The paidhi had been a thoroughgoing fool. The paidhi had not only blown up bridges with Ilisidi, he'd put the observatory and Grigiji at risk, possibly done something completely uncalculated regarding Geigi and Geigi's province and Geigi's relationship to Ilisidi and to Tabini — the paidhi was consequently thoroughly depressed, thoroughly disgusted with his quick and perhaps now very costly feint aside to chase what had looked like a good idea at the time.
The way for the paidhi to do what Wilson-paidhi hadn't been able to and Hanks-paidhi couldn't: get the conservative atevi and Tabini's faction simultaneously behind an idea.
The hero's touch. The heroics he'd accused Hanks of, that Hanks had come back at him with — and by what he saw now, Hanks had had the right of it.
Hanks deserved a phone call, at least to set up a meeting to brief her on the essentials, and on what a hash he might have made of her slip with Geigi. It wasn't going to be easy to explain, it wasn't going to be pleasant, and he wasn't ready to cope with it. Not yet.
He sat down to go through the message stack — the new office was actually settling in to work, and he had a number of appreciations for the cards he'd sent; the table in the foyer was overflowing with the traditional gifts of flowers from the new employees, so many they'd accumulated in a tasteful bow about the table and in other areas of the floor where they wouldn't impede traffic, and he supposed he ought to have been cheered, but his arm ached, his ribs ached, and breakfast wasn't sitting well. He asked Algini for his computer, took his correspondence to the sitting room, and sat and prepared reports, and reports.
Saidin quietly adjusted the windows for ventilation and light, and set a fan to operation. He'd grown less distracted by the comings and goings of the staff. He almost failed to notice, until Saidin crossed between him and the light.
"I need to speak to Banichi, nand' Saidin," he said. He wanted a time for leisurely discussion. "Is he back yet?"
"Not yet, nand' paidhi. Algini is on duty."
"Jago?"
"I believe she went down to the Guild offices, nadi. One could send."
"No," he said. "It's not urgent." His eyes were tired, and among his messages was an advisement Tabini was directing the mathematics faculty to look at Grigiji's notes. And hisnotes, which he hoped he hadn't mis-copied. He'd protested that to Tabini and urged him if there were mistakes to attribute them to human copying, not Grigiji's math.
Among his messages was an extensive new transcript from the ship, which contained more document transmissions between Mospheira and the ship, more of Mospheira's very specific questions about origins and direction of travel and findings — which the ship hadn't answered fully. There was a direct question about the supposed other station and its location, and whether — a question that hadn't even occurred seriously to him — the ship might have left the solar system at all, but whether it might in fact have established the long-threatened base at Maudette, the red, desolate further-out planet atevi called Esili — the planet to which, before the Landing, the Pilots' Guild had wanted to move the colony rather than have it land on the atevi world.
No, the ship said. It had visited another star. There was no base at Maudette.
Which star? the President wanted to know, and named several near ones.
The Guild said, logically enough, that they had no such names on file; then asked for star charts with atevi names. And renewed the discussion about landing sites — in regard to which the ship wanted general maps and names.
Which Mospheira, in a sudden reticence, refused to provide until the ship was forthcoming with star charts.
At which point the woman Yolanda Mercheson came on com, wishing to speak to the President.
And the President was quite pleasant. Quite encouraging. The President said he advised a landing on Mospheira as the best way to guarantee human sovereignty — and Mercheson said she'd present that view.
Then Mercheson presented a shopping list of raw materials and asked pointedly if Mospheira had those goods.
The President didn't know. The President would get back to her with that information, but he knew they had some extensive stockpiles of materials.
Stockpiles.
Flash of dark. Terror. Pain. Cold metal and a looming shadow, asking him… accusing him…
Most clearly you're stockpiling metals. You increase your demands for steel, for gold— you give us industries, and you trade us microcircuits for graphite, for titanium, aluminum, palladium, elements we didn't know existed a hundred years ago, and, thanks to you, now we have a use for. Now you import them, minerals that don't exist on Mospheira, For what? For what do you use these things, if not the same things you've taught us—
Barrel of a gun against his head. A question he'd taken at face value at that moment, and pain and fear had wiped out the context — no, he hadn't knownthe context at that moment, he hadn't knownthe ship had returned to atevi skies, he hadn't knownthe situation the interrogator was implying… space-age stockpiles for an event the whole human population of the planet might have been waiting to spring on atevi. At that terrorized, dreadful moment he'd thought only… aircraft. Only… a hidden launch program. Only… of dying there. And he hadn't half-remembered the question in the light of what he'd learned later.
Stockpiles — of goods critical to a space program.
He'd protested he wasn't an engineer, he didn't know… and the interrogator had said… you slip numbers into the dataflow. You encourage sectarian debates to delay us…
The argument of Ilisidi's allies. Ilisidi's constituency, the constituency Ilisidi had ostensibly betrayed — but never count an ateva to have changed sides completely. There were always points of stress in an association.
Sectarian debates to delay us…
And he'd said… We build test vehicles. Models. Wetest what we think we understand before we give advice that will let some ateva blow himself to bits, nadi…
He'd thought that was all the truth. He'd told that to an interrogator whose identity he still didn't know, a man who might have been Ilisidi's, or a partisan of someone affiliated to Ilisidi.
He'd hadn't known then… about the ship. He hadn't understood the matter about sectarian debates. Or the significance of stockpiles of materials for a space program. He'dtalked to them about aircraft. He'dmaintained human innocence…
He lost his place in the tape. His fingers were cold as he punched buttons and ran it back, and heard the section through again, and knewhe'd promised Ilisidi along with Tabini a transcript of all his translations.
Stockpiles… the atevi held to be extensive. Stockpiles of minerals Mospheira didn't otherwise have…
Stockpiles begun — God knew how long ago. The paidhi, on informed opinion, didn't believethey could be that extensive, since the paidhi knew with fair certainty what had generally gone to Mospheira and what Mospheira would use — unless there were Defense Department secrets too deep and too old for the current paidhi to know, or trading — as could sometimes happen — that didn't get reported accurately to Shejidan.