Tracker (20 page)

But then—what was the kyo intention? Was the timing, a year, the passage of a reasonably temperate Earthlike planet around a reasonably temperate star, significant somehow?

Other things the kyo had done weren't what humans or atevi were likely to have done. Kyo had two legs, two arms, they breathed the same air and could eat the same food—with some sensible cautions. But there the similarities stopped. Their expressions were hard to read, their body language was obscure. They'd said they would come. Nothing more. Abstracts like
why
and
what for
were far too obscure for communication such as they had established.

And if the kyo were going to show up, he supposed a year was a reasonable time to wait. He
might
have thought so, if he had had time to think about the kyo in any great detail.

But he could quite easily think other things and draw other conclusions. The kyo might have used that time to go home, with some new information
they
had to talk over with their authorities.

Presumably the powers that governed the kyo had thought it over, discussed it—assuming there was a reason to discuss it—and likewise reached a conclusion that they should come visit.

If they were lucky, the kyo had sent the
same
ship. And
only
the same ship.

Assuming the blip out there actually
was
kyo, and not the kyo's unknown enemy—which had indeed crossed his limited conversation with them.

God. Now
there
was a black hole of consideration.

But he couldn't waste time thinking down indefinite branches of the problem. Five days to launch: that was his time frame. Three days to have all the bulky baggage at the port.

With the dowager still in Malguri and Tabini still unaware of the situation.

He had things to do. People to notify. Personally. It was nothing a note could convey—pardon me for bothering you today, aiji-ma, but I have just commandeered the shuttle, tossed the cargo off, ordered more fuel, and I need your son and your grandmother to go with me to meet aliens of indefinite purpose and disposition—

No.

No note was possibly going to cover
that
situation.

He went out into the hall and found Jeladi in the foyer. “Have we heard from the aiji, Ladi-ji?”

“Yes, nandi. The aiji will see you at your earliest convenience.”

“Then I shall go.”

“Nandi.” Jeladi went immediately to the foyer closet, took out his third-best coat, adequate for the job, and gave curt orders to a passing maidservant, who broke into a run for the back halls and the security station.

Bren slipped off the day coat, and Jeladi deftly whisked it over an arm and held up the other. Bren slipped his arms in, cleared his imperiled queue and ribbon himself, and adjusted the cuff lace with Jeladi's help.

He turned, in the process, saw Narani in his own little office, on the phone with someone—very likely someone involved in the logistics, and as he turned about again, he saw Tano and Algini coming down the hall, still buckling on their hardware.

He wasn't alone. He never was alone.

Thank God.

T
here was no drawing room reception in Tabini's apartment, no waiting for tea. Emergencies made exceptions to custom. There was just a meeting in Tabini's residential office, quiet, quick, with Algini in the room, Tano outside, and none of Tabini's own staff present. Algini was there to hear and pass on to his teammates and others what was done and said, and Tano, as a guard on the door at Tabini's own insistence, would not let any staff come near enough to overhear.

“This regards a matter of utmost urgency on the station,” Tabini said, leaning back in his office chair. “This much we are given to understand. Sit, paidhi.”

“Aiji-ma.” Bren took one of the two small chairs near Tabini's working desk. “A foreign ship has arrived in our solar system.”

It was surely not the sort of emergency Tabini had envisioned. He drew in a slow breath and frowned. “So. Is this the anticipated visitor, paidhi?”

“We hope it is nothing
other
than the anticipated visitor, aiji-ma. We have every reason to think it is indeed kyo, and that it
is
the visit we were advised to expect, but I have only the barest coded message from Jase-aiji, and I doubt he knows the nature of these visitors yet. He gave none of the codes we reserve for its positive identification. One believes that
Phoenix
has just now detected the ship. The station may not yet know. Likewise the visitors on that incoming ship may not yet realize they have been seen. We have no idea what their normal procedures might be. If they are who we believe, if they are coming to see how we conduct our affairs—they may observe for a while before contacting us. We have fifteen days before it arrives, if it stays at the same speed. At a certain point we hope they will break their silence and contact us. We have a set of responses that should be given to that move. And one does advise—with trepidation, aiji-ma—that we need to meet them up there and talk with them precisely where we left off, with exactly the original persons, the persons who last spoke to them.”

“Yourself, Sabin-aiji, Jase-aiji—my grandmother—and my son.”

“Indeed, aiji-ma.”

“Do you apprehend danger in this meeting?”

“Not personal danger in the meeting itself, aiji-ma. Potentially great danger to everyone on the station and on Earth if we and that ship fail to understand each other. But we parted last in agreement and we were able peacefully to collect the Reunioners and leave. I do not foresee personal danger to the delegation, no, aiji-ma, nor would I hide it from you if I did.”

