“Crew is easy. They know who you are. They approve. More than that, ‘Sidi-ji is their darling and you’re with her. Truth is, everybody detestsSabin. Granted they’re both cold as deep space rock, the dowager and Sabin both—‘Sidi-ji smiles at them. That makes all the difference.”
“You know that smile’s not necessarily a good sign.”
“I know, but they don’t know it, and they worship her. Besides, I think she likes it. Well, likeisn’t it, is it?”
“Like’s fine with things. Not people. There’s your difference. She likes their approval. She doesn’t likethem, because they’re not in her association. Think in Ragi when you think about atevi.”
“She favors their applause.”
“She drinks it like good brandy. If they’d only worship Sabin, Sabinwould warm up, don’t you think?”
He saw the body language, disengagement from the very concept. “Not likely. Not ever likely.—But Sabin gets the ship through. We don’t have to like her. If the ship itself’s in trouble, I’ll promise you, you want Sabin on deck.”
“Next question. Do you want her in negotiations?”
Another long breath and a deeply sober thought. “Only if you plan to nuke the other side.”
“Major question. Is she for us, or is she for the authority that sent you here? Does she likewhat we’re doing here? Or is she against it?”
That brought another moment’s thought. “Honestly, I don’t know for sure. I don’t think Ramirez knew… she doesn’t like atevi, she doesn’t like Mospheirans, and I’m not sure she likes the crew, for that matter. The best thing is, she won’t be here, making decisions. Don’t ever say I said that.”
“Encouraging,” he said. So he’d asked the questions. He’d had his answers, all he knew to ask for. Except one. “Did Ramirez tip Tabini off, that he was dying?”
The question scared her. She was far too readable. Far too readable, still, for safety in court.
“ Face,” he snapped, as he’d used to say to Jase, as he’d said to Yolanda more than once. And expression vanished from her face, well, at least that one vanished—quickly replaced with a frown.
“I thought I could be honest with you,” she said.
“You can be. You’d better be, for about five more minutes. Then give expression up for the duration, except inside this apartment, with this staff. Damned uncomfortable pillow, the secrets on this job. Did he tell Tabini?”
“He told him. Therapy wasn’t taking. He was having mental lapses—that’s the truth, Bren. It scared hell out of him, more than the heart condition, because he was forgetting things. And he told me to tell Tabini to get ready, that there wasthe alien threat, that the world had to get ready, that the ship had to be ready, constantly…”
“On three day’s notice?”
“On three minutes’ notice,” Yolanda said. “We’ve been able to pull out of here at any moment, for the last three months—with whatever crew could get aboard. But we haven’t done that. We told Tabini the truth about the aliens and about the situation back on the station, and we asked for fuel so if some armed ship showed up we had some fighting chance against it. And, ultimately, so we could go back and settle what has to be settled back there.”
“Meaning.”
“Meaning to get that station shut down. Make the gesture. Aishimaran to thema.”
Almost untranslatable: sweeping the boundary. Clearing troublesome disputed areas from an associational edge. Atevi neighbors would exchange property to achieve border peace, in a world with neither boundaries nor borders as humans understood the term—a process arcane and fraught with hazard.
“Tabini’s word?”
“His word.”
“Probably describes it very well. But that program in itself has an assumption—that the gesture will be read the way humans oratevi would read it.”
“But we have to do something.”
“Third assumption,” he said. “You’ve already done something, in staying out of there. Now you think there’s no choice but go back. But that’s out of my territory, too. I can’t claim I know what’s wise to do. Two smart men, on more facts than I have, agreed it was a good idea.—Did Ramirez intendto die?”
“He was having attacks. The fueling being finished—he was talking with Tabini about breaking the news. About timing in telling the truth. Then the robots were ready. And the day he heard that, he had an attack. He worked past it. I knew.” She tried to keep the still, dispassionate face. “Ogun knew he was in trouble. I don’t think Sabin did, but I’m not sure. Then the last attack. And he wanted to talk to Jase, I guess. And he should have left it to me to brief Jase, because it wasn’t secure there in the clinic, but there were probably other things he wanted to say, too.”
“Like?”
“Things he’d say to us. Personal things. Like apologizing for having us born. For putting on us what he’d put on us. Not quite a normal life, is it?”
Bitterness. Deep bitterness. Maybe it wasn’t wise to answer at all. But he did. “Most of us don’t have normal lives,” he said. “Especially in this business.”
“But were you always paidhi-aiji? Didn’t you grow up? Jase and I—we’d have liked to have known our fathers. We’d have liked to have something but a necessary, logical, already made choice. We’d have liked to fail at something without it being a calamity that involved the Captain’s Council.”
“I don’t envy you in that regard. But you came out sane. And decent. And worthwhile. It’s what we do, more than who we are, that makes our personal lives a mess. If we didn’t do what we do for a job, ordinary people might figure out how to get along with us.”
“Jase and I tried to make a relationship. We tried being teammates, we tried being lovers—not having any other candidates. We weren’t good at it. Something about needing to be loved to know how to love, isn’t that the folktale? We’re kind of defective, Jase and I, in that regard. Really confused input, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think.” Atevi society wasn’t a good place for a human with a problem with relationships to work it out. Himself, with a relationship in shambles and his own brother not speaking to him, he knew that. “You’re all right. You’ll beall right. Life’s long. Hold out till we get back. You’ll have a household around you. Mine. While I’m gone, I want you to come here. Live here in my household.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Advice: do it. They’re the best help you can get. And you won’t be alone. Believe me.”
Her lips went thin. He wondered if she knew where his comfort came from, or the situation he had with Jago. He was proof against anyone’s disapproval, outside the household.
And he knew what he was asking of his household, to take her in, but he saw in her the signs that had taken other paidhiin down—the isolation, the sense of alienation, the burden of untranslatable secrets.
“Here is safe,” he said. “For one very practical reason—you may become a target—take my offer. And trust these people. Completely.”
“I don’t trust. I don’t trust people.”
“Learn. With them, learn.”
Deep breath.
“Listen to me,” he said. “You can’t debrief everything in your own language. You needatevi you can trust to talk to. If you’d had someone to ask about Tabini, in Ragi, it would have helped—wouldn’t it?”
That made itself understood. Resistance weakened.
“All right. All right. I’ll see if I can arrange it.”
“You don’t see if you can arrange it, Mercheson-paidhi. You do it. And listen to me. One more question, one more sweeping question: is there anything else I’d better know? Is there anything else you suspect that Ramirez might have told Jase, that you wouldn’t have been able to tell him in a briefing? Anything you’ve suspected, or knew parts of?”