Invader (26 page)

Read Invader Online

Authors: C. J. Cherryh

Tags: #Science fiction, #Fantasy, #Adventure, #General, #Science Fiction - General, #Fiction, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Space Opera, #Space colonies, #High Tech, #Cherryh, #C.J. - Prose & Criticism

It wasn't getting anywhere. "What about lunch?"

"Lunch?"

"Let's have lunch."

"
I'm locked in this damn apartment, you rang my phone for twelve hours straight
—"

"Sorry about that."

"You've got the nerve to ask me to have lunch?"

"I think it might be productive. We've done rather too much shouting. And I'd like to know where you got the seal you're using."

Silence on the other end.

"You're not in office," he said, if she missed the point. "You're alive because Tabini-aiji is a patient and fortunately powerful man who can afford a nuisance. A less powerful aiji would kill you, Deana, because he'd have no choice. I suggest you have lunch with me, act less like a prisoner and more like an official guest —"

"And
be in public with you. And compromise my interests. "

"Thank God you do understand. I'd begun to fear you'd
no
notion of subtlety. In private, then."

"
I'm not coming to your apartment
— which
I
understand has scandalized the Atigeini as is, speaking of subtlety
, Mr.
Cameron. I'm not being gossiped about
."

"Watch your mouth! There's no swearing there are no atevi that understand you. Edit yourself, for
God's
sake, or I can't protect you."

"Protect me, hell! "

"You
are
a fool."

"
No
." Evidently not quite such a fool. The tone was quieter. 'No,
I'll
meet you for lunch. When?" 'tt Bookmark

"Noon. In this apartment. And you will be courteous to the lady's and my staff or I'll pitch you out on your head, Ms. Hanks. We're not playing games. I'm trying to salvage your reputation and prevent you doing another foolhardy thing that may get you killed. I can't say at the moment I feel overmuch sympathy for the mess you're in, but if you want to continue to watch the news for reports on the situation, you're quite free to rely on that."

At times he shocked himself. Maybe it was atevi court manners that took over his mouth when he suffered whiteouts of temper — court manners with all the vitriol that attended.

"
Barb Letterman's married
," Hanks said. "
Did you know
?"

"How kind of you to let me know. Please bring me your seal. Or I'll have your apartment
and
your person searched."

The receiver went down. Hard.

Which didn't make him calmer. But he had the phone, he had the moment. He took a sip of tea and called the Bu-javid operator.

"Nadi, this is Bren-paidhi. Please ring the Mospheiran operator."

"
Yes
," the answer came back; he heard the relays click.

And abort.

"
Nand' paidhi
," the operator began, "
the connection
—"

"Is having a difficulty at this hour. Yes. Thank you. Would you give me the telegraph service?"

"
Yes, nand' paidhi
," the operator said, and a moment later, a new operator came on, with:

"This is the telegraph, nand' paidhi."

"Please send to the following numbers: 1-9878-1-1, and to 20-6755-1-1, and to 1-0079-14-42. Please voice-record for transcription."

"Ready, nand' paidhi, go ahead."

"Beginning message. Am doing fine. Are you all right? Last transmission was garbled. End message."

There was no fighting the phone system. It was part and parcel with the security problem — it went when you most needed it. And it could be retaliatory against him; it could be precautionary; it could be atevi doing. He couldn't know, as long as it was down.

That had gone to his mother in the capital, to Toby on the North Shore, and to his office in the capital. And presumably they'd know to resend. And possibly his mother's message would get past the censors this time, or possibly Toby would phrase things more obliquely. Their mother was not a diplomat.

Barb-Barb could get on with her life. He didn't want to rake over that set of feelings before breakfast. He didn't know how much of what he was feeling was Hanks' meddling and how much was being, still, mad at the way Barb had gone about it, and mad at that edge-of-his-bedtime "Call me."

He sipped the remainder of the tea, decided he wouldn't dress yet, and went off to the breakfast room, advising the staff on his way that the paidhi was ready for his breakfast, thank you, and meant to take his time and, which he didn't mention, to let his headache and his temper settle. It did him no good to wake up his nastier side before breakfast — he started the day in attack condition and he found it hard to escape it. Particularly with the notion of sitting down at a table with Deana Hanks before afternoon.

