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Authors: C. J. Cherryh
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stationers to deal with stationers, and let Tillington take charge of the Reunioner refugees. Ogun hadn’t intervened when Tillington had slammed the section doors shut and isolated the Reunioners in their residences—it had happened with a fifteen-minute warning, but fifteen minutes could not take Ogun totally by surprise: no, Ogun had taken Tillington’s assessment of the Reunioners as risk, had let it happen, and to this hour Ogun wouldn’t necessarily admit that the second-senior and third-senior captains had been right about Tillington.
Ogun might, in that light, not thank the third-senior captain for his unilateral move, bypassing any advisement and giving him no word of what was going on inside an area under seal.
But Ogun was smart enough to know that Tillington had gone a step too far with Mospheira and Shejidan, and that relations with the earthly powers, human
and
atevi, that supplied the station, which in turn supplied his ship, mattered far more to him than did the convenience of Tillington’s cooperation.
As of an hour ago, Ogun had Virginia Kroger arriving as human-side stationmaster, he had the atevi government aggressively claiming ownership of the kyo situation, he had the fourth-senior captain, whom he had appointed, sitting out on
Phoenix,
not in a position to do anything useful, and he had Captain Josefa Sabin, his least favorite co-captain, in a position to say I told you so.
He really hoped Gin was pouring balm—or at least good sense—on the situation up there.
And he hoped Jase was not bringing trouble down with him.
Bren arrived in his own apartment foyer, shed his coat for a more comfortable one, and settled in for a brief bit of relaxation and checking of messages in his little sitting room, leaving the matter of informing the dowager to his bodyguard’s contact with her bodyguard, in the interest of finding out what Jase had to say.
His apartment. His refuge. Not the place for grand state functions, this, but the extent to which Geigi had moved walls about, rearranging the human-designed linearity into the traditional relationship of rooms, rooms in an order that atevi found comfortable, with inner halls to let staff move about—that made it homelike, convenient, everything where it always was.
He was glad. He fit here. He knew his station staff did. Except for the modern panel near the door, except the air ducts and the fact the more massive furniture was bolted to the wall, one could believe there was stone and wood involved.
Tea arrived. More welcome, a plate of wafers. Distantly, half a cup and three wafers on, came the opening of the front door, and very quickly Jase turned up, a silent presence in the sitting room doorway.
Blue uniform—no bodyguards at the moment. Kaplan and Polano usually were somewhere about, but Jase walked in solo and simply slid bonelessly into the convenient chair.
“The offer of asylum still stands,” Bren said, by way of opening, which got him a weak smile.
“Not quite yet. If I weren’t apt to get another call from Ogun real soon, I’d take a brandy.”
“What does the man want? We got Braddock out.”
“I think deep down there’s considerable gratitude for that. Sabin said to me— ‘Welcome to the inner circle. Ogun hasn’t expressed himself this bluntly since Ramirez died.’”
“Gin’s still up there, I take it.”
“Gin’s arrival was a rescue.” Jase tilted his head back, edgedupward in the chair with a deep sigh. “Sabin’s got ears up there. There’s not a detail Ogun didn’t ask. Three times. I think he’s convinced, but I think he’s looking for a way to space Braddock. I don’t think he wants him to stay in atevi custody. I think the aishidi’tat is going to get a request. He hates Braddock. Personally.”
Interesting—in the light of
what
had made the late Senior Captain Ramirez desert Reunion and leave the station at the mercy of the kyo.
Ogun had been second-senior when that had happened.
And Ogun
Ogun might, in that light, not thank the third-senior captain for his unilateral move, bypassing any advisement and giving him no word of what was going on inside an area under seal.
But Ogun was smart enough to know that Tillington had gone a step too far with Mospheira and Shejidan, and that relations with the earthly powers, human
and
atevi, that supplied the station, which in turn supplied his ship, mattered far more to him than did the convenience of Tillington’s cooperation.
As of an hour ago, Ogun had Virginia Kroger arriving as human-side stationmaster, he had the atevi government aggressively claiming ownership of the kyo situation, he had the fourth-senior captain, whom he had appointed, sitting out on
Phoenix,
not in a position to do anything useful, and he had Captain Josefa Sabin, his least favorite co-captain, in a position to say I told you so.
He really hoped Gin was pouring balm—or at least good sense—on the situation up there.
And he hoped Jase was not bringing trouble down with him.
Bren arrived in his own apartment foyer, shed his coat for a more comfortable one, and settled in for a brief bit of relaxation and checking of messages in his little sitting room, leaving the matter of informing the dowager to his bodyguard’s contact with her bodyguard, in the interest of finding out what Jase had to say.
His apartment. His refuge. Not the place for grand state functions, this, but the extent to which Geigi had moved walls about, rearranging the human-designed linearity into the traditional relationship of rooms, rooms in an order that atevi found comfortable, with inner halls to let staff move about—that made it homelike, convenient, everything where it always was.
He was glad. He fit here. He knew his station staff did. Except for the modern panel near the door, except the air ducts and the fact the more massive furniture was bolted to the wall, one could believe there was stone and wood involved.
Tea arrived. More welcome, a plate of wafers. Distantly, half a cup and three wafers on, came the opening of the front door, and very quickly Jase turned up, a silent presence in the sitting room doorway.
Blue uniform—no bodyguards at the moment. Kaplan and Polano usually were somewhere about, but Jase walked in solo and simply slid bonelessly into the convenient chair.
“The offer of asylum still stands,” Bren said, by way of opening, which got him a weak smile.
“Not quite yet. If I weren’t apt to get another call from Ogun real soon, I’d take a brandy.”
“What does the man want? We got Braddock out.”
“I think deep down there’s considerable gratitude for that. Sabin said to me— ‘Welcome to the inner circle. Ogun hasn’t expressed himself this bluntly since Ramirez died.’”
“Gin’s still up there, I take it.”
“Gin’s arrival was a rescue.” Jase tilted his head back, edgedupward in the chair with a deep sigh. “Sabin’s got ears up there. There’s not a detail Ogun didn’t ask. Three times. I think he’s convinced, but I think he’s looking for a way to space Braddock. I don’t think he wants him to stay in atevi custody. I think the aishidi’tat is going to get a request. He hates Braddock. Personally.”
Interesting—in the light of
what
had made the late Senior Captain Ramirez desert Reunion and leave the station at the mercy of the kyo.
Ogun had been second-senior when that had happened.
And Ogun
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