Touchy enough, his relationship with the third paidhi—touchy as Jase’s, who was her ex-lover, and who hadn’t gotten along with her.
Or maybe secrets had driven the wedge.
And secrets had been going on for years.
“I’ll try phoning Jase,” he said to Jago, and got up and did that.
“ Mr, Cameron,” C1 said. “ Hold on. You’re on priority to Captain Graham.”
Well, thatwas improved.
“ Bren?” A moment later.
“Jase, we’ve got a shuttle inbound. Anyone notice?”
A small pause.
“ If you’ve called to say so,” Jase said, being quick, “ I take it there’s some concern.”
Chapter 10
Time enough to prepare. Time enough to advise allies about a conjecture of a conjecture.
Time enough to open the aiji-dowager’s former residency, set a vase with hothouse flowers on the foyer table, and arrange a welcome with a small flourish.
For once, Bren said to himself, he had gotten the edge on Tabini.
At least he hadn’t been caught with the ship just pulled out and that armed starship facing the shuttle with a disproportional balance of power. The crew had voted. The foregone conclusion was concluded. The ship would move.
But Jase had presented a possible intervening fact—and Ogun, quite unexpectedly, had given a series of small preparatory orders, maintenance checks, numerous of them. And inventory of ship’s stores. Dared one suspect cooperation?
The action of an alliance—in which Ogun might be better informed than any of them?
Ilisidi, if it was the dowager en route, had been figured out, anticipated, and factored in with astonishingly little fuss, considering all that was at stake—Ilisidi, if it was she, having a considerable lot of credit with the ship’s crew as well as the station.
No publicity yet. The shuttle wasn’t talking about passengers and the ship, busy with its mysterious inventory, hadn’t inquired.
Not even certain, while Bren anxiously fidgeted away the final minutes, that it wasn’t simply flour and electronics.
But they were ready when the call came that the freight shuttle would use bay 1, which was personnel.
Time to put coats on, gloves in the pockets this time, servants from Geigi’s household and his to give a final touch to the third residency.
Bay 1 was manned and ready.
And they had an entire delegation—himself, lord Geigi, and Jase, with their respective security riding up in the lift, while station operations went through the customs routine, as if there might be simple workers to process.
Bren thought to the contrary.
Definitely political. Incredibly expensive in terms of fuel and wear on the equipment and the cargo the shuttle oughtto have been carrying, on its regular schedule… but the aiji in Shejidan used what he had to use, and had with increasing certainty gotten his messages.
They waited in the warm territory of the third deck while the docking approach was in progress. Jase met them there, with his own escort, and brought communications tied to the ship.
“Ogun certainly thinks it’s her,” Jase informed them. “Whether he’s had a communication or not, I don’t know, but there’s every indication there’s a passenger.”
They took the lift up into the cold and zero gravity of the core, exited into that vast dock where light never seemed enough.
There they floated, hovering near the residual warmth of the lift shaft. Gloved fingers made patterns in the frost on the handgrips.
The doors down in Bay 3 were capable of receiving anything the freight shuttle could hand them—objects the size of a railway car, easily, and the big cradles were capable of receiving, maneuvering, offloading contents to various sorting areas.
As it was, if they needed more confirmation, workers had rigged the hand-lines for personnel. Theyhad instructions from C1.
And they waited. Freezing.
Bren personally tried not to look up, or down, or whatever it was. For the sake of his stomach, he mostly stared at the railing near them and the yellow safety-ropes the workers deployed between them and the shuttle hatch. Jase cheerfully drifted slightly sideways to him, Kaplan and Polano and Colby loosely maintaining position along with him: lifelong spacers, confident of the lines.
“High-ranking,” Jase said. “Definitely. There’s been an advisement to customs for a wave-through. You’re right, Bren. I think you’re entirely right. The personnel rig is ready. Dockside has confirmed it. Engaged. They’re in.”
Jase moved out along the safety line. Bren followed gingerly, with Jago and Banichi, and likewise Geigi and his company.
They were most of the way there when the shuttle’s personnel hatch opened… a little in advance of the human workers reaching it.
There—there indeed was Ilisidi, in warm furs. Trust the dowager to devise something stylish for the event.
Elegant, she drifted in the hatch along with Cenedi’s formidable, protective presence.
A smaller figure left the hatch past her right hand, too far—too fast—and drifted right off the platform.
And off beyond the lines. Trying to swim, in space.
A child.
A boy.
A protocol disaster.
Bren held his breath as workers scrambled, on hand-jets.
Ilisidi reached with her cane, and almost had the boy. But Tabini’s son and heir, someday lord of the aishidi’tat, indignantly kicked free and attempted his own salvation. He twisted and kicked in an attempt to reach the door of the shuttle, and banged the edge of the hatch with an unfortunate booted foot.
He sailed off quite spectacularly out of reach—but not quickly enough to arrive anywhere useful anytime soon.
It was chilling cold. The boy was suited only for the brief transit to the lift.
Jase took a hand-jet from a worker and moved out among the rest, while the dowager, who cast an exasperated glance at the boy’s trajectory, glanced at Bren, maintained a grip on the line with the grip of her cane and lifted the other hand in a tolerant, benevolent welcome.
“Well, well. Bren-paidhi. So my grandson told you after all.”
“Not exactly, aiji-ma.” It was hard not to be distracted, with a desperate rescue proceeding above their heads, if there was an abovein this steel cavern. But if there was one thing more hurtful to the situation, it was more notice. One only hoped it would not be on public reports. And what did one say, under the circumstance? Did you have a nice flight? “Welcome. Welcome from the staff and from the aijiin.”
“Did you guess, then?”
“I learned of the early shuttle launch, and who else of such overriding importance would divert a shuttle to visit us?”
He managed to please her, in spite of the incident. An angry shout—the family temper—punctuated the icy air above them. No, Cajeiri had no wish to be hauled down ignominiously by human workers. No, clearly he wished to use one of the jets for himself, small chance there was of the workers or Jase allowing that.