’t take a gift of prophecy to figure Braddock’s intentions once the kyo showed up and the pressure was on.

He’d already shifted his priorities long enough to deal with Tillington. Conscience on one side said no, the kyo problem had to take over his attention at this point. Let Jase deal with getting the kids out. Let Gin. Let people who didn’t have a unique skill on which all their safety depended.

The kid’s hand clenched his, chill and desperate. He didn’t find the resolve to look down at her as the door opened in their outside hallway. He was telling himself it was damnably irresponsible to involve himself in Braddock’s moves, that the kids’ lives weren’t likely in danger.

Their sense of justice might be.

And Cajeiri’s.

And the value of Tabini-aiji’s protection.

Damn it.

Promise this kid? He couldn’t.

But try his damnedest in the time he had left, before things went critical? He could do that, at least.

· · ·

Irene was coming. Cajeiri sat, dressed in his second-best coat, waiting. And mani was waiting. Mani had ordered tea, but Cajeiri was too anxious to drink more than a sip.

Only Irene was coming. Irene was the last of them he would expect to try to reach them. Irene was scared of things. Irene was terrified of flying. Her mother was the strictest, besides, and supervised everything Irene did.

And where were Gene and Artur? And Bjorn, for that matter? Bjorn hadn’t been allowed to come down to visit. But he was trapped with the others, likely, on the other side of the locked doors.

And only Irene had escaped?

He heard the sound of the main door opening, and he heard an exchange in several voices, Jase-aiji and nand’ Bren among them. And what sounded like Lord Geigi. That door shut.

The quiet disturbance reached the door of the sitting room, and Cajeiri stood up as first nand’ Geigi came in, and then nand’ Bren, and a dark-haired human boy in fashionable riding clothes, with Jase-aiji behind.

Except it was not a boy. It was Irene—who was not gold-haired any longer. Irene had not very much hair at all, and what she had was stained dark, still looking damp, and plastered very close to her head. The clothes were the coat and trousers and boots she had worn when she boarded the shuttle.

“Reni-ji,” he said, and stood up.

Irene drew in a deep breath, then flicked a glance at mani and bowed very, very properly before she said anything.

Then it was: “Nandi. Nand’ dowager.”

“What is this?” mani asked sharply. “Paidhi, what has happened?”

“Braddock,” nand’ Bren said, “has taken up residence in Irene-nadi’s apartment, aiji-ma, with her mother. Irene-nadi disguised herself and slipped out during twilight. She approached the ship-folk guards, speaking only Ragi. They suspected she was not atevi, surely, but they had no way to solve the puzzle she posed, so they brought her through and called Jase-aiji, who told nand’ Geigi. She has no knowledge where Gene and Artur may be. She says the third boy, Bjorn, was at his lessons when the doors shut and he has not come home.”

“Clever girl,” mani said. “Clever. Come here, child.”

“Nand’ dowager,” Irene said very faintly, and came closer—scared, Cajeiri could see it. But proper. Proper, with everything she had learned in Lord Tatiseigi’s house.

“Excellently done,” mani said, looking her up and down. “What shall we do for you, child?”

“Find Gene and Artur and Bjorn, nand’ dowager. Please.”

Mani heard that, and took on that look that said she was truly calculating now, not just politicking, and Cajeiri took in his breath, prepared to go take hold of Irene’s arm if he must, to moderate whatever she did when mani spoke.

“The tunnels the youngsters have used are locked, aiji-ma,” nand’ Bren said. “The boys may be together in the locked sections, or not. Bjorn’s father came to Irene’s apartment to ask whether Irene knew where he was, but Irene was not permitted to answer.”

Irene nodded. “Yes.”

“We have the ship-folk for allies,” mani said. “We hear the stationmaster will be Gin-nandi.”

“Yes,” nand’ Bren said, “she is, aiji-ma. Gin-nandi has already taken over.”

“Then arrest Braddock,” mani said with a flick of her hand.

Everybody took in breath. Except mani. Except Irene, who stood there expecting just that. And there was Cenedi, who, right along with nand’ Bren’s aishid, would arrest Braddock this instant if they had Braddock near at hand.

“This man has been a nuisance long enough,” mani said. “Now we know where he is. And is not this station, like the ship, penetrated with service passages which you say are locked. Surely we can unlock them.”

Bren-nandi and Jase-aiji were not immediately against it, Cajeiri saw it in their faces. But there was sober consideration there, too.

“If it is an atevi operation with Gin-nandi’s consent,” Jase said, “my governing consideration is not leaving hostages, or having damage. I may not have heard about this in any timely way to prevent the move. Once it begins, I shall back the ship’s allies.”

Sometimes Jase-aiji’s Ragi was a little confusing. But not this time, Cajeiri thought. He understood perfectly that Jase was standing back and saying mani and Gin-nandi could do what they liked. Cajeiri had his hands clenched behind him, trying to restrain himself from saying anything that would set things wrong. But:

“I have maps,” he said.

“You,” mani said immediately, “are not going.”

He understood that. He longed to go. He desperately longed to do something. But he understood. If they were concerned about Gene and Artur and Bjorn being hostages, they would certainly not want him in Braddock’s reach, in any sense. And he could not impress them by saying otherwise.

“Yes,” he said, “but I have the maps, mani. All the places. All the routes. Irene-nadi helped me draw them.”

“Nand’ Bren has my map, too,” Irene said. “With my section. Where my mother’s apartment is.”

· · ·

The notebook was indeed in code. A fairly effective code, at least to Bren’s eyes, as they clustered around the dowager’s dining table.

“Freight tunnel. F24-01,” Cajeiri said. “Is that not how Bjorn would go, Reni-ji?”

“Yes,” Irene said. Proprieties or not, they had hot tea and cakes at the formal dining table, which had become the center of business, with Cajeiri’s notebook and Irene’s folded notes spread out. Lord Geigi sat consulting a handheld device with a station schematic, which provided the precise location and address, given the children’s notes. Bren translated, where vocabulary met gaps, in either direction. Jase simply observed, officially not seeing a thing.

“If he was trying to get home from his lessons,” Irene said in ship-speak, which they had insisted was the best for the purpose, F24-09 is where we all would meet. And M298 is how you get between 23 and 24.”

“M298,” Geigi said in Ragi, “is an old and generally unused maintenance tunnel from the original station construction. Even a tall human must guard his head in such places. They are rarely inspected.”

“But they retain pressure,” Tano said.

“Yes,” Geigi said. “When the doors shut, likewise the section’s tunnels are locked and sealed. Heat and pressure continue, as with the rest of the section: they fare as it does.”

“And, Reni-nadi,” Cenedi said. “Your apartment.”

