Foreigner - Explorer. Part 42

But Banichi understood.

And called Jago. "Jago. Jenrette is dead. Sabin-aiji is safe."

Jago said something that made Banichi smile.

"Barnhart has found Gin-aiji," Banichi reported. "She has swum up to the camera and made encouraging signals. One believes she is in direct communication with Jase."

"Get my wounded aboard," Sabin said. "I'll handle the fuel."

"Get them into the lift," Bren said. "We'll manage. Fast as we can.-Banichi-ji. We are requested to take the wounded back as quickly as we can. Sabin-aiji will manage here."

"Yes," Banichi said, and relayed orders to his a.s.sociates in three positions.

They'd done it. His knees felt weak. They'd actually done it. It didn't feel feel done. They'd been attacked from two fronts and the middle, and the way down wasn't guaranteed safe-particularly sneaking a handful of very tall atevi back on board; but they did what they could. done. They'd been attacked from two fronts and the middle, and the way down wasn't guaranteed safe-particularly sneaking a handful of very tall atevi back on board; but they did what they could.

"I have Jase's key," he confessed to Sabin. "I need it to get them back." Meaning the wounded, and the handful of techs in their keeping.

"You're just full of tricks," Sabin said. "Go lock those section doors with that key, Mr. Cameron-I trust you know how to do that-and then get that thing back aboard the s.h.i.+p. Fast."

The lord of the heavens had his bailiwick and his arena of understanding; it didn't include s.h.i.+p's operations, or that fueling station, and when Sabin suggested locking the critical doors with an unbreachable lock, barring all station access to this place, it seemed a good idea to do exactly that, and fast.

Chapter Nineteen.

GO," BREN SAID TO THEIR DETAINEES, once the lift car reached the mast entry level-one expected that to be the most desolate area of the station; but it was jammed with refugees, men, women, children carrying other children and parents carrying baggage-and their detainees vanished into jammed lines of refugees. Terror rippled the lines as unprepared stationers saw atevi exit the car, but they were locked in that essential fact of station life, the line, the line that gave precedence, the line in which all things were done and solved, the line which meant ent.i.tlement-in this case, to s.h.i.+p-boarding; and the line buckled.

"They're from Alpha!" Bren shouted. "They are, and I am! Pa.s.s it on! We have injured people here-excuse us. We need through to medical immediately, please please!"

They didn't have access to station communications; but word of mouth rippled both ways in the moving lines-lines ultimately diced and packeted by the lift.

They had one of s.h.i.+p's security, walking wounded: Barnhart had an arm around him, helping him along. There were three who couldn't walk, one in bad condition, and Ilisidi's men carried them like children, gear and all-atevi protocols: Banichi and Jago had their lord present, and guarded him him, and that was the way of things. So he went, scaring evacuees-until humans saw a bona fide mission of mercy, and blood, and atevi carrying human wounded toward the s.h.i.+p. Then stares attended them, and confusion swayed the line, but no panic ensued.

"Excuse us," Bren said, all the lengthy way up the line to the lift. "Excuse us. We have to get to medical. Urgent. Excuse us."

He was breathing hard, despite the lightest of station gravity. They reached the lift, and stationers there, next in line for salvation, clearly didn't want to wait-"We have children," the head of the line objected.

"We have a man critical," Bren said, in this contest of crises. "s.h.i.+p's officer. We can take the children through with us, if you want. Rest a minute. Protect those kids' faces. It's a long cold on the other side."

The man didn't half know. Frustration, fear and resentment of alien presence were all in that expression; but he was willing to argue with s.h.i.+p personnel and half a dozen towering aliens to get to a safety that-he hadn't thought it through-likely had more such aliens in charge; and Bren didn't altogether blame him for his confusion. If a station was going into critical failure, as these people began to realize, it was a very thin bubble in a very big dark, and anywhere with air, light, and power was life itself.

The lift car arrived. Bren crowded his own party in and punched the b.u.t.ton, no key. The car shot off, express for the mast; and they were alone for the moment, hoping that Sabin, upstairs, was managing the fueling station without interference.

But the more that line of refugees grew, the more people would begin to realize the station was in trouble, and when neighbors started leaving, people started calling those they cared about. By now, anyone calling Central might not get through. And a failure of communications meant a spread of rumor, in a station already half-dead, already having lost one essential a.s.set, and all protection from alien incursion. Families were taking the s.h.i.+p's offer. Individuals with non-critical jobs were. Probably a few with with critical jobs had begun to weigh staying and going, and if one bolted-more would. critical jobs had begun to weigh staying and going, and if one bolted-more would.

