Foreigner - Explorer. Part 16

"One hopes, if nothing else, the signals continue to flow," Jago said. "We have every confidence the paidhiin will manage matters very adequately in that regard. But does there not remain the small possibility, Bren-ji, that there have been other, surrept.i.tious messages from the station to the s.h.i.+p?"

Trust the a.s.sa.s.sins' Guild to entertain truly disturbing thoughts-it was their job. "One hardly knows," he said. "We cannot guarantee Jase has all the information, nadiin-ji." He had Jase's communication device muttering in his ear-but that channel only carried voice transmissions, and only what C1 opted to put on that channel.

Jase was on the bridge, nonetheless, moderating Sabin's reactions, if nothing else. And Sabin, so far as they saw, responded to their arguments, and met the station's with anger.

But his security reminded him: one couldn't, here or in Shejidan, just watch the noisy things that were going on. Atevi lords died of mistakes like that. Subtexts mattered. Plans advanced by moves not apparently related to the objective. G.o.d, one could go crazy in the levels of distrust that existed between s.h.i.+p and station and that transmission-source out there.

A queasy motion. Turns on any axis were subtle, mere reorientation. They'd shed velocity as they bore. Then what seemed a turn.

They accelerated briefly, modestly, he thought, eyes shut, trying to read the s.h.i.+p's motion.

At a certain level, biological organisms trying to get within proximity without touching off fight or flight mostly did the same things, at least on the evidence of atevi and humans. One could call what they did an approach. Or, even being human, one could call it a hunter's moves. Stalking the prey. One hoped-hoped- The all-clear sounded.

He moved. His bodyguard moved. He followed Banichi out of their refuge, Jago following him as he looked for the princ.i.p.als in the case.

The bridge seemed calm. Sabin and Jase were back on slow patrol of the aisles of consoles.

Banichi meanwhile spoke quietly to Cenedi and Asicho, advising them of the current situation.

The reply-clocks ran on the display, independently, computer-calculated, one supposed.

Bren heaved a deep breath, went and stood at the end of the middle row of consoles, his bodyguard with him, all of them quietly watching the display for information.

Station's answer arrived first. "Don't contact the alien. Don't meddle with the outlying s.h.i.+p. It's been quiet for six years. Let it alone. Do you read!"

Late for that.

Station wasn't wasn't taking Sabin's instructions, that was clear, and thought Sabin should take theirs. taking Sabin's instructions, that was clear, and thought Sabin should take theirs.

"Captain Sabin," he heard Jase say, amplified by the earpiece, "we should proceed on Mr. Cameron's advice."

"We're on course, second captain."

"If the spook's been out here six years, it may have gathered something of our language-if it's picked up any station chatter. If, G.o.d forbid, it's gotten hold of any personnel."

Jase's mind was clearly working. Chillingly so-convenient as it might be to their mission to meet an opposition that could be talked to. The blink-code procedure wouldn't carry that. Direct transmission might.

Dared they risk breaking pattern with what seemed the alien's own chosen mode of communication?

Not wise, every experience informed him. Not wise to push the envelope.

"We should stay to the blink-code, captain, unless they initiate another mode."

"We'll try Mr. Cameron's notion," Sabin said grimly, and gave no window into her own thoughts.

Neither, one noted, did she show any inclination to answer station's orders at the moment.

They stood. They waited.

The clock ticked down.

"Repeat," the word came in from Reunion, "do not contact the outlying s.h.i.+p."

Sabin's lips made a thin line. "I believe we're having transmission troubles," she remarked to all present. "C1, put me on general address."

"Proceed, captain."

Sabin picked up a wand mike from C1's console. "We have now signaled the alien craft and diverted course toward it in what our planetary advisors suggest is a reasonable approach. We remain on high alert. We are not releasing crew from cabins. There remains a likelihood of sudden movement which exceed takehold safety. In other words, cousins, we may have to get the h.e.l.l out of this solar system. Stay smart, stay put, stay alive."

Bren translated that for his allies down in the executive cabins, and for five-deck. And waited. And sweated.

"Captain Sabin." A deeper voice, this time, from Reunion Station. "This is Guildmaster Braddock. If you insist on this change of course, you risk our lives. We have this information for you. This is very likely a robot. It's sat there for years without moving or responding. We have no indication of it being controlled from outside. Optics have turned up nothing in outlying regions. We detect no transmissions and no active probes. Our experts believe it's a failed piece of equipment dating from a second attack on us and we urge you reconsider any approach to it. If it's dormant, it does us no good to wake it up. Abort whatever you're doing in regard to it. If you're on Ramirez's orders, abort. You don't know what you're messing with. You may get a robotic response and it may be lethal and unstoppable. I urgently advise you pull back."

