". supper. Are you going to be home tonight?"
"For God's sake, Judy." It was past his ordinary quitting time. He didn't think he could make it through another overnighter in the office. "Well, I think it's remotely possible, but I can't think about that right now."
"It would be a very good idea if you could come home this evening and say how nice Kathy's hair is."
That bad, then. "I'm trying. I'll try, Judy."
"Dinner at 1900h. I'm cooking."
Judy was cooking. And dinner was fairly late. She hadn't made it to her job today, he made that a good guess. He remembered the prior controversy. Judy had snared their daughter Kathy, she'd have called the hairdresser in, heavily bribed to silence, and Kathy's hair was still tearfully controversial. He could read between the lines. Kathy was recalcitrant and Judy wanted backup.
A message crawl hit his screen. Brazis was on his way up the hall at this very moment: Antonio Brazis, head of the PO, local Chairman of the Outsider Council, his opposite number in station authority.
Dortland, his own head of station security, and Redmond, from the Trade Board, were next on his agenda, and they were going to have to wait, clearly, if Brazis was coming in. Ernst had been tracking all these matters, and shot this vital information to his computer screen in bold letters on a black background before he could make a commitment to his wife-and have to break it.
"Dinner at 1900h is possible. Possible. I might be late. I have no way of knowing what this ship business is, or when they'll decide they want to talk. And I've got meetings."
"Setha."
"I say I have appointments, Judy. People are on their way to my office. Heads of departments. We have problems. That Earth ship. Our daughter's hair, I'm afraid, is very much a side issue today."
Silence on the other end. Judy knew when she'd pushed him absolutely too far. She wasn't happy, but at least she didn't sulk out loud.
"Likely 1900h," he said, trying to mollify that deadly silence. "If not, be sure that something unexpected happened." He had a dire thought, just before he thought she might hang up on him. "Judy? Judy, whatever you do, don't talk to the media."
"Why would I talk to the media?"
"Because of that ship! I'm not talking to the media, I have no particular answers for them, and it's remotely possible the media will hang around the apartment trying to get information or just the temperature of the household to have something to report. We have a serious matter here, Judy. Turn on the news, for God's sake. Don't answer the phone. Don't answer the door. And don't let Kathy leave. As happens, it's a very good night to eat in, and I've got to come home. I'm exhausted."
Small pause. Not a happy pause. "1900h," Judy said, and broke contact.
It wasn't just a day. It was an unmitigated two days of hell. The ship came on, unhastened, uncommunicative, across several AUs of untenanted space.
The anole got up on his legs on his branch, expanded his throat, and displayed to a rival.
Damned well that's what it was, that inbound ship: like the lizard, a display of power.
One Andreas Gide, ambassador with special powers. An off-schedule show of force, making them sweat. The simple ability to launch a ship this far, on a special mission. Lizard on a branch.
The context search had produced a result on his screen. Ships arriving for consultations, in the long history of relations, inevitably came because of tension between the Apex Council and Earth.
Scrolling through the dates, it had meant much the same even before the days of the Earth Federation, while it was still a question of Inner Worlds versus Outsider colonials.
Politics changed. But the stress lines on the charts, dictated by who lived where and where the trade routes went, didn't change all that much. Location dictated politics, and consultations at Concord were always ominous, always, thus far, involving some tension between Earth and the High Council at Apex, several times because of some perceived misdeed regarding ondat relations.
Well, not at Concord. He'd heard of no problems with his on-station Outsider Council counterpart, the ondat representative was perfectly quiet, and he didn't believe whatever brought Earth inquiry to them was a valid suspicion. Some sort of accusation could always turn up, instigated by politicians with an axe to grind, something could be going on elsewhere, but Concord was incredibly remote from most of human interest.
And, God, he didn't need problems with Brazis, who was a competent, quiet administrator, to color his lifelong term of office.
He didn't need any Ambassador Gide-political ideologues with ambitions were always to fear. Earth was known, occasionally, to stir things up on the fringes to make some political point at home.
Spies were also to fear, individuals who might have damning reports to give such a ship, but they were always present, people either sent here by various interests ranging from commercial to political-his chief of security, Dortland, had given him a small watch list-or persons born here and ambitious for advancement they couldn't get under his administration: his personal list of the latter ilk started with one Lyle Nazrani, who had his financial fingers in the new station construction, who was high up in the banking industry, and who'd raised hell about the arena contractors and a dozen other issues in the new station construction, anything to get on the news. There was a man who'd lose no time getting a private interview with Mr. Ambassador Gide, and Reaux was equally determined not to let that happen.
Say what Earth would, however, and no matter what politicking might advance some party on Earth or some ambitious idiot on station-the ondat presence had a major say in matters on Concord, too. The ondat always had a major say at Concord, and might just very easily decide, for at least a decade, that they viewed Concord as still within their sphere of territory, in which case.
