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Damn Ramirez.
Hell and damn in general.
He was working his way into a piece of temper. He typed a letter to Jase—in Ragi, to confound C1’s perpetual snoopery:
On ship or on the station, our door is open at any hour. If you can by any stretch of argument persuade the ship council that having one of the captains closely resident with your atevi advisors truly makes good operational sense, you would be most welcome to reside here, among persons who would treat you most congenially, seeing to your every want.
Or if you simply have an overwhelming longing for pizza with green sauce, we would make every effort.
The Ragi language ca
It was what they said at an atevi funeral, among those determined to maintain their ties when the essential link had gone. Man’chi is not broken.
Well, hell, Jase needed to know that. He decided he himself did, where they were both going.
He gave the letter to Tano to hand deliver to Jase, or to Kaplan or Pressman.
And he wrote to the ateva with the well-thought recycling program, and recommended it to Paulson. That was one problem off his desk.
He didn’t know what he could do about his family, his staff down on the mainland—he didn’t know how he could get hold of Toby, or whether he ought to try to talk directly to his mother. All the while he thought about the trip, with his irrational hindbrain insisting he was about to die.
And he wasn’t brave, and he didn’twant to know what it felt like when a starship played games with space and time and did things to human flesh and blood that nature never intended to happen.
What had begun as tension rapidly became indigestion.
“Banichi,” he said into the intercom.
“ He’s not here, nandi.” Algini’s voice, from the security office.
Surprising. He’d sent Tano out, but not Banichi.
“Jago?”
“ Jago has gone with Banichi.”
“When everyone gets back from not being here,” he said to Algini, “tell Banichi I asked, nadi-ji.”
“ One, will inform him that, nandi.”
Get an answer, not inevitably. But one would ask, on this day when nothing was casual.
“Nothing’s wrong, is it?”
“ Mospheiran crew is somewhat distressed, nandi,” Algini said. “ They’ve a
One could imagine somewhat distressed.
And it was headed, now, for the news services. His family would hear. And hedidn’t have the rank to get past Geigi, or Paulson.
“If news services call,” he said to Algini, “I will talk to them.”
The station was in increasing disturbance. His staff was ghosting about on mysterious errands. He’d almost expected a summons from the dowager this evening, but none had come. So Bindanda’s preparations advanced. He heard muted activity in the dining room, service prepared.
The front door opened and closed. One of his missing staff was back. He took comfort in that, hearing the quiet tread that approached his door—Narani, with a report: he knew before he looked up.
“Nand’ paidhi,” Narani said, “Banichi is back. He has Mercheson-paidhi with him.”
Yolanda.
There was a disconcerting surprise.
Yolanda—who stood to inherit his job, his place—everything he valued—everything Jase wanted… who wasn’t the most skilled, where she was assigned, and where she had been operating…
God—he was jealous.
Where had thatcome from? When had thathappened?
Jealous that she was staying.
Angry that she’d deceived him and Jase.
Furiously jealous. Bitterly, painfully resentful. He’d kept the lid on his personal wishes so tightly and so automatically he rarely brought them out to look at, and therewas a small, nasty surprise. He didn’t want her under his roof—so to speak.
Not profitable to carry on a feud. No.
He got up, put on his jacket for ma
Chapter 13
“Staff was about to serve,” Bren said, meeting Yolanda in the foyer, intending to issue the polite invitation.
“I’m very sorry,” she said fervently, in Ragi—which went a long way toward patching things with him.
“Do join me.”
“Forgive me,” Banichi said, having escorted Yolanda here. “Nand’ paidhi, Mercheson-paidhi expressed concerns. One took the initiative to accept.”
Yolanda’s instigation, this visit, then… but not the way he’d expected.
“Mercheson-paidhi is an absent household member.” He chose to regard it that way, which Yolanda Mercheson never had quite been, in his cold estimation. She’d been in the household for a time, on the planet, Jase’s lover for a while, until that hadn’t worked. Then back to Mospheira. Then back to the ship where she’d far rather live. “Staff will manage another setting. One trusts you have an appetite, Mercheson-paidhi.”
“One is grateful,” Yolanda said meekly, not quite meeting his eye—but then, an atevi caught in social inconvenience wouldn’t meet his eye, either. Already there was a small flurry of service in the dining room, staff shifting chairs, not yet knowing how to arrange the numbers, or whether Banichi would join them.
“Banichi, will you join us?” Banichi’s presence at least eased the unlucky numerology of two at table. You brought her; you patch the numberswas implicit in the invitation, and Banichi accepted, commitment of his own very valuable time—but there they were, Jago still absent—one supposed if something were wrong, someone would say so. Tano and Algini doubtless had their heads together, possibly assuring Jago’s safety, or good records, wherever she was. That left Banichi.
He entered the dining room with Yolanda and Banichi, sat down, went through the formalities due any guest. They duly appreciated a fine, if informal di
And formal or informal, one didn’t talk business—rather the quality of the food, the skill of the chef—the arrival of the aiji-dowager might have been a good topic, if the implications of it were business-free, but they weren’t and it wasn’t. The departure of the ship would have been a fine topic, if it were guilt-free and casual; but it was neither guilt-free nor casual.
So talk ran to the weather on the continent, the launch, the situation at the new spaceport, and the lack of news from Yolanda’s former domicile on the island, which did actually skirt business topics.
Di
“One grew so accustomed to luxuries,” was her only expression of regret.
He let that remark fall. That wistfulness, too, led to inappropriate seriousness. And Yolanda very clearly savored the dessert, and pleased Bindanda and the staff.
“Will you join me in the study?” Bren said at the end. “A glass or two?”
Thoroughly courteous. All business, now.
He had no cause to resent Yolanda—so he assured himself. Of course he and Yolanda should consult, and of course Banichi was absolutely right to have brought her.
“Jago’s about business?” he asked in passing.
“One believes she’s with Cenedi, nandi.”
“Ah.” A briefing. Information. One could only hope.
“Shall I attend you?”
“One might look in on that meeting.” There was no reason to take up more of Banichi’s time. Yolanda clearly had not come on a hostile mission. There were, among other things, pieces of ongoing business and certain addresses and numbers he had to hunt out of files and give to her before he left, and before he forgot to do it.