Precursor (28 page)

Now Bren did lift the eyebrow, and stared straight at the captains. “Centuries-old records, gentlemen?”

“Mospheira wants them. There’s ongoing negotiation on the matter.”

“It’s been ongoing for three years. We see no reason for these files to be withheld. Was there any secret in the original mission? Were we
targeted
to the white star? Or here? That
is
one of the conspiracy theories, generally promulgated in small handbills throughout the island… has been, I think, for over a hundred years. Of course, that flies in the face of the competing theory that atevi, having just made the steam engine practical, secretly sent out energy waves to divert our navigation to this world to take us over. The fact is, sirs, there are theories; the more reasonable ones do find credibility, where there’s secrecy with no evident, rational explanation for that secrecy.
Were
we targeted to the white star?
Is
there some mammoth conspiracy?
Have
you always known where Earth is? Was Taylor’s flight sabotaged?”

“Release the files,” Ramirez said. “The short answer is, Mr. Cameron, there’s no secret. They’ve been retained because negotiations have remained vol.^ile, because we haven’t known how certain historical information would intersect your government’s opinion… the Mospheiran government, or the atevi. There were a couple of murders. Inflammatory history. And a damned lot about old Earth that we weren’t sure how the atevi would receive, and consider, frankly, none of their business to worry about. But no one’s history’s perfect. The main reason’s simply that they’re something Mospheira wants and something the atevi want, and we have them, until we know more about
you
. But in earnest of the agreement you set forward, I’ll release them. They didn’t exist on the station when we arrived. We theorize you must have lost them, probably in your notorious War of the Landing. We and the station storage now have redundant copies, and between you and us, Mr. Cameron, I’m anxious to see the collected works of our species replicated in a storage deep in a gravity well. We’ve stared extinction in the face, Mr. Cameron, and we
want
those files duplicated. They’ll be available within the hour. When you order transmission, we will transmit, in your name.”

Promoting
him
as an official contact point, not the Mospheiran delegation. He understood the game, he knew what Ramirez intended, and gave a solemn nod. “I’ll look at the nature of them as soon as I can; but again between us, I’d rather release them outright. Rumors are bound to fly on both sides of the straits, and I’d rather have those records for the theorists to digest right now, rather than let them work over the entire question of the agreement itself before they get them, or doubt that there might be anything in those files that might be associated. The more volatile elements are the very ones most interested in those records… and that have most to lose if those records contradict their universe-view. I say that in some faith they aren’t right and they likely won’t like all they read. But the news on Mospheira, I can tell you, will cover the records much more thoroughly than it will the details of the station agreement. If you want a smoke screen over what we do, yes, release the records. They’ll be an item in some footnote on the news of Shakespeare’s missing plays.”

“You evidence cynicism, Mr. Cameron.”

“Gentlemen, if I wanted to make Kroger a lasting hero on Mospheira, I’d give them to
her
. As it happens, I don’t want that. She’s not been in the position, and I rather cynically doubt she wants it, or would, if it happened. Mospheira’s hard on its public figures. It’s too small an island, with too many people, and too damned deep a dividing line between factions. I’ll rather ask you to transmit the files to the State Department and to the aiji tonight simultaneously, under your seal, and just let the pieces fall where they may, without politicizing Kroger. As far as I’m concerned, the agreement we reach will stand. The transmission is your way of proving your goodwill in current negotiations. It particularly favors Mospheirans, who value those files extremely; the atevi aren’t all that interested, since they reached technical parity with human culture, and you don’t need to say that the files in any way came from me. I don’t need the credit, but being in orbit, you can take the credit and not have lunatics phoning you in the middle of the night with religious visions.”

“You don’t want Kroger’s name on them.”

“I damned sure don’t want to give them to Kroger.”

“Personal animosity runs that deep.”

“No.” It did, potentially, but he wasn’t that mean-spirited, not against Kroger. But against those who might feel she was their representative, or who might turn her into that, definitely he held grudges, and suspicions. “Give the files to the world, gentlemen. Say it’s your gift. You’ll win good feeling on both sides, and if there
should
be an informational bomb in those files, you’ll have defused it by being the one to release it, and Kroger and I will be completely safe. From that position, you can argue that you’ve been entirely open. That you’ve withheld them for three years becomes irrelevant. And if the Heritage Party on Mospheira discovers something it doesn’t like, that’s too bad.”

“Kroger doesn’t like you.”

“It’s her job to suspect the worst of me.
Someone
needs to question what I do. Too damned many people take my figures without checking them.”

Ramirez gave a slow, quiet smile. “Dealing with you over three years, Mr. Cameron, I’ve acquired an understanding of your ability to maneuver, to answer, and to calculate. You came up here prepared to agree; you have agreed. I’ll tell you I’m still astonished.”

“As I’ve dealt with you, I have considered you an ally. A sensible man. So is the President of Mospheira, so is the Secretary of State, and so is Tabini-aiji. The world is fortunate. The human race and the atevi are fortunate. We have reason to believe what you say and take you seriously. After all, the world’s been invaded from space once. Twice and three times would not be an astonishment.“

Ramirez’ brows lifted, then contracted in thought as he examined that concept, and perhaps realized he was the alien invader in question. “All right, Mr. Cameron, we’ll transmit the archive. Your channels will be open to it henceforth, in your quarters. Examine the files as you will. I do caution you that the designs you’re going to be working with are part of that download, however buried in detail. If there’s anyone on the planet you don’t want to have that technology, they will have it.”

That was worth a small, wry laugh. “Furtive construction of a starship?”

“Of weapons you don’t have, perhaps.”