Faster and faster. More and more desperate. They'd gotten through a line reasonably well-ordered and willing to reason, in this early stage of the evacuation. Later-as systems started failing-panic was going to pack more and more people into that line.

"We still cannot reach Asicho, nandi," Jago said.

"Soon, at least, Jago-ji," he said. "One believes Gin has relayed rea.s.surances to Jase. And perhaps Sabin-aiji has gotten through."

Warning lights flashed red. The car began deceleration and the comfortable illusion of up and down s.h.i.+fted, an a.s.sault on a stomach already uncertain-he didn't like this, didn't like it, stared at the indicators for proof of their location in time and s.p.a.ce, rea.s.surance of destination imminent.

The car stopped. They were weightless. And a startled Phoenix Phoenix crew member met them. crew member met them.

"If you've got com," Bren said, "advise Captain Graham we're coming, with injured crew."

"Yes, sir," the crewwoman said.

The lighted conveyor ran past them. Bren grabbed it one-handed, felt it take the ma.s.s of Banichi and Jago behind him and then, presumably, Barnhart and one crewman; and Ilisidi's men, with two of Sabin's, as best they could.

There was little stress on the arm, enough to prove they were moving, while all he could see was the glowing ribbon winding through a vast, numbing-cold dark: an illusion of infinity, that ribbon interrupted by silhouettes. In the far distance, dots that were families interrupted the glow, refugees, holding together, half-frozen and caught in, nothing, in nowhere-thank G.o.d, Bren thought, that the lighted ribbon did move, and moved with a fair dispatch, because if ever some one of the refugees let go and became lost off the ribbon, they might lodge up in the unseen recesses, helpless, to freeze before rescue could find them. The conveyor was designed for the able-bodied.

Clips, he thought. They ought to find clips somewhere.

The ribbon had an end. Or a returning-point, where it doubled back. And there were were a few clips floating past, attached. Someone was using his imagination. a few clips floating past, attached. Someone was using his imagination.

There were crewmen at that end-point. Safety. And nothing would hurry this line. Bren watched the crew help one after another clumps of people into the tube, and onto the next conveyor line.

Their turn came. Crew had seen them coming.

"We've got wounded," Bren said. "For two-deck." And the masked, parka-clad crewmen delayed them not at all, only sent them up the umbilical connection to the s.h.i.+p itself.

Faster trip, this.

"Mr. Cameron, sir." Welcome voice, behind that mask: Kaplan met them on two-deck; Kaplan and Polano; and medics, instantly taking charge of the wounded.

"Sabin's alive. At the fuel station," Bren said. Kaplan deserved that information. "Need to see the captain."

"Go right on up, sir." Kaplan held the lift door for him and his, and let the door shut once they were inside.

Light. Glorious, brilliant light, and warmth. Air that didn't feel like the same substance as that burning chill outside. A solid feel to the deck under his feet. It was like emerging from near drowning. Everything was sharp-edged. Every familiar sight was new.

And the handheld worked, if numb fingers could get it out of his pocket and hold on to it. It gave him a series of images his watering eyes couldn't quite bring into focus; one dark. One was an animation. They were talking to the alien s.h.i.+p. One-one was a suited figure in a lot of dark, beside machinery. Gin. He didn't know how to bring in the audio, and lost the image.

"d.a.m.n!" he said, then, conscious of his companions, and then of the fact their personal electronics were in contact again, and that Asicho, belowdecks, was likewise receiving: "Asa-ji, we are all well." And to his immediate company. "My fingers are numb. But they seem to be talking to the foreign s.h.i.+p and Gin-aiji seems still at work outside. Perhaps Jase-aiji wishes now to move the s.h.i.+p closer to take on fuel, but with people coming aboard in bitter cold, impossible to hold them off."

"This s.h.i.+p cannot in any wise maneuver," Jago observed.

"One believes," he began to say, but the lift reached its destination and let them out on the bridge: him, his bodyguard, Barnhart, and the dowager's men, all of them, he suddenly realized, in the pristine cleanliness of the bridge, b.l.o.o.d.y and sweaty and reeking of fumes as their clothes thawed, their whole party laden down with all sorts of battle-gear.

