Precursor Page 10

  “The aiji has his requests to make of the Guild… one of the foremost to be sure there are adequate quarters for us. We will cooperate, if there’s any difficulty in that regard. The other matters…” He let the statement fall, not willing to lie to them. “Our missions are separate. I don’t know how long it will take. I hope for the same turnaround. If not… we’ll hope they find somewhere for all of us. I do regret the surprise.”

  “Well,” Lund said. “Well. It is a surprise.”

  They had to realize now that their job had just become far more complex, that they weren’t going to get unfettered access to the Guild up there, if they had ever laid elaborate plans in that regard. They couldn’t be pleased with that. Managing their own reencounter with the Pilots’ Guild, when the Pilots’ Guild was simultaneously face to face with atevi for the first time in all history… they’d been sandbagged, in short. As he’d been, as Jase had been… as the Pilots’ Guild was about to be. It was a three-way maneuver, and Tabini had assigned him, flatly, to get ahead of the Mospheirans.

  “Well,” Jason said faintly, “good. I’m glad of the company. —Want to sit down? Fruit juice?”

  “Madi,” Bren said, deciding to force his way into the company from which Jase had kept himself isolated, in his room. It was an early fruit, green, biting and sour.

  Jase went into the dining nook, bent down to take it from the refrigerator… took down a glass.

  Bottled juice, poured into a glass: Jase had scandalized the staff, early on in the bottled juice experiment, drinking from a bottle; and not since.

  “Glass,” Jase said.

  “Glass.” Bren took his drink, settled… trusted Banichi, Jago, and the rest attended the questions of cargo and baggage. And weaponry. God knew what was going into cargo.

  God knew what the station would say.

  “So,” Tom asked, “what are you going to ask them?”

  “A working agreement. A means that doesn’t get Mospheirans or atevi dying in the labor force. The aiji specifically honored his agreement with you in his plans. In his terms, that’s adherence to the agreements. Work with me. I’ll work with you. Fact-finding, I’m very much in favor of.”

  “The facts,” Jase said in a faint but carrying voice, “the facts are, there’s a threat out there that may come here.”

  “Fact-finding,” Kroger said, annoyed. “We’re not prepared to make agreements.”

  “I am,” Bren said.

  “Mr. Cameron, this puts us in a difficult position. We need to contact our offices. Tonight.”

  “I intend to cooperate fully with your mission,” Bren said, “and hope for the same courtesy. Contact your offices as you like. The phone will go through, I’m sure.”

  Lund said, “We’ve left scheduling to the atevi government. Does the ship even know we’re coming?”

  “Probably not,” Bren said. “They will.”

  “Good God.”

  “It’s not the aiji’s style to make it possible for the other side to argue,” Bren said. “We have an agreement amongst ourselves. You don’t want to contract for labor in bad conditions; we don’t; they need us badly. That adds very simply. If we on the world present a reasonable case that gets them what they want in a timely fashion, we get economic benefits and we all get some sort of preparation against whatever threat comes over the cosmic horizon.”

  “Until what?” Kroger asked. “Until the aiji decides to surprise us with another maneuver we aren’t told about?”

  “He will do that,” Bren said. “It’s my job to make sure it’s as fair as possible.”

  “Mr. Cameron, you’re their representative.”

  If he weren’t Mospheiran he wouldn’t have understood that statement. Jase probably didn’t. And the species-based blindness that produced so obvious an observation ran cold fingers down his back.

  “Yes,” he said, “as I’ve made as clear as possible. I hold a rank within Tabini-aiji’s court, I hold my Mospheiran office only because no other paidhi can get a visa, and over that I have no control. Your interpreters can tell you I don’t control the issuance of visas in the aiji’s government. I will negotiate on the aiji’s behalf. I will speak on the aiji’s behalf to Mr. Graham, here, who you might remember speaks for the Guild. That is his function. So we shouldn’t burden him with witnessing too much. On my own, I apologize for the shortness of the notice. For the aiji, I don’t apologize, because it’s perfectly reasonable. Explaining that point is my job. You won’t have to explain it to the Pilots’ Guild. I will. If, on the other hand, you want to request a plane to take you home tonight, I can arrange that.”