The dowager had retired to her office, having made her demands. Guild—his aishid, the dowager’s, Geigi’s, and the Guild observers, as well as Cajeiri and Irene—clustered about the dining table which the dowager had not hesitated to provide. They took notes from Geigi’s diagrams and from Cajeiri’s notebook and Irene’s . . . quickly so, in the theory, as Banichi put it, that they had an unguessably short time before Braddock woke up, realized his first hostage had fled the apartment, and sent his people to look for Irene in the logical places—notably Artur’s apartment and Gene’s, over in 24, which was not sealed from 23. Braddock’s people might have already taken Artur: they had not asked about him. They might have taken Bjorn. There was no knowing. Moving himself and his lieutenants closer to the section 23 door, only a hallway away from that vital checkpoint, Braddock had put himself in a prime position to assemble a mob, make his demands by way of the ship-folk guards at the doors, who had communication with exactly the people Braddock would want to reach, and in the same move, he had had Irene under lock and key, secure, with no fuss—until Irene had stolen the key and finessed her way into ship-folk hands.

“This is the master key, the one that can override everything in the apartment.” Irene had reached in her pocket and laid the red card on the table. “My mother’s. I was very quiet leaving. The main door makes very little noise. I locked it when I left. But they have to call Central to open it, without the master key. And the com is out.”

Irene, in her element, had unsuspected qualities, Bren thought. Where had she kept the clothes? Behind her nightgown, deep in the closet. The stolen makeup and the scissors? Under her mattress. The boots—hardly the sort of item to conceal under a mattress? “I wore those. I liked them.”

Had she planned it? Likely she’d started thinking about escape when the doors closed, when Bjorn’s father came, when she’d found reason to worry about the others.

And when word had gotten out that the shuttle had arrived, when she hoped she’d have high-level help if she could get out, she’d disguised herself, working fast, opened the apartment door and locked it.

And if they were extremely lucky, Braddock might still be asleep, oblivious to the fact his prime hostage had escaped.

They had Irene’s address, in A-level, very near the section 24 doors. And they also had the mother’s master key.

That key, that unlikely square of plastic that locked and unlocked everything in that apartment, was an inspiration.

“Geigi-ji,” Bren said, “we do not really need this key to get in, do we?”

“No,” Geigi said. “Not while we maintain control of Central.” Geigi’s face, ordinarily genial, was very different in this deliberation. “More, nandi, what is not generally known, Central can lock or unlock all apartments in a section at once, and set the code so that this key will not work.”

“All locks?” Bren asked.

“All locks of a given category in a given section can be unlocked or locked—or have their codes changed—from our boards.”

“Could Mospheiran Central do this?”

“That is a question,” Geigi said. “Within a single section, a single category, such as section 23 residency, all lock codes could all be set to zero one, which no extant keycard can then open. Once all set to zero one, the entire category can be completely recoded. It was a setup procedure, not used since, that we can tell. Currently if a person is accidentally locked in or out, procedure is that the resident calls Central, produces the correct account number, which is read through the lock, and the command is sent to that lock. But that is the only part of the recovery procedure that is currently in operation. We found the category reset feature years ago, during setup on the station. We were never sure Mospheirans knew it, but we did not find it useful to mention when they wrote the modern manuals. So when it came recently to the issuance of keycards to the Reunioners, we let our human counterparts handle that operation, and watched with curiosity what they would do, with such a large number to process. They worked quite hard at it, card by card, with long lines and some altercation. So we believe we know something they do not.”

No, Lord Geigi, discovering such a drastic capability under his hands, would certainly not hasten to advise the Mospheirans. Trust had not run that deep.

“How long would it take?” Cenedi asked.

“The set to zero one is instant,” Geigi said with a shrug. “The reset goes at a computer’s speed. One believes we can set to zero one and then back out of the situation, restoring the old codes from the backup files just as quickly. If that fails—” Geigi shrugged. “We can equally well unlock all those doors at once. But that would be a reluctant choice.”

“Is not communication shut down,” Ruheso asked, the senior Observer, “so these people cannot call for help?”

“Tillington mandated a communications shutdown in all the Reunioner sections, excepting only official announcements. We can likewise restore that service at any time, and if the backup fails, it would seem to be a good time, indeed. Tillington’s act also shut down relays we might wish to use, and shut down worker communication inside the tunnels. If we restore one—we restore all. But I believe the Guild can actually manage without those, until we choose to restore communication with the residents.”

“We can,” Geigi’s Guild-senior said. And Hanidi, of the Observers, likewise nodded.

The Guild could indeed manage a detail like their own communications. That went with them, one of those details on which the Guild generally didn’t comment.

“A Guild operation entirely,” Bren said, “would be my choice.”

It was a political question—which security organization would go in after Braddock. Mospheiran security nominally had sole control of the Reunioner sections, but Gin was still en route, and even if she could trust officers whose most recent commander was under house arrest, they were not the ones to go into Reunioner territory to arrest Braddock, not with the political situation Tillington and Braddock had set up.

The Captains were maintaining order by holding the sections shut and guarded, and by seeing to supply through the distribution centers. They had access. Armored personnel could easily walk into that hall, as physically close to the doors as that apartment was, and retrieve Braddock with no harm to themselves.

But using armor units posed a political problem of its own. Jase was the captain on duty for now, but very soon fourth-senior Riggins would take over. “Promise me asylum,” Jase said, not entirely facetiously. “Four units, battle armor, kitting up for shift-change right now, and walking right through that section door if you want them. Short and sharp and done.”

“No,” Bren said, “we need you politically safe.” He changed to Ragi, which everybody present understood. “Fault me where I am wrong, nadiin. First step is to disable all Reunioner residence keys in 23 so we do not have a crowd running the halls in panic. We access the two apartments in question. We arrest Braddock and his lieutenants, who will be locked in, and extract Irene’s mother. Simultaneously, we search the tunnel Bjorn Andresson and the other two boys might have used and bring them out if we can find them, while the first team questions Braddock and his lieutenants about the boys. Second step, with or without success in the tunnels or with Braddock, is three teams entering the boys’ separate residences by the nearest service passages and extracting anybody we find there to a safe location. At that point, barring further information, we restore public address in the Reunioner sections, ask them to protect the boys wherever they are, advise the other commands what we’ve just done, and, we hope, reset their locks to work. One cannot believe Ogun-aiji will be that unhappy to learn Braddock is in custody. We hope not to disturb 23 and 24 too much in the operation. Section 26 need not be inconvenienced in all this, but if they must be, nandi Geigi, do as you must, whatever you think prudent to stop a crowd forming.”

“You need me to translate,” Jase said in Ragi. “I am already in this. My bodyguard will get no blame for following my orders. And their suit systems can communicate with others, if they have to. One asks we operate as much within my watch as we can . . . and my time is running out.”

“Let us identify the tunnel accesses in question,” Banichi said. “And memorize the maps.”

“In that matter, search teams may use this unit,” Geigi said, handing the unit with the schematic display over to his own Guild-senior. “It is not dependent on transmission.”

“Are you going into the tunnels?” Irene asked from beside Cajeiri, a young human voice, in Ragi. “Please let me go. The boys will answer me.”

