“We’ve had persistent difficulties. Three years of difficulties on this point,” he said in some exasperation. Ramirez had persistently failed download appointments when they had dealt with him via Mogari-nai. He’d excused the behavior and allowed Ramirez to get away with it; he’d told Tabini it wasn’t unknown among humans. He’d wanted to get the agreements that were otherwise in jeopardy. Now Ramirez was doing it again, in an environment where safety might be at risk; that would not do.
He went back to the console after he and his security went to their separate quarters, and sent a message to Ramirez, who—not surprisingly—proved unavailable.
“That’s fine” he said to Cl. “Record a message. Captain Ramirez, contact me at earliest, at whatever hour. Thank you, Cl.”
There was no call in the night. There was no call at all.
Before dressing in the morning, Bren punched in Cl. “Get me Ramirez.”
“Sir, I can’t do that.”
“I want Ramirez, Cl, and I want him now. I’ve waited all night. I’m not in a good mood.”
“Just a minute, sir.” A several moment delay: Bren sat down and turned on his computer, set up files, shivering in the cold air, before tea, before breakfast.
“Mr. Cameron? What may I do for you, sir?”
Different voice. Female.
He rose. Faced the wall unit. “Where’s Cl ?”
“This is Sabin. What’s the problem, Mr. Cameron?”
“Captain.” He adopted a quiet, reasonable tone. “Thank you. You and I haven’t had a chance to talk. Have you a moment today?”
“Not this watch, Mr. Cameron.”
“Captain Sabin, most reasonably, and I’ve stated this during three years of negotiations: if agreements with atevi are not completed at the fortunate hourand on time, all agreements are subject to change, in however small detail. Moving appointments can’t be the condition of discussions with the aiji.”
“This is our deck, Mr. Cameron. You do things our way.”
“No, Captain, quite respectfully. If you want this deck repaired and in running order, atevi ways matter. If today is inconvenient, can we set a firm time? Afternoon, 1300 hours, day after this?”
“I’ll see you at 1400.”
“Delighted. Meanwhile, another matter. Could you arrange for me to phone Jase Graham?”
“Mr. Graham is a member of this crew, under our authority. He has no duties to you or to your offices. Two days; your schedule. You have your meeting, with me. Are we agreed, now?”
“Two days, and I will continually hold out for Jase Graham, Captain.”
“Then you’ll wait in hell.”
“I doubt your ability to create hell and obtain what you want from Tabini-aiji. Wewill likely survive your alien invasion.”
“Don’t rely on it.”
“There’s no need to argue, Captain. Let’s save it for the meeting.”
He heard a lengthy silence on the communications system. Then a restrained: “ Two days, and persistently no, to your request for Graham. He’s not your citizen.”
“We will have it on the table, Captain. Thank you.” He punched out on Sabin at that point, likely not what Sabin was accustomed to having happen, but he wasn’t going to allow agreement to dissipate in further discussion.
He wasn’t at all satisfied with the situation he’d set up.
He dressed, still in a glum mood, only involving Bindanda’s help toward the end of the process. Breakfast waited.
But having settled his nerves from the adrenaline rush of one negotiation, he decided to observe routine and get his messages, never sure at what time ship command would lose patience and close off his access simply to demonstrate they couldclose it off.
He punched in Cl, dealt pleasantly with the communications officer, and did a send-receive, picked up his messages, and sent the ones he’d written, all without incident.
From the mainland, head of the list, he found a veritable flood of personal notes from members of the legislature. He skimmed the likelier of them, found them much as expected, locally focused, various lords asking about their various interests, all felicitating him on surviving the perilous flight up in the shuttle, all interested in profit for their districts, their businesses, their concerns.
The word of his presence up here was out, then, likely with the download of the archive: news of the whole mission would break. He couldadvise Toby where he was; he couldbreak the news to his family that he couldn’t come back to the island this week or next, no matter the need.
From Toby, however, there was also a brief word: Toby, knowing the facts of his whereabouts, now, had written first.
I’ve heard where you are; it’s all over the news… now I know there’s a reason you left as fast as you did.
I talked to Barb’s husband. He seems a nice fellow, quiet. Barb’s undergoing more surgery, showing some awareness of surroundings now. Excuse the word flow. I’m writing this with no sleep. Jill’s talking about a separation. I don’t know why now, but I do know. My running up here isn’t making it easier right now, we talked about it on the plane; she told me make a choice and I don’t want to lose my kids, so as soon as I can I’m going back north and staying there. I can’t do this anymore. Mother won’t listen to me, says Barb is a daughter to her, and that’s her choice.
Most of all I’m not going to lose my wife and my kids. I’m going to get a car, take mother home, and if she gets back to the hospital, she’ll do it after I’m back at the airport, and after that it’s not my problem. I’m sorry as hell, Bren, but if you can’t do this any longer, I can’t, either. My wife and my kids are as important to me as your job is to you, and much as I love you and much as I love mum, I’ve got a life to live.
He read that twice, hearing Toby’s voice, knowing how much it had cost Toby to write it. He sat down and wrote back.
I have no blame to cast. I’ve felt deeply guilty for what I’ve asked. I’ve asked of you and mum both to turn caring for me off and on like a light switch, all to support me when I tried to stand in both worlds. Now I’m wholly on the mainland, and have to be. I can’t change the job, I can’t change myself, and we both know we can’t change our mother’s desire to have us both back… which I think hurts worse because one of us is permanently out of reach and involved in things that upset her. But generations can’t absorb one another. Time we both stopped worrying, and that’s not easy, but no one can ask more than you’ve already done. Tell mum I love her, tell her truthfully where I am, tell her there’s no way in hell I can get there, and that Barb and I don’t have a future.
Barb knew it before I did. Barb did the best thing when she married Paul. It made me mad as hell when I found out, but she was always smart about things like that, and she knew better than I did what our association had gotten to be, and what she needed, and that I was killing her by degrees. Her job was always placating me, it wasn’t a healthy relationship, and she went on faithfully trying to do that after she married, I think because she and I do love one another in a caring sort of way. She couldn’t be happy if I wasn’t happy, and she saw how upset I was about the marriage… when I was the one who’d told her our life was always going to be occasional weekends. The simplest truth is the one we couldn’t work around: that she’d be miserable where I am and I’d be miserable where she is, and there just can’t ever be a fix for that, because I won’t come back to live on the island and she deserves a man who’s there through the thick and the thin of life, not just arriving on flying visits.