And a pointer aimed at what? At the non-cooperative station, which might pot-shot the alien and start a war? That was no good.
“It may be a naive question, captain, but are we moving toward the aliens at the moment? Or toward station?”
“What are you getting at, Mr. Cameron?”
“I’m trying to figure out what we’re saying in relation to where we’re going. Everything’s a word. Where we’re going is a word.”
“We’re splitting the difference at the moment. We’ve veered off from station signal. We haven’t gone on a heading directly for the alien craft. We’re not going directly at either.”
“Good decision.”
“Thank you,” Sabin said dryly, and he ignored the irony.
“Can we stop? Stand still?”
“Relative to what, Mr. Cameron?”
“I don’t know.” He was totally at sea where ship’s movements were concerned. “Just, once we go on toward the station, now or hours from now, we’ve involved the station. If our own station will cooperate with us—then, yes, we could slow way down, sit out here and maybe work this out. I’m assuming the Guild’s not going to be helpful. So if we could, relatively speaking, just stop or slow way down and talk with this outlying ship—if we could say, by our motions, we’re going to deal with you rationally and calmly, no hurry here …”
“We don’t even know if there’s intelligence aboard.”
“But something somewhere in control of this is rational. We have to believe that, or there’s no hope in this situation—and percentage, captain, percentage in this is all with hope . If we can get to talking, if we can get them to accept a slow closer contact and occupy their attention with communications—we may just possibly shift decision-making from their warlike to their deliberative personnel, if there should be that division of power aboard.”
He saw the little frown grow. Sabin was at least listening. And the next part of the thought he didn’t like at all—but it was, personally applied, the hope equation. Percentages.
“If we can do that,” he said further, “if we can just calm down and sit out here increasing our ability to talk to them, then we’ve over all increased the likelihood they’ll talk in all other circumstances. They’ll have invested effort in talking. At least on economy of effort, they’ll reasonably value that investment. Individuals will have committed work to the idea. We may gain proponents among them. We could be several years sitting here unraveling this, but the immediate threat to the station will be a lot less down this path. We might be able to defuse this situation and get their decision-making well away from the fire buttons and over to the communications officers.”
“And you think you can accomplish this fantasy of cooperation.”
He didn’t know what to say. Then he shifted a glance over his shoulder, by implication the array of atevi and Mospheirans—and back. “My predecessors certainly did.”
Sabin’s glance made the same trip. And came back. “You can do it and take my orders, mister.”
“I respect your good sense, captain.”
“What do you propose for the next step?”
“Ignore my ignorance about ship’s operations. But we’ve answered the aliens. Where’s the clock on that, relative to our request to station?”
Sabin checked her wristwatch. “That’s thirty one to station reply and forty six to alien reply.”
“If station agrees to signal with us, we do a unison approach. If station doesn’t agree… how many lights can the ship manage in a row, to signal with?”
“Eight.”
Infelicitous eight. Was it mad for a human mind to think in those terms—to have numbers make a difference at all?
“I’ll give you a blink pattern with those eight. I’ll think of something.”
“I’m sure that’s very useful, Mr. Cameron.”
“We can signal an approach. If we can make an approach to them.”
“You’re recommending this.”
“I’m recommending this.”
Again a long stare. “I’m not expecting station cooperation. Get me your blink pattern, Mr. Cameron. Let’s just see what we can learn.”
Half an hour. He had other minds to consult, and he went and consulted, the aiji-dowager sitting ramrod stiff in an upright chair in Jase’s cabin, Ginny sitting on the bed, security standing about. He sat down and made his proposal, talking to two individuals: the human one of which didn’t remotely understand his craft, but the dowager understood the problems. So, even, did Cajeiri, who stood by his great-grandmother’s chair and listened very solemnly, not a word from him, but a lively spark in his eyes, not a reasonable ounce of fear.
No more than in his great-grandmother. “So,” Ilisidi said, having heard him out. “What does Jase-aiji think?”
“One will surely consult him in this, aiji-ma.” He had a keen awareness of passing time. Of the impending reply window. He hastily took his leave, gathering Banichi and Jago and Gin—almost Cajeiri, but for the dowager’s sharp command restraining the rascal.
“Answer?” Bren asked Jase, arriving beside him on the bridge. The communications flow in his ear was momentarily interrupted, for sanity’s sake. He was screwing the earpiece back in as he asked.
“Station says their policy is no contact. They repeat their order to come in.”
His heart thudded for no particular reason: he’d expected worse—but the citing of policy under present circumstances hammered at his nerves. The communications chatter was back in his ear. He watched Sabin stroll over.
“Negative,” she said. “So?”
“I suggest, then, unless the alien initiates some new pattern we can work on—blink all lights sequential toward the end-most, toward that ship. Then slow. And turn. Blink all lights toward the center. Then steady light, and go toward them.”
“That’s it ?”
“Works in downtown Jackson traffic,” he said, beyond being defensive. “Communicates to our species. Atevi intuitively figure it on Alpha station.”
“A damn stationside turn signal?”
He shrugged. “We’re not going to communicate the whole dictionary, captain. Simplicity. The most universal things we can think of: we’re turning and we’re coming toward you very, very slowly .”
Sabin swore under her breath.
“What would you do, captain, if they sent that signal to you?”
“I’d uncap the fire button, plain truth.”
“Would you fire?”
Sabin thought more soberly about that. Expressionless, walked over to the third console and gave an order.
Another transmission-wait clock showed up on the main screen.
They’d signaled.
“ Takehold, takehold, takehold ,” the intercom warned the ship.
Maneuvering. His plan was in full, precipitate operation, not waiting for answer.
He looked uncertainly toward Jase. Jase looked to him , that was the panic-producing realization, and there wasn’t time. “Nadiin-ji,” he said to Banichi and Jago, “take hold. Advise the dowager. We three shall use the alcove.”