Unconscionable—under other circumstances; but finding one boy—or three—who wanted to stay hidden, in a tunnel with countless machinery installations and storage . . . Irene’s was the one voice they would believe. “Yes,” Bren said, and saw Cajeiri start to speak. “You, young gentleman, know your responsibilities. No, you should not.”

Lips closed. Hard.

“Nor can I go,” Bren said. “In some situations my presence is an advantage. In this one I would endanger everyone. You, young gentleman, have a mission with the kyo, the same as I do.” He wanted to go. It was always hard when he had to send his aishid into harm’s way, and wait. And wait.

But there were things he could do meanwhile.

“Get permission from your great-grandmother to go with me. I shall oversee this operation from the vantage of atevi Central, where there will be information. If you wish, you will be able to see everything there.”

“Yes!” Cajeiri said, and hurried.

“Nawari and I claim Braddock,” Cenedi said quietly, having attended something coming through his earpiece. “Sidi-ji will very likely come to Central, to answer any questions of authority.”

“One would be grateful,” Bren said fervently. Treaty law, and a step toward removal of the Reunioners, was the only thing that might quiet Ogun’s objections. “Banichi-ji, the search of the likeliest tunnel. Can we undertake that, simultaneously with the move on Braddock?”

“Your aishid can undertake it,” Banichi said sternly. “Irene-nadi, however, will be an asset.”

“My workers,” Geigi said, “will gladly assist.”

“We shall need a translator in the other searches,” Jase said. “If we get nothing from Braddock, my personal bodyguard and I will move into the tunnels with Banichi.”

“Let us go, then,” Cenedi said. “Time is running. It will take half an hour to position ourselves, with the workers’ assistance.”

“On your signal,” Geigi said. “I shall call senior workers to meet you. Service tunnels penetrate the divisions at certain points, and you will be able to go and come as you wish, with their help.”

“Call them,” Cenedi said. “And let us move quickly. Sidi-ji will arrive in Central with an escort. Nandi, how soon can you lock the doors?”

“Within a few moments after I reach Central, nadi. I have written down the sequence of commands in a manual I keep. I wish to be sure of them.”

“Let us go, then,” Cenedi said. “Sidi-ji and the young aiji will arrive as she pleases.”

“Sakeimi,” Geigi said to the fourth of his aishid, “you will stay to escort the aiji-dowager. Let her meet no inconvenience.”

“I’m signaling my bodyguard,” Jase said, “to armor up and meet me at the interface. Best we hurry. Once Riggins starts asking for my handoff, he’s going to be highly frustrated.”

Bren translated that for the others, rose and put a hand on Irene’s slight shoulder. “Irene?”

“Sir?”

“Go with Banichi, stay with him wherever he goes and if there should be trouble, hide in a dark place and trust we’ll come back for you. We absolutely will come for you. Captain Graham’s going along to be sure your mother is safe. And if you and Banichi can’t find anybody in the tunnels, our next step will be the addresses you gave us. And if they’re not there, we’ll keep on ’til we find them. Got it? If you get separated from my bodyguard for any reason, don’t call out, don’t try to catch up. Get into one of the maintenance shelters, get into a cold-suit, and wait. If you absolutely have to, exit on the Mospheiran side and ask for Gin Kroger. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” she said in a small voice, and got up from the table. Everybody did, and Hanidi said quietly, “Wherever we can be of service, nandi.”

“We shall be searching in two sections,” Cenedi said quietly. “Attend Jase-aiji. His bodyguard does not speak Ragi, and they will be guided by atevi workers once he leaves us. Stay with him wherever he goes, and be sure he understands his guides.”

· · ·

Jase, Cenedi and his men, and the Observers took the first lift, Banichi, Jago, Tano, and Algini, with Irene, immediately took the second, and Geigi’s man Haiji pushed the button to call a third.

“The dowager is coming,” Geigi said then, just as the car arrived.

“Hold for her,” Bren said. Ilisidi was coming, and with her, Cajeiri and Cajeiri’s young aishid, at the dowager’s pace. They held long enough for the lift to advise them, in a mechanical voice, that long holds inconvenienced others.

The clock was running on Jase’s shift. Distances and procedures—a simple traffic condition in the lift system—could run their margin closer. Not to mention what happened to their timing if Ogun woke up and wanted to talk to Jase.

Promise me asylum, Jase had said. It was Jase’s sort of levity. But it was also dead serious. Ogun could well cast blame on Sabin if the operation against Braddock failed. Ogun could take over the operation if it worked.

But if it failed, if it came to a contest between Sabin and Ogun, with Jase’s future in the balance . . .

Riggins would have been negligible in the whole game—except Riggins sat out there, Ogun’s man, in possession of the ship . . . and ultimate ship-folk power.

At his own suggestion, that was the hell of it. It had seemed a sensible idea at the time.

Ogun certainly wouldn’t have Gin’s assistance if Ogun went against Sabin. And Ogun damned sure wouldn’t get the aiji-dowager’s approval.

But that sort of standoff was by no means the situation they wanted to get into.

Ilisidi arrived at the lift, with her company, and Cajeiri and his. She leaned heavily on the cane as she walked, not her habit, and gave a deep, discontented sigh as she joined them.

“Go in, go,” she said with a wave of her hand. “We understand there is an urgency.”

She hurt like hell, he guessed. The long trip and hiking about the long halls had been hard on her. But she knew exactly what she was doing, and she well knew what her presence was worth, in politics, representing the government that was the station’s major source of critical supplies. Be damned to those who thought an atevi request for compliance was of minor import.

God, he loved this woman. Loved. He had been thinking human for hours.

Tillington was down, having crossed Geigi.

Braddock had had the bad judgment to cross the dowager’s great-grandson.

Would Ilisidi order Cenedi summarily to remove the man from further troubling them? On Earth, that required a Filing.

Up here, under the Guild Observers’ direct witness?

One had no idea what sort of signal she might have passed to Cenedi.

And, though he had a little twinge of conscience, he conscientiously didn’t ask.

· · ·

The lift let out again a short walk from atevi Central. A man and a woman in Guild black guarded the shut doors to Central operations. And two men in workers’ green waited there. Geigi signaled them, excused himself to speak to them, a hasty delivery of instructions before he hurried after them.

The dowager with her bodyguard, Cajeiri with his own, continued. Bren followed Cajeiri, with two of Cajeiri’s young guard behind, and none of his own. He had not been without his aishid, waking and sleeping, in—in what length of time he could not remember. It was a strange, a frightening feeling, as if he were hyper-extended, part of him headed clear across the station, at great risk, if things went wrong. The tunnel environment itself held dangers.

He was not going to let things go wrong. There was little he could do, from here, in the detail sense. But if his aishid or any of the others found themselves in trouble—he would act. He would act if it took calling down every influence he owned or could borrow.

As they entered Central, techs at their stations, realizing their presence, began to rise.

