Inheritor

He had a human roommate. He had Jase Graham. There was that.

He could likeJase Graham. That was permitted, psychologically, politically, in every way approved by the State Department; that was permissible.

But he didn’t dare quite turn loose of his suspicion of a man from a human culture centuries divorced from his own, a man who didn’t, on his side, offer deep confidences to him. Geigi had flung his lifeinto Bren’s hands when he welcomed him and the aiji’s Guild members under his roof with every evidence of delight. They’d spent the previous evening and this morning discussing sea shells, architecture, and Geigi’s marriage prospects. Jase, who had lived under the same roof, shared di

And that seemed a significant reticence.

It takes timeto travel between stars, Jase had said. And, We did our jobs, that’s all.

But where wereyou? he’d asked Jase, and Jase had taken a piece of paper and tried to draw him a diagram of the ship’s location for some significant period of time relative to a star he couldn’t identify, but he’d made no sense of it. Then they’d gotten a bottle of shibei and tried to talk personally, but Jase said, I don’t know, to all questions of how that star where Jase said they’d been sitting for years related to where they were now.

And to, What’s out there? Jase had said to him, It’s just stars. It’s just stars, that’s all.

Well, maybe it wasn’t what a human who’d dreamed of seeing the space station, who’d dedicated his teen-aged years, his romantic hopes and his adult life to the hope of advancing the planet just to the edge of space, wanted to hear from a man who’d been born to it.

Maybe it had turned things just the least bit sour in the relationship that Jase, after all the excitement with which he’d welcomed him to the world, hadn’t had wonders to tell him. He didn’t know why he felt put off by Jase Graham.

But he hadn’t been happy since the world changed and since he’d shared his world with an unhappy, often scared young man. He knew that.

He didn’t like to think about that fact on this pleasant morning when his mind had been intermittently, though they were talked dry by now, trying to manage the intricacies of conversation with an atevi lord he admired but didn’t know all that intimately.

He most of all didn’t like to think about the fact that, while he was on this side of the strait coaching Jase in a language that wasn’t easy to learn, his own mother was suffering phone calls in the middle of the night from crackpots who hated him, crackpots the government over there couldn’t seem to catch.

He didn’t like to think about the fact that his almost-fiancee (whom he wasn’t totally sure he loved, the way he wasn’t totally sure nowadays he likedanything in the world without checking his subconscious) had gotten tired of waiting and tired of his absences. So she said. His belief now was that she’d grown scared of similar midnight phone calls.

But whatever the reason, she’d married a man she didn’t in the least love; and there went another tie he’d once had to Mospheira.

Barb was safe now, off his conscience, and married to Paul Saarinson, who was well-placed in the government. He was sure she didn’t get threatening phone calls nowadays.

His brother, Toby, on the other hand, had no such refuge. His brother had suffered phone threats against his family until his kids were afraid to walk to school in their quiet, tiny town on the north shore of the island, a mostly rural place where behavior like that didn’t happen and people hadn’t been in the habit of locking their doors.

He didn’t like to think about the fact that if he did go home for a visit and to try to defuse the political situation via consultation with the State Department and the President, he might find himself arrested right at the airport.

Oh, he didn’t think the Mospheiran government could hold him, for one thing because the aiji in She-jidan would threaten global war to get him back, and for another because Tabini-aiji definitely would not accept Deana Hanks as his replacement. He reckoned either one was a sufficiently powerful incentive for the government of Mospheira to behave itself on that surface level, and had toyed with the idea of a few hours’ visit to try to straighten matters out.

Over all, however, he wasn’t willing to bet his life or world peace on his own government’s common sense the way he bet it right now on Geigi’s cook’s choice of teas.

Trust that he was safe on this exposed balcony, drinking this tea maybe seventy miles from an atevi resort area overlooked by radar installations looking for illicit human airplanes? Yes. Crazy as the world had become, he did trust that he was safe here. An ateva who’d conspired against him and then changed his mind had changed his mind not because of the law (which allowed assassination as an alternative to lawsuits) but because it was no longer in Geigi’s interests to do him harm.

A human enemy on Mospheira, especially a crazy one, was another matter entirely; and the members of his own species who’d started calling his brother and his mother at three in the morning to threaten them because of actions he took on the mainland were liable to do anything.

So if he did have to visit Mospheira before they got a ship into space and made all issues moot, who knew? Certainly there was reason that chief presidential advisor George Barralin and others high in the administration would feel the heat of their under-the-table, bribe-passing supporters if they found him within their reach and had to yield him back not only to the mainland but back to hold the paidhi’s office again, bowing to atevi pressure. They’d done that already, sending him back here straight off the operating table six months ago. But, then, that was no surprise. George and the President were good at bending to pressure. That was why their supporters put them in office.

So, round one, they’d tried firing him. That was what the Deana Hanks affair had been.

Round two, Deana had tried to build her own power base among atevi by (against all carefully considered law and State Department regulation) contacting atevi opposed to Tabini.

Her ignominious return to the island had left George and the President in rather an embarrassing mess, because while they hadto talk to atevi to keep the industrial raw goods flowing, there was no paidhi-successor but Deana who wasn’t either older and rooted to Mospheira, or so junior as to be collegiate. A replacement for him even if completely qualified would be no more acceptable to the atevi than Deana Hanks had been, because hewas the one Tabini insisted on having. And if the atevi bounced their choice back at them again, it just wouldn’t inspire confidence among the Mospheiran electorate that the Mospheiran government was in control of things.

The President of Mospheira, elected with the support of various business interests, including Gaylord Hanks, father of Deana Hanks, got his advice from his advisor George Barrulin and the Secretary of State, Hampton Durant.

The Foreign Office, why, that was a mere bureau within the Department of State. It always hadbeen a mere bureau, run by the Foreign Secretary, presently Shawn Tyers, who couldn’t get a phone call through to his officer in the field.

So his was the only advice that might come to the President from anyone talking to the atevi. And good old George wouldn’t pass it on to the President if it didn’t serve the interests of George.

Well, lord Geigi at least had ceased to think that he ought to be shot. And lord Geigi had far more class than to allude to that old business.

The paidhi, for all his other grief, won a point, occasionally. He had to be content with that.