Machigi had no heir. And without him, there was the Senjin Marid and the Dojisigin Marid ready to start trouble again.
All this—time would do. And someday—he would be sitting where his father sat. With all of this.
He wished desperately that he were in that room with Mother and Nomari. He wished he knew what they were saying, what memories they did share, and whether Nomari himself had what it might take to survive longer than Grandfather had.
He wished he had some sense whether Mother could get the truth out of Nomari—whether he felt she was someone he had to answer. She was aiji-consort, and Father respected her. People were polite to her, and she stood toe to toe with mani and traded words, which very few people would ever do.
But could she impress somebody like Nomari, who was like a puzzle-knot, a different problem on every surface? Had she the force Father saw in her? She had attack: he knew that. But was it all? Only Ajuri had ever been keen on attaching to her—but they had had ulterior motives; and a lot of the lords had no confidence in Mother, repeatedly asking why Father chose a permanent attachment to someone of no personal advantage.
That was what most people thought of Mother. She thought too much. She felt too angry. Could she manage to stir something in Nomari that would make him—make him be loyal to Father?
And to him?
Mother can be a problem, Seimei, he thought, brushing a black fuzz of hair on his sister’s head. I hope you can deal with her. Mother lost me, even though I try very hard, but then she remembers she is angry at Great-grandmother, and me, and I do not know if that will ever change. Do not let her separate us. We are going to have problems. And if you can be as powerful as Uncle is, it would help so much.
I so hope you get to know mani. I am not sure Mother can ever be what mani is, and if you are to be lord of Atageini, you must become more like mani than Mother.
Even without mani, you will have me and I shall teach you how to pick a lock. And I shall show you the back passages in the Bujavid. I think those are good things to know.
I wish you could be older overnight, so that I could begin to show you these things right now.
You come to me, Seimei, whenever you need to. No matter who I am someday.
He was Father’s heir and that meant taking the aishidi’tat into the future. He had been to space and met the kyo. Seimei would never do that. He would have to show her the importance of technology and tell her where it was taking them.
But Seimei was going to take Uncle’s place and that meant something just as important. She would inherit that library, and the bedroom with real weapons on the wall, and the room of tree rings in the basement and all the other wonderful things down there.
Seimei would have to preserve all those traditions Uncle protected. Because they mattered. He saw just the edges of the ways they mattered. So he had to ask Uncle about all those things, to be sure, absolutely sure, no matter what happened, that Seimei knew.
He looked down at that small sleeping lump, and thought of the work ahead of him, feeling just a little overwhelmed.
You had better grow up smart, younger sister.
14
Breakfast and impending lunch, with four of Shawn’s best security units, severely taxed available space and seating in the Francis House apartment, but Narani and Jeladi kept tea and sandwiches coming, a hospitality apparently unexpected in Presidential security sessions—
A break came welcome, to judge by the relaxation of tensions and apprehensions. By mid-morning, the new had worn off and the mood had been all business.
Diplomacy was definitely called for. These agents were veterans, experienced, fiercely proud of their own service, and Bren began it all with a reference to trust, cooperation, and atevi confidence that they were the very best protection for a household in which Tabini-aiji had a deep personal interest, and trusted for a special cooperation. These sixteen men and women would be the keystone to the security surrounding the Reunioners.
“What I am about to say, what my staff is about to say, is mostly unprecedented—but not entirely so. The Guild, indeed, the whole aishidi’tat is grateful for the assistance of Mospheirans in maintaining communication and a flow of supply during the crisis on the mainland. The new Guild leadership views those efforts very favorably.” One did not say that the same people who had once fought human influence, the same ones who had worked most closely with Mospheirans during the crisis, now were the Guild leadership. The identity of the Council leadership was not given out, ever, least of all to Mospheirans.
“Tabini-aiji is deeply concerned for the welfare of these three children, who are uniquely attached to his son and heir, specifically because he foresees that attachment may make them a target. He could create a home for them on the mainland, and surround them with protection, but he also knows that is not the human environment these children need for their growing up.
“So he is grateful to the President for providing a safe place and the security they will need. They’re ordinary children in an extraordinary situation: but they have had extraordinary experiences. They are relatively fluent in Ragi, they were companions to the aiji’s son on the voyage out from Reunion, and they will be the first Reunioners to live here, ahead of all their community—which unfortunately focuses attention on them, both good and bad, and necessarily places them at risk. You know that better than I do. They will intermittently be guests of the aiji’s son. Someday they may hold my job.