He hadn't seen Banichi this morning. He hadn't seen Jago. He hoped he had security still in the apartment, and that the mysteries that were going on around him had no truly sinister import.

He had, for one very major point, to requisition materials on Determinism, and try to coax a human brain to handle concepts of physics Deana Hanks herself hadn't remotely understood when she'd lightly tossed off the concept of faster-than-light without Departmental approval.

He didn't know folded-space physics. He was doing damned well to get chemical rocket design down. He didn't understand Determinists.

But he had to before the week was out.

Tea and seasonal fruit, eggs and buttered meal, chased by toast and another pot of tea — with the distant blue vista of the Bergid range floating unattached above the tiled roofs of Shejidan, the curtains blowing in the long-awaited breeze, and the crises seemed suspended, the world peaceful and ordinary.

If one didn't know what was in the heavens demanding attention, and beyond the sunrise demanding attention, and across the water demanding attention. He'd like to go to the library after the cup of tea, spend his entire day looking through the antique books on horticulture, taking advantage of the rare opportunity the apartment and all its history presented.

But on that very thought Tano arrived bearing a tray of letters for, one hoped, mere signature and .seal.

"Routine matters," Tano said.

"You've been a vast help," Bren said. "I truly am grateful."

"Thank the lady's staff. These are simple courtesies. There are others the aiji may perhaps lend staff to answer. Tabini-aiji gave us a verbal message that the paidhi should not by any means be obliged to distract himself with schoolchildren."

"The paidhi finds in the schoolchildren the best reason for keeping this job," he muttered without censoring, in the growing confidence that Tano bore no tales and Tabini would understand anyway. "Ask Banichi about salads. Jago
is
back this morning?"

"Asleep."

"Where's Algini?"

"He had to go —"

"— out? What in
hell
is going on, Tano?"

"There's a vote in the Guild we must attend."

"Ah." One clear question to the right source. "About assassinating the paidhi?"

"No, nand' paidhi. That's already been defeated."

It didn't even rate a blink. "Then may I ask?"

Tano looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Please ask Banichi, nand' paidhi."

"Forgive the question, Tano-ji. Thank you for what you've told me. Will you wait for these, and share a cup of tea with me, or have you urgent business?"

"Nand' paidhi, I am of junior rank."

"High in my personal regard. Please. Sit with me. — Saidin?"

Saidin always seemed in earshot. "Another cup," he decreed as the head of staff appeared in the doorway, and Saidin departed without a word as Tano settled uneasily into a separate, fragile chair, perched as if for ready escape.

"I intend no improper or unwelcome questions," Bren said, and affixed his seal to one after the other of the documents on his small table. "You looked as if you could stand a round or two of tea. And more mindful courtesy. I'm very abrupt, Tano-ji. When I'm bothered and in a hurry I can become quite preoccupied. I hope you never take it for intended rudeness."

"Hand' paidhi, you are extremely courteous."

"I'm quite glad."

"I assure the paidhi the votes against his detractors were overwhelming."

"Tano, you are not here for me to ask you more improper questions."

"I've no difficulty speaking about a past vote, Bren-paidhi. You have very many supporters. It hurts nothing at all that both Banichi and nand' Cenedi alike spoke for you."

"Cenedi." He
was
surprised.

"Nand' paidhi," Tano began, seeming uncertain of himself or his permission. But in that moment the tea and the cup arrived on two trays with two servants to carry them. The tea tray in the corridor, on the cart with all the electrical connections, seemed to maintain hot water at all moments.

And Tano had lost his momentum in the gentle courtesies of tea service. He balanced the fragile porcelain in his hand and looked down as he drank.

"Tano," Bren said, when the servants — one with lingering attention to Tano — had departed, "please don't feel obliged. I only want company this morning, just a voice. Tell me when your leave is coming, tell me what you'll do, tell me where you're from and where you go — talk about your job. I'm interested."

"It's very uninteresting, nand' paidhi."

"It's
very
interesting to me, Tano-ji. I wonder if people have happy lives. I hope they do. I hope they're doing exactly what they want to do, and that I haven't snatched them up out of something they'd rather be doing, or diverted them out of a course they'd rather be following."

"I assure the paidhi not. I'm very content." Something seemed to linger on Tano's tongue, and drown in a sip of tea.

