Tracker (34 page)

He wondered if they had heard he was here, and wondered whether, just possibly, once everything calmed down and nand' Bren came back safely, Lord Geigi might answer a private question and tell him what might have happened to his mail.

There was nothing but idle talk, with tea. Talk about production schedules, about weather on the coast. He sat and sipped tea while baggage carts rumbled in the depths of the hall and staff back there began to sort things out. Clothes would be going into closets and belongings would be set where they should be. They were settling in—and it was still uncertain what was going on over on the human side of things, or up where nand' Bren was.

Jase-aiji was watching Tillington. That was a good thing. Jase-aiji and Sabin-aiji, who was almost as fierce as Great-grandmother. Tillington would feel her staring at his back, whatever he did.

And his aishid, standing with the senior Guild outside the door, would be asking questions he could not ask. They would be talking to Lord Geigi's bodyguard, right along with mani's young men, and mani's men would be asking questions his aishid did not know enough to ask, finding out things, so his aishid could tell him what was happening without his breaking promises.

Clearly some people, including Tillington-aiji, were not being smart. People were acting as if only their way mattered, while people as dangerous as the kyo were arriving.

Reunioners knew firsthand what the kyo could do. And he knew. And all the fuss among themselves was just stupid. But no one was interested in hearing a boy say so.

The kyo will come someday,
he had said to his associates two years ago, when he was much younger, when they were all sitting together in the dark of the ship-tunnels, and he had told them about meeting the kyo face to face.
But we will know what to do when that happens.

Nand' Bren will know what to do.

He still believed that. He truly did.

Cenedi went out to the foyer and came in again, gave a little nod to mani and another to Lord Geigi, and a little one to him, too.

“Nand' Bren is returning,” Cenedi said. “He has gained Ogun-aiji's agreement on some matters of import, but they have not yet resolved the situation in Central.”

“At least there is progress,” mani said.

But it was not agreement on everything that was going on, and people were still being stupid.

Maybe tomorrow nand' Bren would work the rest of it out.

But Cenedi said, too, “Nand' Bren pleads he is quite tired, and wishes leave to deal with his staff.”

That was a disappointment. He wished he could go across the hall.

But likely nand' Bren said that because he wanted to think.

“As he should,” mani said with a wave of her hand. “Advise him so.”

T
here was at least, Bren thought, the hope of a quiet transition—granted Ogun didn't, the moment the door was shut, call Tillington in for conference and create a worse mess.

Bren personally hoped for better from Ogun. He hoped they had made headway on more than one front. And a double-cross didn't make sense, given what was truly in Ogun's own best interests—unless there was an emotional side to the question, and there
was
certainly emotion in Ogun's dislike of Sabin.

But one didn't get to be Senior Captain by being a fool. And in playing the one piece of advantage he'd had, the disposition of the Reunioners, he'd given Ogun a path that led in a better direction for everybody, Ogun included. If Ogun saw it.

Or believed it. There'd been a long history of deception, all along the ship's course.

He couldn't undo that. He had to keep on Ogun's good side. He also had to stick by his own allies, including Sabin, and he had to do it without making trouble for Jase in the process. Sabin was all the fallback they had, if Ogun turned unreliable.

He'd been unspeakably glad to put the ship-folk's stationside administrative section behind him.

He was gladder still to be in the lift headed back to atevi territory, and when he and his escort passed the door into the aishidi'tat's executive residency, it was as if he'd finally found breathable air.

The corridor was quiet and deserted as he and his escort entered. His own door was across the hall from the dowager's apartment doors, down the hall from Geigi's. Cenedi's man, with a parting courtesy, went across to Ilisidi's door, and the fact that Geigi's men, also leaving him, likewise went over to the dowager's door, said that there must be a meeting still going on.

But he had too much going on at the moment, and to his advisory message, the dowager had relayed a gracious encouragement to go settle in and rest.

Which was a great relief. Right now he wanted no more input, nothing that would require a defense or even an explanation of what he had just done—because there
was
no answer until Ogun did whatever he decided to do, and he had so many pieces and particles suspended in his head. He needed to take notes. He needed to remember just how the argument had flowed, and everything, every nuance, every hint of Ogun's guarded expression.

He reached his own door with only his aishid, and without them so much as pushing the button, it opened.

The spicy smell of pizza wafted out. Narani and Jeladi were there to meet him, with Kandana and Sabiso, with Asicho and Maruno, and people he had not seen in far too long. It was celebration. It was his staff. His people.

“Nandi! Nand' Bren!”

Faces beamed with happiness. There were more people in the hall, Bindanda, the whole staff turned out.