That, Bren thought, that was interesting... not least regarding a second second attack, in the s.h.i.+p's absence. And interesting regarding Ramirez's relations with his Guild, if they'd had overmuch doubt. Station hadn't trusted Ramirez. And they'd had no way to remove him from command. attack, in the s.h.i.+p's absence. And interesting regarding Ramirez's relations with his Guild, if they'd had overmuch doubt. Station hadn't trusted Ramirez. And they'd had no way to remove him from command.

Sabin looked at him, eyebrow arched.

He looked back, looked at Jase, looked at her. "Second attack." attack."

"We continue our transmission difficulties," Sabin said without comment.

And the clock ran down toward the alien's reply window.

"Second attack," Jase echoed, walking near him on his right. Jase and Sabin alike showed the hours they'd been on duty. Jase's voice was ragged.

"Things haven't stood still here."

"They're right, six years of patience doesn't sound organic. But..."

"Can't a.s.sume an alien behavior," Bren said.

"Can't a.s.sume an alien machine is set the way we'd set it, either. The thing could do any d.a.m.n thing."

"There is that," Bren muttered. "But it's signalled us. Machine or not, it had that pre-set in its routines."

Flick-flick-flick of the reply window numbers.

Into the negative. Ten, fifteen seconds. Thirty. Forty-odd.

"Signal from the alien," someone said, audible in Bren's earpiece.

Sabin and Jase moved to the nearest consoles. Bren, Banichi and Jago a ma.s.sive shadow behind him, watched over Jase's shoulder, hearing the details. The signal was a series of six lights-was there significance in six?-mirroring their action.

It made an a.n.a.log of their signal, it mirrored what they sent, and it didn't need to slow down, just point its bow their way.

Then a steady central flash. One light. Blink. Blink. Blink.

"It's coming toward us," Sabin said quietly. "We're now mutually approaching, Mr. Cameron. One could say a leisurely near-collision course. It's It's moving toward us." moving toward us."

There were numbers involved on one of the screens. One a.s.sumed they had something to do with that movement. Bren held his breath, then decided oxygen was useful.

Deeper breath.

"I think I'll go have a cup of tea," he said, "and get my wits online."

Sabin stared ice at him. Then, curiously, gave an accepting nod. "You go do that, Mr. Cameron. If the s.h.i.+p out there doesn't blow us to h.e.l.l, we may need your services in what you've gotten us into."

"I'd advise a pause," he said, "a conversation at convenient distance."

"If it won't interfere with your tea break."

"I'll manage, captain. I don't don't want to push the body-s.p.a.ce issue with them. Just a mostly conversational distance. This is ours to set." want to push the body-s.p.a.ce issue with them. Just a mostly conversational distance. This is ours to set."

"We're not a dock runabout, Mr. Cameron. We don't jitter about with any ease. And we don't pick the interval, now. They're They're enroute to enroute to us us."

"Yes, ma'am. But we signal when we'd like to. With luck, they'll do the same."

Sabin just stared at him. Then: "Takehold in forty-five minutes, Mr. Cameron, given they don't fire or accelerate. Go have your tea."

He had outraged Sabin. He hoped not to do the same for the crew. He gathered his bodyguard and walked back to the executive corridor, straightening his coat and cuffs, asking himself did he need a new s.h.i.+rt run up-the brain was, oddly, going into court-mode, and Shejidan's instincts rose up, ridiculous as some of them might be. He became nand' paidhi again. He worried worried about his wardrobe. And with it, the signals they might be sending. It wasn't just a tea break. It was a way of life. about his wardrobe. And with it, the signals they might be sending. It wasn't just a tea break. It was a way of life.

He rapped gently at the dowager's door, and discovered the dowager, in the most comfortable chair, held court with a fruit drink in hand, and Cajeiri sat on a mattress beside Gin Kroger. They'd taken the cabin apart and put it back together in a more felicitous configuration, Ilisidi sitting centermost, Cenedi and his men occupying the corner, standing.

Bren bowed. "Aiji-ma. We have now issued a set of signals which the foreign s.h.i.+p is mirroring. The current course will bring us to conversational distance and the s.h.i.+p will manuever briefly and slow down, although the possibility of violent evasion exists. Please be prepared for quick action. In the meanwhile, I shall retire to my cabin to think."

"Pish," Ilisidi said with a careless wave of her hand. "This is a mattress. That is a wall. We do as we can, nandi."

"One observes so, aiji-ma." He made a little bow. "I have secured Sabin-aiji's cooperation and seen felicitous numbers on the bridge. One hopes for a little time, yet, aiiji-ma. Do take care."

"If you need help up there-" Gin. Dr. Gin Kroger, who understood machines. In Shejidan that move intervening in the dowager's conversation would have had hands reaching for sidearms, and Cajeiri looked up, mouth open.

Ilisidi simply waved an indulgent hand. "Tea, one believes the paidhi-aiji requested."