"You would have said?" Bren asked.

"That I only worry about failing. About making some mistake that would cost immensely."

He'd not thought. He'd not measured Tano's steadily increased responsibility. Or the worry the paidhi put on his assigned guards, when he insisted on breakfasts with the aiji-dowager and lunch with Deana Hanks.

"I promise," he said, "I promise, Tano, not to do anything to make your job harder. I've put upon you shamefully. You weren't set here to manage stacks of paper. I've leaned on your support because I felt you had the judgment to discriminate the emergencies — I never meant to let it grow to this size."

"If the paidhi can concern himself with these papers, the paidhi's security can certainly value them."

"But answer them in stacks? Tano-ji, I've misused your courtesy."

"It's all quite instructive, paidhi-ji. I've learned who you contact, I've learned who are your associates and who are petulant and ill-disposed. I've learned that the paidhi considers the letters of ordinary citizens to be answered seriously. — So when I voted in the Guild, I also spoke about that, nand' paidhi. I'm not supposed to tell you that, but I did. Also Algini flew back from Malguri early, so
he
could vote in your behalf."

"I'm in his debt. Does the Guild call in absent members — for all proposed contracts?"

"When a contract involves matters so high as this, yes, it does, nand' paidhi: it goes to the total assembly of the Guild, as this had to, once members filed in opposition. I'm not forbidden to say that."

"Then thank you, Tano-ji. And thank Algini."

"You've become very well reputed among the Guild, nand' paidhi."

Some statements deserved wondering about.

But if "well-reputed" involved his staff and the dowager's staff speaking for him, he took it for a compliment. He finished his stack of seal-signatures, and gave it to Tano with the plea to see if, with the transferred funds which the paidhi had in the Bu-javid accounts, he might hire a temporary staff adequate to handle at least the citizen inquiries —

"At least for a few days, Tano. I'm not willing to impose on you further."

"One will inquire," Tano promised him. "But, nand' paidhi, I wonder if the letters will really abate in any number of days. They're holding two sacks of mail down in the post office, and most are from atevi children."

"Two sacks. Children."

"Many say, I saw you on television. The children, nand' paidhi, mostly ask whether you've seen spacemen and whether they'll send down machines to destroy the world."

"God, I've got to answer that. A computer printer. If I give you my answer — God, staff." His mind flew to the island-wide Mospheiran computer boards, the jobs-wanteds and jobs-offereds; but the Bu-javid
wasn't
an ordinary office and it wasn't Mospheira, and you couldn't just bring outsiders in. There had to be clearances. "I've never had to have staff before."

"I would suggest, nand' paidhi, if the paidhi hopes to answer sacks of mail, he certainly needs much more than the security post and a handful of household servants, however willing. He needs, I would guess — a staff of well above fifty, all skilled clericals, and a sealing machine. Most of the letters from citizens have subjects in common, fears of the ship, curiosity."

"Threats, probably."

"Some threats, but not many. — You've received two proposals of marriage."

"You're joking."

"One sent a picture. She's not bad looking, nand' paidhi."

"I'll — see if I can transfer sufficient funds. I may have to appeal to the Department." Not a good time to do that, he was thinking, and asked himself if he could secure atevi funding and decided again that such a source of funds wasn't politically neutral and wouldn't be seen as such.

He had, what? — his personal bank account. Which, lavish as it was for a man who couldn't be home to spend his salary and whose meals and lodging were handled by the Bu-javid, couldn't begin to rent and salary an office of fifty people for a month. "Thank you, Tano-ji. I value your advice. I'll find out what I can do. I'll draft a reply for the children."

"Shall I make inquiries about staff?"

"I don't know how I'm to fund it — but we have no choice, the best I can see."

"I'll consult the appropriate agencies. Thank you for the lea, nand' paidhi."

Tano excused himself off to that task. Bren settled to stare out at the mountains, trying to imagine how much it cost to rent an office, hire fifty people, and pay for phones and faxes.

Other books

Stunning by Sara Shepard
the Overnight Socialite by Bridie Clark
Between Two Fires by Mark Noce
Wild Texas Rose by Jodi Thomas
3-Brisingr-3 by Unknown
Guardian's Challenge by Green, Bronwyn
The Dragon's Gem by Donna Flynn