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Eyebrows lifted, carefully. A question.

“Association, sir.
Aishi.
For one thing, since it was the
atevi
the kyo contacted, it's become the atevi language that gives us our bridge to understanding kyo. For another, the word
association
is one abstract concept they seemed to reach for. I think it
is
an emotional word with them. If I can assign emotion to people who can wait ten years. I don't know.”

“People.” That concept seemed itself challenging—to Ogun's thinking. And not in a welcome way.

“Whatever they are, they seem to be motivated to ask questions instead of shooting at us. I have no clue what their concepts are of nations or politics, I don't know how their decisions are made. But as long as we
are
talking instead of resorting to weapons or laying claim to each other's property, we can figure how to maneuver with them.”

“Where do you propose to meet them?”

“Likely they'll come much closer. I'm personally prepared to meet them on their deck or on the station, and the aiji-dowager and the boy will be with me—hoping we do know who we're dealing with. It's far more dangerous to let our fear feed theirs or to hang back and let their imaginations and ours work. We need your support, on all fronts.”

Long silence.

“You come in here to take over from Tillington. You're prepared to do that.”

That
explained a bit.

“Is that his official assessment of my mission?”

“That's his concern. He says you've gone atevi.”

“In point of fact, a paidhi works both sides of a situation. My job is to ‘go atevi'—or human—alternately. And completely. My last conversation with Tabini-aiji was the day before launch and my last conversation with the President was a call en route, so I'm up to date with their wishes, which are to do what I can to communicate with the kyo and prevent any misunderstanding. But as regards Stationmaster Tillington's fears about me—that's not my mission.
The President
is sending a special envoy to assume command during the emergency, to manage the Mospheiran workforce, and likewise to assure that
Mr. Braddock
doesn't cause problems, now or in the future.”

“So we get one more side in this mess? One more finger on the buttons up here is no damned help, Mr. Cameron.”

“The Presidential envoy will consult with
you,
sir, and your approval will rule all matters with the ship and weigh heavily with the envoy. Presidential authority, however,
will
end the discussion between Mr. Tillington and Mr. Braddock.”

“And if the Reunioners don't give a damn about your President?”

“The President is seeking to cooperate with you personally, sir, in finding a resolution to the Reunioner problem
after
the kyo have departed the system. So will Tabini-aiji. The President does
not
back Tillington's proposal. Mospheira doesn't need a separate human population with separate interests. Atevi object to that, and to their presence here. The composition of the station population is half
Mospheiran
and half atevi, by treaty, in cooperation with the ship. Creating a separate station under
Mr. Braddock's
authority? No, sir. That's definitely not acceptable.”

Ogun shoved his chair further back and canted it. “So we're completely reversing position.”

“The President never approved the plan. If Stationmaster Tillington represented that it had the President's approval, this is not the case. The President is
also
distancing himself from a statement Stationmaster Tillington made, and which, if the aiji-dowager needs to become aware of it, will bring extremely unpleasant consequences with the aijinate.”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Cameron?”

“No, sir, a warning. You may not be aware, sir—I assume you are not. Mr. Tillington suggested, before witnesses, that the meeting of the aiji's son with the human children was politically motivated, and Captain Sabin's doing. I assure you that does
not
translate into the atevi language in any fashion which could exempt the aiji-dowager from his accusation. She would be within her rights to File Intent on the man.”

“Is that this mass of security arriving with you?”

“This is the aiji-dowager's usual escort. I haven't officially informed her about the statement, but there is no guarantee she is not privately aware of the incident. If she
should
choose to be informed—there would have to be diplomatic consequences, and this is the worst possible time to have that happen. The President
does
know about it. And for this and other matters of policy and failure to consult, his envoy
will
replace Stationmaster Tillington, I hope gracefully and privately, without any reference to the aiji's son, so we can get on with the business at hand and never mention it happened.”

He saw Ogun draw a breath to retort, scowling, and he kept going. “You will have, on those terms, sir, the
full
support of the President, and the envoy will stay on the station until a permanent appointment can be made. I can say with fair assurance that it will be someone you can work with.”

Silence. Again. Ogun wasn't pleased to be challenged. He wasn't pleased to be handed a solution to
his
mess. He wasn't pleased at being handed anything he hadn't chosen . . . including, clearly, the presence of a Presidential envoy.

He had a card.

And maybe it was time to play it.

“You also have, Captain, at the direction of Tabini-aiji
and
President Tyers,
my
support, which I am glad to give. I voyaged with Captain Sabin and Captain Graham, so I do communicate well with them, but that is
nowhere
comparable to my obligation to a populated planet which is my
home,
sir, as the ship is yours. I have every interest in keeping this station
and
the ship and all its options safe, and to do that, I need to do what I'm damned
good
at, sir. But to do that, I need humans on this station not to be conducting a civil war at my back. You
are
the authority above other authorities up here, so I'm backing you, as I hope you will back me.”

“You
are an arrogant bastard, Mr. Cameron.”

“One
entirely
at your service, sir, and in that interest, let's create an understanding—and I
have
discussed this with President Tyers. You want the Reunioners taken out of your way. You wish they, and their politics, had never exited Reunion. And you wish Braddock would take a walk in space. We're not far apart in that opinion. There's no way to deal with that situation until we handle the kyo, and we can't let Braddock use the kyo's presence as a launch of his second career. If we manage things right, the kyo will come in, they'll dock, we'll speak to them, and with the Presidential envoy in charge of the Mospheiran half of the station, things there will stay perfectly quiet while we do it. If we
don't
manage to talk to the kyo, the very best outcome we may get is a permanent kyo observation station sitting out there destabilizing our politics and limiting our options for a very long time to come. The President doesn't want that, the aiji doesn't want that, and I don't think you want that. Tillington is making himself an obstacle to our dealing. His replacement will not. And we will
move
the Reunioner population down to the planet, where it will not be a further issue.”