“Sit!” Ilisidi thumped her cane against the deck, instantly stopping all such movement. “Please attend your duties, nadiin! We need you to pay attention there!”

Geigi, entering his office briefly, ordered a padded chair brought out, providing Ilisidi a place to sit. When he came out again, he strode into the center of the room, with an open notebook in hand, and began giving rapid-fire orders to this and that station.

Locks and codes were at issue. Geigi gave step by step directions, reviewed instructions with certain stations.

And meanwhile a pot of tea, ordered from the adjacent service area, arrived at Ilisidi’s elbow.

Bren stood and watched the screens, such as he could. Listened, for what he could gather of their units’ progress.

Cajeiri stayed close by his great-grandmother, talking to her, watching anxiously as Geigi moved from section to section of the boards, giving orders.

Twenty-nine minutes gone, since they’d arrived in Central. Jase’s duty was about to end. Riggins would be due to take over.

The suspended screen above, triple-faced, changed from numbers to an image of darkness, a green glare on machinery.

Banichi? Bren wondered. That camera was body-mounted, possibly borne by one of Geigi’s men, moving in haste, within one of the tunnels.

Then he heard, on speaker, voice contact from Jase. And unmistakable behind the moving shadows, as the camera-bearer turned, two white figures, large as atevi, glared ghostlike in the dark.

That was Cenedi’s group on screen. Jase, with his bodyguards, Kaplan and Polano. And the Guild Observers. The move was underway, headed for Braddock.

Geigi meanwhile, continued up and down the row, giving orders, supervising what had to be a tight sequence of events.

There was nothing for the rest of them to do right now but stay out of the way, and cling to that murky image, that distant mutter of voices, one of the two operations currently underway. Cenedi’s team was moving very fast, presumably with Geigi’s workers leading. Occasionally a green-lit girder flared into visibility, and slipped away, distorted at the edge of sight. 12, Mospheiran numbers said, on a girder.

At what stage his own aishid was in their operation, he had no word. There was no contact with them, yet, that he could tell. But Guild didn’t seek contact with directing authority until the Guild-senior in charge decided a report was due.

There was one resource, and Bren hesitated to resort to it. It had been for other contingencies, other emergencies—in case. It breached regulations. He reached into his coat pocket, felt the presence of that Guild com, told himself he could do damage if he resorted to it. This wasn’t the time. His aishid didn’t need his interference. He would embarrass them if they knew he was holding on to it like a superstition, a surrogate presence. But he was. As if wishing could help them.

The image on the hanging screen shifted then, flicked to another, larger, area with tanks and pipes casting strange shadow in a moving light.

A young human voice called out, “Bjorn? Gene? Artur? If you’re here—come out! It’s all right! It’s me!”

That was his aishid, with Irene, underway in their search just about the time Cenedi’s group was prepared to move into the apartment corridor.

The white readout in the sidebar next to that dark image said six past the hour.

Six past. Into next shift. Riggins was in charge—except Jase was not going to be handing off with a report any time soon.

“Doors in the residencies in 23 and 24 have now reset,” Geigi said quietly, the first report from him, in his close attention to the boards. He was talking to someone, likely his own workers. And the apartment doors were all locked. The master card for Irene’s apartment was in their hands. And if that household had waked, they would not spend long before realizing Irene was missing. And that the master key was missing.

“Nandi,” one tech said, turning. “Riggins-aiji seems to be asking for Jase-aiji.”

Good guess Riggins was looking for Jase.

Everybody was going to be looking for Jase-aiji in a few minutes.

“Mospheiran Central officially shut down all operations half an hour ago,” Geigi said. “Gin-nadi has handed all control back to us. We shall decline to answer Riggins-aiji.”

“Nandi,” the tech said, and simply pushed a button.

Ship-com was going to be asking a lot of questions.

Meanwhile all apartment doors, throughout sections 23 and 24, were supposed to open from the inside, using the master cards, but those honest souls who had not had their master cards stolen were now finding that their cards wouldn’t work.

And their com service had been cut off days ago. That was very a scary situation, and they could not maintain that for too long before people became completely panicked.

“Bjorn? Gene? Artur? Come out! It’s all right! It’s safe!”

The display had switched again. Cenedi’s, Bren thought. For a few moments the display was green-lit pipes, and blackness, and shadows.

Then a white-lit wall flared bright. A door opened. Camera view adjusted to low corridor lighting.

“Retain the first thread, nadiin!” Geigi said to his techs. “Hold on that source.”

Over audio came Cenedi’s voice, in Guild code. The video image jolted, veered to the right, to a broad, deserted expanse, a low-light image dimmed by distance and motion.

Then the view jolted repeatedly and turned right again, in a flare that momentarily washed out the image, then reestablished it as another station corridor. The camera jolted, suddenly shoved aside by a trio of Guild at a run, someone saying, in Ragi. “This way!”

“Station One,” Geigi said, “Unlock A113 and A112 in 24. Now. Cenedi! The doors are unlocked.”

“One hears,” Cenedi’s voice came back, jolted by running. Bren became aware that Ilisidi was levering herself to her feet, using her cane. He moved to assist as Cajeiri did.

“Pish!” Ilisidi said, shaking them off. Her attention was for the screen.

Guild in the lead stopped, became a black wall between the camera and a door. The door slid open. A woman cried out in alarm and indignation, an outcry culminating in a series of shrieks. The camera caught up, jolted, showing furniture, a flailing arm.

“Hold her,” someone said, and audio had the sound of crashing furniture. Image became suddenly a second, interior door, and a struggle, two fast moves, and human voices, male, at least two in number, angry screaming.

Screaming became ship-speak words. “Stop! Stop! Stop!”

And Jase’s voice. “Drop the knife. Drop it! You’re under arrest! If you want to be under ship authority and not atevi, drop it now.”

One wouldn’t translate the reply to that. Bren stood still, holding his breath.

“You’re theirs,” Jase said, to which there was a stream of profanity, and something hit the wall.

“Two men are in custody, Braddock and one injured,” Cenedi’s voice said. “Irene-nadi’s mother is safe.”

Then a second voice, Nawari’s, Bren thought: “Unit in 112. We have two more in custody, one male, one female.”

“Search both premises for records,” Cenedi said. “Addresses and contacts. Take the prisoners to the tunnels.”

“What’s he saying?” an angry voice asked in ship-speak.

“Mr. Braddock,” Jase answered that, “he wants the location of those kids. And if you don’t answer him, I won’t be sympathetic. Where are they?”

A leather-clad arm reached past Jase, grabbed Braddock by the collar, and yanked upward. Braddock flailed, yelled, grabbed at an implacable grip and gained nothing.

“Where are they?” Jase asked.

“You want them, let me go!”

“Let him breathe,” Jase said. “Talk, Braddock!”

“The girl ran! Dammit, you’re choking me!”

“That’s one,” Jase said, dead calm. “Where are the others?”

“We don’t have them! We assumed you did!”

“The parents?”

“They’re under guard. Safe.”

