Foreigner - Explorer. Part 32

"Not, however," Jago said, "greatly clever ones-if one may judge by Becker. But we should seek a means to distract attention."

Comforting thought.

"A good use for roboti roboti," Banichi said.

"To draw fire with my robots?" Gin cried, when that found full translation.

"A small one," Banichi said. "A minor one. We can surely spare one to good use."

Gin considered, and a grim light was in her eye. "One," she said, holding up a finger like a merchant in a market. "One."

It ran like that. Gin laid her plans and went off to estimate how they could best annoy station security. Banichi and Jago and Cenedi went to estimate what items might be both portable and useful.

Therein the paidhi had no usefulness at all, having only the most rudimentary notion how to get into an electronic lock or how to defeat security closure on a section door... the paidhi only hoped to lie down in his own quarters, draw a few slow breaths, and perhaps to catch one of those hours of sleep he'd lost.

Prospect of a rash intrusion onto station and the presence of station agents aboard, however inclined to change their views-that didn't make for restful thoughts. Banichi could sleep anywhere, on cue. He didn't have that skill.

And what if he dropped a st.i.tch, and they ran into a trap?

What if they were killed attempting this, and the s.h.i.+p had to do without him, and explain matters to that alien craft-explain they'd tried, and explain to an angry and mistrustful set of strangers enough plausible excuses to gain the s.h.i.+p's release?

Sleep evaporated. He got up, found paper and pen in his desk, and began sketching, in their dot-pattern code, an explanation of their mission. Of-grim thought-mission failure. Of request for a meeting with s.h.i.+p's personnel. Jase would have to manage it, if it came to that, but Jase, of all others, understood. Gin halfway did. She would help. The dowager would help. It wasn't as if he was leaving Jase without resources.

More dot-patterns: the s.h.i.+p taking on pa.s.sengers. The s.h.i.+p mining the area for fuel. The s.h.i.+p leaving the system. The s.h.i.+p conducting talks with the alien craft. The s.h.i.+p engaging in trade-a closeness they never sought, but might have to have.

Trying to imagine all the contingencies Jase might have to deal with, trying to reach across s.p.a.ce and time to gather every stray possibility, was a curious enterprise. He tried to think of things. He tried to create a basic vocabulary of interactions: communicating the difference between coming and going to a foreigner who shared one's planet was hard enough. Communicating that useful distinction to a species that might only have a single word for movement or that might have a dozen more specific words-or, G.o.d help them, communicate in something other than nouns and verbs-was no walk on the beach. Go and come, give and get, infelicitous pairs of concepts that had distressed atevi at first glance, for no reason at all to human senses, and disturbing all sense of balance in atevi nerves. Fingernails on a blackboard, continual and unintended in all early efforts.

But civilized ent.i.ties-if one had a right to expect any behavior out of a species that had gotten off its own planet-ought to have some concept that the universe was wide, that differences were likely, and that shooting as a first response would ultimately lead one to ruin.

Human and atevi together, he said in his dots. Human and atevi making agreements, taking this voyage, rescuing people from station. Human and atevi together meeting alien species in peace.

He tried.

He wrote a note to Tabini: Aiji-ma, I am undertaking a mission aboard the station which involves risk, but which I have persuaded my bodyguard is necessary. Should this account cease, I have misjudged my abilities and apologize Aiji-ma, I am undertaking a mission aboard the station which involves risk, but which I have persuaded my bodyguard is necessary. Should this account cease, I have misjudged my abilities and apologize.

To his brother: Toby, the station has an alien prisoner we've got to pry out of there, and since the captain took all the security with her, atevi security is going to have to do this job, and they can't do it without someone to translate instructions. I'm the one that can do that. Jase would probably volunteer, but he's got to get this s.h.i.+p home, so there we are. If this letter ends here, it didn't work as well as I hoped. Love you, brother Toby, the station has an alien prisoner we've got to pry out of there, and since the captain took all the security with her, atevi security is going to have to do this job, and they can't do it without someone to translate instructions. I'm the one that can do that. Jase would probably volunteer, but he's got to get this s.h.i.+p home, so there we are. If this letter ends here, it didn't work as well as I hoped. Love you, brother.