“Mospheira’s manufacturing is good, but no better than the mainland, and falling behind by the hour. We’ve reached parity. Some few might want to misuse the files; but we’ve already come to mutual destruction and declined. We’ve learned to get along, Captain; in some part you’ve watched it happen.”

“Are you planning to go back at shuttle turnaround? Is that our time limit? I’ll tell you, we consider you too valuable to be running up and down in a gravity well in a relatively untested landing craft.”

“I can stay longer, but if you want my office to undertake a major new project, I’d rather be there to deal with my staff. And I intend to come and go. I’m worthless if I’m not where I can settle things. We have a limited time to set the details. If we’re to get workers up here, we have to arrange quarters and intensive, rapid training. We need room for five hundred, by our designs. Can I tour a similar, refitted area?”

“I can arrange that,” Ramirez said. “Whenever you ask, you’ll have a guide.”

“And a point we must agree to in principle. As you wouldn’t house the Mospheirans within totally black walls, you’ll expect certain aesthetic accommodations where atevi reside.”

“Aesthetic accommodations.”

“They are important, Captain. You want workers to work, there will be aesthetic changes, changes in the way the rooms connect…”

“We have no time to spend on aesthetics.”

He was very, very glad to hear that word
time
, a corrobora-tion of every single point of negotiation over the last three years.

“So there are aliens.”

“Can you still ask that?”

“Damned right I can. And the walls won’t be this particularly objectionable yellow and the doors will be differently arranged… while we build your starship. I must warn you that the time will be a little longer than the three years we’ve already taken on the shuttle.”

“You’ve worked a damned miracle,” Ramirez said. “I need another one.”

“Another point. Potted plants will be very popular on the station, but these have to be removed to some other facility; we can’t have yours going down to the planet, no matter how innocuous the intent. We will observe a quarantine zone.”

“Understood. That becomes your problem.”

“It will be.” He drew a heavy breath. When he engaged with Ramirez, common sense arrangements tended to happen at a breakneck pace, and he wanted a space to consider the details. “I’m very content, gentlemen; the only other request I have is for radio contact with the planet, my schedule, my initiation.” Amid all the rest of the preparations, the designs on a vast, space-spanning scale, anguished small realization dawned on him, that he couldn’t honestly use personal privilege and call Mospheira on the phone. The best he could do was ask his office to mediate, or send off a letter or two he greatly feared wouldn’t pass Mospheiran security unexamined.

“Any communications of that nature,” Ramirez said, “can be patched through to your residential communications center. I’ll give those orders.”

“Thank you, captain.”

“Any other requests, requirements, observations?”

“I’m very glad we have time, gentlemen. We officially believe you. We’ll use that time as efficiently as possible.”

“Very welcome news,” Ogun said, and Ramirez rose; Ogun did, and Bren did, too.

In parting, there were handshakes, far happier faces, even Ogun looking relieved as they made their polite adjournment.

“I’d like contact with Jase. Can he get in touch with me, or how do I contact individuals?”

“Cl is the communications center,” Ramirez said. “They’ll put you through to whatever you need.”

“Very kind, sir, thank you. Captain Ogun. Thank you.”

“Glad to reach agreement,” Ogun said. “Kaplan will guide you back.”

“Good, sir, thank you.” They were offered no further formalities. Bren cast a look at Banichi and Jago, walked toward the door, and Kaplan was outside, waiting, likely all through the meeting.

They’d gotten down to discussing, God save them, potted plants and ecological concerns. They’d agreed to build a second starship.

It was time to talk to the home office.

«
^
»

It went well,” Bren said to Banichi and Jago, while Kaplan gave them the guided tour back past the various potted plants. There was some chance Kaplan, twice specifically chosen to guide them, understood whatever words of Ragi existed in the dictionary the mainland had sent aloft, and he hesitated to speak with Banichi and Jago too freely, but then, what he knew would go out over radio with even more likelihood of someone listening… even Yolanda, even Jase, so he simply abandoned pretense. “We’re building them another ship, Nadiin-ji, pending the aiji’s approval; we’re going to run the station for them. And no one’s told the Mospheirans yet, but we’ve freed the library archive they’ve been trying for three years to get out of the ship’s records. It should come through the wall units in the rooms, but it will be on its way to Mogari-nai by tonight and disseminated to the aiji and to the island at the same time.”

“One is amazed,” Banichi said.

“Indeed,” Jago agreed.

“And Jase-paidhi may be part of this agreement,” Bren added, “seeing we need his help with the arrangements we’re making with the captains.”

“A very fine negotiation,” Banichi said. Banichi remained conservative on what he did say, clearly conscious of exactly the same possibility some of the crew knew a handful of words in Ragi.

Spy on one another? They surely would. He would, as far as he could.

And what
was
he to do about the Mospheirans, and about the President, and the State Department, and a delegation representing, essentially, distressed business interests behind the

Department of Science and Technology, which had historically had ties to the National Security Administration, and likewise behind the Department of Commerce… which had ties to some of the richest, most powerful interests on Mospheira?

“Mr. Kaplan.”

Their guide, stopped at a door, looked at him, half through the eyepiece. “Mr. Cameron, sir. I’m not
mister
. I’m just Kaplan.”

“There used to be a business level on the station. Know anything about that?”

“No, sir. Never heard about it.”

There was an answer. “Interesting,” he said. “So that wasn’t restored.”

“No, sir.”

He thought about that as Kaplan took them back to their own territory, a considerable trek.

He thought and he thought about that.

Narani met him, the servants ready to take his coat in this linear, human-made place. Tano and Algini waited in the doorway of the security station, likewise observing.