Jase met them the moment they cleared the short part.i.tion, met him and seized him by the shoulder. "Bren. What's the story over there?"

"Sabin's at fueling ops, the archive's blown, Central's out, and we left word on several levels to evacuate-which people seem to be doing, fast as they can. What's this side?"

"We're running out of pictures to send, that s.h.i.+p's still moving in, and Gin's out there in short-range communication. We've got fuel if we could move to get it. If the station doesn't go unstable before we can get the fuel off. That's our problem. Yours is down on five-deck. We need our houseguest to talk to that s.h.i.+p out there. We need time, Bren. We've got to get an emergency crew onto the station to keep it stable and keep it running."

"It's not secure over there. Braddock's still alive. Jenrette isn't. But Sabin's got the section doors locked on the fuel center. There were several tries at us while we were taking it."

"Station's getting shorter-handed by the hour, and we can talk to them them." Jase gave a shake at his shoulders. "We can talk to station. You can talk to the other side of this situation. Get us some time and everything's a lot better."

"Understood," Bren said. He was s.h.i.+vering from recent bone-chill, at that floating-feeling stage of exhaustion, but Jase was right, no question. "I'll handle it. Key." He remembered it, and took it from his pocket and gave it back.

"One is grateful, nadiin-ji: one is extremely grateful." With a small bow to the atevi in general. "Barnhart." A nod, a warm handshake. "Get a rest."

"Rest isn't likely," Barnhart said. "But I'll get on it."

"Nadiin," Bren said, gathering his company, and went straight back to the lift. Bath, he was thinking, warm bath, warm up the surface, get the brain working, maybe one of Bindanda's tea cakes and a hot drink: he had to s.h.i.+ft gears, get his thoughts out of fight and on to the delicate business of communication. Fast.

He shoved the handheld and its problems into his pocket on the way to the lift-got in, and started to give a surrept.i.tious sniff at his hand, wondering whether fumes had adhered to his skin as well as his clothes and whether he could forego the bath; and saw it spattered with dried blood.

Bath, he thought. There were certain things one didn't want to explain. G.o.d knew what evidence his face had. Barnhart's coat was b.l.o.o.d.y. Atevi uniforms were no better off, and Banichi- The blood seeping down Banichi's fingers wasn't old, and Banichi hadn't been helping the wounded.

"Banichi. How bad? How long?"

"Minor," Banichi said. "Minor, Bren-ji. Not long."

"Jago-ji, be sure of it."

"Yes," Jago said, and sternly, when Banichi only looked as if he might object, "yes, nadi."

"Yes," Banichi said, which took one crisis off the paidhi's mind.

"One will be grateful if you take it as a first priority," he said, as the lift reached five-deck and the door opened. "Barnhart. Owe you a drink."

"I'll collect," Barnhart said, and went off his direction, toward the Mospheiran domain, Bren and his bloodstained band went straight on, to request entry-which came before they could so much as signal: thank Asicho for that.

"Nandi." Respects, from Ilisidi's guards.

He acknowledged the courtesy and kept walking briskly, intending to deliver most of his company to the dowager's staff, to the dowager's staff medic, intending to have that bath, too, before he thought about the problems of the alien s.h.i.+p.

A brief stop at the security station, where Asicho, one of Gin's men and one of Ilisidi's all sat duty: "Nadiin-ji, we are all back aboard, mission accomplished." They would have heard everything he said to Jase. "We shall want the doctor as soon as possible. Kindly tell the staff not to divert itself from care of our guest."

"Yes," Asicho said; and he kept walking, trying to hammer his wits into an utterly different mode of operation.

He hoped not to be noticed as he pa.s.sed the dining hall. He wanted no explanations until he was clean again, and until he and the rest of his staff could shed the firearms and the bag of explosives and such.

But as he pa.s.sed, he saw the dining hall ominously dimmed, and heard- Heard vigorous applause, and muted cheers, and lively music.

He slipped in the door, appalled to find a ring of atevi, including the dowager's security, and his staff, Cajeiri-that was no surprise-and their guest-and the dowager herself. On the screen, in black and white, a cartoon mouse eluded a cartoon cat.

A fishbowl tottered, sloshed, and Cajeiri shouted a warning, pointing out the obvious danger to cartoon protagonists, as cat and mouse darted this way and that in an elemental antagonism innocent of a.s.sociation.