To his staff, a paper note: Thank you for the comfort you have provided. Should this mission fail, take all my effects to Jase, and then pursue your own man'chi Thank you for the comfort you have provided. Should this mission fail, take all my effects to Jase, and then pursue your own man'chi.

To Jase. Who would know where to bestow various letters, Give the dowager a copy of everything, and a translation where appropriate. If you get this, my last idea was a bad one. What more can I say? You're my other brother. I'd say something to embarra.s.s us both, but I'm hoping like everything I get to erase this bit Give the dowager a copy of everything, and a translation where appropriate. If you get this, my last idea was a bad one. What more can I say? You're my other brother. I'd say something to embarra.s.s us both, but I'm hoping like everything I get to erase this bit.

He sent the dot-code up to Kaplan, by Jeladi and one of Gin's engineers, with instructions not to wake Jase, if Jase had gotten to sleep.

Then he undressed to sleep, that most elusive of chances, feeling the sheets against his skin, watching through slit eyes the living green curtain of Sandra Johnson's plants-it always amazed him, how the plants grew during their transits, as if they were mad to live, mad to survive. Or took some benefit from what reduced the wits of mobile creatures. He watched the air from the duct stir the streamers and the leaves, artificial wind in a steel world. Fluid moved in their veins and simple light and nutrients let their cells divide. A wondrous invention of planets.

So were they.

So was that other packet of life that met out here, this far from other living cells. And they wanted to shoot one another? Unacceptable. Entirely unacceptable. The lord of the heavens refused to take that answer.

In that light, the whole universe seemed surreal, beyond easy belief, relative to those gently moving fronds. One reality wasn't the other, and one found it distractingly easy to slip into that green world. Here, a stubborn set of human beings, and maybe some alien hard-heads as well, had made a botch of what should have been a simple situation-oh, h.e.l.lo. Anyone home?

Your estate? Do excuse me. I didn't realize I'd crossed your boundary. And: Are you a neighbor or a traveler? Do step in for tea.

Well, the dowager had done that, and half-killed him. But he never believed that was an accident, and the dowager knew, and he knew, and on that basis they got along in ways that astonished the dowager's enemies, and his. G.o.d, he loved her.

Life itself. Dared one think that in this void where life was rare, life was bond enough, that a couple of reasonable ent.i.ties might say they'd had their encounter, they both understood the limits, and could get along?

He actually slept. He realized that when he waked and felt Jago stir-he'd never felt her arrival. He'd slept so hard that getting his wits about him again required a few breaths, then a search for bits and pieces of the plan they'd made and what he had to do.

He had to call up and find out Jase's situation, and whether Jase approved. That was at the head of the list. But he hesitated to move, knowing he'd wake Jago at his stealthy best. So he lay there and rehea.r.s.ed plans until she stirred.

"Good morning," he said-no endearments to confuse the issue. Jago would only brush them off with: We have business, Bren-ji.

So they did. And a light was blinking on the message center. He dragged his dressing-robe about him and punched the b.u.t.ton for a recorded message.

"Bren." Jase's voice. "I understand your reasoning. All of you-if you need anything-ask. I've sent down the text for the fliers. I've sent down a key. My key. Note-I've searched the premises and can't turn up Sabin's or Ramirez's, and I did it with my key. So either I don't know where to look or Ramirez's key is with Sabin or with Ogun. I'm approving Gin's move and yours, and moving our own personnel into position for the duration. We're ready. Baji-naji, Bren-ji."

So it was. Fortune and chance. The wiggle-room in a rigid universe. And possession of the key to the s.h.i.+p, the station, anything humans out here would value. "Baji-naji," he muttered to himself, and took a quick shower, Jago having already departed, bent on what she would call business at hand.

