Visitor: A Foreigner Novel Read online

  Cajeiri understood, or tried to, knowing that humans did not have man’chi as atevi had. But they certainly had feelings like that feeling, and if Irene said whatever loyalty she had to her mother was gone, he was sure something like man’chi was broken, and might never be able to be fixed.

  So it had pained him to see Irene sit there last night in Lord Geigi’s apartment, with everybody else happy and relieved to be safe, and everybody sitting in company with their parents. Gene’s mother would have taken her in, and Artur’s parents might—they had seemed concerned about her. So maybe she should have stayed with other humans. But she had set herself apart, and only tried to be happy.

  So he had asked Irene to come with him last night, and she had done that.

  There had been one small difficulty in the invitation. He had not asked Great-grandmother before making it. His bodyguard had certainly explained to staff, before they even showed up in Great-grandmother’s foyer, but he had not told Great-grandmother personally, because Great-grandmother, mani, had been asleep when they arrived.

  Mani was not in the habit of patience with untoward surprises. She was very strict, very proper, and she was not often kind. But he had done justice in bringing Irene home with him, because Irene was how all his guests had been able to escape, and how authorities had been able to catch Braddock.

  Besides, mani had said this was his suite, this little set of rooms inside mani’s apartment. There was a bedroom and two rooms for his bodyguard, so there was a bed, Veijico’s, that Irene had had to herself, while Veijico and Antaro took Jegari’s and Lucasi’s beds, and Jegari and Lucasi had slept in his room. Staff had helped without any argument—and staff would tell other staff closer to mani that everything had been quite proper in their arrangement, so that mani would not find fault there. He was sure of that.

  He would wear his third-best today. He had had mani’s staff do all they could for Irene’s clothes last night. They were country clothes, and not quite the thing she should have in mani’s apartment, but necessity was ahead of fashion: that was what nand’ Bren would say. Irene would look proper enough for a country estate, if not the court, and mani would understand that the informality, certainly, was nobody’s fault.

  Today all sorts of things were going to change. Gin-nandi was coming onto the station, and nand’ Bren would have her there to take care of all the upset Tillington had caused, so nand’ Bren could concentrate on what he had to do, what all of them had to do, soon, which was to talk to the kyo and make that meeting turn out all right, so the kyo could go away and the world could just go on with no problems.

  There was a war elsewhere, involving the kyo. He had seen something like a war, which his father told him was something atevi had not tended to have nor ever wanted to have again. It took very large problems to unite as many clans on one side of something as on the other, which meant a quarrel beyond what even the Assassins’ Guild could settle. There had been the War of the Landing, which atevi had fought against humans, and won, but that was a long time ago, and generally, until the whole South had fallen under a bad influence, one just did not see people turning up with mortars and such awful things. The South had brought them from the coastal defense, where they belonged, and so the aishidi’tat had brought others in, and people had begun to forget the rules, and fight for themselves, without the Guild. And terrible things had happened, that still gave him nightmares.

  That disturbance was over now, due in no small part to nand’ Bren, and now nand’ Bren was here to make sure the Earth did not end up involved in somebody else’s war.

  What the kyo had done at Reunion—he had seen that, too. That was war the way the kyo fought, which was a lot worse than artillery and mortars. He had seen the result, which had not even looked real, it was so terrible. His guests’ parents had lived through it. Bjorn had been alive when that had happened, but Bjorn said he only remembered the dark—he had been scared of the dark ever after, though he tried not to admit it. Irene had been a baby when it happened. Gene and Artur were born after. But very many people had died. Thousands. And the kyo had done it.

  Because, nand’ Bren said, of a misunderstanding. That was a very scary thought. It was hard not to have misunderstandings with people who did not speak the same language. The misunderstandings that had caused the War of the Landing were the examples everybody used. And that had killed very many people, before they had thrown the big weapons into the sea.