“In their own premises? Or yours?”

“Theirs.”

Good and bad news. Jase translated, rapidly for Cenedi, which served for the dowager and for everyone in Central. The dowager said, quietly, into the unit she was holding. “We claim custody of them. Bring them.”

Cenedi said quietly. “Aiji-ma.” Then: “Take them to the tunnels and secure them. Wari-ji, if he will walk, let him walk. So with the others. But do not release them for an instant.”

“No!” came from Irene’s mother, several times repeated. “Let me go! No!”

The whole company began to move. A shriek. Several shrieks. Presumably Irene’s mother was moving with the rest, with no choice about it.

Curiously there had not been one question from the woman about her daughter. Not one query.

That was information, too . . . which he hoped not to mention to Irene.

“Nandi,” Geigi said. “We have an inquiry from Ogun-aiji.”

One was not entirely surprised. And Ogun would certainly not improve with waiting.

“Aiji-ma,” Bren said, excusing himself toward the indicated console. He took up the offered headphone, slipped it on.

“Captain? Bren Cameron.”

“I’m suddenly missing a captain, Mr. Cameron, and 24 and 23 are in the middle of an incident. Doors are locked with people wanting in and wanting out of their premises, and in a fair panic about it, including people we do communicate with off the main system, with a riot starting in the B24 barracks. Would you know anything about that?”

“The aiji-dowager has just extracted Braddock and several persons connected to him, without bloodshed. The operation is continuing. We’ve taken custody of one of the children Tabini-aiji asked be under special protection, with one of the parents, and we’re in the process of locating the others.”

“You didn’t rescue that kid. You got him from perimeter security!”

“Her, sir. Yes, we did.”

A moment’s silence.

“Mr. Cameron.”

“Sir.”

“Where is Captain Graham?”

Damn. Jase had apparently shed his locator. Or Jase was going to claim malfunction.

“A moment ago, within 23, sir, he was extracting Mr. Braddock and his aides. That group’s now gone back into the tunnel system to ask Mr. Braddock some questions. Three of the children are missing and presumed to be in danger from Mr. Braddock’s people, whether as hostages or attempting to hide from searchers. The aiji-dowager asks your cooperation in this action, Senior Captain. The loss of those children would have a severe effect on atevi relations.”

“Tell the aiji-dowager—” Ogun began. But he left it there for a long moment.

“Captain Graham has not wished to burden you with what could be a failed effort, sir. I believe that was his reasoning. If it goes wrong, you will be able to say it didn’t happen on your watch.”

“That, Mr. Cameron, is unmitigated crap.”

“In point of fact, sir, with the kyo heading toward us, this would not be a time to have ship command tainted with a failed operation and a breach with the aiji-dowager.”

“I told you I don’t take threats.”

“I assure you the aiji-dowager doesn’t issue them. We will not be in that situation, sir, since we intend to find the children and extract them and their parents to safe-keeping. We hope to have those locks reset within half an hour. A public announcement from ship-com that the lock reset process is now underway will calm the sections.”

“Mr. Cameron.” There was another lengthy pause.

“Captain. We protect our allies. This is why we will protect you.”

“Your planet-bound authority is making decisions with people the history of whom you damned well don’t know, Mr. Cameron.”

“An authority that’s spent two hundred years learning how to communicate with foreigners. With each other, sir. There have been tense moments, and there have been quarrels. There have been moments when we’ve each pursued our extreme self-interest, but if we forgive each other our necessities, sir, we do get along. I’m asking that. I am asking that wisdom of ship command right now, sir.”

Lengthy, lengthy pause. On the hanging screen, Banichi’s search was proceeding. A young girl’s voice continued to call, “Gene? Artur? Bjorn? Can you hear me?”

“Mr. Cameron, I’m going to go have my breakfast. When I finish my breakfast, I’d like to hear that the door locks on a major slice of this station are well on their way to a fix, that the riot in 24 is under control, and that Captain Graham has finished his foray into an area that is due to become a purely Mospheiran concern when the shuttle docks. I want the principal troublemakers isolated and I want those three locked sections to stay locked until I get the last of the problems off this station on a priority basis. Will you convey that request to Ms. Kroger when she arrives?”

“Thank you, sir. I will do exactly that, and I’ll recommend your advice.”

“Don’t mess this up, Mr. Cameron. You stirred this up. You fix it. And don’t push your luck!”

The contact clicked out.

“Is Jase-aiji in danger?” Geigi asked.

“One has offered Ogun-aiji the certainty he can collect credit if Jase-aiji succeeds,” Bren said. “He understands he can shed the ship’s responsibility for the children, succeed or fail, and he has been able to express his displeasure to me without involving Sabin. He is probably not entirely unhappy, at the moment. But I need the public address. I need to tell these people that the malfunction is in process of being fixed.”

“Indeed,” Geigi said. “We can enable that. If you will make the statement, we will broadcast it, Bren-ji. Come.”

God. What to say. How much to say. The operation was ongoing, and they hadn’t gotten all of Braddock’s people, hadn’t gotten the parents out—the less information Braddock’s people got, the better.

Things broke. It was a lot to say something had broken that locked up an entire section of the station, with all its fail-safes, but it was the best story he had.

He took up the mike. He said, “Citizens. This is Bren Cameron, speaking from atevi Central, which is at the moment in process of fixing a local computer problem that has affected the door locks. Please be patient. Technicians look to have this problem solved very shortly, and we apologize for the inconvenience. We retain the ability to open all doors, but in the interests of your personal security and privacy, we prefer to restore keycard function. Some changes are in progress, and you may look forward to having Mospheiran Central back in full function tomorrow, with the arrival of a new stationmaster, who will be working closely with the atevi stationmaster and the Captains’ Council. We are in contact with the approaching kyo ship and believe that we can manage a peaceful exchange with them. Their visit is not unexpected, and we expect it will be a confirmation of the understandings we have already reached with them. Please be assured, your safety and your future are not a matter of negotiation. The President of Mospheira considers you his citizens, along with those born to the planet. There will be more news once the new stationmaster has arrived. Meanwhile please be patient. Whether you are locked out, or locked in, please allow us about an hour, perhaps less, and be patient. There is no general malfunction. It is limited to certain locks. Thank you.”

No promises. No wider statements. He returned the headset and drew a deep breath. He hated having to speak cold. Especially to people who’d been damned well put upon and hammered down and pushed to the limit for the last decade and more.

No one in the room with him knew what he had said, or what he had promised those people.

Well, perhaps one had understood a lot of it. Cajeiri was at the dowager’s side.

And Geigi himself understood a lot more than he ever admitted.

“Bjorn? Artur? Gene?” he heard from the speaker, a shade more desperate than before.

Then: “Bjorn!” he heard Irene say, and he looked up at the screen overhead. “Bjorn, it’s me!”