  There was a lengthy, heated silence.

  Anxiety, anxiety, anxiety, on every front. What new technology would arrive to disrupt the economy? How could manufacturers bet on known factors in the economy when something could fall out of space and throw all calculations awry?

  At least within their imaginations, fortunes were at risk; their independence as Mospheirans was at risk.

  “Ultimately” he said, ”humans don’t rule this planet, but you don’t want to be ruled by the Guild, either. The aiji fully supports your position.“

  “Well, now,” Lund said, clearly the peacemaker, while Kroger scowled, the lines of her face set in what now looked like a habit of fury. “We have political stability to consider; we’re not splintering off into a second colony.”

  “That’s always a hazard” Bren agreed. ”The aiji would agree.“

  “And I say we aren’t here to negotiate,” Kroger said.

  “And I am,” Bren said quietly. “I don’t negotiate for Mospheira. But I think the Guild will rather well expect something to result besides fact-finding. I think we’ll exit with some kind of agreement, because I know the aiji’s prepared to move to the next stage.”

  “Then let atevi die working for the Guild,” Kroger said.

  “I’m sure he’s not prepared to have that happen,” Bren said, “and I’m sure the Guild’s perfectly happy to have the goods they want without loss of life. On the other hand, there can be profit in this for Mospheira, including the fishing industry, food, and electronics… the usual areas of specialty.”

  Electronics was lately in danger, but Mospheirans were still convinced of their superiority.

  “Finished goods,” Bren said, to Kroger’s scowl. “That’s what Mospheira has tended to do. We have the lift vehicles; you have specialized manufacturing and you process the kind of foods the station needs far more reliably.” No alkaloid poisons, that was to say; humans were naturally very careful of that sort of thing. “You want the status quo. There’s no reason to see that change. Humans who want to go into space, I’m sure will find a place. Humans who don’t will have their way of life undisturbed, and the aiji’s prepared to guarantee that point.”

  Kroger’s face relaxed ever so slightly. “We’ll hear your proposal.”

  “I’m making it. A guarantee of stability. Freedom to come and go. Protection for Mospheira against any demands or encroachment.”

  “You can’t guarantee that.”

  “I know the aiji’s position. I’m very confident of it.”

  “He can’t withstand the Guild” Kroger said, and cast an uneasy glance in Jason’s direction, as if for a heartbeat she’d forgotten who and what he was. ”He’s not able to withstand them.“

  “He can,” Jase said, and drew all attention, but that was all he said.

  “He will,” Bren said, and set down the empty glass. “Jase. Mr. Graham. Will you allow me a brief consultation?”

  “I will, ”Jase said.

  Bren rose, resisted the habit of a slight bow. “Morning comes before dawn,” he said. “Gentlemen. Ladies.”

  “Mr. Cameron” Kroger said. ”Don’t take us for agreeing.“

  “No,” Bren said. They didn’t have the power, and he was sure they didn’t, but he had the uneasy suspicion he’d heard Kroger’s opinion, the anthropocentric side of Mospheiran politics. If she wasn’t Heritage
, she at least cast that shadow across the proceedings, and he wasn’t so sure Lund even realized it, if he had to guess. He’d have taken Lund for the problem, being out of Commerce, but he began to see compromise in the composition of this mission… Lund thinking he was in charge, but Kroger armed with understandings… he very much feared that was the case: understandings that had nothing to do with Mospheira remaining independent, and everything to do with the last regime’s aims at getting into orbit, getting in power, running human society in a way that had nothing to do with the general will of the Mospheirans as they were and everything to do with old, old agreements with the Guild.

  “But I will see you before daylight,” he said, and caught Jase’s eye as he left.

  Jase went to the door with him, to the outer hall.

  “Very much need to talk with you,” Bren said. “Never mind what they think.”

