God. Had they been on the right side, putting down the Tamun mutiny?
“Log record?”
“Common crew can’t get into the log file. I guess not even all the captains can. There could be a tape—they always make one, through helmet-cam. But if there is, it’s deep in log archives.”
Jenrette. Two dead men who’d used to guard Ramirez killed when dissidents tried to capture them.
And possibly a tape.
“Tape of what?”
“Their going onto the station. Through the corridors. That’s all I know,” Yolanda said. “Which is what everybody in the crew knows if they’d think about it, which they probably haven’t in years. That’s the hell of it. We always thought the report was just what you’d think it would be… which it wasn’t. But I’vethought about it, since Ramirez admitted he’d deceived the crew. And now if there wasa tape, or if Jenrette knows something—he’s the only eyewitness alive. And he’s attached to Jase.”
Jase hadn’t said a thing if he’d asked questions of Jenrette.
But possibly Jenrette hadn’t answered those questions. Or Jase hadn’t time to ask.
“I very much appreciate the briefing.”
“Protect Jase.”
“I will. I promise you I will.” Jase, who couldn’t handle the ship—Sabin, who could. They were in one hell of a situation if that relationship blew up.
And Jenrette—and tapes that might prove Ramirez’s dealings with the station.
God.
“I want you here,” he said. “Within our protection. Right now. Go pack.”
“I don’t think there’s any hurry that extreme.”
He left the last of his drink, pushing it back. Banichi was nearby. The room was bugged. He knew his security had followed part of it, as much fluency as they had. “I want you with our security, starting now, and I want to know you’re safe and alive. I’m very appreciative, Landa-ji. But I’m not taking chances with someone who knows that many of the requisite pieces. You’re paidhi-aiji. Accept it. Think like it. If human enemies, then atevi enemies, at all times, and sometimes before you think they know what’s critical. Here, you’re safe. Come with me.”
Was he surprised that when he saw her out to the foyer, the requisite persons were at hand: Narani, and Banichi, and Jago back from her conference?
“Mercheson-paidhi will handle affairs on the mainland, appointed by the aiji to take my post, with my approval. To that end, I set her within the household, in the care of the staff. She very much needs reliable people around her, and she promises to appreciate good advice.”
“Mercheson-paidhi,” Narani said, with a bow, and Yolanda made the requisite bow in return.
“One is grateful,” she said properly. “Thank you all.” She made the bow of someone departing, but Narani hesitated in opening the door for her—alone, no security, no escort. That was the way Yolanda had been moving about the station, and that wouldn’t do, not at all.
“Banichi-ji, can you draw someone from atevi general security to attach to her? She needs her belongings. Landa-ji, I’d rather you just stayed here and let us collect your belongings. Is there anything you urgently have to have from your quarters?”
“Not that’s a security rush, but yes, keepsakes. And my mother—” She was starting to think of consequences.
He was grateful for that. And had no good news. “We can provide reasonable security for your mother outside our perimeter. Within atevi protection, with a human staff—you can arrange that set-up, paidhi-aiji. You have the authority. You can authorize, you can build, you can order. It’s up to you how deeply you need to pull her into this.“
“I’ll write a message for her. I don’t know whether she’s going with the ship, or not. We don’t talk that often—but—”
“Frankly, I’d suggest she go. There’ll be fewer potential enemies, and there she doesn’t know anything, and can’t pressure you with personal demands. Here, there’s a danger, however remote, of hostage-taking, for someone else to pressure you.”
Yolanda looked as if she needed to sit down.
“There are two reliable persons in general security, nandiin-ji,” Banichi said, having been in communion with his personal electronics. “I have the names. By your order, we can assign them to bring the paidhi’s belongings.”
“Do so,” Bren said, and to Yolanda: “We now have two agents to attach to you, to this household, as Tano and Algini won’t be at your orders, nor should you ask. No matter the temptation, never stray out of this door without the two agents we assign to you. Same level of security as in the Bu-javid. No less hazard.”
“Nandi,” she said, the respectful form, and seemed utterly lost.
“The guest quarters,” he said. It happened to be the library, at other times; but there were beds at need.
“I have a meeting with Ogun,” she remembered, and added, gathering her scattered manners, “nandi.”
“Advise your staff of your needs when they arrive,” he said. “Go to your meeting on schedule, as you and they deem needful. But go with atevi security. Feldman and Shugart will assist her, too,” he said to Narani. “They’re Tyers’ people. One believes one can trust their word, too. We’ll want to provide them with residency here in the section. Notunder this roof, however. They remain Mospheiran. Landa-paidhi’s become paidhi-aiji, and she will stay here. Her staff will stay where she disposes them, in this household, starting now, if you can find a moment to advise her.”
“Perfectly understood, nandi,” Narani said. “We will make the arrangements.”
In the midst of packing and everything else Narani had to do. Thank God for his staff.
Late evening. Long evening. They had a guest tucked in toward the kitchen end of the apartment. They had a new pair of guards, formerly attached to general security, undergoing a rapid briefing in what was for them a vast career advancement, and two servants with Tano and Algini quietly retrieving a teddy bear and the contents of Yolanda’s closet from her on-station apartment. She had atevi-style clothing in her size, legacy of her days at court—a few years out of the mode, but adequate until the staff could manufacture something more current.
Yolanda had gone to her quarters with the look of a woman in shock by now, just too much change, too many decisions—the aftershock of too many secrets. She’d arranged certain matters and wandered off to her room, and the servants Narani had assigned her reported her asleep in her clothing, to their deep chagrin.
Bren knew… knew, he fancied, everything she was going through, alone: ultimately, alone, no matter how many people came and went; alone, the way each of the paidhiin was alone, in that sense, and maybe relieved to hear from another paidhi that the isolation had a name and a reason and a set of rules.
There’d come a time for him when he hadn’t found the island safe, or comfortable, either. And he’d—not bullied her into the choice, but maybe narrowed the path on either hand, accelerated the choice, given it a shape for her. He felt guilty about that, or sorry for her, or relieved for her sake, or relieved because she was safer than she would have been—the forgotten paidhi, the paidhi who hadn’t wanted the planet at all. He’d done the best thing.
Jase, now—Jase might or might not know where she was. Ogun did by now. She’d ended up postponing her meeting with the senior captain—informed Ogun she’d taken Tabini’s request to heart, officially, and needed a few hours to rest, and by the way, was no longer functioning under Ogun’s orders.
She’d already informed the aiji, the aiji-dowager, and Lord Geigi, officially and in order of protocol—he’d helped her with the wording:
I have most gratefully accepted the aiji’s summons to duty and accept Bren-paidhi’s hospitality until such time as felicitous long-term adjustments can be made. I await the aiji’s instruction, etc., etc…
He was as tired as she was. It was a decent letter. He knew he had to add his own. He wasn’t, tonight, up to it.