Oh, someone someone understood more s.h.i.+p-speak than they routinely admitted. Someone closely monitoring his doings on the bridge. Nothing was news to the dowager. understood more s.h.i.+p-speak than they routinely admitted. Someone closely monitoring his doings on the bridge. Nothing was news to the dowager.

"Go refresh yourself, nand' paidhi. Tea will arrive here, at your convenience."

"One is honored." He bowed, turned and went to his own makes.h.i.+ft cabin, more fortunate than Jase, more fortunate than Sabin, whose code was endurance and who never understood the loyalty of her crew.

His staff's solution to impending disaster was to set their lords lords at a problem, which meant a.s.suring themselves their lords had their wits about them-and meant that the lords had ultimately to make a return on the investment and perform a miracle. He'd thought of having time to himself-but now he did draw an easier breath, it seemed to him that a little s.p.a.ce in familiar context was what he did need. at a problem, which meant a.s.suring themselves their lords had their wits about them-and meant that the lords had ultimately to make a return on the investment and perform a miracle. He'd thought of having time to himself-but now he did draw an easier breath, it seemed to him that a little s.p.a.ce in familiar context was what he did need.

He returned in due course, paid his quiet courtesies. And with the dowager, with Gin, Cajeiri advised to non-partic.i.p.ance and silence-he sipped a cup of tea, how gotten, whether it was part of the picnic supplies, he neither knew nor cared. It was enough to be here, with Banichi, with Jago close at hand. With all the strong, quiet surety of their Guild, very different than the human one that opposed them.

"So," Ilisidi said, "have we thought of an answer to this conundrum?"

"Several things have become clear, aiji-ma-that while this s.h.i.+p was absent, the aliens returned. That Ramirez may have earned his Guild's distrust and disapproval in seeking out contact with foreigners. Third-that the stationmaster refuses to take Sabin-aiji's orders."

Why was he going through the list of new information? The job involved only the foreign s.h.i.+p.

But did it?

Something bothered him, beyond the obvious detail of goings-on in their absence, Ramirez's subterfuges, the Guild's historic autocracy. He wasn't sure what nagged at him.

But the dowager listened, waiting for him to put it all together. And he- He sipped his tea and looked from the dowager to Gin, the third leg of the homeworld tripod, met a sober, on-party-manners look: and the thought of Gin and the colony the s.h.i.+p abandoned-troubled him.

Why should it?

His job was the s.h.i.+p out there. The s.h.i.+p now moving toward and them toward it.

And what was he going to say, that he could could say? Hail them in s.h.i.+p-speak as if they were supposed to understand? Continue with the blink-code? say? Hail them in s.h.i.+p-speak as if they were supposed to understand? Continue with the blink-code?

Sitting out here six years six years meant observation or a stubborn s.h.i.+p's captain. meant observation or a stubborn s.h.i.+p's captain.

Or damage.

"One learns, aiji-ma, that the s.h.i.+p has sat quietly out here, they claim for six years, doing nothing. Station thinks it may be robotic." He rendered that in Mosphei', for Gin, who looked as if he'd posed her a personal question. "With control at some remove off in the dark peripheries of the solar system. Which is a very large place."

"So," Ilisidi said. "And what shall we do if it is robotic?"

He translated that for Gin, too.

"Or it might be stuck, without fuel," was Gin's instant a.s.sessment. "If it's a robot, either the other side lost track of it and it's out of instructions, or they know it's here and it's doing a job. If it is a robot. Personally, I wouldn't wholly trust a robot to avoid a war. I think they'd be outright stupid to leave diplomacy to a machine, and to leave a weapon sitting out here ready to explode isn't the way a smart government would carry on, is it? We could be some very powerful non-partic.i.p.ant."

Another translation.

And a thought. It might be sitting there waiting, as robots did so well, for input. And they they could well be that input, couldn't they? could well be that input, couldn't they?

Or if it might be doing a job-what job, beyond observing? Communicating?

Gin was right. Robots weren't outstanding at avoiding hostilities or at finessing interspecies communication.

He sipped his tea, thinking, it came here, hit the station, and it parked. Odd behavior. Behavior that, however alien, didn't seem to have a constructive outcome-unless there was some piece of information missing.

"Ramirez arrived," he said slowly. "And left." Translation. "Perhaps it waits for the s.h.i.+p." Translation. "And here we are." Translation. Grim, cold thought.

"These are not reasonable people," Ilisidi said, "to fire on persons who have not fired on them."

"Would a wise and civilized ent.i.ty fire without more provocation than that? One hardly knows, aiji-ma. Within the possibilities of truly alien behavior-it might." Translation.

Another sip of tea.

One fired-if.

If one's culture was to fire on strangers.

If fired upon. That was a big if.

Sip of tea. Very basic thought. One fired to stop an attack. Or what one construed as an attack.