In which case the shadowy presence that existed within their sealed section might pull that section off, as they had done, once and twice in the worst times of Concord's history, when the whole fragile peace had nearly shattered. Let Earth remember that, if Earth wanted to interfere with Concord's smooth running. The ondat might suddenly move in a warship and exert a greater power over Concord administration and over what ships came and went, all Earth's ambitions be damned, and never mind the local human economy. That had happened more than twice-economic disaster, from which Concord had taken decades to recover.
And no one wanted to think of a situation that might cause that quiet presence, that sometimes amusing, sometimes sinister presence, to wake up and become actively involved. They lived with the ondat. Concorders saw the sleek, frighteningly massive ships that slid up to the station at irregular intervals and did their business, saying nothing, having no intercourse with any human. They knew that, beyond the walls of that independent section, something lived that veiled itself in shadow, in ammonia-reeking murk, and carried on inquiries that made no human sense. no one played politics with the ondat. That was the very point of Concord's neutral existence, was it not?
And, pressed to the wall, faced with a threat, as he'd reminded himself last night in the throes of the tax records-he did have good relations with the ondat, with (the only name they knew) Kekellen. Earth would be well-advised, would it not, to leave that situation undisturbed?
Kekellen had sent him a message yesterday through the symbol translator: Ship Earth? Meaning, roughly, What in hell's this untimely ship doing here, and should we care?
His own linguists had replied: Ship Earth unclear word. Reaux talk this ship. Talk Kekellen soon.
Soon.
Well, that was a stall, no question, and sufficient to the day the trouble thereof. Those pesky abstracts like soon, if, and why had taken the linguists and the ondat ages to work out. He ordinarily hated it when his experts used abstracts to Kekellen. Stick to solids, he'd say. Keep it concrete, especially if it's an emergency. Don't seem to promise things.
We have a situation with the ondat, he could legitimately say, however, carefully citing that message. Keep it quiet, please, Mr. Am
bassador Gide.
That was the ultimate power of a Concord governor, after all, wasn't it, the ultimate argument for keeping Earth's fingers off
Concord politics-the ominous foreign presence that sat, cocooned in its own segment of Concord Station occasionally insinuating its robotic errand-runners past what had once been a tightly sealed barrier. The ondat had, in the last century, breached whatever moderate quarantine had once existed, had begun to do so during the last two governorships, beginning with random inquiries to ordinary offices and citizens.
And lately taking delivery of orange juice, table salt, live lettuce, and eight canisters of chlorine, which it just confiscated from various shops and storehouses. Figure that one. Last week it had taken a sculpture from a good neighborhood. It scared hell out of the merchants. No one claimed to understand it.
He should report the sculpture theft to the Earth ship. Let them worry about it.
No question the see me from the governor's office had to do with the ship incoming. The invitation suited Antonio Brazis, even at this late hour. He was just as anxious to see Setha Reaux and know what Reaux knew before this untimely ship got to dock and sent its electronic tentacles running into their affairs.
He hoped to hell that Reaux's personal fund-raising peccadillos hadn't caught up with him. As governors went, Reaux was a good one-not immune to influence peddlers, especially close to the construction interests that formed a real power base in a station currently building its own replacement; but he had to maintain his own power base, and he was a sensible and honest man where it counted, regarding the overall welfare of the station. Infighting always swayed governors: wealthy expatriate Earthers arrived on Concord to assume what wasn't, after all, a popularly elected office; and life-appointed governors grew corrupt primarily because they were outsiders in the lower-case sense, foreigners incapable of function if locally stymied and opposed. A man wanted to have allies, and Earth might appoint its governors from Earth itself, counting them more loyal, but local Earther descendants chose Station councilmen in hotly contested local elections, and oh, believe there was favor-trading, if a governor really wanted to get anything done, let alone done on time.
Outsider chairmen, for which Brazis was truly grateful, had no such considerations: the High Council at Apex life-appointed both the head of the Planetary Office and the Concord Chairman, both offices, in his case, vested in one person, and yes, local Outsider citizens held elections for civil posts and local Council, just like Earther citizens, though with far less fire and drama. The Earth governor thus remained forever at the mercy of his legislature, which directed day-to-day operation of station systems, managed trade with Earth and the Inner Worlds, and maintained control over the police, customs, and legal systems. In effect, a governor could ask, but had the devil's own time enforcing policy, if he had not played the local game of favor-trading.
Not so, Brazis's own office. He traded no favors. Concord's local Outsider Council, lacking any power to regulate station operation, was more a debating society, handling zoning regulations and public services in its districts. Concord's Outsider Chairman presided over the Outsider Council and appointed the head of the civil police in Outsider districts.
That, on most stations, was that-Outsider government wielded very little power over the station's external dealings.
But on Concord, there was that other office: the Planetary Office. The Project.
