“No. Not station we . Ship we .” Bren made his oddly assorted group inclusive with a gesture, and Prakuyo all but trembled. The sound vibration shook cups on the table.
“We wish to go home,” Ilisidi said. “He wishes the same. Is this not the heart of matters?”
“One agrees, aiji-ma.” Of all civilized ideas at least among atevi and humans, a very potent one. Home.
“ We once regarded a foreign star in our skies with intense suspicion. Our associations were confused. Our order was overthrown. From such troubled waters rose the aishi’ditat . Was it to the good? No matter asking. It is. What is must be accounted, and only when it is accounted, what is kabiu will suggest itself.”
Play it by ear. Adapt. Abandon the plan. Look for the new pattern in events as they fell. It was not the human view of crisis management. But it was profoundly atevi, profoundly valid. Had not such thinking even become Mospheiran, over the centuries? Had not the paidhiin worked and fought within the university and the government to get that flexibility with their neighbors installed in place of a more rigid, history-conscious policy?
“Ilisidi, who is very wise, Prakuyo, reminds me that atevi once saw a new star appear in atevi space. Humans came down to the atevi. She says it’s not good, not bad. It is. We simply live together. Humans have a station. Atevi live on the station. We sit at one table. Prakuyo can sit at this table.”
Did Prakuyo pick out even a dozen significant words—and put them together in any sane way?
Intense humming. Prakuyo sought his chair back and leaned on it as if he were reaching his physical or emotional limits.
“These are very excellent cakes,” Ilisidi said, waving a hand at the nearest plate. And in Mosphei: “Sit with us, Prakuyo An Tep.”
Bren had to take a breath of his own. A full sentence, in Mosphei’.
Prakuyo said something deep and sonorous, a modulation of quivering sound. And abruptly he sat down again at table.
“I have books full of pictures,” Cajeiri piped up. “ I can show him words. Will he like to see those, nandiin?”
Clever boy. Precocious boy. Not even a bad idea—if those picture books told a little less about the atevi homeworld. But the very flavors that won Prakuyo’s interest admitted a planet. Stations anchored to planets. People occupying stations came from planets, and that ship out there would have tracked their entry, from what direction, and might easily find the world involved. The things he had once thought they might conceal seemed apparent now. They were in this game to the hilt, everything admitted. A visit to atevi space seemed likely. It was up to them, here, to see it was peaceful.
“Perhaps,” Bren said, and Ilisidi waved a negligent hand—which sent Cajeiri running (pursued by a sharp stare from his great-grandmother) out the door.
“Tea?” Narani asked, and offered a cup, which Prakuyo took in both hands. Prakuyo sipped it, seemed at first to find it strange, and then to savor it greatly, dumping in a considerable lot of sugar.
The food on Prakuyo’s plate disappeared as rapidly as that on Ilisidi’s—for that matter, on Cenedi’s and Banichi’s and Jago’s, long after Bren had reached his limit on tea cakes. He sat there waiting for a seven-year-old’s picture books, trying to think of the verbal routes he might use to reach some sort of abstract understanding. Friend hadn’t even crossed the boundary between what was atevi and what was human. Friendship equated with atevi association . But intimate, heart-deep divergence of how person connected to person remained elusive to this day. The constellation of emotionally mediated, non-rational, instinct-driven connections escaped them: one side simply did not perceive as the other did.
The one thing they had worked out was that truth was best and that politely pretending to understand was a lethal trap. Nearly impossible to straighten out a transspecies perception of betrayal or, worse, a real nest of lies. There was danger in every direction. But trust… a foregone conclusion of benign intent—could tip the balance at least toward a presumption of good behavior.
Banichi touched his arm—rare; but Banichi wanted his quiet attention.
“Jase-aiji informs us the foreign ship has begun moving toward us. He asks your presence.”
Damn.
But not nearly as heartfelt a damn ! as might be if they weren’t sitting at table with a critical condition satisfied—even satiated on tea cakes.
Jase needed to know that. Jase urgently needed to know there was progress.
“Dowager-ji,” Bren said. “Prakuyo-ji.” Two bows. “Forgive me. Jase needs me urgently. Prakuyo, ship wants me. I come back. Eat. Eat. Lot of food.” He bowed again to one and to the other, and ducked outside, Jago in attendance, Banichi having remained with Cenedi, security being stretched perilously thin in that room with a table dividing a very strong guest from two very fragile persons. “Jago, I need to go. I shall not be long. Stay here. Assist. If Jase must speak to that ship, I should be there.”
“Yes,” Jago said with economy, and Bren hurried down the corridor, already thumbing buttons on his pocket com to reach C1.
“This is Bren Cameron. I’m on my way up there. Tell the captain.”
Chapter 17
He was approaching the end of the corridor as C1 answered him. “ Mr. Cameron, sir, the alien craft is moving at a cautious pace; it will have been moving for some time. Indications are it moved shortly after the visible flash when we lost the robot .”
Reasonable. The question was what it intended or what it thought was going on. It was a short list, and one hoped it had simply observed that flash and gotten worried. “Has station noticed this movement?”
“ Captain Graham is talking to station administration now, advising them not to take any hostile action. ”
“As they value our collective lives, C1. I suggest you run the initial contact pattern for the alien. Send it and try to establish contact. Let them know we’re still alive and keeping our agreements.”
“ Captain Graham has already given that order. We are currently transmitting and repeating. ”
Jase was no fool.
Neither was he. He punched the alternate channel on his com unit as he reached the section door, passing Ilisidi’s guards, passing the door. “Isolate photographs of our guest, nadi,” he asked of Asicho. “Produce a good still image of him and reduce it to black and white, no grays. Send that image to the bridge. A picture that looks happy or serene, if possible to judge.”
“ Yes, nand’ paidhi. ”
He reached the lift, punched the call button, and changed com channels. “C1, Cameron here. Five-deck is sending you an image in a moment. Prepare it for transmission to the alien ship. I’m on my way up there in two seconds.” The lift car door opened. He stepped in, input his destination.