  * * *

  Chapter 6

  « ^ »

  A diplomatic, an official action, this first venture into space. To Mospheiran humans, that meant a balanced array of powerful men and women, human interests that could wangle a spot on the team all represented by someone—hence the circle of rooms around a central meeting point—no one more important than the next. Well, give or take the two Shawn Tyers had put in, Bren thought, walking the hall toward his own quarters… gathering up Algini and Tano in the process: trust that his security was never that far from him. They met him, walked with him, overshadowing him, in the black leather and silver of their Guild… good men, both.

  And surely Mospheiran dignitaries, given the chance to take more than two translators along, would like to have their secretaries, their whole array of support, including NSA and the appurtenances of Mospheiran dignity.

  But those seats on the shuttle were not free of cost, and on the whole, they’d rather be assured that if their competition was going, they were going, too.

  So they had four seats.

  But to atevi, the fortunate gods forbid there should be a laying out of the interregional issues of the Western Association in front of strangers, a diplomatic mission meant the highest representative of the court appropriate to the task, with his supportive community.

  And servants were more immediately essential than secretaries, although the four he had could double in that capacity. And security: no atevi lord was ever without security, day or night.

  Algini keyed open the door for him into the atevi side of the space center, and Narani met him, closely followed by the others, with deep, respectful, surely anxious bows.

  “Nand’ paidhi,” Narani said. “We had orders.”

  “One knows, Rani-ji. You’ve done a wonder, I’m very sure. Thank you all.”

  Reception foyer, a dining hall, a sitting room, several bedchambers for the lord and his security, who were never far from him. A bath, what atevi genteelly called the accommodation, a cloakroom, a security post, a reading room, a kitchen—all that was minimal.

  And when he and Jase had designed the place, in company with atevi architects, the requisite bedchambers and recreational facilities for, they had decided, a minimal four servants, since the servants had to attend the security personnel as well, and assure the security personnel had their minds utterly free to do their duties. Even if for some reason the aiji had sent a tradesman or craftsman… neither craftsfolk nor trades came as isolate individuals. The carpenter would have his apprentices, not to mention family and servants; the plumber would bring his own equipment, his apprentices, and if not servants and security, at very least some remote younger relative of a relative who made tea for the customers… how could one respectably do otherwise and answer obligations to the relatives? If the Mospheirans had a set of independent luxury rooms opening out onto a common room where varying interests could meet, the atevi answer was a single household, inward-turned, a hierarchy with a master or mistress at the top.

  “Jase is coming,” he said to Banichi and Jago when he passed the small security station.

  “Shall we include Jasi-ji?” Narani asked, following him.

  “He won’t stay, I much doubt it,” Bren said. “But he will come. We’ll have vodka, Rani-ji, in the sitting room. Might there be a fire?”

  “Immediately, nandi.”

  Jase being under other orders, it wasn’t proper, he suspected, to include Jase in his personal arrangements, not for the sake of a few hours. If he undermined Jase’s status as an independent representative of his ship, and if the captains took exception, that could prove a distraction. Only if Jase asked. Then they should, and he’d deal with the difficulties.

  He didn’t want a fracture in his understandings with Jase— above all else, he didn’t.

  And sure enough, Jase arrived not a minute later, in his jersey and that wretched jacket.

  The servants fussed and made despairing motions toward taking the jacket, but Jase complained of chill.

  Bren said not a word, only showed him to the sitting room and offered him a chair by a just-lit fire.

  Narani himself brought them ice, glasses, a crystal flask of Mospheiran vodka, set it on the side table and poured in that practiced efficiency that never seemed rushed, that seemed to urge the same deliberate slowing of pace on the whole household. Narani served them, received Jase’s quiet thanks, and ebbed silently out the door, shutting it as he went.

  “Cheers,” Jase said, in his own dialect, lifted his glass and took a sip.

  Bren took a sip of his own, second for the evening; but it was an uncommon evening.

  A damned uncommon evening.

  “I am sorry, Jase. I was utterly blind to this one; to the last, I didn’t see it.”

  “I have no trouble believing it.”

  “You didn’t say you’d had supper with Ilisidi.”

  A blink. “I did.”