“But their maturing in the human sense has to take place in a human setting, for their own mental health, and they need have a sense of security in their residence as well as the ability to travel about safely and learn what it is to live on Mospheira, so it will not all be within the walls of Heyden Court. The President picked you for a responsibility somewhere between parental and protective—because you will be in personal contact with them. These kids will look up to you, take your advice—try your patience, maybe, in the way of normal children. They’re good kids, in all senses. They come with parents who’ve been through the destruction of their whole world, and who’ve lived under desperate circumstances, but the parents are also good people—a little lost in the enormity of the events they’ve endured, but trying their best. You’ll deal with them, too, and with the staff who’ll be in charge of Heyden Court—who, I can assure you, are absolutely top administrators, people who will operate with a direct link to the President, and who will listen to you. They’re the best. As you are—hand-picked by the President, to be in charge of a situation that links directly to the stability of human and atevi cooperation. That’s the importance of this post. It’s a pilot project, in one sense, and two governments are looking to you to make it work and keep these kids safe.
“In that light, it’s useful for both atevi and human security to understand each other’s operations.
“And through my bodyguard, the Guild is offering a cooperation which would have been impossible even a few short years ago. They are willing to open their operations manual, so to speak. They have suggested easy modifications to the premises, which are well in progress, that enable a relatively small force to deal with everything from minor incidents to well-organized attacks on the building. They are very interested, themselves, to hear what you know: they believe that your insight, given your experience protecting the President, gives you a unique perspective on the problems that can come up. They’re going to be sharing some of their classified operations with you in the process. This was their decision, a Guild decision in which I had no part, and is an indication of just how much the aiji is ready to trust you.”
That drew interest. The Assassins’ Guild was notoriously secretive.
“We also have recommendations for equipment the station is providing—ship tech. Monitoring equipment. I am no expert in any of this. My bodyguard has given me standing orders to keep my head down and stay there.” That drew mild amusement, a little lowering o
f guard. “And in that spirit, I’ll ask them to take over and I’ll simply translate from now on. They’ll explain the physical changes they’ve suggested in the Heyden Court site, what they are, and how it can translate to better security.”
Not starting with procedural changes, but changes in the building. Blueprints. Accesses. The methodology explanation slipped right into the simple changes. They were putting an atevi-style control in place, creating an environment with numerous checkpoints, with protected communication and restriction on doors and hallways, so that nobody from the outside stood a chance of reaching anything critical at the heart of the arrangement.
The approach to this first meeting had been Banichi’s suggestion, aimed at protecting the pride of these men and women, outlining how the design worked, and with that, offering new tech to sweeten the deal . . . a case in which the paidhi-aiji performed his original function, arbiter of technology, for the first time in years . . . only, this time, coming from the atevi side to Mospheira.
With Shawn’s specific orders in their hands, and assured of issues like rank and pay, the several teams had arrived with an understanding that the kids’ problems were going to range from Reunioners having adjustment problems, to domestic political heat, and curiosity—high on the list, the attraction the place might pose to both the curious and the violent, not to mention the kind of craziness that could come from the Reunioner hard cases, given time and opportunity and a workshop.
“So how would you set up, in specific?” was the opening question from Mospheiran security, one which never, ever in the history of the Guild had Mospheirans been able to ask. Banichi will not answer that, Bren thought, ready to deflect a problem. “He asks specifics of how the Guild would set up,” he gave the translation. “I shall refuse.”
“No, nandi,” Banichi said. “We shall answer.”
Banichi then began to answer, point by point, giving reasons and information that one was sure might cause consternation in the Guild Council, with as well-disposed a Council as had ever sat in charge of Guild operations. Guild never provided such information, even in theory, let alone discussed the rationale behind it.
But Banichi did, and sitting by was Algini, whose rank in the inner workings of the Guild Algini never admitted, not even to him . . . listening, Tano and Jago as well, as something truly unprecedented went on. Station security could observe Geigi’s security in action, could know what they did and where they were, but why, the soft tissue of it all, was not something Guild even told their employer, unless it was need-to-know.
Mospheiran security liked a set of standing orders that covered contingencies, and that they surely had in this: they looked at the set of barriers to intrusion, they asked questions, and then Banichi used his own bracelet to demonstrate the hierarchy of flash codes that provided a fairly uncrackable communication. The only thing an opponent might know was that it was going on, but what was being communicated—no. The code changed. Often. And this—nobody but the unit knew, though Bren had the notion that there were some master codes that could mean one thing reliably, and Banichi said nothing about that.
The Mospheiran team listened—they more than listened: they drank it in, asked intelligent questions, to Bren’s estimation, and then Banichi asked, “What would you do, nadiin? What would you change?”
“Considering the set-up,” Ing said, senior in the group, “we’re happy. The sensor system would be more than welcome.”
That was going to come down from the station on the same shuttle as the kids.
A fair cordiality had set in. They already had Shawn’s order swearing that they would have his support, that they would wield a very high level of authority, with direct access to Shawn’s office, and to the paidhi’s office, at need. They would be in the executive, but shielded by State, with broad powers to deny access to premises and to protect their charges.
