There was a pause. It would be complete calamity, if Sabin decided at the last moment not to show, and to keep Jase incommunicado. More, if he was serving as diplomatic safety net, he had to avoid mistakes and missed appointments, and his heartbeat began a slow climb to panic as the silence on the other end stretched out longer than an ordinary transfer of communications.
“ Captain Graham is en route,” C1 reported, “ and says he’ll see you in 5 B.”
That was their sector. Thank God.
“Thank you, C1.” He broke the connection and drifted gently toward his security.
So things wereon track, Sabin hadn’t thrown Jase in the brig yet, and the situation at least wouldn’t blow up before they even got started.
Chapter 17
Cenedi had a security presence in the corridor, providing two men to open the door and admit them to the cabin designated as the dowager’s dining room. It was a matter of pride with a lordly household: on the world or here above, a lordly house managed its own doors, however strung out down a common corridor, and no one else touched said doors, or did so at their peril.
It provided a homey, comfortable feeling, that formality, even if they were floating. Things were right, or at least more right than they had been a few hours ago.
And Jase wascoming. Thank God.
The outer door shut. Cenedi met them inside, in a little alcove made by stretched fabric—very ingenious, Bren thought, separating the designated dining room. “Jase is on his way,” Bren said in passing, and reached out to anchor himself and not to bump into the curtain as he drifted in.
There was a table; there were chairs. They were anchored quite firmly; and the dowager sat, or approximately sat, to welcome them, tucked into a chair and braced with pillows. She had that formidable cane in hand. By her, also tucked in with pillows, was Cajeiri, quite proper, considering; and beyond another fabric screen, the second doorway to the suite, which was, one was sure, the area from which dinner service would come.
“Aiji-ma.” Bren launched himself from the wall with fair accuracy and grace, aiming himself toward what should be the seat next the dowager on her right. He grabbed it before he overshot, and the dowager graciously bade him to a seat.
“There, there, will you care for a pillow, paidhi-aiji?”
Staff had drifted in from that farther curtain, having pillows in hand.
Pillows seemed a good idea, a clever way to wedge oneself in, and he accepted the amenity. The athletic young man immediately shot away toward the door—tracked by Cajeiri’s estimating, all-recording gaze, as every movement gained Cajeiri’s fascinated if erratic attention.
“Jase is on his way, aiji-ma,” Bren said, tucking pillows snugly. “One hopes that Sabin-aiji is with him.”
“One expectsso,” Ilisidi said. Usually by now there was a drink service, if there were late arrivals; but just then, and to his relief, Cenedi opened the doors and admitted their two missing guests.
A little delay at the door: Sabin hadn’t intended to leave her guard, but that matter was settled on a glance inside. Jase and Sabin both came drifting in, Jase assuring Sabin of the situation, that neither Cenedi nor Banichi and Jago would sit here.
So bodyguards had theirconviviality across the hall, or the corridor, or however they arranged it, in whatever area—a prime venue for exchanging informal intelligence and gossip, if it were associated houses, as it was not, in the captains’ case.
But there would be no stint of food over there, to be sure.
Jase indicated a seat of preference to Sabin, ceding that honor to his senior, when Ilisidi beckoned an invitation to them, and Sabin and Jase both sailed accurately into place, and into a chair.
“A pillow?” Ilisidi inquired, the servant standing by to offer it, and Jase accepted.
“Pillow,” Sabin muttered in mild disgust. Clearly this wasn’t the style of Sabin’s table, such as it might be, or however ship-folk managed under similar circumstances. But Sabin took it nonetheless, a nice, brocaded pillow, with fringe, and secured herself at the table.
“Welcome, welcome,” Ilisidi said. “We appreciate that these are busy hours for the ship-aijiin.”
Bren translated.
“Damned busy,” Sabin said. Sabin had been scowling when she came through the door and hadn’t improved the expression since. Clearly her interview with Jase had been heated.
“We held a conversation,” Jase said in Ragi, in the lowest possible whisper, “and the captain understands this is critically important, paidhi-aiji.”
Passing information right across the table. In Ragi.
“I have a statement,” Sabin said, jaw clenched. “At the appropriate time.”
“A welcoming statement?” Bren asked.
“Call it that. Ready?”
“The ship-aiji wishes to make you welcome to the ship, aiji-ma,” Bren said.
Ilisidi gave a modest wave of the hand.
“You can tell the aiji’s grandmother that whatever arrangements Ramirez made were Ramirez’s arrangements. They’re not mine. I won’t renege on her being here, but I won’t tolerate your native types breaking our regulations or undertaking independent operations.”
“Aiji-ma, the ship-aiji does not consider herself bound by Ramirez’s arrangements, and states strongly that while she will not disapprove your presence aboard, she does not favor it and wishes you not to initiate operations that may infringe regulations or startle ship’s officers.”
“How elegant of her,” Ilisidi said and waggled fingers. “Say that whatever the custom on the ship, business at the table is not our custom. And since she has made a demand, broach the matter of that tape Jase wants.”
“Aiji-ma.” This from Jase. “I beg you let me finesse that matter.”
“You wish to translate, ship-aiji?” Ilisidi asked.
“Jase,” Bren said, a caution, a strong caution—a plea on both knees, if there’d been an up or a down, for Jase to stay out of it, for the whole topic to wait.
“Oh, serve the drinks, nadiin-ji,” Ilisidi said, losing interest in it all, and immediately a servant entered the room from behind the curtain, bearing a closed container. The servant flungthe contents, startling them all with blue and red, yellow and orange and clear and amber globes that sailed all about the premises like so many moonlets on independent courses, to collide and carom and go on moving, sloshing liquid contents. Sabin stared in incredulity and looked alarmed, as if they’d loosed so many bombs. Cajeiri clapped his hands in glee.
“Oh, mani, may we take them?”
“The red or blue for you, young rascal of a grandson, indeed. Bren-ji, the clear or the yellow. Jase-ji, the yellow is your favorite. Let our guest suit herself.” She reached up and snared a fist-sized amber one on its way past, pulled out the recessed straw, and sipped.
Bren reached obediently for a clear globe… the likes of which they had proposed to use on the shuttle, for emergencies. “Captain, the clear globes would be vodka. The yellow, vodka and juice. The others wouldn’t be safe for us.”
Sabin picked a clear one, pulled her straw and drank. “Inventive.”
“Sabin-aiji applauds the ingenuity of the service, aiji-ma.” This, as the staff loosed another volley of planetoids, these white and yellow, which drifted more slowly through their midst.
One trusted the appetizer was safe. It was pureed, to fit through the straw, in internal sacs that collapsed, and sweet, and sour, and could be enjoyed in alternation, while one parked one’s drink—if not in orbit—at least in convenient proximity.