Kate’s style of management would have been rougher, more blunt when she waded in. He’d somewhat looked forward to Kate encountering Tillington.
Gin typically applied charm, humor. Which Tillington at the moment wouldn’t appreciate.
He’d meet the other side of Gin, then, which he definitely wouldn’t like.
Ask for the log, while she was still hours from arrival?
Everything Tillington had allowed to be recorded, along with things the systems had automatically recorded. Gin could read those auto-records with an expert eye, figure what the sequence of things had been, and she’d hit the deck with a good grasp of the technical and the political situation—things Tillington wouldn’t have had time to cover.
Oh, there were questions he wanted to ask.
She went on asking Okana questions. Okana kept answering, rapid-fire.
News was spreading, too, to the Guild Observers. Nawari and Algini had been conducting a very quiet flow of interpretation, and the Observers listened, watched, absorbing every clue around them—learning how human authority worked, first-hand, and how the Presidenta’s authority worked.
It wasn’t an atevi way of solving things, over there among the techs, with Gin inbound and taking over and Tillington kiting off to Ogun instead of demanding to talk to his own chain of command, in the President’s office. To atevi ears it would sound less like a struggle for power between aijiin and more like an internal clan dispute, with a clan lord whose quarrels inside the house had suddenly outnumbered all his allies . . . so he went out-clan, looking for an ally.
Classic machimi, in its strange way. He had a notion most of his aishid read it exactly that way . . . except maybe Jago, who knew enough to understand that machimi wasn’t an entirely reliable guide with humans.
Mospheiran security in the room had begun to get the word, too, audio amped so they could overhear Okana and the techs—even his ears could hear the spill from their audio. They wore no less worried looks than they had come in with, still stood clustered in a far corner, observing, outnumbered and still not happy about that, while their command was mutating by the minute.
But the chance that someone would set something off by a wrong move was diminishing. Now endurance began to matter more than authorizations.
Conversation between Okana and Gin ended, with the link left available. Okana talked to a cluster of techs, some of whom left their seats to join the group.
“One requests us to hold here a little longer, Nichi-ji,” Bren remarked.
“Yes,” Banichi said quietly.
Bren clasped his hands behind him and avoided the impulse to flex his shoulders. Court etiquette. One stood. One flexed small muscles, and kept outward appearances.
Gin made another call to Central, talked to Okana and then asked to speak to Bren again. He went over to the boards and took up a headphone.
“Talked to the Senior Captain,” Gin said. “We completely agree on points of security, and I’m officially asking you to ask Geigi to change the access codes and then hand them to you, so you can be his backup and my surrogate until I get there and log in, at which point I’ll make another code change, so I won’t burden you with that, politically speaking. I’m going to be reading the log. I’ll also be making suggestions for the empowerment of a Reunioner council, for accuracy of communication—their choice, anybody but Braddock and his crew.”
“I’m sure the atevi sector will back that.”
“My next call is going to be to Sabin. I trust you to call Geigi and get that code change made. I am not going to request my predecessor vacate his apartment until he’s able to board a shuttle, so I’ll be looking for a residence—tight as things are, I may be bedding down in Central tomorrow night.”
“I’d offer you space on our side, but I’m sure you’ll prefer otherwise.”
“Politically speaking—not so good. But I appreciate the spirit of the offer. A dinner invitation, now . . .”
“Whenever you need anything, just ask. Dinner’s on offer whether I’m at home or not. My staff would be honored. Did Ogun mention the whereabouts of the other captains? Jase is off in atevi Central, Riggins is aboard Phoenix, and I’m not sure where Sabin is. I doubt she’s sleeping with all this going on.”
“Appreciated. How long do you look to remain where you are?”
“As long as I can be useful here.”
“Don’t wear yourself out, but if you could personally stay in Mospheiran Central at least long enough to get a good read on who’s in charge of second-shift, I’d feel better.”
“I’ll do that. No problem. Are we keeping full schedule on this shift?”
“No. I’m going to hold this shift until I’m satisfied I’ve done all I need. I’ll call second-shift on for an hour or two so they can understand what’s happened and understand my orders. Then I’ll give them an early night. I’ll ask Geigi to stay in place through my docking, tomorrow. I want all active control on his side of the wall, including communication with ops, until I get there to take formal charge into my hands. I’ll be working my way through the log, and I’ll appreciate any log updates outside routine, if you’ll arrange that.”
“Understood.” Communications was the only aspect of Central even marginally in human hands right now, and while that didn’t involve life-support systems and locks all over the station, it was still worrisome so long as human hands were involved. Gin was right. They needed to be sure that only Geigi could push the buttons. “No problem at all. I’ll convey what needs conveying to Geigi on the code change. And trust him to deal with the technicals. He’ll put the shuttle crew through to ship-com at their request.”
“I’ll be reading the log, meanwhile.”
“Gin, you’re a jewel.”
“Flattery, flattery. You definitely owe me dinner.”
Long haul, then. Through this shift and into the next. It occurred to him there was one place he might personally gain a little rest from waiting. Tillington’s office.
But that, he decided, wasn’t a good appearance. Or a good idea.
Politics.
Legal matters.
He went to the doorway of the office, looked about. Typical desktop. Files. Keys.
Drawers. A lot of drawers.
He called Okana over.
“I want you to witness,” he said to Okana, “the condition of this office now. You know I haven’t entered it since Tillington left.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’d like to close this door, now, and lock it, and I’d like you to provide orders to the next shift that they not enter this place, because they won’t want the responsibility. I’d like for you and the next-shift chief to assure Gin Kroger that nothing in this office has been touched, by me, or anybody else, until she arrives.”
“Yes, sir,” Okana said. “Understood.”
“Meanwhile,” he said, “I’m going to send my own bodyguard off, group by group, for a short break. I take it there’s somewhere close.”
“Adjacent room, sir, number 12. Not big, but it’s got the comforts.”
“Appreciated,” he said.
It would be. It was shaping up to be a long day. No outsiders got to see atevi Guild or a lord of the aishidi’tat in anything but official form. Gin called for shift-end, and a shunt over to Geigi.
Gin’s contact went over to ship-com, through which he also had Jase.
“You with me?” he asked Jase.
“Still holding out,” Jase said. “Tillington is sulking in his apartment. He’s tried to call the President. He doesn’t have that authority right now, does he?”