Tracker (40 page)

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.