Could have brought down Mospheira’s whole network. Fouled up everything from the subway system to the earth station dish—unless Mospheira, being sane, had long since realized he was in trouble and changed those codes.
But that didn’t mean they were totally out of commission. They’d just get a different routing until he got clearance.
He hunted and pecked, key at a time, through the initial text.
Sorry I’ve been out of touch…
Banichi had been forward in the plane, standing up, talking to Ilisidi and one of her men, who was sitting at the front. Now he came down the aisle, leaning on seat-backs, favoring the splinted ankle.
“Get off your feet, damn it!” Bren said, and muttered, politely, “Nadi.”
Banichi worked his way to the seat beside him, in the exit aisle, and fell into it with a profound sigh, his face beaded with sweat. But he didn’t look at all unhappy, for a man in excruciating pain.
“I just got hold of Tabini,” Banichi said. “He says he’s glad you’re all right, he had every confidence you’d settle the rebels single-handed.”
He had to laugh. It hurt.
“He’s sending his private plane,” Banichi said. “We’re re-routed to Alujisan. Longer runway. Cenedi’s doing fine, but he says he’s getting wobbly and he’s not sorry to have a relief coming up. We’ll hand the prisoners over to the local guard, board a nice clean plane and have someone feed us lunch. Meanwhile Tabini’s moving forces in by air as far as Bairi-magi, three-hour train ride from Maidingi, two hours from Fagioni and Wigairiin. Watch him offer amnesty next— if, he says, you can come up with a reason to tell the hasdrawad, about this ship, that can calm the situation. He wants you in the court. Tonight.”
“With an answer.” He no longer felt like laughing. “Banichi-ji, atevi have all the rights with these strangers on the ship. We on Mospheira don’t. You know our presence in this solar system was an accident… but our landing wasn’t. We were passengers on that ship. The crew took the ship and left us here. They said they were going to locate a place to build. We weren’t damned happy about their leaving, and they weren’t happy about our threat to land here. Two hundred years may not have improved our relationship with these people.”
“Are they here to take you away?”
“That would make some atevi happy, wouldn’t it?”
“Not Tabini.”
Damned sure not Tabini. Not the pillar of the Western Association. That was why there were dead men on the plane with them: fear of humans was only part of it.
“There are considerable strains on the Association,” Banichi said somberly. “The conservative forces. The jealous. The ambitious. Five administrations have kept the peace, under the aijiin of Shejidan and the dictates of the paidhiin…”
“We don’t dictate.”
“The iron-fisted suggestions of the paidhiin. Backed by a space station and technology we don’t dream of.”
“A space station that sweeps down from orbit and rains fire on provincial capitals at least once a month—we’ve had this conversation before, Banichi. I had it with Ilisidi’s men in the basement. I just had it, abbreviated version, with the gentlemen in the back of the plane, who broke my arm, thank you very much, nadi, but we don’t have any intention of taking over the planet this month.” He was raving, losing his threads. He leaned his head back against the seat. “You’re safe from them, Banichi. At least as far as them coming down here. They don’t like planets to live on. They want us to come up there and maintain their station for them, free of charge, so they can go wherever they like and we fix what breaks and supply their ship.”
“So they will make you go back to the station?” Banichi asked.
“Can’t get at us, I’m thinking. No landing craft. At least they didn’t have one. They’ll have to wait for ourlift capacity.“ He began to see the pieces, then, in a crazed sort of way, while the arm hurt like bloody hell. “Damned right they will. The Pilots’ Guild will negotiate. They’re scared as hell of you.”
“Of us?” Banichi asked.
“Of the potential for enemies.” He turned his head on the head rest. “Time works differently for space travelers. Don’t ask me how. But they think in the long term. The very long term. You’re not likethem, and they can’t keep you at the bottom of a gravity slope forever.” He gave a dry, short laugh. “That was the feud between us from the outset, that some of us said we had to deal with atevi. And the Pilots’ Guild said no, let’s slip away, they’ll never notice us.”
“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.”