“Indeed,” Geigi said. “We can enable that. If you will make the statement, we will broadcast it, Bren-ji. Come.”
God. What to say. How much to say. The operation was ongoing, and they hadn’t gotten all of Braddock’s people, hadn’t gotten the parents out—the less information Braddock’s people got, the better.
Things broke. It was a lot to say something had broken that locked up an entire section of the station, with all its fail-safes, but it was the best story he had.
He took up the mike. He said, “Citizens. This is Bren Cameron, speaking from atevi Central, which is at the moment in process of fixing a local computer problem that has affected the door locks. Please be patient. Technicians look to have this problem solved very shortly, and we apologize for the inconvenience. We retain the ability to open all doors, but in the interests of your personal security and privacy, we prefer to restore keycard function. Some changes are in progress, and you may look forward to having Mospheiran Central back in full function tomorrow, with the arrival of a new stationmaster, who will be working closely with the atevi stationmaster and the Captains’ Council. We are in contact with the approaching kyo ship and believe that we can manage a peaceful exchange with them. Their visit is not unexpected, and we expect it will be a confirmation of the understandings we have already reached with them. Please be assured, your safety and your future are not a matter of negotiation. The President of Mospheira considers you his citizens, along with those born to the planet. There will be more news once the new stationmaster has arrived. Meanwhile please be patient. Whether you are locked out, or locked in, please allow us about an hour, perhaps less, and be patient. There is no general malfunction. It is limited to certain locks. Thank you.”
No promises. No wider statements. He returned the headset and drew a deep breath. He hated having to speak cold. Especially to people who’d been damned well put upon and hammered down and pushed to the limit for the last decade and more.
No one in the room with him knew what he had said, or what he had promised those people.
Well, perhaps one had understood a lot of it. Cajeiri was at the dowager’s side.
And Geigi himself understood a lot more than he ever admitted.
“Bjorn? Artur? Gene?” he heard from the speaker, a shade more desperate than before.
Then: “Bjorn!” he heard Irene say, and he looked up at the screen overhead. “Bjorn, it’s me!”
He turned, looked up at the image on the screen—a place undistinguished from the rest of the tunnel they’d been searching—girders, machinery, ducts, and a narrow walkway. The camera wasn’t picking up what Irene had seen—then did, as a lumpish shadow lumbered toward them.
He heard something. If there had been an answer to Irene’s call, the mike didn’t pick up.
“It’s all right!” Irene called out. Someone knocked into pipe, raising echoes. “It’s me! It’s nand’ Bren’s people with me! It’s all right! Keep coming!”
Cajeiri arrived at Bren’s side, for the closest possible view. “Can they hear me, nandi? Can I talk to them? Can they see me?”
“They cannot hear or see you, young aiji, but they will be coming here.” There were two cold-suited figures in the light now, a tall boy and a shorter, younger one, whose freckled face suddenly showed clear as the light swung over them. The boys flinched, and shielded their eyes and the light traveled past.
“Artur!” Cajeiri exclaimed. “Is Gene with them?”
“Nadiin,” Banichi’s deep voice said, within the pickup, “you are safe. Is Gene-nadi with you?”
“Gene. Not here,” Artur said in Ragi. “Not see.” And in ship-speak. “He never got here. Bjorn almost didn’t make it. We met at the rendezvous, but Gene—Gene didn’t get here.”
The two had reached the tunnels before the shutdown—had run for them at the closure warning, met and hid together. They’d managed to get cold-suits, at least, likely from one of the emergency shelters, maybe emergency rations and water that wasn’t frozen . . .
“Gene would not be caught,” Cajeiri said. “He would be hardest to catch.”
“What would he do, young aiji? If Braddock’s men came, what would he do?”
“He would hide. He would take care of his mother and he would hide. Once everybody heard the kyo were coming, he would know we were coming. I told everybody we would come.”
If anything went wrong, if there was any trouble, they were to go to Lord Geigi or nand’ Jase. That was the pact the kids had made. Irene had gone. Two of the boys had had the tunnels close on them before they could make it out.
Gene might have gotten caught before he could get there. The next part of their operation, before they released the locks, was to reach the kids’ parents; and that might turn up Gene.
Or he could be in the same predicament, but not in the same tunnel system.
There was some sort of tunnel access in Gene’s apartment complex. Cajeiri’s notes and Irene’s had said it was accessible. And if Gene had taken longer than fifteen minutes getting from it to the new tunnel system, if concern for his mother had delayed him, or if Braddock’s men had moved faster . . .
“Attend your great-grandmother, young gentleman. I shall advise Jase.”
Geigi stood over near the boards, and Bren went there, quickly, said, quietly. “Bjorn and Artur are safe, but Gene did not reach them, and Ogun-aiji reports rioting in 24. I need your workers to continue to search the modern tunnel all the way to its end, in case Gene has used another shelter. We need to contact Jase-aiji.”
“Sit,” Geigi said, and ordered a contact with the workers with Jase.
Cenedi and Nawari had Braddock, presumably on their way out of 23 and headed toward a lift that would get them to atevi Central. Jase and his bodyguard were moving to join up with another team, consisting of one atevi worker and two of the dowager’s men, who were en route to Bjorn’s residence, closest to Irene’s, to extract Bjorn’s parents and any of Braddock’s people they found. A second such team, heading for the edge of section 24, was setting up to move in on Artur’s apartment, with no translator, but with the hope of finding Artur, who would translate.
There was a third team moving toward Gene’s residence at the far side of 24, a small apartment next to a section of barracks and a food distribution point, one of the sections of old station tunnels and storage areas, where distances meant more exposure of the team and more risk . . . and that was where the trouble was. That was where their lockdown hadn’t prevented trouble breaking out, trouble possibly because of the lockdown.
And Gene, of all of them to be missing, the kid who’d mapped the tunnels on the ship.
They’d planned their action logically, by the architecture of the area, starting from 23, Braddock first, then Bjorn, then Artur, as nearest, both those very quickly.
But Bjorn’s father had come to Irene’s apartment looking for his son. And since Bjorn hadn’t been in Braddock’s hands, Braddock had known right then that one of the kids had slipped his reach. He might have gone straight for Artur and Gene at that point.
Then he’d have discovered he’d missed Artur, as well.
That would have left only Gene, the boy neither ship security nor station security had been able to contain.
Everybody who’d made a move on the kids so far had gotten it wrong.