  Well, they just had to make certain that no misunderstanding happened. That was why he and mani had come up here with nand’ Bren, because back at Reunion, he and mani had been able to help nand’ Bren to talk to nand’ Prakuyo, which had helped make peace and get everyone safely off Reunion.

  There was a very good chance it would be nand’ Prakuyo on that ship out there. But whoever it was, they had very quickly arranged to come up here, and now that Tillington was out and Braddock was locked up, that ship out there was going to be mani’s concern—the kyo, and the fact the kyo could blow up the space station if they said the wrong thing. So his having an unescorted girl for a guest in his rooms last night was a very minor problem, and mani would probably not distract herself to consider it, on a morning when they were about to get a new human stationmaster, and finally get to concentrate on the reason they had come up here in the first place.

  He did not want to lay a problem on mani’s plate first thing in the morning. That was never a good way to start an explanation.

  Maybe he should order breakfast for just him and Irene and his aishid, and not explain anything. Yesterday had been stressful, even if it had had a happy ending, and mani might want to rest.

  That also meant he had to keep all the human guests very quiet and not pose even the slightest problem for mani or nand’ Bren while they dealt with the kyo. That was his job as much as it was Lord Geigi’s, and he was trying to do just that: keeping the presence of his guests quiet, so they could both rescue his guests from the Reunioner situation, and not have trouble with the Mospheirans, and keep the kyo peaceful and happy all at once.

  It would all work out. It had to.

  2

  The lift doors opened, exhaling cold fog around the arrivals—a short, bundled figure, Gin Kroger, foremost of the five. Gin was first out of her cold suit. She dropped it in the designated place by the lift, and left her escort, walking forward to offer a hand.

  “Gin,” Bren said. “Good to see you.” The bow was almost instinctive by now, but he reached out to shake an ice-cold hand. It might have been a hug, except for witnesses and dignity. Their association had been that of fellow travelers, colleagues, allies on two years of voyage and two hellish crises in the middle. “Hot drink and a sit-down?”

  “God, yes.” Back in gravity, chilled to the bone, and probably as sleep-deprived as he was, she would want that. There was a small room adjacent, part office, part acclimatization lounge, here at the interface of human-side and atevi-side, in an area mostly used by freight personnel and visiting shuttle crews.

  Gin was exempt from customs, being what she was . . . although her last transmission had mentioned not knowing where to send her baggage. Tillington still occupied the official stationmaster apartment.

  But Gin would manage. Gin knew the station inside and out. And she had the authority to move walls. Literally.

  She was no bit changed since she and Bren had last parted company: an average-looking woman, gray hair clipped short, wisping out of order, thanks to the static of the hooded cold suit. Makeup wasn’t Gin’s style, either. Her usual kit was a stretch tee and pants that might be plaid or floral, but today—today, on assumption of office—it was a brown suit and a travel-rumpled blue blouse.

  The lounge afforded an instant tea dispenser, a box of tissues—noses tended to run, in the change of atmosphere—a round table, and moderately soft chairs for gravity-stressed bodies. Chained to the side counter, next to the tea service and water tap, lay a thick, well-worn manual of freight requirements, shipper and customs
contact numbers, with a list of major station rules and regulations on the cover.

  Gin merited a pass on those. She’d written no few of them.

  They owned this little room for the moment: Bren’s bodyguard had the door, proof against any chance intrusion. Gin’s staff was handling the logistics of her move. Gin had asked for a conference with him on arrival, a fast one, nothing conspicuous, and this room was the most convenient.

  Bren started to draw the tea himself, but Tano, of his bodyguard, silently took over, and delivered two utilitarian cups to the table.

  “Good trip, considering?” Bren asked.

  “Smooth, compared to the goings-on here,” Gin said. “Are we secure to talk?”

  “Secure,” Bren said, “as long as Geigi’s holding Central. And he is.”

  “I’ve read the Central log up to the point you transmitted it.” Gin took a careful sip of tea, cradling the warm cup. “Tillington’s created us a real mess, hasn’t he?”