He turned, looked up at the image on the screen—a place undistinguished from the rest of the tunnel they’d been searching—girders, machinery, ducts, and a narrow walkway. The camera wasn’t picking up what Irene had seen—then did, as a lumpish shadow lumbered toward them.

He heard something. If there had been an answer to Irene’s call, the mike didn’t pick up.

“It’s all right!” Irene called out. Someone knocked into pipe, raising echoes. “It’s me! It’s nand’ Bren’s people with me! It’s all right! Keep coming!”

Cajeiri arrived at Bren’s side, for the closest possible view. “Can they hear me, nandi? Can I talk to them? Can they see me?”

“They cannot hear or see you, young aiji, but they will be coming here.” There were two cold-suited figures in the light now, a tall boy and a shorter, younger one, whose freckled face suddenly showed clear as the light swung over them. The boys flinched, and shielded their eyes and the light traveled past.

“Artur!” Cajeiri exclaimed. “Is Gene with them?”

“Nadiin,” Banichi’s deep voice said, within the pickup, “you are safe. Is Gene-nadi with you?”

“Gene. Not here,” Artur said in Ragi. “Not see.” And in ship-speak. “He never got here. Bjorn almost didn’t make it. We met at the rendezvous, but Gene—Gene didn’t get here.”

The two had reached the tunnels before the shutdown—had run for them at the closure warning, met and hid together. They’d managed to get cold-suits, at least, likely from one of the emergency shelters, maybe emergency rations and water that wasn’t frozen . . .

“Gene would not be caught,” Cajeiri said. “He would be hardest to catch.”

“What would he do, young aiji? If Braddock’s men came, what would he do?”

“He would hide. He would take care of his mother and he would hide. Once everybody heard the kyo were coming, he would know we were coming. I told everybody we would come.”

If anything went wrong, if there was any trouble, they were to go to Lord Geigi or nand’ Jase. That was the pact the kids had made. Irene had gone. Two of the boys had had the tunnels close on them before they could make it out.

Gene might have gotten caught before he could get there. The next part of their operation, before they released the locks, was to reach the kids’ parents; and that might turn up Gene.

Or he could be in the same predicament, but not in the same tunnel system.

There was some sort of tunnel access in Gene’s apartment complex. Cajeiri’s notes and Irene’s had said it was accessible. And if Gene had taken longer than fifteen minutes getting from it to the new tunnel system, if concern for his mother had delayed him, or if Braddock’s men had moved faster . . .

“Attend your great-grandmother, young gentleman. I shall advise Jase.”

Geigi stood over near the boards, and Bren went there, quickly, said, quietly. “Bjorn and Artur are safe, but Gene did not reach them, and Ogun-aiji reports rioting in 24. I need your workers to continue to search the modern tunnel all the way to its end, in case Gene has used another shelter. We need to contact Jase-aiji.”

“Sit,” Geigi said, and ordered a contact with the workers with Jase.

Cenedi and Nawari had Braddock, presumably on their way out of 23 and headed toward a lift that would get them to atevi Central. Jase and his bodyguard were moving to join up with another team, consisting of one atevi worker and two of the dowager’s men, who were en route to Bjorn’s residence, closest to Irene’s, to extract Bjorn’s parents and any of Braddock’s people they found. A second such team, heading for the edge of section 24, was setting up to move in on Artur’s apartment, with no translator, but with the hope of finding Artur, who would translate.

There was a third team moving toward Gene’s residence at the far side of 24, a small apartment next to a section of barracks and a food distribution point, one of the sections of old station tunnels and storage areas, where distances meant more exposure of the team and more risk . . . and that was where the trouble was. That was where their lockdown hadn’t prevented trouble breaking out, trouble possibly because of the lockdown.

And Gene, of all of them to be missing, the kid who’d mapped the tunnels on the ship.

They’d planned their action logically, by the architecture of the area, starting from 23, Braddock first, then Bjorn, then Artur, as nearest, both those very quickly.

But Bjorn’s father had come to Irene’s apartment looking for his son. And since Bjorn hadn’t been in Braddock’s hands, Braddock had known right then that one of the kids had slipped his reach. He might have gone straight for Artur and Gene at that point.

Then he’d have discovered he’d missed Artur, as well.

That would have left only Gene, the boy neither ship security nor station security had been able to contain.

Everybody who’d made a move on the kids so far had gotten it wrong.

Only hope they’d gotten it wrong with Gene. And that Gene was as resourceful in the tunnels as Bjorn and Artur.

“Bren,” Jase said. “How do we stand?”

Contact made.

“We have Bjorn and Artur safe,” Bren said in Ragi. “Gene, however, was not with them, and I understand order in 24 is breaking down. I think get down to 24, meet up with Cassimi, get Gene’s mother out, find out what she knows, and pick up the families in 23 when we can. I’m worried about the situation down there if we delay the reset.”

“Excellent on getting the kids,” Jase said in ship-speak. “Not so good in 24. Getting word of a breakout and disturbance somewhere around 18-main—some looting, traveling bands.”

Eighteenth cross-passage on the main corridor. Gene’s apartment was in block C18, at 21.

“If you can get to the area—”

“I’m going. Moving now.” Jase’s voice carried, hard breathing and the sound of movement around him. “But those apartment blocks in the twenty-four eighteens? Aren’t like the ones here in the twenty-three. Worker with us says the main corridor in the twenty-fours is reskinned old construction center, two hundred years old, and they’re not sure armor can get through those tunnels, because there’s ladders. Apartments on our map they say are all temp paneling, bolt-to-frame, sixteen to twenty units per area. Atevi can make it but we may have to go in without armor.”

Damn. Ad hoc planning, and a scaling map.

They’d had no choice. Had none now.

“There is no cover from the freight access to that address,” Bren said, “but you could go in with armor. That’s tunnel’s got to be a level run.”

“We’ve got disturbance in the eighteens, there.” Jase was breathing hard, still moving. “Getting that word from the door watch. Freight access is good, but we’ve got a hundred, hundred fifty meters of exposure from the freight access to Gene’s address. It’s right in the middle of the disturbance. We don’t want to use weapons.”

Listen to your aishid, Tabini had said. And his aishid had strong words for him when he involved himself in tactical matters.

Tell Jase to turn back? Give up on Gene—who probably would have taken cover? Braddock’s people were no more likely to find Gene than Jase was.

“Keep going,” Bren said, and turned and looked at Cajeiri. Beckoned.

A word to his great-grandmother and Cajeiri started toward him at a run that turned into a fast walk.

“Young gentleman,” Bren said, “Jase says Gene-nadi’s residence is not like Irene’s. There is trouble in the area. The place is not secure. What would Gene-nadi do, if he could not get through the tunnel?”

“He would hide, nandi. He would hide. Gene’s access—there is no lock. There is a panel. Where the conduits come in from the big ones. That is Gene’s tunnel. A very little one.”

“We need the official map,” Bren said. “Nand’ Geigi.”

Geigi gave orders, and the console went to area map, the area of 2418.

