Presumably the powers that governed the kyo had thought it over, discussed it—assuming there was a reason to discuss it—and likewise reached a conclusion that they should come visit.
If they were lucky, the kyo had sent the same ship. And only the same ship.
Assuming the blip out there actually was kyo, and not the kyo’s unknown enemy—which had indeed crossed his limited conversation with them.
God. Now there was a black hole of consideration.
But he couldn’t waste time thinking down indefinite branches of the problem. Five days to launch: that was his time frame. Three days to have all the bulky baggage at the port.
With the dowager still in Malguri and Tabini still unaware of the situation.
He had things to do. People to notify. Personally. It was nothing a note could convey—pardon me for bothering you today, aiji-ma, but I have just commandeered the shuttle, tossed the cargo off, ordered more fuel, and I need your son and your grandmother to go with me to meet aliens of indefinite purpose and disposition—
No.
No note was possibly going to cover that situation.
He went out into the hall and found Jeladi in the foyer. “Have we heard from the aiji, Ladi-ji?”
“Yes, nandi. The aiji will see you at your earliest convenience.”
“Then I shall go.”
“Nandi.” Jeladi went immediately to the foyer closet, took out his third-best coat, adequate for the job, and gave curt orders to a passing maidservant, who broke into a run for the back halls and the security station.
Bren slipped off the day coat, and Jeladi deftly whisked it over an arm and held up the other. Bren slipped his arms in, cleared his imperiled queue and ribbon himself, and adjusted the cuff lace with Jeladi’s help.
He turned, in the process, saw Narani in his own little office, on the phone with someone—very likely someone involved in the logistics, and as he turned about again, he saw Tano and Algini coming down the hall, still buckling on their hardware.
He wasn’t alone. He never was alone.
Thank God.
10
There was no drawing room reception in Tabini’s apartment, no waiting for tea. Emergencies made exceptions to custom. There was just a meeting in Tabini’s residential office, quiet, quick, with Algini in the room, Tano outside, and none of Tabini’s own staff present. Algini was there to hear and pass on to his teammates and others what was done and said, and Tano, as a guard on the door at Tabini’s own insistence, would not let any staff come near enough to overhear.
“This regards a matter of utmost urgency on the station,” Tabini said, leaning back in his office chair. “This much we are given to understand. Sit, paidhi.”
“Aiji-ma.” Bren took one of the two small chairs near Tabini’s working desk. “A foreign ship has arrived in our solar system.”
It was surely not the sort of emergency Tabini had envisioned. He drew in a slow breath and frowned. “So. Is this the anticipated visitor, paidhi?”
“We hope it is nothing other than the anticipated visitor, aiji-ma. We have every reason to think it is indeed kyo, and that it is the visit we were advised to expect, but I have only the barest coded message from Jase-aiji, and I doubt he knows the nature of these visitors yet. He gave none of the codes we reserve for its positive identification. One believes that Phoenix has just now detected the ship. The station may not yet know. Likewise the visitors on that incoming ship may not yet realize they have been seen. We have no idea what their normal procedures might be. If they are who we believe, if they are coming to see how we conduct our affairs—they may observe for a while before contacting us. We have fifteen days before it arrives, if it stays at the same speed. At a certain point we hope they will break their silence and contact us. We have a set of responses that should be given to that move. And one does advise—with trepidation, aiji-ma—that we need to meet them up there and talk with them precisely where we left off, with exactly the original persons, the persons who last spoke to them.”
“Yourself, Sabin-aiji, Jase-aiji—my grandmother—and my son.”
“Indeed, aiji-ma.”
“Do you apprehend danger in this meeting?”
“Not personal danger in the meeting itself, aiji-ma. Potentially great danger to everyone on the station and on Earth if we and that ship fail to understand each other. But we parted last in agreement and we were able peacefully to collect the Reunioners and leave. I do not foresee personal danger to the delegation, no, aiji-ma, nor would I hide it from you if I did.”
“Tillington,” Tabini said.
There was no ready answer for that one.
“The Presidenta has made no definite move as yet to replace him?” Tabini asked.
“I do not know, aiji-ma. I have come to you immediately after hearing the news. I have called the spaceport and made some arrangements to secure passage. I have asked my aishid to inform the aiji-dowager. But regarding the Tillington matter, and the Presidenta, I have not informed him of this new emergency, and I do not have any word that he has taken action on Tillington’s replacement. I still do expect it. But our time has suddenly become much shorter, and we are both constrained by the shuttle schedules.”
“The Guild observers?”
“One believes it might be best if they could observe the entire situation, aiji-ma; and their presence would give us several more skilled personnel up there—should there be any difficulty, their views might be of use. I am most concerned about the Reunioners’ reaction when they hear the kyo are coming. They may panic. I am likewise concerned for Tillington’s reaction, and for his leadership. But I count on firm support from two of the ship-aijiin, and I expect cooperation from the other two. They have more sense of who the kyo are than Tillington does, and more sense than the Reunioners will have of what our options are.”
“You believe you can deal with these people.”
“Our communication with the kyo is adequate for objects we can point to or demonstrate, things common to folk who work in space and deal in numbers—but abstract concepts, like why—we have not yet refined. The kyo received us at Reunion with courtesy and respectful ceremony. And your son exerted considerable influence over one of their number. How that forecasts their actions here—one cannot say.”
“Geigi’s residency is secure up there?”
“Indeed. Physically secure, with barriers as sound as any on the station.”
“And you and your company will be residing within Lord Geigi’s security?”
“Absolutely, in a section of several apartments and a common hallway, which is fairly close to the command center, and independent. Neither Tillington nor the ship-folk can control anything within the atevi sections: they are independent and secure even regarding the air and water and security functions. We shall reside in the atevi area, we shall speak from there, we shall contact the kyo from that vantage, and we shall generally use that insulation to keep all human quarrels out of view of these visitors. It was not human officials the kyo dealt with at Reunion: It was the aiji-dowager and your son—and myself, as your representative. I take the position this visit is to atevi authority, not to the ship-aijiin, not to Mospheirans or Reunioners.”
Tabini heard that, and thoughts passed through his eyes. Then he said: “I shall make it clear to the Guild what your authority is, and it will be, save my grandmother’s presence, as if you bore my ring a second time.”
That was a powerful statement. An affecting statement. Bren gave a little bow of the head. “Aiji-ma, one will consult. Whenever possible.”