“Tillington,” Tabini said.

There was no ready answer for that one.

“The Presidenta has made no definite move as yet to replace him?” Tabini asked.

“I do not know, aiji-ma. I have come to you immediately after hearing the news. I have called the spaceport and made some arrangements to secure passage. I have asked my aishid to inform the aiji-dowager. But regarding the Tillington matter, and the Presidenta, I have not informed him of this new emergency, and I do not have any word that he has taken action on Tillington's replacement. I still do expect it. But our time has suddenly become much shorter, and we are both constrained by the shuttle schedules.”

“The Guild observers?”

“One believes it might be best if they
could
observe the entire situation, aiji-ma; and their presence would give us several more skilled personnel up there—should there be any difficulty, their views might be of use. I am most concerned about the Reunioners' reaction when they hear the kyo are coming. They may panic. I am likewise concerned for Tillington's reaction, and for his leadership. But I count on firm support from two of the ship-aijiin, and I expect cooperation from the other two. They have more sense of who the kyo are than Tillington does, and more sense than the Reunioners will have of what our options are.”

“You believe you can deal with these people.”

“Our communication with the kyo is adequate for objects we can point to or demonstrate, things common to folk who work in space and deal in numbers—but abstract concepts, like
why
—we have not yet refined. The kyo received us at Reunion with courtesy and respectful ceremony. And your son exerted considerable influence over one of their number. How that forecasts their actions here—one cannot say.”

“Geigi's residency is secure up there?”

“Indeed. Physically secure, with barriers as sound as any on the station.”

“And you and your company will be residing within Lord Geigi's security?”

“Absolutely, in a section of several apartments and a common hallway, which is fairly close to the command center, and independent. Neither Tillington nor the ship-folk can control anything within the atevi sections: they are independent and secure even regarding the air and water and security functions. We shall reside in the atevi area, we shall speak from there, we shall contact the kyo from that vantage, and we shall generally use that insulation to keep all human quarrels out of view of these visitors. It was not human officials the kyo dealt with at Reunion: It was the aiji-dowager and your son—and myself, as your representative. I take the position this visit is to atevi authority,
not
to the ship-aijiin, not to Mospheirans or Reunioners.”

Tabini heard that, and thoughts passed through his eyes. Then he said: “I shall make it clear to the Guild what your authority is, and it will be, save my grandmother's presence, as if you bore my ring a second time.”

That was a powerful statement. An affecting statement. Bren gave a little bow of the head. “Aiji-ma, one will consult.
Whenever
possible.”

“Considering rank of these visitors—who do you think they are? What do they want?”

“I have asked myself that. I have wondered whether their statement they would come was ever more than a courtesy. I have asked myself what they
would
want if they did come. Sending even one ship such a long distance is a massive investment of resources. My thinking, one regrets to say, was only guesswork then, and it is no better now. But our last encounter left them with two questions which, in their place, I would wish to know. First—were we truthful in our representations to them that our two species really live at peace here? And second—do we pose any threat to them and have we deceived them to hide that? One does not know how to read their nature. We do know they used weapons against an unarmed station, but it seems, by all I can learn, that they were provoked by the ship's intrusion into their space. We know that they crippled the station instead of destroying it. They then sat and waited for a response. I think they wanted to find out what we would do.”

“A very dark supposition indeed.”

“I put nothing off the chart where they are concerned, aiji-ma. And I do not conceal my worry. Understand that they could track the ship going and coming as clearly as a trail through meadow grass. There was no pretending our course to reach Reunion had been other than it was. Ship-folk knew there was a risk of being tracked, but their determination to remove records and find out what had happened there overrode their fear. I do not think they remotely expected a kyo presence after such a passage of time, nor did they detect it . . . and one suspects they were looking for it and taking precautions. One has learned from this, at least, to believe the kyo have abilities the ship-folk did not expect—but that places their actions beyond predictability. I cannot even say that the ship we now detect has not
been
there for this entire last year. The kyo lay hidden at Reunion for more than ten years. Is it curiosity and inquiry? Or is it a hunter's patience? I do not understand the technology. I cannot swear to understand the character of those I met. They
seemed
reasonable individuals and they
seemed
to acknowledge personal indebtedness, in terms of the one we rescued from captivity on Reunion Station. On that very scant foundation, aiji-ma, I have laid everything. Certainly we did not invite them to come. We were presented the proposition they
would
visit us. Asking them not to come seemed more dangerous than agreeing.”

Tabini nodded somberly. “We do not encourage landing.
One ship
brought us humans, and changed the world. We scarcely manage with that association. We do not want another.”