And with staff's help, it was back into the blue sweater and plain trousers and jacket, hair in a plain, tight pigtail under the collar.

"Nandi." Bindanda quietly slipped Bren a simple card. "From Jase-aiji, which he avows is very important."

"It is, Danda-ji."

"And this, nandi," Narani said, offering his pistol, which he took, no question in this, intending no hesitation to use it. He tucked that into his right jacket pocket.

Then Jeladi gave him a cloth-wrapped bundle which proved to be quite heavy, and a glance proved the contents-brochures, Banichi had translated it, and brochures there were: ill.u.s.trated ill.u.s.trated brochures, beautifully printed, a sunset by the sea, the north sh.o.r.e of Mospheira-Mt. Adams and a ski resort, with Jase's-one a.s.sumed-description: Safe Haven, and text below, which gave details of their mission and instructions for boarding, with a photo of a representative cabin-Gin's, as happened. Below that, it said: Comfort and Safety. Captions, actually appropriate to the pictures, and Gin's hand somewhere in the mix. brochures, beautifully printed, a sunset by the sea, the north sh.o.r.e of Mospheira-Mt. Adams and a ski resort, with Jase's-one a.s.sumed-description: Safe Haven, and text below, which gave details of their mission and instructions for boarding, with a photo of a representative cabin-Gin's, as happened. Below that, it said: Comfort and Safety. Captions, actually appropriate to the pictures, and Gin's hand somewhere in the mix.

"Three hundred more we have sent to the s.h.i.+p-aiji, nandi. One hopes they suffice."

"Very fine, very fine, nadi-ji." He found a place inside his jacket for a dozen brochures, and gave a little bow to the non-combatants of his staff. "Extraordinary accomplishment, nadiin-ji."

"Fortunately posed, one humbly hopes, nandi. One hopes the ill.u.s.trations convey only desirable elements."

"Rani-ji, indeed, and my compliments."

He tucked the packet under his arm, bowed, and went out into the corridor, where Jago and Banichi were in the last stages of preparation, black leather and non-reflective black plastics, and no few pieces of armament, besides breathing-masks and a black bag of gear.

"Gin-nandi is ready with her mission," Banichi reported. "Shall we carry the packet, nandi?"

He yielded it, and Jago put the brochures into the bag, while he patted his pocket to be absolutely sure of Jase's precious key.

"Cenedi," Banichi said, "will run the security station for the duration, paidhi-ji." Rare. They couldn't ask for better than that. "Jase-aiji has lent his key?"

"I have it."

"He has also lent a pilot. And Gin-aiji promises a.s.sistance. We shall go down to the life pods, Bren-ji, and cross to number 80 access, which is next to the section Becker-nadi indicated."

"Excellent." He hadn't tracked such operational details: he trusted Banichi for those, and any help they could get came welcome, in his opinion. They were trusting the word of a traitor; and if Banichi had been arranging pilots and plans, Jase had been the only translator awake-which said how much sleep Jase had gotten, and how much Banichi himself had gotten. The air felt colder and colder, a chill coming on, bringing him almost to the point of s.h.i.+vers, but Jago had zipped up the bag and slung it to her shoulder, and they were off down the corridor at what atevi called a brisk pace, and what humans called a hurry.

Going down to the pods. A pilot, not the stars.h.i.+p sort, but qualified to run station-tenders and such. And Gin had to have one of her robots in action, or another pod. Details floated around him in a null-g soup of items and lists turned into substance full of surprises, details unreal to him. Their operations up to this point had been shaping pieces of a plan, a list of things that had to be cleared out of the way, not an inclusive list, but his staff had gathered up things he had had no skill to put together, and gotten Jase and Gin involved. Now they headed down the corridor with a bag of guns and brochures and cutting tools.