He found a smile, an expansive gesture of thanks, least he could do. There had been conspiracy about this welcome, one was quite certain: pizza could not have happened on station commons. There were a few faces sensibly a little worried—seeking some hint of the situation in his demeanor, but he could not spread fear in his own staff, either. He gathered up his energy and broadened the smile, and found their happiness pouring strength into him. Granted one did
not
seize on Kandana and Sabiso and the rest and hug them bodily, his gesture won smiles all around, happiness from one side of the little foyer to the other, and back into the hall.

“Nandi!” Kandana said. “Welcome! Three times welcome! Are things well?”

“They are indeed improved,” he said, shedding the traveling coat, itself a vast relief. He was offered another, a soft, favorite coat he had not seen literally in years, and such was the stress of recent weeks, the coat still fit. That was a surprise. All around him, familiar faces beamed warmth and welcome. He found himself energized, surrounded by people who, far from ordinary atevi reserve, touched his arm or his shoulder as family might, in sheer happiness to see him.

Pizza meant informality. People snatched a little piece and a glass of something compatible, and milled about in, for a courtly atevi party, a riotous good time.

“Welcome, nandi!” Sabiso bade him, handing him a glass. “Welcome! We are so relieved!”

“We were worried there might be a problem,” another voice declared. “But now we can deal with these strangers!”

“Our lord will bring the human folk to sense!”

Their lord sincerely hoped so—and didn't miss the fact the human situation found mention right along with the oncoming kyo ship.

He had no answer to give them. Not yet. He wished he could be in two places, here
and
across the hall, hearing what Geigi and Ilisidi were saying. But his aishid was in contact. Likely Ilisidi was getting more information than she gave, and if what she was getting from Lord Geigi was the atevi situation, that seemed in fair order. If what she was getting was Tillington's history—please God without Tillington's statement—he knew enough.

Best course, he decided, was right where he was, meet staff, draw breath, have a little supper, and honestly get some sleep in a proper bed, not the situation aboard the shuttle. He couldn't ignore these people now. He'd had to leave them when he'd come down to the world. He still couldn't help them get home, with shuttle space restricted as it was.

“So many welcome faces!” he said so everyone could hear, and weary as he was, felt a sudden dampness about the eyes, hoping it would not get worse. “And such a welcome! Nadiin-ji, thank you, thank you all! You have been so patient, so much more than I could have reasonably asked, under every circumstance.”

“Bren-nandi!” came the response, all of them crowded close. And from Kandana: “Welcome, nandi! Indeed, we
know
you will bring order out of this!”

There was, of course, tea. The household was a little short of wine and brandy, supplied from the world below, but there were certainly spirits to be had—vodka distilled from what, one dared not ask. He hesitated at taking any alcohol, still fearing a summons.

But none came.

And there were, aromatic as the pizza, fresh teacakes. The orangelle flavoring was a special treat up here, and they had brought a lot of it.

There was news, the new windows at Najida, the children's visit—he met and talked with every individual of his little staff. He answered questions about relatives, and the Bujavid staff, name by name, where they were, how they were.

But tea and sugar could only carry him so far, with, finally, a small glass of vodka. Exhaustion was setting in, and he went to what served as his sitting room and simply collapsed into a chair for a moment of peace and silence.

Strange how one conversation with Ogun could have sapped that much energy. But it had. And he was very glad the dowager had spared him a formal report tonight, because nothing he had tried to do was concluded, and nothing was certain.

Finish the vodka. Have one more cup of herbal tea. Go to bed. That was his plan.

“Go off duty,” he told his aishid, who had come in with him, standing, after all this. “I hope things will be quiet for at least a few hours, but they will assuredly not stay that way. The shuttle from Mospheira is coming in two days behind us, and I am hopeful now we shall at least have Ogun's silence while we manage a transition with Tillington. I shall talk with the man tomorrow and see if I can persuade him to stand down. Well done. Rest. Please.”

“Bren-ji,” Banichi said with a nod; and here in the heart of a loyal staff, they left for their own quarters—likely not to sleep yet, but to trade condensed information with Cenedi and with Geigi's staff, and then, he sincerely hoped, they would take their own overdue rest.

He picked up the requested cup of tea, and was about, with two extra sips, to go get some sleep himself.

The door opened. Jago came back in, having hardly had time to go all the way down the hall, and with a look like business.

“Bren-ji.
Jase-aiji
is on the phone.”

Phone
meant another sort of instrument, on the station. This one arrived in Jago's hand, a device like one of the Guild units, and a glance told him what button to push, not needing to leave his chair or plug anything in. “This is Bren,” he said, while Jago waited.