Now... with their lives hanging in the balance...

A chair went over. Draperies went down. To the dowager's evident misgiving and Cajeiri's and Prakuyo's collective delight.

But by now staff had seen him or heard him, prompting uneasy glances back.

Staff stood up. The dowager looked at him expectantly. And Narani brought up the lights.

Solemn faces, concern. Prakuyo stood up. So did Cajeiri. Only the dowager stayed seated, hands clasped on her staff.

Bren gave a solemn bow. "Nand' dowager, nandi-" A bow for Prakuyo. None for boys. "Success aboard the station. We are now bringing the people aboard. The security staff is intact, except a minor injury. Prakuyo-nadi-" Change of languages, and a second bow. "Your s.h.i.+p speaks to us. It is coming."

"s.h.i.+p. Prakuyo s.h.i.+p. Coming." Anxiety was evident, in every line of Prakuyo's stance.

A bow. Agreement. "Yes." A hand-motion. "Coming to us. I go wash."

"Wash, yes." Perhaps it was a mad notion. But Prakuyo bowed, apparently in complete agreement with such a crazed proposition. Or he smelled that bad.

He bowed a third time, shaky in the knees. "Dowager-ji, one is grateful for your staff and your a.s.sistance." On which, at a little nod from Ilisidi, he walked out into the corridor, wondering if the knees were going to hold out as far as his own quarters.

He was pursued, however: Narani and Bindanda arrived on his heels, and saw him into his quarters, and began at once fussing with his jacket, and the s.h.i.+rt, and the boots, and the sweaty pigtail.

He shed the rest and showered, a quick, steam-filled warmth that began to warm him from the outside in, that soaked his hair, and took the stench of gas out of his nose, and soothed a throat he'd been too numb to realize was sore. He coughed, and blew water, and came out before the dry-cycle had had half enough time, but Bindanda met him with a towel, and rubbed life into him, and threw a robe about him- He had communication. Thanks to the other residents of five-deck, he seemed to have Prakuyo's good will-an understanding, at least, of benevolent intent.

He didn't didn't take for granted that would override cultural or biological imperatives or save their collective necks from political policy. take for granted that would override cultural or biological imperatives or save their collective necks from political policy.

And the dawn of reasonable worry told him that hot water had brought the brain online.

One more change of clothing, as freshly pressed as any morning in Shejidan, court casual, as he thought of it-not good enough for high meetings, but perfectly adequate for bureaucrats and offices.

It brought shoulders back and head up, or one cut one's throat on the lace.

"How is Banichi, Rani-ji?" That worry was with him, too, and he was sure word had flowed through the staff, what they had done, who was where, what was going on outside: he was sure, despite the scene he had met in the dining hall, that no one on five-deck but Cajeiri and Prakuyo had done anything but follow every word Asicho could gather.

"He is with the dowager's physician at the moment, nandi. So is Jago."

"Is she hurt?"

"A minor injury, nandi. So with two of the dowager's bodyguard. But none life-threatening."

d.a.m.n, he thought, with a heavy heartbeat and a sting behind the eyes. d.a.m.n d.a.m.n! that, he hadn't seen. They'd fooled him all the way back to the s.h.i.+p. And he couldn't take them all off duty and stand over them until they mended.

He pinched the bridge of his nose until the stinging stopped and tried to get his wits about him-back to work, back to work, fast. They weren't safe. They wouldn't be safe until they'd put Prakuyo where he belonged and this solar system behind them.

And meanwhile the sound one expected when traveling about the s.h.i.+p had never stopped, the lift system whining and opening and closing doors, cycling cars back and forth, back and forth, with the wholesale energy of a factory.

Four-deck was coming to life as if there had never been a glitch in their plans. Crew, variously occupied through the voyage, was in high gear, settling in newcomers, instructing them not not to leave objects loose, to leave objects loose, not not to take a leaky tap for granted, and how to read the various sirens and bells that advised crew about the s.h.i.+p's behavior. to take a leaky tap for granted, and how to read the various sirens and bells that advised crew about the s.h.i.+p's behavior.

As if they had their fuel and were ready to leave.

He thanked his staff and went back to the dining hall, where the lights were up; where-strangely or not-he heard the whirr of small wheels before he darkened the door.