Ogun blinked. Just that. “Whose word backs
that,
Mr. Cameron? And how do they get down there? Parachute, like your ancestors?”

“The Mospheiran shuttle program is getting into production, sir. And they will have help from the aiji, who is equally in favor of seeing this issue resolved. It is a viable option. It's the
only
viable option, which
became
an option thanks to your medical folk. One could assume you had some such in mind, when the young aiji's visitors were able to thrive down there.”

Ogun's notion? Or was it Sabin who had pushed the meds? Or Jase himself?
Someone
had, whether for practical hope—or politics.

Ogun stared at him, mouth just a little less clamped. “So who
is
this envoy, Mr. Cameron?”

“At this point, sir, I haven't been informed. Communication has been severely limited, so long as Mr. Tillington has been sitting in a position to intercept messages between myself and the President, and so long as communications on the planet are subject to eavesdropping by various agencies. The President may have considered alternatives I know nothing about, but I have a strong hope the appointment will be somebody who's been here before, who knows the station and its systems.”

That was a very short list.

And Ogun drew in a deep breath. “Mr. Cameron, I hear both good and bad about you. I hear you do get results. So let me give you one very clear warning about dealing with us. Don't
you
try to play politics with the captains, even if you think it might benefit you.”

“I have no such intentions. If I can do anything to prevent any problem among the captains, or if you feel I'm not seeing something I should see, inform me, and I'll do all I can to work with the Council as a whole, because it's in all our interests.”

“So are
you
going to break the news to Tillington?”

“Would you prefer to, sir?”

“Not my job,” Ogun said with a wave of his hand. “Your Presidential envoy comes up here—fine. He keeps order and follows regulations. You say you can deal with the kyo. All right. I've got no other offers on my desk. You say you can fix the
Reunioner
situation so we never see it again. Good. I'll
remember
that. Right now—go settle in, and don't disturb what's not rattling. No changes in orders as they stand. Understood?”

He supposed that was a victory of sorts. Ogun pushed him. He could say, You don't order me. Or even: Be damned to you: you're not irreplaceable, either. It was very possible that Ogun had partnered with Ramirez in his decisions. Possibly Ogun had helped bring about the situation they had now, and possibly he'd deliberately kept Sabin in the dark.

But this was also the man who'd managed the station during two years of hell and continued to hold it during the last troubled year of unplanned residents and short supply.

So he contented himself with a quiet, respectful nod. “Absolutely. I'll work with you, sir. In all respects. Right now I'll be going to my apartment, dealing with my staff. If any problems come up, if you need a translator—at any hour—you know where to find me.”

 • • • 

The residential area was restricted, beyond a guarded door, with, on the other side, all that area of shops and apartments, tiers of them, balconies and shops above the shops, Lord Geigi said.

But past that door and up a level, they had come to this short hall, less wide, far less high, just a little nook above all that huge space.

And suddenly Cajeiri had remembered this specific place. The rest had changed. But not here. Not that much. There was nand' Bren's apartment, just as he recalled. There was nand' Geigi's. And there was mani's, in that short hall, and farther down, three other doors that could be storage or passage accesses or most anything. He remembered.

Three years ago he had thought this hall was huge. It was not quite as big as the halls of the Bujavid. And the hall was not as wide nor its ceiling nearly as high as the big area with shops. But it was, more than anything they had seen below, atevi, kabiu, and had a feeling of comfort.

They had hardly been there a moment before the area door opened, and the second part of their company caught up, having come a different way, just ahead of a mass of baggage on carts. Everything was confusion for a moment. Mani's apartment opened up, pouring out staff excited to welcome them. People he did not at all remember said he had grown so much—

That was true. But it was still strange.

But, sadly, when nand' Bren's door opened and the staff came out, they had no one to welcome, except Narani-nadi and Bindanda and Asicho, who stood by giving orders and helping them identify and move the luggage. “They will come,” Narani-nadi said. “They will be here soon.”

But that only made him think all too vividly about the trouble they could be in, and the necessity to keep a calm face and to pretend, like mani, like Lord Geigi and everybody else, that there was absolutely nothing wrong, and that there was no trouble anywhere.

“We shall have tea,” mani said now, after formalities, and invited Lord Geigi, who had just been introducing the Guild observers to the four of his staff who would show them to their apartment, down the hall.

It was certain mani and Lord Geigi would get down to serious talk, after tea. There were so many questions, so very many scary ones—and he was not sure whether he would be invited to hear the news, or whether he would be shut out. He was not even sure whether he wanted to hear—but in his heart, he wanted to.

And once the outer door had shut, and they were in mani's apartment, he found he was indeed included in that invitation to tea, and very quickly then sitting in a chair in a triangular arrangement, mani, and him, and Lord Geigi. He was served his cup of tea, much nicer than what they had had on the shuttle, where the air made their noses sore, and dulled tastes. He sipped his cup carefully, at mani's pace, wondering all the while how nand' Bren was doing, and what information Cenedi was getting from the man who had gone with nand' Bren, and if they were going to hear anything at all.

But if information from nand' Bren had not been coming, Cajeiri told himself, Cenedi would not be standing so quietly at mani's shoulder.

So he hoped nand' Bren was safe and that everything was all right. And he hoped the same for his associates, off across the station, with the locked doors that still made him mad even to think about.