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  Meanwhile the Mospheiran composites manufacturing facility, despite pleas by the pro-spacers, had lacked the spare parts to keep it functioning, because it couldn't find customers outside the now defunct aircraft plant. Atevi-human relations had been peaceful for decades, and the defense implications of buying the few commercial jets Mospheira needed for domestic service from Patinandi Aeronautics on the atevi mainland just hadn't figured with the legislature against the public frustration with high taxes. Even the humans at the top of the campaign for a human return to orbit had promoted chemical rockets as the way to go, because that was the way humans historically had done it, those were the plans they apparently did have, and because it was easier to sell a historical concept to the dim lights of the Human Heritage Party who had fallen into bed with them, politically speaking, than it was to sell the technologically more complex reusable vehicle that depended on the composites manufacturing facility they didn't want to fund.

  So that political bedfellowship had concentrated their lobbying efforts and the scarce tax money on their rocket program, for, supposedly, as the Treaty of Mospheira provided should happen, the simultaneous development of a human and an atevi space program. For decades after slow decades, through the paidhiin, the Mospheiran Defense Department had released only the minimal data that the Mospheiran government had to release to atevi to get the industry going that was ultimately going to feed both raw materials and finished goods to the human space effort on Mospheira — and in the way Mospheira liked to have such militarily dangerous exchanges, raw materials were going to get into Mospheiran hands sufficiently early to give Mospheira a running start.

  He should know; some of it had already happened on his watch, brief as it had been. And on his predecessor, Wilson's, before Wilson retired.

  On the other hand, from what Jase said, the ship had questioned Mospheira very closely on that matter and discovered a truth Mospheira had no way to deny:

  Mospheira couldn't immediately or foreseeably launch a damn thing, manned or unmanned.

  Probably the Mospheiran president in recent negotiations had told the truth to Jase's captain and there had never been a secret rocket launch site even contemplated.

  So there they were: atevi had been bothering no one when the petal sails of legend dropped humans in their midst and they'd built their way up from steam engines.

  Atevi had barely been contemplating satellites and manned space last year, sure that the station was unmanned and the only humans were on Mospheira, when a new thunderbolt of human presence in the skies had fallen on the world; and when blueprints guaranteed to work without experimentation had descended electronically from the heavens.

  In the last six months it had become a national mandate to get the pieces of the atevi space program reconfigured — that was the word that echoed through all departments — reconfigured. Tabini-aiji was in a race, a race to show results to his own uneasy people, a race to get a foothold in the heavens where atevi could maintain their say over the future of their planet — and this particular aircraft manufacturing facility was critical.

  Manufacture of a spacecraft that had much the same materials base and much the same configuration as the planes this facility had built commercially was far faster than invention of a rocket-driven heavy launch system from scratch.

  Testing was on a materials-specifications basis, straight out of very clear records.

  Training programs were already shaping up to teach a hand-picked set of atevi pilots the handling characteristics of the craft they were building.

  As he understood the situation on the island, human scientists were running to catch up to the technological dataflood pouring down from the heavens.

  He'd personally discovered the information gap in the university physics and chemistry programs: Defense had kept some things sequestered — FTL was only one example of it. The University hadn't taught him or his predecessors what it didn't have access to, and, wondrous to say, the people in Defense who'd understood the data had died, and their successors had just guarded the file drawers without knowing what they were sitting on… until the downloads from the ship in a matter of seconds had obsolesced the secrets the Defense Department was keeping.

  So now the executive branch of the Mospheiran government had no cards to play. Atevi, holding the principle continent, held most of the developed mineral resources. Humans, on the large, mountain-centered island, had to trade fish for aluminum and copper. And human orders for those supplies hadn't yet increased, possibly because the human legislature hadn't moved to authorize the trade; but the aiji had with one pen stroke authorized atevi mines to produce what this ship needed.

  Ceramics and plastics as well as aircraft were all mainland items that Mospheira imported. Oil was an import from the mainland. There was oil to the north of the island, offshore, but that had lain right near the highest priced real estate on the island and that development had stalled because the oil supply from the mainland had never been threatened since that discovery.

  The atevi head of state was no fool. The atevi head of state had sold aircraft and oil to the island at very good prices — just as his father before him had done. Aviation guided by the paidhi's reports and the human desire for trade had run out of domestic market and diverted its ambitions toward satellites. It needed a launch vehicle which it planned to build on the island, but to achieve that it had to bring atevi industry up to such a capability itself in order to supply the components. So even before the arrival of the ship was a suspicion in the skies, rockets of Mospheiran design were on the negotiating table, and Patinandi Aeronautics on the mainland had become Patinandi Aerospace.

  The ship arrived: the heavy lift rockets Mospheira envisioned were a dead issue. Plans for a reusable spaceplane arrived from the heavens and in one day after accepting the concept as viable the aiji in Shejidan had ordered Patinandi to shift its production of parts sufficient for the commercial air fleet to a somewhat older but still viable facility during the building of an auxiliary aircraft plant.

