“I didn’t aim the Valskaayans at anyone. The field workers are entirely capable of making their own plans, and I assure you that they have. As for the Undergarden, you live there. You know what conditions are, there, and you know that it should have been repaired long ago.”
“You might have had a private word with the magistrate yourself, about the Valskaayans.”
“I did, in fact.”
“And,” Sirix continued, as though I had said nothing, “many of the Ychana’s problems would be remedied if only they became better citizens.”
“Just how good a citizen does one have to be,” I asked, “in order to have water and air, and medical help? And do your neighbors know you hold such a low opinion of them?” I didn’t doubt that, like the Valskaayan field workers, they did.
Sirix said nothing else for the rest of the trip.
Lieutenant Tisarwat met us at the shuttle dock. Relieved to see us, pleasantly anticipating… something. Apprehensive, perhaps of the same something. As other passengers streamed past I looked through Five and Eight’s eyes, saw that Sword of Atagaris’s ancillary was being tended to by medics and another segment of itself, that yet a third Sword of Atagaris ancillary had placed itself behind Captain Hetnys.
Lieutenant Tisarwat bowed. “Welcome back, sir.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” I turned to Captain Hetnys. “Captain, I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning.” She acknowledged that with a bow and I gestured us away, out into the corridor and toward the lift that would take us to the Undergarden. The Genitalia Festival was long over—there were no tiny, brightly colored penises hanging in the corridors, and the last of the foil sweet wrappers had gone to recycling.
And—though I knew this already, had seen it through Tisarwat’s eyes, and Bo Nine’s—there was no broken table at the entrance to the Undergarden. There was an open section door, and an indicator that said, quite properly and correctly, that the door was functioning as it should, with air on both sides of it. Beyond this, a scuffed but well-lit corridor. Mercy of Kalr showed me a little surge of pride from Lieutenant Tisarwat. She had been looking forward to showing me this.
“All the section doors leading out of the Undergarden on this level are repaired, sir,” Tisarwat said as we walked into the Undergarden corridor. “They’ve made good progress on the level two doors. Three and four are up next, of course.” We walked out into the Undergarden’s tiny, makeshift concourse. Well lit, now, the phosphorescent paint around the tea shop door barely noticeable, though still there, as were the spills and footprints. Two potted plants flanked the bench in the center of the open space, both clumps of thick, blade-like leaves shooting upward, one or two of them nearly a meter tall. Lieutenant Tisarwat saw me notice them, but none of her apprehension reached her face. The plants were, of course, the product of her conversation with Basnaaid. The small space seemed even smaller now it was brightly lit, and even a little crowded, not just residents, whom I recognized, but also Station Maintenance in gray coveralls passing through.
“And the plumbing?” I asked. Not mentioning the plants.
“This part of level one has water now.” Tisarwat’s satisfaction at saying that nearly eclipsed her fear that I’d notice she’d been spending time with Horticulture. “Still working on the other sections, and work has only barely started on level two. It’s slow going in some places, sir, and I’m afraid that level four is still… inconvenienced in that department. The residents here agreed it was best to start where most of the people live.”
“Rightly so, Lieutenant.” Of course I’d known most of this already, had kept half an eye on Tisarwat, on Bo Nine and Kalr Ten, on what was happening here on the station while I was downwell.
Behind me, behind Tisarwat, Sirix stopped, forcing Five and Eight behind her, shepherding Queter’s still silently miserable sister, to stop also. “And what about those residents? Do I still have my quarters, Lieutenant?”
Tisarwat smiled, a practiced, diplomatic expression I knew she’d been using a good deal this past week. “Everyone living in the Undergarden at the time the work began has been officially assigned whatever quarters they were using. Your room is still yours, Citizen, though it’s better lit now, and eventually will be better ventilated.” She turned to me. “There were some… misgivings about the installation of sensors.” There had been, in fact, a contentious meeting with Station Administrator Celar, here on this tiny concourse—the lifts hadn’t been ready yet—which Lieutenant Tisarwat had arranged by sheer force of will combined with a level of charm that had surprised even me, who had already suspected what sort of things she might be capable of. No Security, only Tisarwat sitting by the station administrator. “Ultimately, it was decided that sensors will be placed in corridors, but not in residences, unless the residents request it.”
Sirix made a small, derisive hah. “Even sensors in the corridors will be too much for some. But I suppose I’d better make my way home and find out just what you’ve done.”
“I think you’ll be pleased, Citizen,” replied Tisarwat, still in diplomatic mode. “But if you have any problems or complaints, please don’t hesitate to let me or any of Mercy of Kalr know.” Sirix did not answer this, only bowed and departed.
“You could send people directly to Station Administration,” I said, guessing what had troubled Sirix. I began walking again, putting our small procession back into motion. We turned a corner to find a set of lift doors sliding open, ready for us. Station watching us.
On Mercy of Kalr, Seivarden stood naked in the bath, attended by an Amaat. “Fleet captain’s back safe, then,” she said.
“Yes, Lieutenant.” The Amaat, speaking for Ship.
On Athoek Station, in the Undergarden, I stepped into the lift with Tisarwat, with my Kalrs, and Queter’s sister. Mercy of Kalr showed me Lieutenant Tisarwat’s momentary doubt, as she considered, not for the first time, the likelihood of my having seen, from downwell, everything she’d done. “I know I should send them to Station Administration, sir. But most of the people who live here would prefer not to go there. We are closer by. And we did start this, and we do live here. Unlike anyone in Administration.” A brief hesitation. “Not everyone here is happy about any of this. There’s some amount of smuggling that goes through here. Some stolen goods, some prohibited drugs. None of the people making a living off of that are pleased to have Station watching, even if it’s only in the corridors.”
I thought again of Seivarden. She’d been quite clear about her determination to never take kef again, and had stuck to her resolve so far. But when she was taking it she’d had an impressive ability to find it, and find ways to get it, no matter where she was. It was a good thing I’d left her in command of Mercy of Kalr, and not brought her here.