Seeing them as incapable of understanding, as Jase had said to a woman orbiting above them, I love you, mama.
Atevi children clung to their parents. But it wasn’t love that made them do that.
Go to the leader. Always go to the leader when the bullets start to fly: rally to the leader.
Could a human feelthe emotional satisfaction atevi got when they responded to that urge and were responded to? No more than atevi could feelwhat Jase meant when a mother and son said, at such uncrossable distance, I loveyou.
But they knew that, held at such distance from the chief of their association, theirprofoundest instinct would find no satisfaction. And on that side of the gulf, one face of the lot was deeply troubled.
Jago said, quietly, “As if she were on the moon, isn’t it?”
It was a proverb for the unattainable.
“Even the moon,” Banichi said, ever the pragmatic one, “will have railroads and television if this ship flies.”
“That it will,” Bren said, with that hollow spot still cold inside him. “And Jase knows it logically.—I’d better talk to him.”
They seemed relieved then, whether to think he could deal with the trouble, or simply to close off the presence of alienness they couldn’t grasp without analogy.
He left them to their discussion of whatever they might discuss—the oddness of humans was his guess. He walked across the foyer and down the hall that led to the heart of the apartment, and to the library, where the phone was, where Jase had to be.
But so were the servants—all the servants, who weren’t standing in knots talking, as his first glance informed him, but arrayed somewhat in a line, and holding each a flower, whence obtained he had no idea; maybe one of the cut arrangements which appeared every few days. They bowed as he walked past in mild confusion, his attention on the same destination, past the dining rooms, past the bedrooms and the baths, alongside the grim steel barrier of the construction and on to the private office where the lady Damiri’s personal phone was.
Jase stood outside, his hands already holding a few blossoms, as one by one the servants came, each solemnly presenting him a single flower, bowing her head and walking away in silence.
Jase didn’t seem to know what to do. He stood there accepting the flowers, one after the other, and Bren stopped, just stopped and stood, as madam Saidin came up beside him, and also waited.
Jase stood there with his arms increasingly loaded, with the load greater and greater on his soul, by the look of him, until his arms were full, and the last servant had passed, given him a flower, and bowed and gone her way.
“If you please, nand’ Saidin,” Jase said with meticulous courtesy, and offered the mass of flowers toward her. “What is proper to do?”
“You may give them to me, if you wish,” Saidin said, and carefully took them, all forty-nine, as Bren guessed there were in that armful of assorted flowers. The whole hall smelled of them. “Shall I personally cast them on the garden pond, nand’ paidhi?” It was Jase she addressed. “That would be appropriate.”
“Please do,” Jase said, looking and sounding very much at the end of his self-restraint. But he bowed correctly. “Nandi. Thank you.”
“We are all sad,” Saidin said, and took the flowers away.
Bren expected to speak to him, and waited.
But as soon as Saidin had gone, Jase violently shoved past him and went toward the front of the apartment, headed, as Bren guessed, for his room.
The opening and slam of a heavy, well-hung door said that he guessed right.
Well, he thought, Jase had done everything in an exemplary fine manner, right down to the shove at him and the door. Which he, personally, would forgive, though his nerves feltthat door shut.
And he could ignore the gesture, and forgive it, and let it pass. It wasn’t the task he wanted when he was still exercised over the news conference: adrenaline started flowing and he couldn’t use it here, no matter what.
But theyhad uncle Tatiseigi visiting tomorrow night, and Jase had to get his reactions either done with or under control, whichever came first.
He was going to have to do something.
Jase hadn’t lockedthe door. That was good—Jase was not sealing himself in. Or that was bad—Jase was in such a state he didn’t think of such things. He pushed the latch and walked into Jase’s bedroom.
Jase was lying on the made bed, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Jase hadtaken the shoes off, in consideration of passionate atevi feelings of propriety in that regard. Jase was improving, and Jase had stopped to think.
And starting a conversation with a positive statement seemed a good thing.
“That was very well done, Jase.”
Tightjawed, and in Mosphei’: “Did you listen in?”
“I came in late. I heard the close. I’m very sorry, Jase.”
“Thanks.”
“Can I help you?”
“Not unless you fly.”
“I know. I know that part of it. I’m sorry. That’s all I can say. How’s your mother?”
“She’s fine.” A fragile, angry voice. “I’d rather you got the rest of it from the tape. I’m not up to questions right now.”
“Jase.” He was inclined to sit down on the other side of the bed. Jase wasn’t looking at him. And he had seen Jase’s temper boiling to the surface. He didn’t risk sitting. But he risked walking directly into Jase’s field of view. “Jase, this is someone talking who at least knows what you’re going through. Don’t wall me out. Tell me what happened, so two of us know it. Tell me how you’re doing. Tell me if there’s any risk to the ship or station up there.”
“Is that what you’re after? It’s fine.”
“Jase. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t make it better. But tell me what happened and tell me what’s going on as a result of it.”
“It’s not your damn business!”
“It ismy business! I’m in charge of this mission.”
“Who said? My captain? I don’t think so.”
“Sure, fine, you’re in charge of yourself and you can’t speak the language or get across town on the subway. No, Jase. You did all right out there. You did extremely well. And I know it’s your private business, but the paidhiin don’t haveprivate business when it affects the safety of everybody else.”
“What if I wantedto get across town on the subway?”
“What’s that to do with anything?”
“I’m a prisoner here. I’m a prisoner under guard. Is that the way it is?”
“You’re a fragile entity in this culture. You’re not qualified to be out on your own: an atevi six-year-old might get where he was going solo, but I wouldn’t lay odds on your making it tothe subway, let alone elsewhere.—So where do you want to go, or what do you want to do?—Can I help you?”
“I’d like to see the ocean.”
Occasionally conversations with Jase turned right angles. This one went three-sixty degrees.
“The ocean.”
“I’d like to see the ocean. The sea. Whatever the word is. I’d like to stand on the edge of the water and look at it. Is that safe? Is it a stupid request?”
“It’s not a stupid request.” He was no better informed, and understood Jase no better. The question had to be asked, if only to know there was nothing more ominous going on in the heavens. “—Jase, what happened to your father? Staff says it wasan accident that killed him.”