Maintain confidence without arrogance, Shawn had written in the authorization that had gone out to each member of this hand-picked group. Your mission is to protect three children and their parents, who may have to be protected from their own innocence, but never treated as ill-meaning. You will be representing our government, in response to a request from the head of state of the aishidi’tat, and it is not impossible that you may at some point be in direct communication with atevi authority. Conduct any such interaction in consultation with my office, but you may respond directly, even in Ragi, if that becomes possible.
You will also be dealing with our own citizenry who may or may not be operating in innocence. The program may stir controversy and attract problems. You will also become a resource for law enforcement and courts, in the lengthy process of acculturating other Reunioners. You will be their advocates, occasionally called on to instruct and protect, occasionally to advise and intervene in dealing with problem individuals.
In the execution of treaty obligations, you will not be operating within civil law. You will operate under the military code, responsible directly to the President and the State Department, so long as the aiji requests you to remain. You are empowered to detain and restrain, physically if necessary. You have the power to arrest, to search and seize, and to use lethal force in the protection of premises and persons.
It was high rank they were offered. It was executive responsibility. It was dealing directly with a foreign power and with foreign professionals. He had handed them his own list of cautions.
A University official demanded entry? No. The University was no longer in charge of Heyden Court. It was under long lease to the government.
Someone urgently needed an exception to a security rule? Surround it, search it, neutralize any threat, isolate the principals from any risk and consider the situation.
There was a fire on the premises. Distrust fire services and strangers alike, protect the principals, and call it an incident, not an accident, until one had determined a cause.
There were people to deal with as authority within the building, with an absolute security clearance and a direct Presidential access equaling theirs: Kate Shugart, principally, who would be there or be reachable. Tom Lund and Ben Feldman as backup. They were clear on that.
“These people are quick,” Banichi remarked during a break, “and they are good. We are reassured.” Bren translated it for them, and these dour, wary people took that in with guarded pleasure. Mospheirans had held a notion of the Guild as passionless and approaching supernatural abilities, which the Guild had never taken pains to deny. But the two services had managed to enjoy tea and cakes and agree on specifics. Mospheiran security seemed to take to heart Banichi’s points about the third floor arrangement, and communication—the promise of advanced, secure tech that could give them an edge. No bracelets: the Guild did not pass those around. But a sort of mutating code they could use with their own audio system. Cordiality absolutely blossomed.
“So will you still be here,” one asked, speaking directly to Banichi as they had begun to do, with Bren translating, “—will you be here to set up this new tech?”
“There will be an expert coming down from the station, to set up and instruct, with manuals. A Mospheiran expert.”
Bren translated that, which pleased them. “And,” Bren said then, the preset agenda having reached an end. It was his job to explain this final element—the human part. “The Reunioners themselves—not the children or their parents, but the ones to follow. By the time they come down, you may be advising other units on what they have to expect. We’ve found the children’s parents to be good people, good parents, cooperative if occasionally confused. That won’t be directly your problem: but that’s the most of the Reunioners, completely helpless with daily life down here. In this case—the children know, but the parents don’t.
“As time goes on, however, there’ll be more of them: that’s the idea. Five thousand of them, and other units may be asking you for your expertise. They’re far more of a mixed bag of
the good and not-so-good. The last-down may not be willing participants in the program. And while they’ll look just like Mospheirans, in some ways atevi thinking and atevi solutions might make more sense to you than their approach to a situation. By that time, you’ll know a lot more what they came from. They’ve never been on a planet, they’ve never seen rain, or a sunset, they’ve never experienced natural ground or walked on a surface that doesn’t, in some small degree, curve upward. They don’t know how to use a kitchen: that’s all been done by professionals. There’s hardly any aspect of earthly life they’re prepared to understand. And they’ve lived all their lives inside a structure. Corridors, not roads, are their native pathways. If one of the last-down goes rogue or goes missing—look to the underground: ventilation shafts. Even sewers. Open sky can be upsetting to them. Think of a bus, if someone slams the brakes on. That’s been their world: if there’s a threat, open spaces can kill you. They’ll seek confined areas. These are people who’ve survived two devastating attacks on their station. They’ve lived in the wreckage, nursing a living out of barely functioning machinery, never knowing when the next attack might come to take them out.
“That’s what they came from. What they came to, here, was in some ways worse, because they were promised everything would be better. Aboard our space station, they’ve lived jammed together in conditions we wouldn’t ask an animal to endure—not even decent water access. One assumes there’s the usual proportion of problem cases and good citizens you’d find right here in Port Jackson, but bear in mind, these are the survivors. The resourceful ones. Unfortunately, the experience didn’t instill virtue in all of them. Station’s trying to identify the problems before they come down, but there are no records, no identification, and no available witnesses in many cases. They’ll be landing down here with a brand new ID and in most cases, no record at all, not of their education, their prior jobs, or their skills, or past activity. It’s all to determine. And there’ll be some that won’t adjust.
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