And the project director, holding absolute authority over the Project, necessarily held police powers and regulatory authority, not only equal to the Earth-appointed governor's authority, but authority that could actually override the Earth governor's decisions, where it affected the PO's operations or Project security.
Brazis being both local Chairman and Project Director was not to Earth's liking: that had been clear when he took the second office. Earth officially didn't like that combination of powers-in fact, Apex itself was divided on the matter, which had carried by one vote-but it stood, and it was useful when it came to putting his foot down. He had been at Concord for thirty years. Earth was still unhappy about it.
So now Earth sent an off-schedule mission and Reaux wanted to talk to him. Consequently, he had to wonder in which capacity, and whether he would have to put his foot down, or just listen to some financial confession of the governor's, an appeal for understanding-in which case he would listen, and back the governor, for what it was worth, if it accorded with his interests, and the governor would almost undoubtedly explain to him how extremely it did.
What was more worrisome was the remote possibility that this incoming, very expensive ship had intentions that were going to annoy the PO. He hoped not. It had been a tranquil thirty years.
The governor's sweeping body scans, in the long office hall approaching the governor's suite, were fast, discreet, and asked no permission, setting off a flurry of small beeps and protests from his electronics, internal and otherwise. Brazis took no umbrage. His security was armed, he wasn't, and, by no means on his first visit here, he knew where to leave his escort, at the entry to the governor's suite of offices. He walked on through the last doors alone, into Ernst's little wood-paneled kingdom.
"Mr. Chairman." Ernst instantly reported his presence to the governor, got up and opened the governor's office door the low-tech way, with the button. "Sir."
No waiting. No social dance. Governor Reaux rose and met him with a little bow, if not a contaminating handshake. he was still native Earther, even two decades into his office.
"Antonio. I so appreciate your coming. Tea?"
He'd been on the go since the ship business had hit the horizon. Which was yesterday. "Tea sounds good," he said. He didn't have his scan with him-didn't, as a rule, trust private dispensers, especially when he couldn't watch the preparation, but an Earther staff wouldn't slip you anything but a chemical problem. Reaux wouldn't have an illicit nanism near his precious person.
"Did you run the media gauntlet?"
"They were out there, no way not. I'm afraid my visit will be on the news. I said it was a courtesy call. They were noisy and unconvinced."
"Mmm." Reaux poured the tea himself, from a dispenser tastefully concealed next to the extravagantly expensive lizard globe.
Fascinating creatures, Brazis considered them. They'd come all the way from Earth, intact, in a long-ago administration, and the globe had run for, reputedly, a hundred and fifty-odd years with minimal intervention. The lizards stared at him. Little predators, a whole food chain. A man who superintended the program that re-seeded and redeemed the planet had a great admiration for the balance requisite in that globe.
Reaux served him tea in Earth-import ceramic, antique and fragile. And sat down behind his desk for his own first sip.
"You've made inquiries about the ship inbound," Reaux said.
If there was one thing Brazis continually appreciated about Reaux, it was his straightforward, no-time-wasted approach. "Yes. But I'm sure your information is better. My problem or yours?"
"Frankly, I don't know. They claim someone with ambassadorial status aboard. A consultation. You aren't expecting anything like this, are you?"
"No reason, I assure you."
"A five-day visit, routine in length if not in timing. If there is anything on your levels you know that's going on-I certainly hope you'd tell me."
"Not a thing." He hoped his eyes were clear all the way to the back of his brain. The Chairman of the Outsider Council naturally knew a dozen things, including the names of unruly groups and certain individuals who might decide the visit of a mission from Earth was exactly the time to act up, either to get local concessions for their peculiar points of view or to create a racket clear to the Chairman General at Apex. "Naturally certain elements will be excited. They might think of something on the spur of the moment, but I doubt they're prepared to carry anything off in an organized way. My security is out and about. Do you think you can possibly keep Mr. Nazrani off the news for five days?"
The
Earth governor didn't get to twit the Outsider Chairman about his peculiar security problems without taking a shot in return. Reaux accepted the jab with a wry, unamused laugh.
"I know enough to make him nervous."
"But no one of your enemies is nervous enough to act rashly, dare we hope?" Brazis said. It wasn't Nazrani and the sports arena they were discussing now. It was their own intermingled affairs. The whole sociopolitical structure of Concord was in fact a geodesic, dependent on its little lines of tension. Pinned together by its own sins and the knowledge of those sins, that web held strong and steady, against most minor disturbances. The current cooperation had never been challenged from the outside.
Witness that Concord, ancient as it was, remained a continual point of uncertainty in a very old and essentially stable arrangement. There was Earth and the Inner Worlds, there was the Outsider territory, and those got along.
But given Concord's unique existence in a bubble inside ondat space. distant governments, if they were sensible, wished only a report of unending tranquillity from Concord. "We'll certainly support you, if that's what you're asking. We consider your administration progressive and sensible over the last two decades. We very much value our working relationship."
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