“The address is number eight in 2418-A12,” Bren said, resisting the impulse to touch the display. “We are looking for a passage, an access—a service panel.”

“At the back. At the lavatory,” Cajeiri said, “in the inside wall, nadi.”

“Deeper, nandi,” Geigi said to the tech controlling it. “On the service access.” Focus went deeper, to colored lines. “The blue is potable water. The black line is recycling.”

Lines going to a larger bundle, that reached, via a symbol Bren didn’t recognize, to what seemed a conduit, joined by other lines, blue, black, green, and red.

Cajeiri quickly pointed to a symbol on the display and said, “Here.”

“The hose access,” Geigi said, and reached to touch his stylus to the master diagram. “How does this join, nadi?”

“Bren?” Jase asked, on the earpiece.

“We’re working on it,” Bren said. “Keep going as you are.”

“Hose.” Geigi drew a deep breath. “We need one of the maintenance workers,” he said, and gave an order to one of the techs.

“Gene said he climbs,” Cajeiri said at Bren’s shoulder. “He said once he climbs. He gets there outside most times. But he says there is this way, too.”

Vocabulary in the kids’ interface was sometimes sketchy, but it was thus far bearing out. Two routes. One outside, reaching the freight access, which was somewhat more exposed.

And a second one, that was not on the chart.

“Maintenance is also looking at this map,” Geigi said, holding his own earpiece close. A red line appeared on their display, a rough stylus mark, tracing from the lavatory through several bends, and stopped. The stylus mark circled that.

“Water is pumped to section 24,” Geigi relayed the information, “from a tank in the freight tunnel, at bulkhead 18. There are such service accesses at all endmost water sources, and there is a small transverse passage for a supply hose behind the section wall, which serve various installations on this level. The area is pressurized and heated enough to prevent freezing. It comes from a meter and valve assembly in the adjacent freight tunnel. There is a service access in the freight tunnel.”

“Are such accesses locked?”

“Nadi,” Geigi asked of his remote contact, “will these have locked with the lock reset or with the general section seal?” A moment. Then: “There is no containment except the freight access lock, which is an independent system, but it will lock and unlock with the freight access lock. A freight access can unlock from the inside if the section seal locks are not engaged—as they are, now. It shares security, heating, and pressurization with the general area.—Nadi, a man cannot, but could a child do this?” Geigi listened, and relayed, “A child, Bren-ji. Or a human.”

“Jase. Gene’s area freight access. Go there.”

“Copy that. What am I looking for?”

“Gene, if we’re lucky, if he’s gotten out. He couldn’t get out either end, and that tunnel’s not been opened since.”

“It terminates in the Mospheiran area,” Geigi said. “I can open that end with no difficulty, at Jase-aiji’s request.”

“I’m doing my best,” Jase said. He was running. Bren heard that.

He sat there, with Cajeiri at his shoulder, feeling they were so close, so very close to getting all the kids safe, at least, and the adrenaline was running out of him. He didn’t want it to. He just felt it go.

And they still had the parents to extract. Units were moving on that . . . with no translators.

“May I talk to Banichi, nandi?” Bren asked. Geigi relayed orders, and a distant deep voice said,

“Nandi?”

“Banichi-ji. We are working to reach Gene’s area. Are you able to talk to the units in 23?” Meaning those moving on Artur’s and Bjorn’s addresses. “Can the children translate for them, on com?”

“We are in contact, nandi,” Banichi said. “The children are providing information and words the parents will understand, and are available on com.”

“Understood.” Trust Banichi to handle the details. Wishing Guild to stay safe was itself an order, as his aishid had dinned into his human sensibilities, and he refrained from giving it. “Baji-naji, we are making progress. Ending.”

Jase’s input was back in his hearing. They were moving at a steady pace, armor using its assists, by the sound of it. He didn’t trouble Jase with chatter. Jase was getting directions from the workers guiding him.

And it was going to take time to get positioned, while unrest might well seek to breach that freight access as a way out.

“Go attend your great-grandmother, young aiji,” he said to Cajeiri. “Get her sugared tea if she will have it. She must be exhausted. This will not be immediate. But we are working on it. I shall advise you when we are in reach.”

“Your hand is shaking, nandi.”

“One confesses to anxiety.” It was embarrassing, to have the boy notice it. Likely everyone else did. “But not to despair. Go. See to your great-grandmother. She is far too tired.”

No reply. Cajeiri went away, and Bren sat where he was, lacking the will to get up, the coherency to assemble thoughts on what to do next. Jase kept the contact open and he sat there, hearing Jase’s running footsteps and the action of the armor near him.

Then the opening of a hatch and Jase’s hard breathing. “Going to cut you out now,” Jase said. “I’m entering 24. I’ll be coordinating with my units.”

“Got it,” Bren said, and the contact switched out.

A cup of tea arrived beside him. Geigi had ordered two. He picked it up and took a sip, and it was strong tea, sugared to the point of syrup. He winced. He hated the type. The sugar hit his stomach, a questionable moment.

“Nandi,” one of the techs said, down the row. “Nandiin, we have a variance in the kyo signal.”

Mental whiteout. Panic. He picked up the tea, took another sip, spilled some onto his hand, if not his coat. He set the cup down, a carefully controlled action.

Drew a deep, deep breath.

The brain was here. It had to be there. Fast. Accurately.

“Bren. Ilisidi. Cajeiri.” It was a voice like rocks clashing. “Prakuyo an Tep. Speak.”

“Give me contact,” he said. He was numb for the moment. His heartbeat jolted, it was that strong.

“Contact is established,” Geigi said calmly. “Proceed, nandi.”

“Prakuyo an Tep,” he said, clearing his mind of dark tunnels and lines on a chart—summoning up the mental image of a huge, gray presence, a voice that, strange as it was, held a reassuring familiarity. “Bren-paidhi.” Counting the pause, he took another sip of tea. Swallowed it with difficulty. “Come.”

He’d done it. Issued the come-ahead. Dock. Meet us.

“What is our time lag on that,” he asked, “from them?”

About ten minutes, was Geigi’s answer.

Approximate. But close enough.

Ten minutes before Prakuyo could hear him. Ten minutes, twenty, thirty . . . he was obliged to hold up, keep his wits about him, think, if the kyo handed him a problem.

God, the sugared tea was making him sick.

“Artur!” he heard from across the room. “Bjorn-nadi!”

Cajeiri had made contact of his own. But he could not divert his attention.

He was not wholly surprised, however, when a living shadow came up behind him. Banichi and Jago, Tano and Algini had turned up at his back, having delivered three of the youngsters to atevi care.

“The kyo are talking,” he said to them without looking around. Vision fuzzed, fixed on the schematic that had turned up, this time with a moving dot. Jase was there, somewhere.

He heard another approach near his seat, light footsteps, a quiet presence.

“Nandi.” Irene’s young voice. “We could go to Jase-aiji. We could help.”

