“Pleased to meet you,” Gene said.
“Nadiin,” Antaro said, with a polite little nod, Guild‑fashion. “We go now.”
“They speak ship !” Irene exclaimed.
“A little, nadiin,” Antaro said with a second nod, pleased, and up front, people were getting off and they would have to catch up. “We go now. Up.”
“We move fast now,” Cajeiri said. “Don’t stop.” Up front, two of mani’s bodyguards had lingered, and they had opened the baggage compartment of the bus, taking out what they had put on. Antaro and Jegari led out, and he followed with his guests, Lucasi and Veijico behind them. Tano got out ahead of them, and there were Kaplan and Polano, mirror‑faced helmets on, which made them look like machines–scarily so. But that was what bodyguards did–look as forbidding as possible if there was any chance of a threat. Everybody else was already getting on the train, and Tano went ahead of them as they caught up.
The steps were high, even for him, but very high for his guests. He made it in, and Gene, with a little jump, was right behind him. Veijico and Lucasi all but picked up Artur, setting him on the steps, and Gene hauled him up the next by the hand. Irene came next, lifted up gently by Lucasi.
“Everything’s so big, ” she said, staring all around her.
“ We’re just short ,” Gene said, with his big grin. They were in the car, now, and being urged away from the door. All the bodyguards were still standing, but he caught a glimpse of mani and Great‑uncle, and nand’ Bren and Jase‑aiji through the sea of black uniforms, settling into the seats at the rear.
One of the guards was Tano, who said, with a wave of his hand: “You and your guests may have the seats over there, with the let‑down table. There will be lunch very soon.”
“Thank you, Tano‑nadi,” he said with a little bow, and now, finally, they were going to be on their way and everything was going to work. “Is mani happy, and Uncle? Is everything all right?”
“Everything is perfectly fine, young gentleman.”
He hoped it was, but some of the bodyguards were still outside. Finally Kaplan and Polano came up onto the train ahead of a few of mani’s guards, and the door shut.
They were in, they were safe.
And lunch was coming.
He so wanted to introduce his guests, but it was not proper to do introductions of complete strangers to mani and Uncle in a crowded conveyance. It would have to be as if they were in two separate cars, the adults down there, and them here, at this end, and they had to be sure not to bother anybody.
“Sit here,” he invited his guests. “Food. Soon.”
“Food!” Gene said. “Excellent!”
Their own table, and very quickly iced bottles of fruit juice. No servants were present–they were all in the other cars . . . with the baggage–so it was one of mani’s guards who set down the drinks.
It was quiet, it was safe: the red car had excellent shielding–even the red velvet curtains that made it look as if there would be a window at the end of their table were for decoration only: there was no looking out. Not from this end of the car.
“We’re moving!” Irene said, with a startled look, and grabbed her drink. “Oh, this is scary! How fast does it go?”
“A little,” Cajeiri said. “Not like the ship.”
“What’s that sound?”
“Joints in the rail,” Cajeiri said.
“The other sound.”
“That’s the train. The machine.”
“Neat,” Artur said. “You can hear it breathe, can’t you?”
Breathe. He’d never thought of it like that, but Artur was right. It was neat. And they were happy. Nobody was sick or throwing up, which Bren had cautioned him could happen to them even without windows. They were eager for lunch, and the fruit drinks were fast disappearing.
But, he realized suddenly, he had to teach them things, like not eating just anything. He had told them once about nand’ Bren having to be careful what he ate, but that was on the ship. He had to be sure nobody got sick now. Or dead. It could be really serious, with some dishes. And even some teas.
And he had to present them to mani and Great‑uncle, once they got to Tirnamardi, in a way Great‑uncle would approve. Great‑uncle was so touchy. He had to make them understand where to be and how to talk to lords and servants.
And so many, many things there were Ragi words for, just Ragi words. Where did people born on a station far, far off from any world ever see a tree or a woods? There were words in the old archive, that they all knew. And there were vids. But not all of those words fit things and vids weren’t like standing next to a tree that towered over your head and dropped leaves into your hands.
They came from a place that was all one building. Just doors and hallways and lifts and tunnels.
It was just enormous, the mass of things he had to explain. He suddenly found nothing as easy as he thought it was, and it all was going to come at them in a few hours when they got to Tirnamardi.
He swallowed a mouthful of fruit juice, and decided he should just tell them Ragi words for what they could see around them. It was, after all, the way he had learned ship‑speak, when he had been in their world.
· · ·
“They seem to be enjoying themselves,” Banichi said, having taken a short walk down the aisle and back, as they finished lunch. “They seem to be doing very well. No motion sickness.”
“One is glad,” Bren said. “Thank you, Nichi‑ji.” He and Jase had their lunch together, a little separated from Ilisidi and Tatiseigi, and bodyguards did their own rotation, catching lunch in the little galley. Jase was doing very well, had an appetite, had no problem with the rock and sway of the train.
“Which of us is going to handle protocols?” he asked Jase. “How much have you told them?”
“That the bodyguards mean business, and that you don’t touch people. Particularly people with bodyguards.”
Bren laughed a little. “Children have latitude. Nobody would hurt them.”
“The boy’s grown this year.”
“Eight or nine, the kids shoot up fast. Big spurt between eight and twelve. All feet and elbows in a year or so–just like a human kid. The emotions are different–there’s adjustment, a little rebellious streak. Jago’s warned me.”
“Sounds like us.”
“But girls won’t be the focus. Man’chi will be. A push‑pull with the parents. Rebelliousness. Quick temper.”
“Sounds exactly like us, in that part,” Jase said. “I was a pain. My actual parents weren’t available to argue with, and I still argued with them–in the abstract. Wasn’t fair, them being so non‑communicative.”
Jase’s humor had a little biting edge to it. Jase was one of Taylor’s Children, stored genetic material, a special kid, harking back to the original crew. Ship aristocracy, in a manner of speaking. A living relic. A resource.
Sometimes, Bren suspected, from what he had heard Jase say, those who had raised him had forgotten he was still a human being.
“You turned out pretty well.”
“Dare I say, thanks to you?” A narrow‑eyed glance his way, then around the train. “Thanks to all of them. –When they decided to come back here, they decided to resurrect a few of us. Beginning a new era, I suppose. A marker. I wonder, sometimes, what they think of what they got. Yolanda’s gone philosophical. Meditates in a dark room. She scares me.”