But the morning was not without messages. “Riggins-aiji called,” Narani said, just as he exited the little dining room, “and the phone indicates he wishes a call.”
Pavel Riggins.
Fourth Captain. Ogun’s man, appointed by Ogun in the absence of Sabin and Jase. And possibly in charge of the ship, at the moment. And possibly under-informed, for that reason.
He’d queried Jase on Riggins’ character, during those recent holiday conversations. Jase had described Riggins as in his thirties, a bit cautious in changing anything, voting consistently with Ogun, but honestly trying to get along with Sabin.
Not a bad report. Good man, Jase said, on systems coordination; intelligent where it came to supply and distribution, a man who’d gotten a fast and scary education in atevi protocols when the coup had happened on Earth and he’d had to work with Geigi to deal with shortages.
Ogun had made a unilateral appointment to fill that fourth captaincy—though Riggins had been too close to the late and unlamented Pratap Tamun for Sabin’s liking. Jase said that, too, but said he had no complaint.
Well, Pratap Tamun and all history aside—Riggins was what they had in charge this shift. And Riggins was handling everything by remote, not even on the station deck.
He put his coat on, prepared for the day, and finally made the call through the atevi system, which got him, not unexpectedly, ship-com. “This is Bren Cameron. Captain Riggins, please.”
That took a moment.
“Mr. Cameron.” A new voice. “Welcome aboard.”
“Thank you, sir. Pleased to meet you.”
“I understand there’s a problem with atevi Central refusing to carry out the shift change.”
“You understand correctly, Captain. Tillington’s staff exceeded its own shift considerably and exhausted itself. Mr. Tillington left last night. At that point, I’m sure you are aware, Mospheiran Central switched control to Lord Geigi at Captain Graham’s instruction. I understand Mr. Tillington is back in Mospheiran Central this morning, but quite frankly, Captain, that turnover will not happen with Mr. Tillington in his present emotional state.”
“You are not qualified, Mr. Cameron, to make that judgment.”
“Most respectfully, Captain, I am here at the request of the aiji in Shejidan, and the President of Mospheira, who has authority over Mr. Tillington. My immediate business is preparing to deal with the incoming visitors. Securing the station, and particularly Central Operations, against a territorial dispute is within my instruction. I am working with an atevi administration competent, cooperative, and incidentally operating in the language in which we will contact the visitors. The inbound Mospheiran shuttle will be obliged to rely on ship-com as well as ground control for any non-operational matters during approach tomorrow. I trust you will be able to provide any needed assistance.”
There was a moment of silence. “I have received no such request.”
“You are now receiving it, sir. I am sure you will also receive it from the inbound shuttle, and I thank you on their behalf, in advance.”
Another silence. Then:
“I have to consult.”
“Please advise me if there will be any difficulty.”
“I’ll communicate as my own command directs, Mr. Cameron.”
“Understood, sir. Please notify me of any problems, any change in the kyo situation.”
“I report within my own chain of command, sir.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
Well, that was not the best first conversation he had ever had with an official. But counting the way things had had to work during Ogun’s long cooperation with Tillington in the ship’s absence; and counting Ogun’s year-long feud with Sabin since, he could understand that many instructions to Riggins had probably begun with, Take no action.
Riggins was in charge until Ogun woke up. Which was probably a good time to take on problems and get an update on the kyo.
He needed to go to Central and try to calm Tillington down, preferably before Ogun or Sabin became involved again.
He called his aishid. He sent word to Ilisidi where he was going, and sent word by Guild runner to Lord Geigi, to advise him what he was doing.
Forewarning Tillington did not seem like a good idea.
· · ·
The message came during breakfast that Lord Bren was going to go to Central to talk to Tillington-aiji.
Because Tillington had shown up to demand control back.
“Annoying man,” mani said of the situation, which, if it were back on Earth, would not promise well for Tillington.
Probably it was true up here, too.
Cajeiri fretted his way through the eggs in sauce, wondering about his associates, hoping they were all right, and wondering if, once Tillington’s replacement arrived, they could open the section doors.
He dared not say anything. Or mope, which would invite a sharp question. So he would have tried to be cheerful, except mani had agreed to receive nand’ Bren’s message right in the middle of formal breakfast—and he could tell she was not happy, either.
He did not dare ask why she was unhappy. Lord Geigi had not shown up at breakfast because he was holding on to Central, so there was no news to be had. He could only guess there was about to be trouble.
The kyo ship was still coming in, and signaling with their names, mani’s name and nand’ Bren’s and his. Antaro had heard that, and told him so before breakfast.
That was a good thing.
And the Mospheiran shuttle was coming in, too, tomorrow.
So good things were going on, too.
But people in the Reunioner section right now were not happy. They were probably scared that with Tillington in charge, there might be some sort of political deal, and that very bad things would happen—not just getting shipped off to Maudit, but being handed over to the kyo in some sort of deal to save the station. People always believed the worst things. And he knew there were reasons they had closed those doors.
But he wanted nand’ Bren at least to assure his associates that they were here and that everything was all right.
Nobody could take time for a handful of children.
But nand’ Bren was more patient than most adults. Nand’ Bren would not tell Great-grandmother he had asked a forbidden question. And if anybody could slip a word through the locked doors, nand’ Bren might.
At least it was worth trying.
If only nand’ Bren would have paid mani a visit this morning.
But nand’ Bren had had to go deal with Tillington, who had started the day with another problem.
· · ·
Heading into the Mospheiran section, where security was under Tillington’s command, brought objection. Banichi wasn’t at all trusting of Tillington. So Banichi sent for one of Geigi’s men as a guide, and roused out Cenedi’s second, Nawari, before breakfast, so that he could get firsthand information back to the dowager.
Then he’d called up all four of the Guild observers—so, Banichi said, that those four might witness their dealing with Tillington, the manner of it, and the outcome.
Bren rather doubted there would be a physical problem. But security was Banichi’s call. Listen to your aishid, Tabini had said, and meant it.
“If you think it a good idea,” Bren had said, regarding calling in the Observers. Their company assembling in the corridor presented an intimidating show of black uniforms. The Guild had also unpacked, and this time had not brought just their sidearms.
He did consider suggesting they leave the rifles, though it was standard procedure to carry them in a similar situation on Earth. He hardly wanted shooting in a room full of controls, instruments, and innocent techs.