No begging off at this point. No changing directions. Haste was written all over the operation-haste, on little rest and less sleep, and people of unknown number and disposition on the station, and ent.i.ties of uncertain patience expecting performance on promises. He recalled a dusty brown hillside near Malguri, smoke and, overhead, the pulse of an open-c.o.c.kpit plane dropping bottle-bombs.

From there, to this, light-speed; and maybe things no more subtle than the bottle-bombs. Guns. Explosives. G.o.d, he hoped that key worked as advertised.

And minimal communications. Television, which would have delighted Cajeiri, was not possible. Transmissions of any kind became a liability, to be rationed out, used in case they had to report disaster and alert Cenedi to a cascading problem.

Three of the dowager's young men met them at the section end and simply fell in with them, young men carrying small bundles, equipped with guns and knives and spare ammunition in appalling quant.i.ty. Three of them and three of the dowager's, auspicious numbers; but they were now six, his nerves informed him-six, counting himself. Infelicitous six hit the pit of his stomach as they reached the end of the corridor. Six was an impossible number for the mission. It wasn't the end of the plan, he was instantly convinced of it; and as they pa.s.sed the section door, out to the small area, indeed, one of Gin's staff met them-Barnhart, it was, with a packet under his arm and a com unit tacked to his jacket.

Fortunate seven, now: Gin's promised a.s.sistance took the form of one of her engineers in the party, to read the charts, if nothing else, to solve technical glitches having to do with human logic and human traps.

"Mr. Cameron." Barnhart gave a little bow at the lift, Mospheiran and having no trouble falling in with atevi habits. "Honored to be here."

"Mr. Barnhart. Welcome in."

They were a comforting number as they bundled themselves inside the lift-down, was the direction this time, relative down from the s.h.i.+p's metal heart, down where gravity grew uncertain and then left them prey to inertia of the car itself. Bren clutched the safety bar, running a last-minute check in his own mind all the things he'd had to do, the notes he'd had to leave-had he missed any? Late to be adding anything. But it distracted him from utter panic.

Down to cold, ungravitied places-cold stung the skin, cold so bitter it felt like heat as the lift let them out facing a blank wall and a sign. Emergency Evac 12 Emergency Evac 12, it said, and Lifepod Lifepod, with overlapping yellow arrows. Other signs saying pressure hazard pressure hazard and and volatiles present volatiles present.

They'd had their drills. He knew he was to follow the internal corridors to Lifepod 2, which this wasn't. This was somewhere down on the s.h.i.+p's cargo-carrying belly, where five-deck didn't go, in drills. And this pod might not have opened in the last three hundred years, since Taylor's age-it bore the patina of mechanical age, the cold surface other gloved fingers had recently touched, and left marks in the frost their breath recoated.

Now the pod hatch opened and he he went through that portal, with five atevi and a Mospheiran engineer, into a dim, cold interior where atevi had to duck their heads. Metal walls seemed to drink in light and not give it up. Drifting plastic webs-he belatedly realized these were the evacuation pod's safety restraints for far more persons than their number. The hatch shut, and two s.h.i.+p's crewmen, shadowy and underlit in LEDs, moved beyond the webbing. Nine for the transit, he said to himself. Nine, fortunate as seven, thrice three. Jase's men. Jase's invisible, numbers-reckoning hand on this mission that they'd laid out: Jase wouldn't let atevi go out with eight. went through that portal, with five atevi and a Mospheiran engineer, into a dim, cold interior where atevi had to duck their heads. Metal walls seemed to drink in light and not give it up. Drifting plastic webs-he belatedly realized these were the evacuation pod's safety restraints for far more persons than their number. The hatch shut, and two s.h.i.+p's crewmen, shadowy and underlit in LEDs, moved beyond the webbing. Nine for the transit, he said to himself. Nine, fortunate as seven, thrice three. Jase's men. Jase's invisible, numbers-reckoning hand on this mission that they'd laid out: Jase wouldn't let atevi go out with eight.

Across a dark leap, not on the mast, but on the station cylinder itself, on the edge of the damaged section, was service port 80, a number one hoped to attribute to station administration and not to their effort.

