“You’re joking, nadi.”
“Not quite,” he said. “Get some sleep, Banichi-ji. I’m going to do some computer work.”
“On what?”
“Long-distance communications. Extreme long distance.”
Ilisidi was on her feet, hovering over Cenedi’s shoulder, Banichi and Jago were leaning over his. He had the co-pilot’s seat. It was a short patch cord.
“So what do you do?” Ilisidi asked.
“I hit the enter key, nand’ dowager. Just now. It’s talking.”
“In numbers.”
“Essentially.”
“How are these numbers chosen?”
“According to an ancient table, nand’ dowager. They don’t vary from that model—which I assure you we long ago gave to atevi.” He watched the incoming light, waiting, waiting. The yellow light flickered and his heart jumped. “Hello, Mospheira.”
“Can they hear us?” Ilisidi asked.
“Not what we say, at the moment. Only what we input.”
“Dreadful changes to the language.”
“ ‘Put in,’ then, nand’ dowager.” Lights flashed in alternation. ID, came up. The plane was on autopilot, and Cenedi diverted his attention to watch the crawl of letters and numbers on a small screen, all of which ended in:
—the further content of the lines wasn’t available to the screen.
Humans had, at least in design, set up the atevi system. It answered very well when a human transmission wanted through. The systems were talking to each other, thank God, thank God.
The plane hit bumpy air. Pain jotted through the nerve ends in the shoulder. Things went gray and red, and for a moment he had to lean back, lost to here and now.
“Nand’ paidhi?” Jago’s hand was on his cheek.
He opened his eyes. Saw a message on the screen.
The Foreign Office wanted to talk on the radio. He’d a headset within reach. He raked it up and fumbled with it, one-handed. Jago helped him. He told Cenedi the frequency, heard the hail sputtering with static.
“Yeah,” he said to the voice that reached him, “it’s Cameron. A little bent but functioning on my own. Where’s Hanks?”
There was a delay—probably for consultation. They hadn’t, the report was, finally, heard from Hanks. She’d gone into Shejidan and dropped into a black hole four days ago.
“Probably all right. The atevi have noticed we’ve got company upstairs. Ours, I take it?”
The Foreign Office said:
“ That’sPhoenix, in a high-handed mood.”
“What’s the situation with it?” he asked, and got back:
“ Touchy.”
“You want atevi cooperation? You want an invitation to behere?”
Are you under duress? the code phrase came back at him.
He laughed. It hurt, and brought tears to his-eyes. “Priority, priority, priority, FO One. Just bust Hanks’ codes back to number two and give me the dish on Adams, tonight, in Shejidan. I am notunder duress.”
The Foreign Office alone couldn’t authorize it—so the officer in charge claimed,
“FO, I’m sitting here talking in Mosphei’ with a half a dozen extremely high-ranking atevi providing me this link on their equipment. I’d say that’s a fair amount of trust, FO, please relay to the appropriate levels.”
Atevi didn’t have a word for trust. The Foreign Office said so.
“They’ve got words we don’t have either, FO. Go with Hanks or go with me. This is a judgement call I’m required to make. We needthe aiji’s permission to be on this planet, FO. Then where’s Phoenix’complaint?”
The Foreign Office thought they’d talk to the President.
“Do that,” he said. “Much nicer if my call to Phoenixgoes out through the dish on Adams. But the intersat dish on Mogari-nai is the aiji’s alternative, and I think he’ll use it, directly. Atevi could deal without me in the loop. If they wanted to. Do you understand? Tabini’s government is under pressure. That’s the disturbance in Maidingi Province. That’s where I’ve been. Tabini has to make a response to this ship. He’ll offer Mospheira a chance for input in that response. United front, FO. I think I can get that arrangement.”
Three hours, the Foreign Office said. They’d have to talk to the President. Assemble the council.
“Three hours max, FO. We’re inthe Western Association, let me remind you. Tabini will act ultimately in the best interests of the Association. I earnestly suggest we join them.”
The Foreign Office signed off. The computer exchange tailed off. He shut his eyes, felt a little twinge of human responsibility. Not much. He’d be human after the hasdrawad met. After he’d talked to Tabini. He’d get a plane to Mospheira… trust the hospitals there to know where to put the pieces.
“Nand’ paidhi,” Banichi said after a moment.
They couldn’t have followed that exchange. Banichi might have followed every third word of it, but none of the rest of them. Damned patient, they were. And very reasonably anxious.
“Tell Tabini,” he said, “prime the dish on Mogari-nai to talk to that ship up there, tonight. I think we’ll get the one on Allan Thomas, but when you’re dealing with Mospheira, nadiin, you always assure them you have other choices.”
“What other choices,” Ilisidi said, “do we tell that ship up there we have?”
Sharp woman, Ilisidi.
“What choice? The future of relations between atevi and humans. Cooperation and association and trade. The word is ‘treaty,’ nand’ dowager. They’ll listen. They have to listen.”
“Rest,” Jago said, behind him, and brushed his hair back from his forehead. “Bren-ji.”
Didn’t want to move for the moment. It hurt enough getting up here to the cockpit.
Figure that Tabini probably knew everything they’d just said—give or take the computer codes; and don’t bet heavily on that, once the experts got after it. Anything you used, numerically speaking, to get past atevi, you couldn’t go on using.
But peace was in everyone’s interests. Certainly it was in Tabini’s. And in the interest of humans, ship’s crew and planet-bound colonists a long, long way from the homeworld.
He’d told Djinana they might walk on the moon. Lay bets on it, now, he would. Granted Malguri was still standing.
He made an effort to fold up the computer. Jago shut the case for him, and disconnected the cord. After that—the necessity of getting up.
He made it that far. Ended up with Banichi’s arm around him, Banichi standing on one leg. The dowager aiji said something rude about young men falling at her feet, and go sit down, shewas in command of the plane.
“Let me,” Jago said, and got an arm about his middle, which stabilized the aisle considerably.
Banichi limped after them. Sat down beside him.
“Long distance, is it?” Banichi said. “If you go up there, we go, nadi.”
He couldn’t say he understood Jago orBanichi, orTabini.
Couldn’t say they understood him.
Scary thought, Banichi had. But he suddenly saw it as possible, even likely, when negotiations happened, when Mospheira got that lift vehicle, or the ship up there built one in order to deal with them. Atevi were going into space. No question. In his lifetime.
Baji-naji, The lots came down, Fortune and Chance made their pick. You weren’t born with your associates. You found man’chisomewhere, and you entered into something humans didn’t quite fathom with an altogether atevi understanding.
But in the way of such things, maybe atevi hadn’t found the exact words for it, either.
Pronunciation
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