There had been a panic, and Reunioners had tried to get the section doors open, which was really dangerous. Ship security had tried to keep order and that was when the ship-aijiin finally put guards inside to keep people back from the doors.
And all the doors were open now but the Reunioner doors, because, Geigi had said, they were the ones who had attacked the doors.
So it was quiet now. And the ship-folk guards were still at the Reunioner doors, while everybody else could walk about as they pleased. Reunioners caught out had been arrested and put back into the Reunioner sections . . . as if they had done something wrong.
It was stupid.
He had sat through Geigi’s report and not said anything.
But now he was so worried about his associates he was not likely to sleep.
He was not supposed to ask about his associates, but he had asked tonight about his mail, since that was not forbidden.
And Geigi had said he had sent it across to the other Central. And nothing had come back.
So that upset him, too.
And then Geigi had said—without being asked, so he had not broken his promise—that Jase had visited him twice since he had gotten back to the station, and Lord Geigi had taken the baggage and put the clothing in storage for everybody. And then Geigi had asked Gene and Artur and Irene to dinner, with nand’ Jase, and with their parents, an invitation which Jase had translated and he had sent in ship-speak, but Geigi had never gotten an answer to the first invitation, and before he had sent it again, the kyo ship had shown up.
Then Tillington had done what he had done.
And things were in a mess.
He hoped his associates knew he was here and that he would do everything he could to get them out.
He wanted so much to ask favors. He wanted it so much he had bit his lip sore. He had looked at mani and looked at Lord Geigi and he knew they knew what he wanted, but nobody suggested what to do, or said there was anything they could do.
He pounded his pillow into a lump and whatever it was made of just would not stay where he wanted it.
Meanwhile Lord Geigi was taking over Central, now, which was a good thing. So can you get a phone call to Artur, nandi, or to any of them? That was what he had wanted to ask Lord Geigi. Can you at least find out how they are?
But he had kept his promise and said nothing.
He hoped his aishid was able to sleep. He was not doing well at it.
· · ·
“Bren-ji.”
Waking. Light overhead. Jago in uniform. Himself lying face-down with his arms around an unfamiliar pillow.
On the space station. That was where.
Tillington was in a snit, the dowager was across the hall, Geigi had gotten control shifted to atevi Central, and the kyo were on a course toward the inner solar system.
He shoved himself up and swung his feet off the bed, hands rubbing his face and partly shutting out the light. “Jago-ji. Is there a problem?”
“It is 0500 by the local reckoning. Tillington has just returned to Mospheiran Central and called technicians to come in. Lord Geigi remains in atevi Central and has not shifted control back to Tillington. There is no word from the ship-aijiin. We have no word from the Mospheiran shuttle. They are communicating only with ground control while Central communications are currently in Ragi.”
The Ragi-Mosphei’ switch was operation as usuaclass="underline" so was the Mospheiran shuttle’s reliance on ground control during periods when Ragi was the language in Central, the same as the atevi shuttle relied on ground control during Mospheiran control of Central. And there was a station-based ops, not subject to a clock-based rotation, but working so long as a shuttle was in flight. The system usually ran very smoothly, ops—which until lately was all atevi teams—handled most of it, and opposite-language technicians were always on call.
But Geigi was not going to switch control back to the Mospheiran crews in the immediate future, and not until that incoming shuttle was safely docked. Geigi had the advantage, unassailable once active control had been switched to his boards. Ogun was apparently off-shift. Jase and Sabin were likely exhausted, sleeping as they could, to recover from their own standoff with Tillington. The fourth captain had not been heard from. But Phoenix had indeed repositioned herself before they’d arrived, free of the mast, accessible only by shuttlecraft, and likely Riggins was there.
“The kyo?”
“Lord Geigi reports there is no change. Lord Geigi says he will not relinquish control nor release his staff from duty until he hears from you or the dowager, and he says he would be surprised to receive such an order until some time after the next shuttle has docked. He is prepared. He has set up his staff to stay on duty and eat and sleep there in shifts.”
Two could play Tillington’s game. “Messages from anyone else?”
“There is none. The dowager is requesting information, but she is querying Lord Geigi in Central.”
The odds that anyone in Tillington’s system could crack courtly Ragi spoken by two very literate adepts were low. Vanishingly low. Without Jase or himself to translate, it was as good as code.
So the overall situation was not that bad. Except for the exhausted Mospheiran techs, who had to be fraying at the edges. And Tillington, camping out in a non-functional control room.
“You requested to be informed of any change in Central, Bren-ji. I shall turn out the lights again if you wish. You might go back to sleep for another hour.”
Tempting. But there was so much to do.
Including talking to Tillington, who might be in a better mood, though it hardly sounded like it. Tillington was apparently sending demands to Geigi for a turnover. Geigi, flexible fellow that he was, would understand quite a bit from whatever Tillington said, but Tillington would not get a word of Mosphei’ out of him, not this morning.
And Tillington had to have expected that. He was just going through the forms. Doing his duty. Being where he was technically supposed to be.
Couldn’t blame the man for that. It could be a good sign, Tillington’s showing up where he was, by the clock, supposed to be.
Give the man a graceful out. Cheap, counting the alternatives. There were Mospheiran offices that would never intersect atevi. Ever. Shawn could park him in one of those, maybe pay him enough to keep him away from politics.
“I shall dress,” he said. “But if Narani and Jeladi are sleeping, Jago-ji,—”
“They will come,” Jago said, and went out to bear that message.
· · ·
The dowager didn’t send an invitation to breakfast. He had halfway expected, being up at dawn, that she would ask him to report the news.
“She is well, is she not?” he asked of Bindanda, who had appeared with the breakfast fish. He trusted Bindanda to be tapped into every shred of gossip in their section. And he wanted to know things were in order and that he had all the information he could get, before any meeting with Tillington.
“One understands, nandi, that, Lord Geigi being absent, and you being engaged with human problems, the dowager is taking a day of rest and quiet, along with the young gentleman.”
So Ilisidi was officially expecting him to solve the human problems, while she was keeping Cajeiri close—a good idea, given the situation with the Reunioners.
Breakfast was more than palatable. Fish—real fish—was a standard fare up here, with a dry hot spice, an efficient item to ship. There was bread, but one did not ask made of what. The space program had necessitated a few exceptions in the ancient atevi tradition of season and appropriateness. And in the notion of what constituted food.