“Go attend your great-grandmother, young aiji,” he said to Cajeiri. “Get her sugared tea if she will have it. She must be exhausted. This will not be immediate. But we are working on it. I shall advise you when we are in reach.”
“Your hand is shaking, nandi.”
“One confesses to anxiety.” It was embarrassing, to have the boy notice it. Likely everyone else did. “But not to despair. Go. See to your great-grandmother. She is far too tired.”
No reply. Cajeiri went away, and Bren sat where he was, lacking the will to get up, the coherency to assemble thoughts on what to do next. Jase kept the contact open and he sat there, hearing Jase’s running footsteps and the action of the armor near him.
Then the opening of a hatch and Jase’s hard breathing. “Going to cut you out now,” Jase said. “I’m entering 24. I’ll be coordinating with my units.”
“Got it,” Bren said, and the contact switched out.
A cup of tea arrived beside him. Geigi had ordered two. He picked it up and took a sip, and it was strong tea, sugared to the point of syrup. He winced. He hated the type. The sugar hit his stomach, a questionable moment.
“Nandi,” one of the techs said, down the row. “Nandiin, we have a variance in the kyo signal.”
Mental whiteout. Panic. He picked up the tea, took another sip, spilled some onto his hand, if not his coat. He set the cup down, a carefully controlled action.
Drew a deep, deep breath.
The brain was here. It had to be there. Fast. Accurately.
“Bren. Ilisidi. Cajeiri.” It was a voice like rocks clashing. “Prakuyo an Tep. Speak.”
“Give me contact,” he said. He was numb for the moment. His heartbeat jolted, it was that strong.
“Contact is established,” Geigi said calmly. “Proceed, nandi.”
“Prakuyo an Tep,” he said, clearing his mind of dark tunnels and lines on a chart—summoning up the mental image of a huge, gray presence, a voice that, strange as it was, held a reassuring familiarity. “Bren-paidhi.” Counting the pause, he took another sip of tea. Swallowed it with difficulty. “Come.”
He’d done it. Issued the come-ahead. Dock. Meet us.
“What is our time lag on that,” he asked, “from them?”
About ten minutes, was Geigi’s answer.
Approximate. But close enough.
Ten minutes before Prakuyo could hear him. Ten minutes, twenty, thirty . . . he was obliged to hold up, keep his wits about him, think, if the kyo handed him a problem.
God, the sugared tea was making him sick.
“Artur!” he heard from across the room. “Bjorn-nadi!”
Cajeiri had made contact of his own. But he could not divert his attention.
He was not wholly surprised, however, when a living shadow came up behind him. Banichi and Jago, Tano and Algini had turned up at his back, having delivered three of the youngsters to atevi care.
“The kyo are talking,” he said to them without looking around. Vision fuzzed, fixed on the schematic that had turned up, this time with a moving dot. Jase was there, somewhere.
He heard another approach near his seat, light footsteps, a quiet presence.
“Nandi.” Irene’s young voice. “We could go to Jase-aiji. We could help.”
Explain that the situation was dicier than that? That they weren’t sure of anything? That it wasn’t safe, where Jase was? Cajeiri had filled them in. Told Ilisidi, as well, what was going on.
“Bren?” he heard from the earpiece. Jase’s voice. “Bren. Got some good news. The crew in the freight tunnel . . .” Out of breath. “Got him. Got Gene. And his mother.”
“Got them! Thank God. Are they all right?”
“Cold and thirsty, need medical, maybe. But they got out. They’re out. They don’t need me at this point. They’re in atevi custody. Ship-com isn’t answering. I’m on my own. So I’m delivering them to the only authority that’s talking to me.”
“You’ve got the dowager’s backing. Mine. Geigi’s. Gin’s, for that matter. Get back here.”
“Soon as I get a report,” Jase said.
He took an absent-minded sip of the awful tea. Swallowed. “You’re on.”
A second sip, still staring at the screen, waiting.
“Meanwhile,” he said in Ragi, “I am speaking with Prakuyo an Tep. He has made contact. He will likely answer my invitation in a moment. And I shall answer him. Then, likely, we shall have a little time.” Two measured breaths, with the sounds of young voices trying to be quiet, in the heart of Central. “I think, nadiin, the dowager definitely should wish to rest now. Tell her I shall deal with the kyo. I thank her for standing by us. Beyond that, beyond that—I think I shall have to shift my attention to the kyo ship.”
A weight descended on his shoulder . . . Banichi’s hand, rare gesture from an ateva. “Understood,” Banichi said. “Do as you need to do. We are here. We shall be here. Gin-nandi will provide relief, and deal with Ogun-aiji. And we shall deal with the kyo when they come.”
· · ·
They had gotten all the parents, and Cajeiri met them—everybody’s parents but one. Everybody had gathered in Lord Geigi’s sitting room, being served tea and cakes, retelling their adventures, how they had hid, and were afraid even to turn the com on, until it came on by itself, and they had heard nand’ Bren telling people he was there, and they were safe.
Then they had gotten up and headed out, because nand’ Bren had said he was there, and they were going to go down to the exit and try make themselves heard. Gene had heard, too, and headed up to the joining with 23.
Now Gene and Artur and Bjorn were all going to spend the night with their parents, in Lord Geigi’s beautiful guest quarters. The parents were all happy and relieved to have them safe, and absolutely overwhelmed at the quantity of food and the beautiful furnishings and Lord Geigi’s hospitality.
Everybody but Irene.
Irene had told her story, but solemnly so, without the excitement or the laughter—how she had cut and stained her hair, stolen the key and just walked out; and how she had gotten the guards at the doors to take her to Lord Geigi. Irene did laugh a little, because she was glad to be safe, and to have everybody out, and Cajeiri was glad about that. But Irene made a silence around her story. The other parents put arms about her and thanked her, and told her they were grateful.
But Irene’s mother was not with them. Irene’s mother was still with ship security, and ship security might not let her go right away. Nand’ Bren had said he was going to ask Gin-nandi to get Irene’s mother out. Tomorrow. And meanwhile Irene’s mother was safe, and the ship-folk would see she stayed safe.
So Irene said she was glad about that.
But now Irene just sat in a chair in the corner, looking tired and sad, now that the excitement was dying down and the others were helping Lord Geigi’s servants talk to their parents.
Cajeiri went over to her and pulled a chair over close to hers. “Nand’ Bren will do what he said,” he told her. “And your mother will get here.”
“She can go away,” Irene said quietly, and drew a deep breath. “She will not be happy with me.”
“You will not be obliged to see her, if you wish not.”
“I wish not.” Her eyes shed water that trailed down her face. “I wish to be in Tirnamardi. I wish to be at Najida. I wish us all to be at Najida.”
“You shall be,” he said. He was determined about that. “I shall make it happen.”