Defender

“Bastard, ma’am, and she called you one.”

“Good. We understand each other. How long does this headache last?”

“A few days. I hope less, with human-specific medication, all the facilities here…”

“Days.” Sabin winced.

“There are a few native antidotes… at least things that help. But I think the medical staff can do more for you than…”

“Hell. Tell Graham get this ragtag settled into cabins, secure the ship and get the pilot on advisement. Tell Graham I’ll see him when he’s got a moment and don’t push any buttons up there.”

“Captain Sabin.” He was, on the one hand, amazed. On the other—still suspicious. Years in Shejidan had all his nerves atwitch. And gave him the sure instinct to take what the captain offered and look it over very, very carefully. “I’ll certainly pass that message. But we waited all this time. Your comfort—”

“Is not an issue, Mr. Cameron.” Incredibly, she lifted her head and struggled up on an elbow. Bren put out his hands to catch her, knowing at gut level the giddy spin that effort created. But she stayed tremulously steady. “Get the hell out of here and tell Graham move the ship. Now, hear me?”

She sank back. A medic crowded in to check the tubes and the vitals.

“Aiji-ma,” Bren said, “she accepts explanations and orders the mission to proceed. She wishes us to go to quarters and leave Jase-aiji in charge of the ship’s operations.” He said it, and his Shejidan-experienced mind urged caution. “One might, however, provide atevi security.”

Ilisidi’s eyes sparkled. “Here, and with Jase-aiji.”

“One concurs.”

It was a peculiar difference dealing with humans, that one understood there was the possibility of an association with Sabin—and yet, among atevi, there would be an aiji ultimately in charge of that association. Where in all reason did they find someone to be in charge of this one, since neither Ilisidi nor Sabin admitted an overlord?

One had the thoroughly uncomfortable notion that the paidhiin glued it all together, and that Sabin didn’t forgive what Ilisidi had done, and Ilisidi didn’t forgive the insults at her table, and they had Cajeiri looking nervously from one participant to the other in an atevi child’s honest bewilderment. His instincts surely said this shouldn’t work and adults surely weren’t telling the truth.

But that was the whole problem with the atevi/human interface, and that was the problem with educating children of both species to get along without touching one another’s aggressive instincts. And that was the problem of a ship-culture that had a strong feeling of usand themand went armed to the teeth. Letting atevi under the ship’s armor was a hard, hard thing to do.

And just as well, if they had current ability to move about, that they move into the most sensitive areas and make the point they could do so without harm.

“The dowager wishes you a speedy recovery,” Bren said to Sabin, saying nothing about the movement of atevi perso

“The captain of this ship wishes her in hell,” Sabin said dourly, holding a hand over her eyes, and the chief translator foresaw a very, very difficult duty on this ship. “Get me communication with the bridge. Not you. Kaplan.”

Kaplan threw a glance at Bren. Bren tried simultaneously to say go ahead and to look as if he wasn’t anywhere in the loop.

“Good you’re here,” Bren said to Gi

“That’s in the atevi section.”

“Atevi, Mospheiran… we’re all deck five. It’s going to be close quarters. We’re going to need to secure for motion, imminently, I think. When it’s stopped—when we’re inertial again—” He struggled to revise his earthbound thinking. “Drop by for drinks. Or I’ll come to you. I’ll present you to the dowager.”

“Deal,” Gi

Sabin was talking to someone, presumably Jase, on her personal com, hand over her eyes, wincing.

It seemed time to depart. Bren joined the atevi contingent on the way out.

“One will remain on watch, nandi,” Jago said as they rubbed elbows in the doorway—feet on the deck, the whole world restored to ordinary.

Jago meant that shetook this post, here, by the infirmary… logical choice. She would stand here claiming not to know a word of human language, in which she had a fair fluency.

There had been quiet words passed among atevi all the while he’d been talking to Jase and Sabin: bet that there’d been communications traffic and agents spread out through the ship, all of whom now formed an atevi network of presence. There always was, when an atevi lord moved into an area.

And Jase himself was an atevi interest. Absolutely he was under the dowager’s guard, seen or unseen.

“One agrees, Jago-ji.”

Banichi stayed with him. Jago stayed behind.

They reached the lift and rode it toward five-deck with the dowager’s entire party, and with Gi

They reached fifth deck.

The door opened.

“ Bren-nadi.” The intercom in the lift-car, right in his face, scared him.

“Jase-ji?”

“ Will you mind coming up here?”

He drew a deep breath.

It wasn’t over.

The dowager meanwhile had left the car, with young Cajeiri. Gi

“I’m requested to come to the bridge, aiji-ma,” Bren said.

“Escort him,” Ilisidi said, and Cenedi with a rapid gesture detached two men.

Two. Infelicity. Unless one counted Jase.

“Need help?” Gi

“No. Questions from Jase, likely. I’ll give you a report.—Aiji-ma.” One owed last, parting courtesies to the highest rank present. “I’ll report.”

“Go,” Ilisidi said. The pair of men got in. Cenedi got out.

The door shut.

“Do you know what this regards, Bren-ji?” Banichi asked him.

“One isn’t sure,” he said. His mind conjured a dozen scenarios, most disastrous—even the bridge being held at gunpoint by Sabin loyalists. “I don’t thinkit’s a trap, nadi-ji. I think it’s Jase.”

Chapter 18

There was indeed an atevi presence on the bridge when the lift let them out—two men, felicitous three, counting Jase, the object of their protection: a better counter, perhaps, could have predicted it, with their infelicitous four.

Exceedingly fortunate seven. One wasn’t inclined to count the number of humans on the bridge, technicians and operations chiefs, and security… but Bren did. They were outnumbered, if not outgu

Jase stood amid the rows of consoles, reserved, serene, among crew at work. And spared him a glance.

“All quiet?” Bren asked in ship-speak, precisely because there wereeavesdroppers.

“Quiet here,” Jase said. “How is Captain Sabin?”

“Strong-minded.”

Jase quirked an eyebrow.

“In favor of the mission,” Bren amended that. “Anxious to see it underway.”

“We have section chiefs going through the corridors now, final check on stowage.”

“It’s the pilot that does this, isn’t it? All the technicals. I’ll assume things will work.”

“They’ll work,” Jase said. And shot him a less cheerful look. “Clear operations with me or with Captain Sabin. No installations we don’t know about. And where I don’t know the risks, I’ll have one of the technical staff pass on it.”

“Understood. We remember how humans got to this star in the first place. We’ve no desire to foul up navigation.”

“You understand. I want to be sure your staff does. I want to be sure the dowagerunderstands us.”