Good for Shawn Tyers. Good for him. The President was an old friend of his. The Mospheiran legislature took dynamite to move it, but move it must have, to take a firm and even risky decision.
“When did this attack happen, nandi?” Ilisidi asked.
“Eight months ago, aiji-ma.” Shortly after they had set out from Reunion homeward. “Eight months ago assassins struck in Shejidan, taking the Bu-javid while the aiji was on holiday at Taiben. The Kadigidi and the Taisigini declared themselves in control, and attempted to claim that they had assassinated the aiji, but Tabini-aiji broadcast a message that he was alive and by no means recognized their occupation of the capital. The Kadigidi attempted to engage the Assassins’ Guild on their side, but the Guild refused their petition and continued to regard the matter as unsettled. The aiji meanwhile went on to the coast, to Mogari-nai.”
That was the site of the big dish, the site of atevi communications with the station.
“… but the Kadigidi struck there, as well. For several months thereafter we have heard rumors of the aiji’s movements, and we do not despair of hearing from him soon, aiji-ma. He may well send word once he hears you are back.”
“Or he may not,” Ilisidi said, “if he is not yet prepared. He may let opposition concentrate on us.”
“True,” Geigi said. “But we have not heard news lately. The Kadigidi have never since dared claim he is dead. But they may advance such a claim in desperation, Sidi-ji, now that you have arrived.”
“Well,” Ilisidi said, as taken aback as Bren had ever seen her. She stood there staring at nothing in particular, and Cajeiri stood by, looking to her for answers. As they all did. “Well,” she said again.
Jase, meanwhile, had been carrying on a running translation for Sabin, who stood, likewise looking at Ilisidi.
“Where,” Ilisidi asked Geigi sharply, “where is Tatiseigi?”
Cajeiri’s great-uncle, lord of the Atageini, sharing a boundary with the Kadigidi.
“At his estate, aiji-ma. Apparently safe. The Lady Damiri is not there.”
Cajeiri’s mother, who owed direct allegiance to the Atageini lord, Tatiseigi. Damiri was, very possibly, traveling with Tabini, if he was alive. She could have sheltered with her uncle, but apparently she was missing right along with Tabini, still loyal, and a constraint on her great-uncle.
“How many provinces are now joining in this rebellion?”
“Four provinces in the south, two in the east, under Lord Darudi.”
“There is a head destined to fall,” Ilisidi said placidly. “And Tatiseigi? His man’chi?”
“His neighbors the Kadigidi are surely watching him very closely, as if he might harbor the aiji or the consort, but he will not commit to this side or the other and they dare not touch him because of the Northern Association.”
“The Northern Association holds?”
“It holds, aiji-ma.”
It was worth a deep, long sigh of relief. Atevi didn’t have borders. They had overlapping spheres of influence and allegiance. Within the aishidi’tat there were hundreds of associations of all sizes, from two or three provinces, likewise hazy in border, give or take, commonly, the loyalty of two or three families within the overlap. And if the Northern Association had held firm, rallying around Tatiseigi of the Atageini, the Midlands Association, to which the neighboring Kadigidi belonged, would be rash to make a move against Cajeiri’s mother’s relatives.
And Cajeiri arriving back in the picture gave Uncle Tatiseigi a powerful claimant to power from his household, which would bring all sorts of pressure within Tatiseigi’s association… God, it had been so long since he had traced the mazes of atevi clans and allegiances, or had to wonder where the Assassins’ Guild was going to come down on an issue.
Tabini missing. Assassinations. Havoc in the aishidi’tat.
One thing occurred to him, one primary question.
“Where are the shuttles, aiji-ma? Have they survived this disorder?”
“Excellent question,” Ilisidi said, and relayed it to Geigi. “Where are the shuttles?”
“We have one shuttle docked at the station,” was Geigi’s very welcome answer. “But we have no safe port to land it. The rebels hold the seacoast. We fear it may suffer attack, even if we attempt a landing on Mospheira.”
God. But they still had one functional shuttle.
One.
“Aiji-ma,” Geigi said, “I have maps. I have maps, and letters, which I can send to you for more detailed information, if the station and the ship will permit.”
Jase had translated that. They suddenly had Sabin’s full attention. “Jules,” Sabin said to her conversant, “Lord Geigi wants to transmit documents.”
“He should send them,” Bren said, “aiji-ma.”
“I shall get them together,” Lord Geigi said, when she ordered the transmission. “And I shall be there to meet you when you dock, aiji-ma.”
“A cold trek and pointless,” was Ilisidi’s response. “Order my staff and the paidhi’s to prepare our rooms and never mind coming to that abysmally uncomfortable dock. We shall meet you in decent comfort, Geigi-ji, as soon as possible. If you think of other matters, include them with your documents. I am handing this phone back now.”
“Yes,” Geigi said, accepting orders, and the contact went dead.
Bren stood still, numb, and glanced at Jase.
“I translated,” Jase said, with a shift of the eyes toward Sabin.
“We have a problem, it seems,” Sabin said. “We have a shuttle, a ship full of more mouths to feed—we do have our own ship’s tanks, which should suffice to feed us all and the station, not well, but adequately, so at least we won’t overburden their systems. And we have our additional miner-bots, slow as that process may be.”
“We have our own manufacturing module,” Gin said. “And we have some supplies. We can start assembly and programming on extant stock as soon as we dock. We can get them to work in fairly short order, and see if we can pick up the pace of their operation.”
“Good,” Sabin said shortly.
In one word, from high hopes and the expectation of luxury back to a situation of shortage and the necessity of mining in orbit, the condition of life of their ancestors. The condition of the great-grandfathers of the Reunioners, too, who had had to build their distant station in desolation and hazard, by their own bootstraps.
They had to break that news to four thousand-odd colonists, and still keep the lid on their patience. Four thousand desperate people who’d been promised the sun and the moon and fruit drops forever once they got to the home station—and they were back to a hard-scrabble existence, with a revolution in progress down in the gravity well.
The gravity well. That long, long drop. Bren felt a sensation he hadn’t felt in two years, the sensation of standing at the top of a dizzying deep pit, at the bottom of which lay business he couldn’t let go its own course.
Tabini. Atevi civilization. Toby and his own family, such as he had.
“Mani-ma.” Cajeiri, ever so quietly, addressing his great-grandmother. “Do you think my father and mother are still alive?”
Ilisidi gave a snort. “The Kadigidi would wish it known if not. Evidently they dare not claim it, even if they hope it to be the case, and one doubts they have so much as a good hope of being right. Likely your father and mother are alive and waiting for us to descend with force from the heavens.”
“Shall we, mani-ma?”
“As soon as possible,” Ilisidi said, and looked at Bren. “Shall we not?”
“How long until dock?” Bren asked the captains.