Explain that the situation was dicier than that? That they weren’t sure of anything? That it wasn’t safe, where Jase was? Cajeiri had filled them in. Told Ilisidi, as well, what was going on.

“Bren?” he heard from the earpiece. Jase’s voice. “Bren. Got some good news. The crew in the freight tunnel . . .” Out of breath. “Got him. Got Gene. And his mother.”

“Got them! Thank God. Are they all right?”

“Cold and thirsty, need medical, maybe. But they got out. They’re out. They don’t need me at this point. They’re in atevi custody. Ship-com isn’t answering. I’m on my own. So I’m delivering them to the only authority that’s talking to me.”

“You’ve got the dowager’s backing. Mine. Geigi’s. Gin’s, for that matter. Get back here.”

“Soon as I get a report,” Jase said.

He took an absent-minded sip of the awful tea. Swallowed. “You’re on.”

A second sip, still staring at the screen, waiting.

“Meanwhile,” he said in Ragi, “I am speaking with Prakuyo an Tep. He has made contact. He will likely answer my invitation in a moment. And I shall answer him. Then, likely, we shall have a little time.” Two measured breaths, with the sounds of young voices trying to be quiet, in the heart of Central. “I think, nadiin, the dowager definitely should wish to rest now. Tell her I shall deal with the kyo. I thank her for standing by us. Beyond that, beyond that—I think I shall have to shift my attention to the kyo ship.”

A weight descended on his shoulder . . . Banichi’s hand, rare gesture from an ateva. “Understood,” Banichi said. “Do as you need to do. We are here. We shall be here. Gin-nandi will provide relief, and deal with Ogun-aiji. And we shall deal with the kyo when they come.”

· · ·

They had gotten all the parents, and Cajeiri met them—everybody’s parents but one. Everybody had gathered in Lord Geigi’s sitting room, being served tea and cakes, retelling their adventures, how they had hid, and were afraid even to turn the com on, until it came on by itself, and they had heard nand’ Bren telling people he was there, and they were safe.

Then they had gotten up and headed out, because nand’ Bren had said he was there, and they were going to go down to the exit and try make themselves heard. Gene had heard, too, and headed up to the joining with 23.

Now Gene and Artur and Bjorn were all going to spend the night with their parents, in Lord Geigi’s beautiful guest quarters. The parents were all happy and relieved to have them safe, and absolutely overwhelmed at the quantity of food and the beautiful furnishings and Lord Geigi’s hospitality.

Everybody but Irene.

Irene had told her story, but solemnly so, without the excitement or the laughter—how she had cut and stained her hair, stolen the key and just walked out; and how she had gotten the guards at the doors to take her to Lord Geigi. Irene did laugh a little, because she was glad to be safe, and to have everybody out, and Cajeiri was glad about that. But Irene made a silence around her story. The other parents put arms about her and thanked her, and told her they were grateful.

But Irene’s mother was not with them. Irene’s mother was still with ship security, and ship security might not let her go right away. Nand’ Bren had said he was going to ask Gin-nandi to get Irene’s mother out. Tomorrow. And meanwhile Irene’s mother was safe, and the ship-folk would see she stayed safe.

So Irene said she was glad about that.

But now Irene just sat in a chair in the corner, looking tired and sad, now that the excitement was dying down and the others were helping Lord Geigi’s servants talk to their parents.

Cajeiri went over to her and pulled a chair over close to hers. “Nand’ Bren will do what he said,” he told her. “And your mother will get here.”

“She can go away,” Irene said quietly, and drew a deep breath. “She will not be happy with me.”

“You will not be obliged to see her, if you wish not.”

“I wish not.” Her eyes shed water that trailed down her face. “I wish to be in Tirnamardi. I wish to be at Najida. I wish us all to be at Najida.”

“You shall be,” he said. He was determined about that. “I shall make it happen.”

She wiped her face and clamped her lips together. “You will try.”

“I shall do it.”

That brought a very small spark. A slight smile. “Here is all right.” The smile died. “If the kyo do not attack.”

“Nand’ Bren will fix things,” he said, and added: “And there is good news! Nand’ Bren says it is definitely Prakuyo an Tep, and I shall be glad to see him! He said he would come to see us, and I shall talk to him, right along with nand’ Bren and mani, and solve everything!”

It was a little immodest, if it had been under less scary circumstances. But Irene took courage from it.

Nand’ Bren and mani had both gone to bed. Mani had simply dismissed them all to Lord Geigi’s care the instant she reached her apartment, saying she had given instruction for her own dinner. Jase-aiji had gone off duty—well, he had been off-duty since the whole search of the tunnels began, but now he had to explain everything to Ogun-aiji and Sabin-aiji, who were not necessarily on the best of terms. So Jase-aiji was not having a pleasant evening, and they had not seen him at all.

Lord Geigi, too, had disappeared with his aishid a little while ago, and one rather suspected he had gone to bed, because he had been on duty in Central and only sleeping in small naps for days.

Now their party was winding down in exhaustion. They had not that much energy left. Mani’s physician, nand’ Siegi, had had a look at everybody who had been in the tunnels, and patched the cuts on Gene’s fingers—Gene had gotten them bending a piece of metal out of the way, so he could pull his mother up a very difficult ladder. Gene’s mother was a very little woman, who by no means looked strong, but she had made it. And she had had one little glass of vodka, that was all, and nand’ Siegi had said he wanted to see her tomorrow morning.

They were all strangers, all to get to know.

And Gin-nandi was coming to help them, on the shuttle that was coming in. Gin-nandi would talk to the Mospheirans and she would talk to the Reunioners and calm everybody down.

Secretly there was a plan by which everybody could come down to the world. But he was strictly warned not to mention that.

He wished he could tell Irene more than he had said, but he had already pushed the edge of what he could say.

“When everybody goes to bed,” he said to Irene, once people began to talk about going to their rooms, “come with me to mani’s apartment. We shall be very proper. There is a room for you, next to mine. Veijico will give you her bed, and Veijico and Antaro can take Jegari’s and Lucasi’s, and Jegari and Lucasi can sleep with me. Everybody will be glad if you come.”

Irene thought about it a moment. “Will your great-grandmother be upset? Or Lord Geigi?”

“By no means. Come. Tomorrow mani will sleep late, and likely nand’ Bren will sleep until Gin-aiji comes; and Lord Geigi will go back to Central early, because his people are still holding on there—they have to do that until Gin-aiji can call the Mospheirans back to order, and until they get all the door locks proper again. But Lord Geigi told nand’ Bren that is almost done. Come stay in mani’s apartment and we shall come back here for breakfast with everybody.”

Gene came over. And Artur. And Bjorn, who was with them for the first time.

They were all together, all worried about Irene.

But Irene was going to be with them, and right then he made up his mind he was going to see to it that, whatever Irene’s mother wanted, or whatever her associations turned out to be, none of it ever separated them.

Nand’ Bren would say exactly the same. He was absolutely sure of it.

Contents

Also by C.J. CHerryh

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18