“Kaplan,” Bren said.
“Sir!”
“Why don’t we take a walk to the Mospheiran delegation, and then over to the mess hall?”
“They’re in the same section, sir.”
“Well, good,” he said. “Why don’t we do that?”
“Yes, sir,” Kaplan said.
“Would any of you like to walk along?”
“We have to get back to duty,” one said.
“I’m sure you do. Well, good day to you all. Hope to see more of you.” Bren smiled and made his withdrawal, saying, in Ragi, still smiling, “Jase was wildly extroverted when he arrived, compared to these people.”
“They seem very afraid,” Jago remarked.
“They seem afraid,” he repeated, following Kaplan. “They were likely put here for us to see. They haven’t seen Jase, and they haven’t seen any of the files we’ve transmitted up, the ones about atevi.”
“One certainly asks why,” Banichi said.
“One certainly does ask,” Bren said. “Kaplan, what are these people scared of?”
“The aliens, sir.”
“Banichi and Jago aren’t aliens. You and I are. That below is their planet.”
“Yes, sir.” Kaplan didn’t look reassured. Nor was he reassured, regarding the ship.
“Ever been in a fight?”? Bren asked.
“Sir?”
“Ever had to fight, really fight, hand to hand?”
“No, sir,” Kaplan said.
“Has anyone on this ship ever been in a fight?”
“I don’t think so, sir, well, a few scrambles between us, but not outside, sir.”
This from a man overburdened with direction-finding, recording, and defensive equipment, a man who looked like a walking spy post.
“Bren.”
“Sir?”
“Bren’s the name. You can call me Bren. For formal use it’s Bren-nandi, but Mr. Cameron is my island name. Is Kaplan what you go by?” Last names were stitched on every uniform, and it was all uniforms, completely identical. Textures had frightened Jase. Differences had frightened Jase. He saw now that everything on the station was one color, the uniforms were all alike: the haircuts were generally but not universally alike… one size fit everyone and one had to train one’s eye to look at subtler differences, which probably were quite clear to someone who knew the body language of every individual aboard. He supposed that Kaplan could recognize an individual from behind and at a distance down the oddly-curving corridors, and that he himself was relatively handicapped in not knowing. The difference he posed must certainly be a shock; the Mospheirans no less so; and what they thought of the atevi was likely like a man looking at a new species: the ability to integrate patterns and recognize individuals utterly overwhelmed by a flood of input, not knowing what was a significant difference.
Three years to build a shuttle?
Three years to bring Jason, who was trying, into synch with atevi ways?
It wasn’t the engineering that most challenged them in building here. It was the psychology of individuals on the ground who for various reasons didn’t want to comprehend, the pathology of individuals having trouble enough inside their own system of recognitions; the pathology of a human society up here walled in and sensitized to a narrow range of subtle sensations, subtle signals.
He’d been uneasy regarding Jase. In Jase’s continued, defended absence, he was growing alarmed, pressing harder. He knew the hostility in his own mind toward these people who were behaving in a hostile way, and dare he think he was part of the difficulty?
It was a long walk through unmarked territory. More and more unmarked, unnumbered territory before they reached the Mospheirans, before sentries admitted them, unquestioned, at least, on Kaplan’s presence, if nothing else. They walked into the small district, drew a curious response from Lund and from Feldman, who walked out from separate rooms.
“Come have a drink,” Bren said. “The cafeteria’s buying.”
Lund and Feldman stared at him. Kroger and Shugart showed up, equally suspicious.
“Our hosts are hostile in manner,” Bren said cheerfully in Ragi, a simple utterance, given the basic vocabulary of the translators, and Feldman and Shugart betrayed a quickly-subdued uneasiness.
“A good idea,” Feldman said with some presence of mind. “We should go.”
“Go, hell,” Kroger said. “What are you up to?”
“Listen to him, Nadiin,” Jago said, and by now Kaplan was looking at one and the other of them.
“Kaplan,” Bren said, laying a presumptive, hail-good-fellow hand on Kaplan’s wired shoulder, “Kaplan, my friend, is there a bar to be had?”
“There is,” Kaplan said.
“Is it on the List?”
“Yes, sir,” Kaplan said.
“Well, let’s all go there and have a drink.” He tightened his grip as Kaplan began to protest. “Oh, don’t be a stick. Come along. Be welcome. Show us this bar.”
“Sir, I can’t drink on duty.”
“I’m afraid for what the stuff is made of,” Bren said, ignoring Kaplan’s reluctance, and pressed to turn him about. “But I’ve gone long enough without a drink.”
“Sounds good,” Lund said, but Kroger was frowning.
“Feldman, you stay” Kroger said. “All right, Cameron. I hope you have a reason.”
“A perfect reason. Kaplan, is there any chance you can liberate Jase to join us?”
“I don’t think so, sir. He’s with the captains.”
“Well, come along, come along. Feldman, my regrets.”
“Yes, sir,” Ben said confusedly.
At least Kroger hadn’t robbed the bar party of both translators. And she’d left security behind.
They set off back past the sentries. Another walk, a short one, and there was, indeed, a small bar, the most ordinary thing in the world to the Mospheirans, one he himself hadn’t thought of untilhe’d walked in among his own species, and one of the most astonishing places in the world for Banichi and Jago, surely. It was dim, it smelled faintly of alcohol, a television was playing an old movie on the wall unit, and every eye turned toward them.
“This is a place,” Bren said in Ragi, “where humans meet to consume alcohol, talk, and play games. Hostilities are discouraged despite the loosening of rules, or because of them. It substitutes for the sitting room. Here you may sit and talk while drinking. Talk with the young paidhi while I talk with Lund and Kroger, find out what she knows, advise her honestly of our concerns, advise her how to communicate this discreetly to her superiors. It is permissible and encouraged to lean on the counter where drinks are served while one talks.”
“One will try,” Banichi said.
“Shugart,” Bren said, “go practice your translation with them, using no names.”
“No names.” The word was difficult in Ragi.
“Lund,” Bren said, flinging an arm about the delegate from Commerce. “What will you have? More to the point, what have they got, Kaplan? Vodka, more than likely.”
“There’s vodka,” Kaplan said. “There’s vodka and there’s flavored vodka.”
“I’m not surprised,” Bren said. “Is there anything you can’tmake into vodka?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Kaplan said. The eyepiece glowed in the dim lighting. Unhappily, so did atevi eyes, as gold as Kaplan’s eyepiece was red. The phenomenon drew nervous stares around the room… from the single bartender, the five gathered at a table. The stares tried not to be obvious, and weren’t wholly friendly.
“Anyone here know Jase Graham?” Bren asked aloud. If there was anyone who didn’t, they didn’t say so, but neither did the others leap up to say they did. “Friend of mine. Missing onboard.”