And, minor point of excitement and relief, larger mattresses arrived, simple cushions, very thin, but exceedingly welcome and curiously new, exactly like the mattresses of the bed, a sealed rectangle of foam in a bright blue plastic skin. New, Bren thought, as if the ship had manufactured them; and by what little he knew of the ship’s resources, that was possible, granted the raw materials.
So they had gained another point of their requests. There were beds for the night that did not involve stuffed baggage, that were tailored for his staff, and his security passed the stack in, examining them behind the door for any sign of electronic output or potential for it.
It was encouraging that when, unable to resist temptation, he keyed in the E10 material and hopscotched around the content of the archive, it was accessible as promised. He found unguessed gems, a fabulous treasure of micro-imaged books, an encyclopedia he had never seen, languages he could by no means read, but which some isolated families on Mospheira might even recognize. Certain households had maintained knowledge and recorded it, recreating some things that Mospheira had lost, and scholars would have entire careers comparing the two… granted the world survived the next several difficult centuries and developed the leisure.
He scanned that material until the headache he attributed to the thin, dry air had reached an acute level, and bed began to seem a very good notion.
But before he did, he made one more call to Cl, and to Mogari, and executed another send and receive.
A message from Tabini took priority on his list: We congratulate you and your staff on a successful flight. We have received your prior message and await word of your progress. With it came more files that needed examination, but they had the common prefixes of committee reports.
From his own office, in the Bu-javid, his head of the clerical staff: Toby Cameron has called us three times and we have attempted obfuscation and delays. What shall we say?
There was, in effect, nothing to say. Until he received clear word that the populace knew where he was and there was no problem with revealing that fact, there was nothing at all he could answer, but an enigmatic: I am answering Toby Cameron’s messages myself. Thank you for reporting them. You may ignore any future ones that do not evidence an emergency, but relay them all to me for my action.
And an even more enigmatic message to his brother.
Toby, I’m receiving you at a considerable delay. I’m off on assignment and I can’t reach you directly.
Understatement. He erased his signature and added:
Please write. I’m very worried for Mother and for you. How is Barb? Don’t forget Shawn. He could rely on Shawn Tyers, personally.
His response didn’t help Barb. Toby’s letter didn’t answer how she was and he had no idea why Toby didn’t tell him that one simple piece of information: maybe because Toby thought he didn’t want to involve himself with Barb’s worries, or because he’d asked Toby to handle their mother’s worries and Barb was one of them… God knew. The potential reasons were legion. The headache reached a lancing crescendo, riding just behind afflicted sinuses.
Humidity. When atevi had the station in their hands, humidity had to be higher than it was. Temperature was bearable, but the air was incredibly sterile.
Why in bloody helldidn’t Toby put simple facts in a letter?
Is she alive, Toby? Is she doing any better? For God’s sake, Toby…
He made what he foreknew would be another no-information attempt, through Cl… wanting some sort of consolation before he attempted sleep: Toby, I’m sorry, but I need a specific answer, no matter what it is. Do you have any information on Barb?… with all its attachments and addressing.
Don’t give her any encouragement about our relationship. That’s over. We do care about each other. I care how she’s doing. I don’t know how you can convey that.
Hell, don’t tell her. Just tell me how she is so I know how much I have to worry. Don’t you pay for those plane tickets. I will.
“Cl, I have another send. Please transmit.”
“Yes, sir. Done.”
“Is Jase Graham reachable yet?”
“No, sir.”
“Yolanda Mercheson.”
“No, sir, they’re both on duty.”
“Relay the following message to both: Call when you can.”
Debriefing, still, doubtless both called in, both going over a recording of everything he’d said to Ramirez and possibly all he’d said to the Mospheirans… no linguistic barrier stood between the Guild and the Mospheirans.
And not mentioning the chance the Mospheirans had wanted a second conference with the Guild, after the agreement he’d asked of them, untidy as dual agreements might become… there was never a thing done on Mospheira but that someone wanted another study… would they do differently up here?
The headache was splitting. He searched into a drawer, where personal belongings had miraculously appeared, located a headache medication, and took it with the remnant of a cup of tea.
After that he called Bindanda and Kandana and went to bed, arranged with every comfort, with every indication from his hosts that things were on schedule. Banichi reported no fault with anything he had read. I see no flaw, Banichi said. One might mention there must be an administrative Guild establishment on the station.
By that Banichi meant his own Guild, which attended all civilization; and in the security post they had established, he supposed they had made a start on that. Their section might well become the core of it. And when the Pilots’ Guild knew that, there might be arguments.
There might well be arguments. But he would not bring it up tomorrow.
He listened to his staff coming and going in the hall, beyond the open doorway, on some business one thread of his thoughts found both mysterious and ordinary.
He was very sure his security was on watch, completely in control of their small section of the station, while he listened to the slight sound of conversation in the hall, a little louder than the fans and the movement of air. Banichi’s Guild washere, watchful and protective. Certain things the Pilots’ Guild didn’t need to know until Banichi’s Guild office was a fait accompli and the Assassins were there to keep atevi mannerly and sensible. Banichi was right. Atevi respected their own institutions, and that had to be part of the plan. The Assassins’ Guild, in fact, was one of the only neutral institutions on the mainland, and engaging them early in the negotiations, getting them to establish that presence on the station… that was a very good idea. It would reassure the provinces that no one’s office was getting the advantage, and it was an obvious first, not technical but essential, silent, but needful he make an official approach to the Guild leadership. Banichi was very right to say so. He could begin that, immediately as he reached the planet.
But that was tomorrow. Days from now. Best approachthat Guild, because as in every operation atevi undertook, it had someone involved. In this case it had four of the best, and probably Bindanda… if Bindanda wasn’t a Messenger, which was also possible. It was a Guild almost as secretive.