Gin thought they could do it because, she said, there weren't many defenses on the inside of the station's curve and from that angle; and because, second point, lifepods had automated firesafe signals that were supposed to protect them from station trim jets and other hull-vicinity hazards-Gin swore that signal would protect them from anything more lethal the station defenses emitted on automated targeting. A lifepod was, in s.h.i.+p's and station's systems, always sacrosanct.

"Will they not think of this?" Jago had asked during their planning session with Gin. Depend on it, atevi security, if they were in charge of the station, would have had a list of security permissions and they would have consulted it and reviewed such weaknesses when their opposition changed from alien to virtually internal, moreover, likely armed with a builder's key... would would station not have thought? Would they not have done something to counter? station not have thought? Would they not have done something to counter?

They would would do something sooner or later, which made the bearer of that key say, quietly, to his companions: "Nadiin-ji, Jase's key is in my right pocket." In case he were lying on the floor unconscious or worse. do something sooner or later, which made the bearer of that key say, quietly, to his companions: "Nadiin-ji, Jase's key is in my right pocket." In case he were lying on the floor unconscious or worse.

"One hears, Bren-ji," Jago said quietly.

Gin simultaneously would make a feint at the fuel port. And Jase's security meant simultaneously, and for real, to secure the personnel tube a.s.sociated with the tether. To maintain that post, they would have to maintain hard-suited personnel constantly on duty from now on through general boarding; but one hoped it wouldn't be that long.

"We're ready any time, sir," the pilot said.

"They report themselves ready, nadiin," he said. Null-g was uncharacteristically making him sick. Or it was raw fear unsettling his stomach.

"Go," Banichi said in Mosphei'. Just that. Go. Banichi was de facto running this operation, which was the greatest comfort in the situation.

"Go," Bren confirmed for the pilot. While Oh, my G.o.d Oh, my G.o.d, was the whiteout thought that streamed through his head as switches flipped, lights blinked and grapples thumped loose. He hated shooting. He hated being shot at ever so much worse.

Oh, my G.o.d. As he seized a grip on the webbing and the light inside the pod went inauspicious red.

They didn't have a view, but they now had a definite floor-which, after a gentle shove and a deafening rumble like a train on a track, s.h.i.+fted again abruptly. A rail had indeed guided their release. Now they launched free, under full power.

He hadn't taken firm enough hold. He fought to keep his handhold on the bar, felt his gloved fingers losing his grip; but a strong atevi arm encircled his waist and held him. The floor rotated, began to be back there there, the aft bulkhead, such as it was; but his guardian held him fast.

He wasn't heroic. He was a maker of dictionaries. And he s.h.i.+vered in a cold far more than he'd bargained for. He daren't muster coherent conversation during this transit in which, baji-naji, his bodyguard had to have other things than inane chatter on their minds-their objective, and getting inside. Getting to that point was all up to Jase's two men, now, the skill to home this thing in on a moving station and the luck not to get them shot at or smash them to bits on some antenna or other ephemeral projection that might not be in the plans.

Gin swore there was a way in. Gin swore this pod could limpet itself to any kind of hatch and establish a secure seal-a seal which still had to be there when they got back back from their mission with whatever prize they'd managed to lay hands on. The pod had to be there, or it was going to be embarra.s.sing getting back to the s.h.i.+p-Excuse me, sir, can you point out a corridor which will lead us to the core? We seem to have lost our way... from their mission with whatever prize they'd managed to lay hands on. The pod had to be there, or it was going to be embarra.s.sing getting back to the s.h.i.+p-Excuse me, sir, can you point out a corridor which will lead us to the core? We seem to have lost our way...

"It's working very well, Bren-ji," Jago said: it was Jago holding him.

"One has every confidence." His teeth chattered from the cold. They didn't have suits. They couldn't use their equipment from suits and suits, even on humans, would say to anyone they met, invader invader, which wouldn't help at all. So they took their risk of vacuum, and glided in their pressurized bubble, weightless now, emitting only that pod signal, down into the heart of the damaged station's ring, and across. It seemed to take forever.