“One understands. One entirely understands, aiji-ma, and I shall discourage that, but I think their physical discomfort in our environment is also a discouragement to any landing. If one can venture a guess about their purpose and their actions, I think they will look to see how we live down here, how advanced we are, how warlike we are, how we build and what we do. They have seen only one human ship. They have not seen its weaponry—which is more the use of tools the ship has for other purposes, tools which can be formidable as weapons. The kyo may have no sure knowledge that
Phoenix
is our o
nly
ship, and for various reasons I do not wish even now to make that clear to them. They may also wonder if we have any contact or association with their enemies.”

“We certainly do not wish to join their wars.”

“I shall make that clear, too.”

“And I forbid foolish risks up there—to my son, to my grandmother,
or to you.
If we lose you, paidhi, we lose our principle means of dealing with these strangers.
Trust your aishid.”

“My aishid reminds me sternly of that requirement, aiji-ma.”

“If you can restrain my grandmother, it will be a wonder. My son, however, will follow orders this time. He
must.”

“He
will,
aiji-ma.”

“I have the duty to inform my wife.”

That was not going to be a happy task.

“Assure her, aiji-ma, that we shall do everything to protect him and bring him home safely.”

“We shall support you. Whatever permissions or orders you need, we shall give.”

“I do need a document for the Port Director, nandi, giving me the power to order what I have already ordered. Dated an hour ago, if you would.”

Tabini nodded. “That you shall certainly have. Supplies, transport, any manner of thing.”

“Thank you, aiji-ma.”

“Do not stand on protocols hereafter. We have spoken. We have agreed. You have told me what you know and what hereafter you must guess. Leave informing me to your subordinates and concentrate on the details. We approve whatever things you need. Go bring us a solution, paidhi-ji.”

 • • • 

Four days to do everything. Launch on the fifth.

“The word has gone to the dowager?” he asked Tano and Algini on the way next door, back to his own apartment.

“Yes,” Algini said. “We have it confirmed from Cenedi.”

Rare, in strictly normal operations, that he should get that sure a knowledge of how that information ran. But knowing Cenedi was on the case helped his stomach. If Cenedi was now engaged, the dowager was, and he was no longer running the operation solo.

The apartment doors opened. Narani and his valets waited to exchange his coat a second time, a ritual undertaken almost non-stop in his course across the foyer, and with no delay at all for courtesies or questions.

He went immediately to his office, and left the door open for emergencies. Tano and Algini lingered in that doorway, silent query. Narani arrived just behind them, present, but not intruding.

“Nadiin-ji,” Bren said to Tano and Algini, “we are settled in for a while. Do what you need to do. —Rani-ji,” he said to Narani. “Come in, please. I need to consult with you.”

There were staff decisions to make. For three and more years, he had had very good people stranded on the station, maintaining his residence there. They had Geigi's staff and the dowager's similarly stranded caretaker household for company. There was a large community of atevi workers.

But until recently there had been no room at all on the shuttle for any exchange of personnel even on an emergency basis, let alone small staff furloughs down to the world to visit their relatives. He had used personal privilege, gotten a few people down to the planet in answer to emergency situations, sent a few up, and he understood—Narani had reassured him of it—that the fifteen now left up there constituted a very tight association, a sort of family who did not want to be broken—nor should he reward their service by bringing staff in to take over their jobs.

Up there, he would be relying a great deal on those good people. He was sure he
could
rely on them. But there were a handful of personnel he was used to working with, and who were used to reading him—notably the ones who had been with them on the ship, the ones he had brought back down to the world as soon as it had become possible—and now needed back up there with him.

He sat down at his desk, and angled his chair toward Narani.

“Nandi.” Narani bowed. An old man, showing his age: Narani lately dyed his hair black—a little point of vanity—but his face had experience written deep on it, gained in some very hard places.

“Rani-ji. You may know the kyo are arriving, and I have to go up to the station.”

A little hesitation in the space he left—but not even the lift of an eyebrow. “One has understood so, nandi. And one also understands that there is a political difficulty among humans on the station.”

“You never fail me, Rani-ji. We hope the meeting with the kyo will be a peaceful discussion, that it will not take us away from the world for long, and that human problems on the station will not intrude on the kyo matter, but I shall be inventing my responses as I go. I have no good map of either situation. I am composing a list of those staff going with me. I shall be very glad to rely on the household on the station. I have every confidence in them. But I ask, Rani-ji, have you any desire to make the trip up—not necessarily to resume your post there, but to stand by me personally and handle small emergencies? Seating is limited. Very few staff can go. I can swear at least, a solemn promise, that I will bring you down with me and back to this apartment as soon as the emergency is over, but I cannot say when the emergency will end.”