  “With no small help from Braddock. It’s going to take time and trustworthy change to straighten out.”

  “It’s my impression,” Gin said, “that Tillington’s senior techs in Central may be reliable. I’m not so sure about his administrative staff. My own staff will be shadowing the lot of them, and not just to come up to speed on procedures. Two of my team are intelligence. If we find sabotage, we’ll deal with it. Expeditiously. We can manage more shuttle seats on the next downbound if we have to.”

  “Good.” Bren nodded. “I’m fairly sure of Mr. Okana’s character. I don’t have as much experience of the other man, Brown. On the other hand, there was a general sense of relief in the room when Tillington was arrested and your appointment announced. Control of Central has been an ongoing issue in one form and another ever since the news about the kyo went public and the panic broke out in the Reunioner sections. Tillington exhausted his crew, mentally as well as physically, but they’ve had a full cycle and more to recover. They should be ready to take over, now they’ve got a sane individual in charge. Still, Geigi will keep Central in his hands until you officially request the handoff. His staff has been working double shifts since he took control. Necessary, considering the Tillington problem, and they’ll hold on, no worries. But they’ll be very glad to hand off.”

  “I appreciate that. Sincerely. I’m going to unpack, get my staff situated. First off, I’m going to talk to Ogun. He and I aren’t strangers, and he called me, en route. He wants order restored. We’re in complete agreement on that. He has asked that I keep the section doors shut.”

  “Under present circumstances,” Bren said, “it’s a good idea. But understand—the conditions in the Reunioner sections are not comfortable. Some of the apartments, as I understand, are more like cubicles, with temp paneling, not even real walls, no water tap, no secure storage, just a fold-up cot to sit and sleep on. And two or three roommates not necessarily of your choice. Bath is shared by sixteen apartments and food service is four or five kitchen counters to serve an entire section. The situation can’t go on. Maybe we can’t improve the living conditions right off, but we can give these people news, some hope that ‘better’ is coming. We can improve the food, hell, that at least. And com service needs to be restored, once we’re sure Braddock sympathizers aren’t using it to coordinate disruption. If we don’t restore it, we’re going to have more Braddock sympathizers. The Reunioners are afraid, and not just scared that the kyo might blow up the station without any reason. The kyo’s arrival was the trigger, but not the core of the problem. Ten years of surviving on rationing after the kyo blew hell out of Reunion, then we come along with brochures advertising the good life. Freedom. Abundance . . . and they arrive to a second-class citizen reception from Tillington here at Alpha. They’ve no reason to trust us. Not now. Tillington’s done a lot of damage. The Reunioners aren’t sure they won’t be handed over to the kyo on demand. That’s crazy. I don’t think that’s remotely what the kyo want. But rumors don’t have to be rational.”

  “Agreed,” Gin said, and drank a gulp of tea. “Tillington’s definitely on the list to ship out, and that’s going to be on the next shuttle, if there’s room. I expect there will be others going with him. My staff will be reviewing, auditing, and interviewing, but I’ll compose the final list. We’ll rout out and eliminate the problems in the human sector. You concentrate on the kyo, Bren. You just deal with that problem and trust me to manage this.”

  “I have every confidence in you. Needless to say, you’ll have my backing, as well as the aiji-dowager’s and Geigi’s. Anything you need that we can supply, you’ve got.”

  She dipped her chin, sipped the tea. “I understand you have custody of the three kids plus one. And their parents.”

  “Their parents minus one,” Bren said. “The girl’s mother is in custody, along with Braddock and his aides. Captains’ Council wants to keep it that way until there’s time to consider the cases.”

  “Are they under charges?” Gin asked.

  “From both sides. They’re in atevi custody at the moment for endangering the kids who were under the aiji’s personal protection. Irene’s escape, her testimony regarding Braddock’s attempts to control the kids, gave Ilisidi the absolute freedom to go in and rescue them in her grandson’s name, and to arrest Braddock and his aides without involving the Mospheirans.”