  Consequent to that pen stroke in Shejidan, and literally before another sun set, Patinandi in Sarini Province had begun packing up the dies and essential equipment for that production for freighting to a province other than Geigi's, a province which was about to profit handsomely.

  And with no one being cast out of a job, the aiji instantaneously and by decree converted the largest aircraft manufacturing and assembly plant in the world to a round-the-clock effort to build a spacecraft, no debates, no committees, no dithering. Amazing how fast the whole atevi system could move now, considering that the space program had once been hung up on a committee debate on the design of chemical rocket slosh baffles for three months.

  Half a year ago none of this had existed.

  And depending on the technical accuracy of the paidhi's trans-species interpretation and translation of what were in effect historical documents, that ship down there was going to fly sooner than he was supposed to admit even to Jase. The frame design was by no means innovative; the dual engines, the zero-g systems, the heat shield, and the interactive computers were the revolutionary items.

  And as to why atevi accepted this design without the usual debate on the numbers that had previously absorbed atevi attention and slowed projects down to a crawl, why, the numbers of this craft were clearly felicitous and beyond debate, even its engines and computers. Down to the tires it landed on, it was an historical replica of an actual earth-to-orbit craft named Pegasus which had plied the skies of the human Earth for two decades at a similar gravity and on a similar mission, which had never suffered disaster or infelicity of any kind, and which had existed in harmony with the skies and the numbers of infinite space until its retirement, a craft thereby proven to have been in harmony with the universe and to have brought good fortune to its designers and its users.

  On that simple assurance — and only the atevi gods knew how Tabini's canny numerologists had gotten that agreed upon — the debate which might have kill
ed the project was done. The numerologists, still stunned by FTL, were all satisfied — or at least they retired to study the numbers of its design and to determine what had made it felicitous, so that atevi science might benefit.

  That kind of rapid agreement had never accelerated any other program on record. No one had made anything of that fact in his hearing, but in his view it was a revolution in atevi philosophy as extreme as FTL, and almost as scary. One almost guessed that lives had been threatened or that somewhere in secret meetings the usual people who stood up and objected to the numbers had been urgently hushed. Tabini wanted this project and if atevi didn't have it, then the numbers of atevi fortunes might turn against them, indeed.

  They'd lightened and widened the seats to accommodate atevi bodies, but to keep, as atevi put it, the harmony of successful numbers, they'd varied no other parameter, and the sum of mass was the same, figuring in that atevi simply weighed more than humans. Atevi would simply have to duck their heads, sit closer, and deal with the comfort factor once they'd become comfortable with spaceframe design.

  There was even (to the absolute consternation of certain elements on Mospheira, he was sure) smug discussion of selling passenger slots to humans, if the diplomatic details could be worked out. Some human factions, it had been reported, liked that idea, as a way to have spaceflight without a sudden increase in taxes.

  Others, Shawn had said in his last conversation, liked it because it so enraged the conservatives of the Human Heritage Society. The Foreign Affairs office had probably sent up balloons and blown horns when, eight weeks ago, he'd translated to the President the aiji's offer of selling seats; and George Barrulin's phones had probably melted on his desk.

  The catwalk quaked as lord Geigi, having been delayed momentarily in conversation on the level below, came up the steps, followed by the rest of the lords and officials. Their respective security personnel took up watchful and precautionary positions and kept the paidhi slightly back from the rail. Black skin and golden eyes were the standard not only of the locals but of the whole atevi world, and he was all too aware that a fairish-haired human dressed generally in house-neutral colors stood out. There was no other way to say it.

  Stood out, child-sized, against the silver-studded black leather of Tano and Algini, who represented the power of the atevi head of state.

  Stood out, in the many-buttoned and knee-length coat of court fashion, and in the distinctive white ribbon incorporated in his braid: the paidhi's color, the man of no house. Tabini had told him he should choose colors, as he had to have something recognizable for formal presentations; and Ilisidi herself had said white would do very well with his fair hair, show his independence from the black and red of the aiji's house — and offend no one.

  He glowed, he was well aware, like a pale neon sign to any sniper in the recesses behind those floodlights.

  But count on it: there'd been a thorough security search before he entered the building and one last night, a search not only by his security, with an interest in keeping him alive; but also by lord Geigi's, interested in keeping their lord alive and in keeping any of lord Geigi's enemies from embarrassing him in an attack on the paidhi.

  He knew for that reason that he was an inconvenience to the plant workers, who'd had to pass meticulous security to get to work this morning.

  But the paidhi, personally sent by the aiji in Shejidan,was making a gesture of public support such as atevi politics absolutely demanded. The workers would see it. Atevi interested in Geigi's fortunes would witness another indication of Geigi's rescue from economic ruin and his subsequent rise to prominence and economic power in his region.

  And standing where he was the paidhi only hoped all Geigi's people were loyal. Tano and Algini might well have been drinking antacids by the bottleful since he'd set down at the airport, and declared he'd sleep in Geigi's house, and now at the plant manager's urging he'd agreed to walk up on this exposed platform. Even they, however, had to admit that the odds of treachery from Geigi were practically nil and that the odds that Geigi would have loyalty from his own people were high. From the atevi point of view Geigi's numbers were still in active increase and therefore a problem in the atevi version of calculus.