  “I know you did. So did I. Why did she come?”

  “I’ve not a clue,” Jase said.

  “Do you think she knew what was up?”

  “I’m not surprised at anything where she’s concerned. Or Tabini.” Jase added: “I’d like to have stayed. Selfishly speaking. Is this, honestly, not cleared with the Pilots’ Guild?”

  “Of course it isn’t. Does Tabini clear any damn thing?”

  “No,” Jase said. “Of course he doesn’t.”

  “He doesn’t want the Guild to build its entire impression of atevi from you or from Yolanda, either.”

  “It wouldn’t be an accurate impression.”

  “More accurate than the Mospheiran delegation would give them, I’ll tell you. I don’t trust Ginny Kroger.”

  “She’s angry at you,” Jase said.

  Bren shook his head. “Angry doesn’t matter with her. I’m afraid she’s a type, and unless she changes her attitude about me, which she came in with, I don’t like the idea of her shaping policy.”

  “You have to admit you’ve pushed them.”

  “I know that. I don’t think it matters a damn to Kroger’s opinion. She’s set on her own way. Until she believes she’s not on Mospheira, she won’t modify her opinion; and I’m afraid she’s going to discover it after she’s gotten into negotiations.”

  Jase didn’t say anything for a moment, then: “How long are you up there?”

  “Two weeks. Just until the shuttle goes down.”

  “If the shuttle’s on schedule.”

  “Fifty-fifty so far.” That was the shuttle’s on-time departure percentage. So far, the shuttle had had no serious mechanical problems, no disaster. “Crossing fingers. I’m not against staying longer. I’d like to get you back down when I go. If you want me to do that.”

  “I want to be able to go back and forth.—I want them not to blow up when they find out they’ve got unscheduled guests.”

  “You think they will.”

  “I know they will.” A small laugh, not amused. “They’ll survive it. They’ll be glad, on one level. But I get to explain Banichi to Ramirez.”

  “Think the quarters are ready?” />
  “I damned well doubt they are. Nothing gets prioritized until it’s an emergency. There’s just not enough personnel.”

  “We can fix that. If you can get us Ramirez’s seal on this.”

  Ramirez: senior captain, the one who’d managed all the atevi contact, the one Jase called something akin to a father, if fatherhood was a signature on an authorization. Of the four captains, it was Ramirez who’d had the vision of a trade empire uniting this station with their outpost at a distant star, and Ramirez who’d had all his plans fall in ashes with the alien attack.

  It was Ramirez who’d brought Phoenix home to the station at this star, hoping for a thriving station, and help.

  And the planner in all this grand design for how humanity in this lost end of space should reunite and support the ship, was likewise Ramirez.

  “You’re going to be our most valuable resource,” Bren said soberly.

  “Don’t count on me for any say.”

  “I know. I understand you’re in a difficult position. And in a certain amount of power, if you’ll use it.”

  Jason’s shoulders drew in as if, even with the jacket, he felt a chill. “Symbolic. Ramirez’s project. We were that; we were supposed to inspire the crew… back when this contact was supposed to bring the whole circle together. But as far as power beyond Ramirez’s good opinion, I don’t have it. With Tamur…” That was another of the captains. “I certainly don’t have it.”

  “Why did they call you back?”

  Jase’s eyes lifted, direct, worried.

  “Why did they call you back?” Bren repeated the question. “We didn’t expect it. Might Yolanda have said something?”

  “She might have, inadvertently. Maybe they just think it’s time.—Maybe it is time.”

  “Tabini thinks so.” Bren drew a breath, took the plunge. “Tabini wants the station.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “I’m not surprised you’re not surprised. That’s the condition. Mospheira running the station? They can’t site a public park without a chain of committees. If this alien threat materializes, someone’s got to make decisions as fast as the captains do. Mospheira won’t do it. They know one thing: the history that drove them onto the planet. Freedom is down here. The faction that wants to be up there—isn’t the best of Mospheira. In my own biased opinion, the captains can’t deal with them either. There’s too much history in common, too many old issues.”