  Gin gave a quick nod, complete understanding of the tangled politics involved . . . and the reason it wouldn’t be good, at the moment, to have Braddock sitting in Mospheiran or ship-folk custody.

  “On the human side, Braddock’s open to charges of threatening station integrity,” Bren continued, “insurrection and attempted kidnapping, under Mospheiran law, which is enough for a start on keeping him and his staff confined, but I assure you the atevi charges are quite as severe. Irene’s mother is being held primarily as a material witness at the moment. Ship security thinks she may have heard things of interest in Braddock’s prosecution if the ship-folk get their hands on him, which is a whole other nest of troubles. Right now the dowager isn’t interested in prosecuting her, but she’s not handing her daughter back into her custody, either. For my part, I don’t know what duress may have been involved with the woman, or whether she may come under charges herself from one party or another, but one thing I can’t forget. When she was arrested with the others, with her child missing for hours, and as atevi enforcement and ship-folk were hauling her and Braddock away—there was no point at which she protested her daughter was missing or asked where her daughter was. That bothers me. To this hour, it bothers me. I’d wanted to give the woman a chance for Irene’s sake, but at this point, I don’t know.”

  “It bothers me,” Gin said. “How are the kids now? How are the parents taking their new situation?”

  “Everybody’s been housed on the atevi side—they’re all guests in Geigi’s apartment, and they’re glad, I think, to be safe, out of the Reunioner sections, and well-fed, though naturally they have concerns. Their kids’ attachment to the young gentleman makes them all a special case among the Reunioners and on the Mospheiran side, and it’s possible Braddock’s not the only one wanting to take hostages, especially now that Braddock’s set the possibility in everyone’s mind.”

  “What a mess. Those kids have made a breakthrough in atevi and human relations, and that idiot turns it sour.”

  “True. On the other hand, the mess got that idiot into custody, and makes an important point. Right now and forever, the kids are under the aiji’s protection, and under atevi law, that includes their relatives and associates, so far as the kids choose to maintain the association from their end. Which is convenient. I don’t want the parents to go back to the Reunioner sections. It’s not safe, political pressure is inevitable, and frankly, and above all else, I can’t afford the worry right now. I need my head free to deal with the kyo. Where they are right now, they become Geigi and Ilisidi’s problem. I haven’t asked them their preferences, because if they run counter, I’m not going to listen.�
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  “Works for me. What about their stuff? I understand looting and theft are still a problem in the Reunioner sections.”

  There had been that problem on the voyage, dealt with as best they could. House survivors in a damaged station for years, and need began to trump ownership in more than a few instances. Whether it was a problem that would persist once they assumed something like normal lives was something for future authority to sort out.

  “Geigi’s hard-locked their apartments, and Ilisidi will consider the aishidi’tat’s credibility involved, should anything happen to them or their belongings.”

  “Excellent. —Regarding the Reunioners in general, the President is taking the position that the new meds mean the Reunioners can successfully acclimate to the planet, and that means they can integrate into Mospheira. He says you back the idea, therefore the aishidi’tat will back it.”

  “I do back it. I think Tabini will. Likewise, I think, the captains; it gets the problem off their deck. With the situation we have now, it’s the only solution that’s going to work. Trying to expand the station to accommodate them is not going to erase the differences between Reunioners and Mospheirans. Living on a planet—is its own logic.”

  “Logistically—”

  “A slow, slow process. I know.”

  “Maybe not as slow as you think. We could use the petal sails. Not for passengers. But for cargo.”

  Petal sails—like those that had brought the first Mospheirans down to Earth. Jase had made his first, terrifying trip down by parachute. Likely Jase still had nightmares. But the technology was so old, so primitive. Chutes had failed—lost people, lost supplies, landed in the sea and sunk. The hazard was legendary, a scar on the Mospheiran psyche.