  Besides, no one had tried to file Intent on the paidhi's life in, oh, at least a month.

  That was what the analysts in the aiji's court called acceptable risk in making this stop on his tour in the first place. The professionals guarding him while he was in the district making such spontaneous gestures he was sure had other words for it.

  "Splendid effort," he declared to lord Geigi. "I'm truly amazed at the progress. I'm absolutely amazed. So will the aiji be."

  "Nand' Borujiri," lord Geigi said, "has worked very hard."

  "Nand' Borujiri." He inclined his head to acknowledge that worthy gentleman, director of Patinandi Aerospace, who despite physical frailty had accompanied him up to the highest catwalk, followed by the lords of townships within lord Geigi's association in Sarini Province. "I shall convey your recommendations to the aiji. Absolutely splendid organization. One would wish to render appreciation to all the persons responsible."

  "Nand' paidhi," Borujiri said, moving slowly, not only because of age but also a long illness. "My monument, this work. I am determined it will be that. I have dedicated a portion of my estate to the recreation of the workers who will entitle themselves in this effort. And such an effort our people have made!"

  "Everything here is in shifts," lord Geigi interposed. "Nothing stops for night. And quality control, nand' paidhi, meticulous quality control." A horn sounded several short bursts, a signal for attention; Bren and his trigger-ready security had been advised in advance, and lord Geigi rested hands on the catwalk rail looking out over the vast assembly area. "Nadiin-ji! The paidhi commends your work and your diligence! Attention, if you please, to the paidhi-aiji!"

  He grew used to such addresses. But reporters dogged him: there were reporters below who would carry what he said to the news services, reporters who, because of the major transportation lines, were in greater abundance here than in his last two, more rural, stops.

  "Nadiin," he called out to the upturned faces and himself leaned on the forbidden railing. "You have exceeded ambitious expectations and set high standards, high standards, in work on which brave atevi will rely for their lives in space. But more than that — -" It was in truth a beautiful sight in front of him, those pieces. Though for the reporters' sakes, he tried to provide variety in his speeches and at the same time to keep them brief, he suddenly meant to say something different than he'd said before on such tours. In the presence of old Borujiri and lord Geigi, in this first time that he could allow himself to believe there was a spacecraft, and in the enthusiasm of engineers and ordinary workers who had foregone vacations and ignored quitting times to advance the work — he felt his inspiration.

  "More than that, nadiin-nai, high standards in a work unprecedented in the history of the world. Plates of steel may make a sailing ship. But when it takes to the waves, when hands at work make that ship a living creature, then it binds all that ship's makers and all who ever sail aboard that ship in an association that reaches to every shore that ship touches. Your hands and your efforts are building a ship to carry the hopes of all the world, nadiin! The work of your hands, the vision of your director, the wisdom of your lords, and the courage of atevi who will ride this ship will reach out to new things in the heavens, and draw the heavens and all their possibilities into your arms. The aiji in Shejidan will receive my report of you as extraordinary and dedicated workers, and I do not doubt you will remain in his mind at the next seasonal audience, at which lord Geigi and nand' Borujiri inform me and permit me to inform you they will sponsor a representative from each shift at their own expense. My congratulations, nadiin, I need not offer you! You have distinguished yourselves and brought credit to your province, your district, your endeavor! Hundreds of years from now atevi will tell the story, how willing hands and the skill o
f such builders carried atevi into space on their own terms and in their own right!"

  He expected nothing but the polite attention atevi paid a speaker, followed by the formal, measured applause.

  "Nand' paidhi!" he heard instead, and then a shouting from throughout the facility. "Nand' Bren!"

  That less than formal title had gotten started in the less reputable press. He blushed and waved, and stepped away from the rail, at which point Tano and Algini closed between him and the crowd, a living wall.

  "Nand' paidhi," lord Geigi said, and wished him with a gesture to go down.

  "A wonderful expression." Nand' Borujiri was clearly moved. "I shall have it engraved, nand' paidhi. A marvelous gift!"

  "You are very kind, nand' director."

  "A passionate speech," lord Geigi said, and kept close by him as they descended. "If the aiji can spare you, nadi, please accept my personal hospitality and extend your visit to a few days at Dalaigi, at a far slower pace, in, I assure you, the most wonderful climate in the country. The yellowtail will not wait. The paperwork will always be there. And if you provide my cook the fish and a day to prepare it, nand' paidhi, I do assure you the result will be an exquisite, very passionate offering. He so approves your taste in your brief experience of his art last evening."

  It was partly, he was sure, formality and a desire not to have Borujiri suggest the same; it was likely, also, a truly honest offer, repeated, now, and he understood from Algini that the cook was extremely pleased in his requests for a local specialty last evening. The man was an excellent cook: Geigi's relationship with food was unabashed and the cuisine of the household was deservedly renowned.

  He was weakening. He was about to request his security to inquire of his office whether he could possibly manage one more day.