"Barnhart-nadi," Banichi said.

"Yes." Pa.s.sable Ragi, that yes yes.

"Bren-nandi, say to Barnhart that if we come under fire, he will keep always to your left."

"Yes," Bren said, and relayed that vitally important instruction, which effort temporarily kept his teeth from chattering. If Barnhart was to his left, he noted, that put him to Jago's left-never on his security's right hand. Not in this.

Not since a certain hillside in Malguri's district, in the faraway east. Not since the day he'd learned what it was to get afoul of his own security. If he strayed out of order, his security would kill themselves trying to get to him. Their atevi instincts would send them toward him. All planning took that into account.

But the initial foray was his. All his.

The pod underwent an unplanned course correction, and his stomach tried to rise up his throat. Not auspicious, not auspicious, his brain insisted. He had to do better than this. He concentrated on that proposition, noting, by the glare of lights now green, that Barnhart was having no easier journey, while-G.o.d, did nothing nothing bother atevi stomachs? bother atevi stomachs?

But whatever they had had to miss, they had missed. It was Jase's crew flying this thing. And somewhere-somewhere behind them-above them, relative to station-Jase was not idle. Jase would be talking to Guild authorities, pretending to negotiate the release of Becker and his men, keeping Guild officials as busy as he could. Meanwhile Gin did something involving a far smaller miner craft-while s.h.i.+p's crew attempted a simple descent to the mast, hard-suited and armed to the teeth in case station had thought it was going to take over that tube and control access to the s.h.i.+p.

It was more than guns that batch would have, however. It would be another batch of brochures, which were by now from Jase's office to that team's hands.

The brochures had said, among other things his eye had glossed past, in one desperate glance: Reunion Station is disbanded by order of Captains' Council Reunion Station is disbanded by order of Captains' Council.

All station citizens, administrative elements, and crew: boarding is imminent for Alpha Colony, where we have a longstanding, peaceful arrangement with natives of that planet. Expect mutual protection in an atmosphere of cooperation and economic prosperity.

Atevi were in there, buried it in the fine print.

Baggage limit: 20 kilos per adult, 4 kilos per child, dimensions of standard duffle, exceptions granted for uncommon cause. Baggage must be yielded to security on arrival. Weapons must be declared and placed in s.h.i.+p's armory...

It went on into more specifics for evacuation of medical facilities, for children and elderly, and the use of the safety cable in the tube.

It offered people from deep s.p.a.ce and curved metal horizons a sunset on the beach and a ski resort, and one had to recall how Jase, first landing, had had trouble looking at a flat horizon, and nearly lost his supper in a fast-moving vehicle. Among other details, the Council of Captains was locally down to one captain, if Sabin didn't turn up, and Alpha Colony hadn't existed for centuries as Alpha Colony, but it was the sort of thing the Reunioners would expect to hear.

The pod underwent more readjustments, then a sudden shove from the engines that taxed even Jago's strength to hold him. Bren clenched his teeth, trying not to think anything was wrong, trying to think of the brochure, not the arm cutting off his wind.

It went on, and on. What are they doing up front What are they doing up front? he wanted to ask, if he had any air. Are we in trouble Are we in trouble? But he'd long since learned not to chatter at people doing what they had to do, especially if it was going wrong. He clenched his teeth, breathed shallowly, and tried to keep his wits about him.

If somehow some armament didn't like the firesafe signal the pod emitted, and wanted to blow them to little agitated atoms...

Toby, he'd write, if he had the chance, you won't believe where I'm going. You won't believe what we're doing. What we're hoping to do. We're absolutely crazy. There might have been a better plan than this you won't believe where I'm going. You won't believe what we're doing. What we're hoping to do. We're absolutely crazy. There might have been a better plan than this...

Big b.u.mp. Jago nearly lost him from her grip.