“Hear you just talked with the senior captain.”

He'd come home, exhausted. Gotten distracted. No, he hadn't called Jase. Or talked to Sabin. Or even thought about it.

Never
take your allies for granted. Big mistake. Especially with Sabin.

“
Good
conversation, actually,” he said. “I think we agreed on most points. I hope you haven't heard anything to the contrary.”

“No. Actually not. Everything is quiet here. I was thinking about dropping by your place on my way off-shift.”

God, he couldn't. The minute he'd met the glass of spirits, his brain had started turning to homogenized mush, the more so now that he'd sat down alone in quiet. He'd not reported to Sabin. She probably wanted information, and asked Jase to get it.

But running from Ogun right back to Sabin . . .

No, he
shouldn't
have done that. He was dropping stitches even thinking he should have gone to her. He'd done the right thing going straight to Ogun. Sabin would know that. Absolutely she would. And he'd done right, to come straight home.

Jase, on the other hand, could be signaling him about another problem. They could cover the visit with the party winding down in the dining room.

“Sure,” he found himself saying. “We're sort of settling down for the night here. But you're very welcome. Hope things have gone all right.”

“Peaceful regarding the visitors. No change in the signal. They're signaling us, probably automated, at a fixed interval. We repeat it at that interval. We're not changing anything until—”

Jase broke off.
Something
was happening where he was.

“Just a minute,”
Jase said.
“Stay with me.”

Adrenaline kicked up. Bren waited. It was all he could do.

Maybe it wasn't an emergency. Maybe it was somebody just trying to ask Jase a simple question. Casual interruption.

If only it was that.

The silence went on. And on.

Maybe Jase had completely forgotten about him. Maybe Sabin was saying something.

Maybe some technical thing had developed a problem.

Maybe he should just end the call. Let Jase call him back when he had time.

He kept hearing voices. Strange sounds. Jase was carrying the com unit with him as he dealt with several people. He heard bits and pieces of instruction and query. Then:

“Bren.”

“I'm here.”

“Transmission just changed. Velocity hasn't. Course hasn't. The transmission has gone to audio, but I think it's a recording. I'll patch you in.”

Pop. Static. He heard then a rumbling sort of voice he hadn't heard in two years—and the world below them
never
had.

“Bren. Ilisidi. Cajeiri. Bren. Ilisidi. Cajeiri. Bren. Ilisidi. Cajeiri.”
And silence.

Three repeats. Like the pattern signal.

Click.
“What do we answer?”
Jase asked.

There was some sort of disturbance near Jase. He heard a voice. An angry one. Then Jase again:

“Stationmaster Tillington is demanding I get off the com. Captain Sabin is telling him to stand by for your answer and do nothing himself. The stationmaster wants their signal echoed as is.”

“No. In point of fact, we need to answer this one.”

“Go ahead. I'll capture. We'll play it as you direct.”

Call Prakuyo's name? They had no guarantee Prakuyo was on that ship, and no guarantee what Prakuyo's status was, whether currently in good favor or not.

“Bren. Ilisidi. Cajeiri. Sit. Talk.”

He had said it in kyo.

“Got it,”
Jase said to someone.
“Recorded. Transmit that three times in close sequence, on same interval as their transmission.”

He heard an immediate loud argument from someone near the com.

“You have the order,”
he heard Jase say then, angrily.
“Transmit that in the pattern as ordered.”

“Damn you.”
He heard that, too, and guessed it was Tillington.

“I'll talk to Tillington,” he said.

“He's all yours,”
Jase said, and evidently passed the com. He heard a click. Then:

“Cameron, damn your arrogance, you come on board here and start giving orders—”

“Mr. Tillington?” he asked, dead calm. An adrenaline surge did
wonders
for exhaustion.

“Mr. Cameron, you do not countermand an order from Central.”

“Mr. Tillington—”

“That's
Stationmaster
Tillington.”

“Stationmaster Tillington, I have dealt with these people. I established the protocols in the first—”

“You have no authority here!”

“I'm here at the request of the President and the State Department.”

“You don't represent a damned thing, Cameron! You have no authority! Your commission expired when you left your job unfilled and the continent in a mess.”

“Mr. Tillington, it would be in your best interest at this point to come to my office.”

“You don't have an office!”

“Effectively, I do, but I was about to say, despite the hour, I would also come to yours. The kyo may be responding to the shuttle arrival. Very likely they are observing—”

“You're not in command of this station and you do not give orders in Central!”

“Stationmaster Tillington, we need to hold a discreet and private conversation. We can do it in the morning, but in the meanwhile, that transmission needs to go out.”